by Noah Beck
According to Khan’s account, Admiral Ali Shamkhani, a former senior commander in Iran’s Revolutionary Guard and minister of defense from 1997 until 2005, arrived in Pakistan in the late 1980s. Khan claimed that Shamkhani, who came with an entourage of Iranian officials, offered $10 billion in exchange for ready-made atomic bombs. Pakistan apparently refused Iran’s offer but Khan later traveled to the Middle East, where he sold his services as a private nuclear consultant. Khan would go on to provide Iran with a variety of nuclear parts, blueprints for the centrifuges at its nuclear plant in Natanz, and a secret worldwide list of nuclear component suppliers.
Khan was later painted as a rogue scientist responsible for illicit proliferation activities, but subsequent reports alleged that his activities may have been ordered and supervised by the Pakistani government and/or military. Pakistan’s President at the time, Parvez Musharraf, pardoned Khan the day after the scientist confessed on national television that he had sold nuclear technology to Libya, North Korea, and Iran.
Beyond historical ties to Iran’s nuclear program, Pakistan had other reasons to sell its nuclear weapons to Iran. As a nearly bankrupt, quasi-failed state, Pakistan desperately needed cash. While Saudi Arabia, the de facto leader of the Sunni-Muslim world, was a more natural customer for Sunni Pakistan’s off-the-shelf nuclear arms, selling to Iran would quickly prompt a purchase order at least as large from Iran’s much richer neighbor and strategic rival. By selling to both sides of the Saudi-Iranian conflict, cash-strapped Pakistan could substantially boost revenues for its state coffers.
Besides Pakistan’s economic incentive to sell atomic bombs to Iran, there were political reasons as well, relating to the South Asian country’s fast-deteriorating relations with the United States. After the September 11 attacks in 2001, Pakistan became a key ally in the U.S. war on terror, receiving billions of dollars in economic and military aid – assistance that would have made a Pakistani nuclear arms sale to Iran unthinkable. By 2008, however, cracks in the alliance began to emerge. The deadly attacks by U.S. drones on Pakistani territory substantially strained bilateral relations as the U.S. increased its reliance on this highly effective but controversial tactic. Further complicating relations, the two countries fought a series of lethal, military skirmishes along the porous international border between Pakistan and Afghanistan. Against this backdrop of escalating tensions, the U.S. killing of Osama Bin Laden in 2011 on Pakistani soil brought the countries’ relations to a new nadir.
As the rift between Pakistan and the United States deepened, Iran’s readiness to pay Pakistan even more money for ready-made nuclear warheads grew. Iran’s increased interest could be explained at least in part because the U.S. had made significant advances in the development of its Massive Ordnance Penetrator. The 30,000-pound, earth-penetrating bomb could potentially destroy even Iran’s massively fortified Fordo facility, buried under hundreds of feet of rock, where Iran might try to enrich enough uranium to create its own nuclear weapon. The Islamic Republic’s best answer to an American elimination of Iran’s “zone of immunity” was a traditional nuclear deterrent in the form of ready-to-use nuclear warheads purchased from Pakistan.
Iran’s advanced missile development program had already solved the problem of how to deliver a nuclear warhead. In May 2009, Iran announced that it had successfully tested a Sejjili-2 missile, which is a two-stage, primarily solid-propellant surface-to-surface missile. The U.S. Defense Secretary at the time, Robert Gates, confirmed the test in Congressional testimony that same month. With a range of up to 1,500 miles, the Sejjili-2 missile enabled Iran to strike every U.S. military base in the Middle East and in much of Europe. In late 2011, Iran had also begun working on a missile with a range of 6,000 miles, capable of targeting the continental United States. Even without sophisticated missile systems, Iran could always resort to more primitive delivery methods. Use of a crude oil tanker or cargo container could still bring a devastating nuclear detonation to a major U.S. city, killing over half a million people and causing over $1 trillion of damage. Thus, it made a lot of sense that Iran would purchase the only part of its overall strategy that was still missing: the nuclear warheads.
Piecing together the explanation for Pakistan’s sale of nuclear weapons to Iran made the threat no less dire, but Daniel tried to view the development as positively as possible: “The Iranians bought nuclear warheads probably to deter an attack from the U.S. and not because they plan to use them offensively against Israel,” he reasoned. The problem was that nobody knew exactly how many such warheads Iran had bought; the more they had purchased, the less Daniel could be sure that they were all intended purely for defensive purposes. Thus, his attempts at optimism ultimately failed.
The captain would need to decide how and when to share all of the disturbing information from headquarters. The hardest detail to disclose to the crew was their target destination because they would immediately realize that – after just finishing ten days at sea with merely a four-hour shore leave – they now had at least six weeks on the submarine awaiting them. The lengthy absence from home ahead might seem even more palpable after the frustratingly short reunion with loved ones that had just finished. Thus, Daniel initially thought that it might be best to announce that they were going to the Gulf of Aden, which would mean only about a month at sea, and then later ease them into the idea of a longer mission. But then he realized that disclosing the dramatic news about Iran’s declared nuclear arsenal should increase morale enough to compensate for any bad news. Still, sensing how much so many dramatic updates could potentially distract the crew, Daniel preferred to wait until the Dolphin’s remaining routine tests and maintenance work had been performed, all systems had been checked, and they had embarked.
At 1835 hours, Daniel surveyed the 18 plasma screens that displayed everything a submarine commander needs to know – from fuel and fresh water quantities to sonar readings and weapons systems status. He walked past the Dolphin’s two periscopes, each integrated with night-vision and thermal imaging and wired so that anything viewable through the periscope could be relayed to any of the 18 large screens in the combat information center.
The captain began conducting final inspections with the officer of each department, in order to remain on schedule for a departure at 1900 hours. He walked around the upper deck from forward to aft, reviewing all areas of the combat information and technical control centers.
“Status report?” Daniel said, facing the navigation officer.
“GPS, echo sound, and other navigation systems are all green, Sir,” he reported.
“Steering systems?” he asked, turning to the helmsman sitting in the steering station.
“Dive planes, rudder control, hydroplanes, gyrocompass, and stick wheel are all green, Sir.”
“Passive sonar systems?” he asked, looking at Ambesah.
“Low frequency, passive ranging, intercept, and cylindrical array sonar systems are all green, Sir. All active sonar green as well, Sir.”
“Communication systems?”
“All radio transmitters and receivers, communication buoys, pumps and related systems, intercom, self-noise monitoring, and alarm system, all green, Sir,” Ambesah said.
“Come with me,” Daniel said to Bao and another officer next to him. They followed him down to the second deck and over to the weapons storage room. “Status update?” Daniel said, as he surveyed the missiles, decoys, mines, and torpedo tubes assembled there.
“All weapons arranged and secured, Sir,” Bao replied.
“Weapons computers and related systems?”
“All green, Sir.”
“Good. That’s all, Bao.”
The weapons officer returned to the main deck while Daniel continued his tour with the remaining officer, Samir, to the electronics and converter rooms. Although Yisrael had the higher rank of deputy captain, Samir’s role as the chief engineer was arguably second only to the captain’s, in terms of its importance to the submarine’s proper functioning.
He was responsible for all of the machines, electrical systems, and monitors relating to the diesel engines, the batteries, the pumps and hydraulic systems, and the air quality within the submarine. Samir had thick, hairy arms, a square chin, and the widening jaw of a bulldog. Thus, the chief engineer looked more like a short but tough bouncer than someone who understood – better than any of his crewmates – how to operate and fix each of the endlessly complicated details of the Dolphin.
“Status?”
“All electrical systems green, Sir.”
Samir followed Daniel to the lower deck, where they inspected the battery rooms, machinery room, tanks, and bilge.
“Meters?”
“Oxygen, CO2, CO, hydrogen and other gas meters all green, Sir. Fuel, oil, and other meters green as well, Sir.”
The captain walked into the engine room and looked over the main propulsion motor, the three diesel generators, the hydraulic station, the two high-pressure air compressors, and the main bilge pump.
“Engine room status?”
“Engine room reports all systems green, Sir.”
Daniel and Samir continued to the lower level of the engine room, to complete checks of the water tanks and air conditioning systems. They then returned to the upper deck.
Daniel saw Yisrael waiting for him at the command center.
“Deputy Captain’s Status Report?”
“All crewmembers are on board and in their stations. Food has been fully restocked. Medicines and medical supplies have been replenished. Emergency supplies checked. Water distillation systems checked and are go.”
Daniel was almost certain that Yisrael’s failure to say “Sir” at the end of his report was a deliberate, passive-aggressive slip. Now wasn’t the opportune time to address the source of the unresolved tension between them, but Daniel also didn’t want to let Yisrael’s lapse in discipline slide, or it could set a bad precedent at the outset for their future interactions on this mission.
“Good. But did you forget to say ‘Sir’ after all of that?”
“Yes. I mean, yes, Sir,” he said with a resentful glower.
Daniel turned on the intercom system and spoke into the microphone. “All systems checked. Prepare the Dolphin for embarkation at 1900 hours.” Dozens of sailors began moving switches and dials and the boat suddenly looked busier than moments before, as it began to move away from the port.
About 30 minutes later, Daniel turned to the helmsman: “Set a course for Port Said. Set an initial sailing speed of five knots and gradually increase to twelve knots,” he ordered.
“Ye…Yes, Sir,” said Zvi, the swarthy junior helmsman with jet-black hair, brown eyes, and a large birthmark on his lower neck that peeked out of his shirt collar. He spoke with a minor stutter that he had almost eliminated as a child until a horrific tragedy struck his family. As the youngest in the affected household, Zvi reacted the hardest to the incident and developed several emotional issues, including the aggravation of his minor speech disorder.
Daniel knew that sailing south down the Mediterranean Sea from Haifa to Port Said was going to be the easiest and safest part of the whole journey. So, after sailing for about ten minutes at twelve knots, he wanted to increase the Dolphin’s velocity to more than thrice the normal cruising speed.
“Increase speed to eighteen knots.”
“In…Increasing speed to eighteen knots, Sir.”
Sailing faster required more atmospheric air to run the diesel engines that power the generators used to recharge the Dolphin’s battery; increased air consumption in turn made it necessary to raise the snorkel more often, making the submarine more detectable. But such exposure presented no significant risks in the Mediterranean Sea. “Let’s take advantage of the one time when traveling so fast for hours at a time is actually feasible,” Daniel thought to himself.
Sailing faster would also help to ensure that the Dolphin arrived in time to join the next available southbound convoy of ships crossing the canal from Port Said to Suez. That convoy would leave at 7 a.m., requiring an arrival time of 3 a.m., although Suez Canal regulations stated that ships could join as late as 5 a.m. for a surcharge of 5 percent of canal dues. Traveling no slower than 18 knots, the submarine would be able to arrive by 4:30 a.m.
About 45 minutes after embarkation from Haifa port, the navigator saw on the screen of the echo sound navigation system that it was now safe to dive. “Sir, we have sufficient depth for diving,” he reported.
Daniel spoke into the intercom system to alert the crew: “Prepare to dive.”
Seamen on the main deck moved about as Daniel gave the next order into the intercom: “Clear the bridge.” Yisrael, who was topside watching with binoculars, went below deck, closing the bridge hatch behind him.
“Bridge clear. Hatch secure, Sir.”
“Close main induction.” The crew closed the large air intake pipe to ensure that the engine room was not filled with water, effectively sealing the last hull opening.
“Test hull pressure.”
Samir pressed a button to release some pressure into the hull. It held. “The hull is sealed, Sir.”
“Open main vents.” The crew opened the ballast tank vents so that they filled with water, increasing diving speed.
“Rig out bow planes.”
“Rr…Rigging out bow planes, Sir,” Zvi replied. He used the stern planes to control the Dolphin’s dive angle.
After diving for about three minutes, Zvi updated Daniel: “De…Depth of 61 meters, Sir.”
“Blow negative,” he ordered Samir.
“Yes, Sir.” One of Samir’s men flooded the negative tank to restore neutral buoyancy, taking care not to blow it out completely in order to avoid sending air bubbles to the surface. He and Samir then closed the flood and vented the excess air pressure into the hull.
“Blow negative complete, Sir.”
“Level off at 76 meters.”
“At…At a depth of 76 meters, Sir.”
The Dolphin’s crew soon settled into a cruising routine, with no major navigational maneuvers or other actions demanding focused attention for the next several hours. This was the optimal time to advise the crew of the intelligence and mission details, Daniel thought. He used the intercom system to inform all of the submariners of the new Iranian nuclear threat, the misfortunes that had befallen the Leviathan, and their mission instructions. For a few moments, there was just silence among the crew, as they absorbed all of the information that had just been announced, until finally different comments on the various issues could be overheard around the deck from almost every sailor.
“Our poor brothers on the Leviathan,” Samir said.
“I can’t even imagine how much their lives suck right now,” Ambesah agreed. “Sick as dogs. Limping around the Gulf of Oman full of nausea, with no sonar, and lots of hungry Iranian subs around.”
Bao tried to lighten up the mood with some sarcasm: “Thank God Iran has nukes now. I was getting worried that the Middle East would become too stable.” He succeeded in getting a few chuckles.
“Who wants to bet on which country is next to get the bomb: Saudi Arabia, Turkey, or Egypt?” Samir asked rhetorically.
“Hey, look at the bright side of Iran declaring that it has nuclear weapons,” Bao continued. “The importance of our ship’s existence is finally official.” More laughs.
“But wow – another six weeks at sea,” Ambesah noted.
“Six if we’re lucky,” Samir cautioned. “It could end up being eight.”
“I can’t believe it. That reunion was such a tease. So short,” Yisrael said, without any of the lightness that the other sailors were trying to maintain.
“Yeah, why didn’t they at least set up private tents that could be used for a few hours with wives and girlfriends?” Bao joked. There were laughs and some “Amens!” called out.
“I was thinking more about time with my kids,” Ambesah said. “But yeah, that too,” he added with a grin.
“I’m not surprised
that Iran has the bomb now,” Samir said. “That regime ran circles around the world powers. Like a chess game played at the shouk.”
“They kept the world divided and in the dark while buying more time with endless negotiations,” Bao added.
“You call that negotiations?” Yisrael asked. His bitter tone seemed strangely personal, as if he was venting. “It was just an act. While the Iranians kept the world busy with these fake talks, they got everything they wanted. Those talks only proved to the regime how much the world lacked the spine to stop them.”
“Yeah,” agreed Eitan, a junior officer. “Their strategy bought them enough time to protect their nuclear facilities from an Israeli air strike. And now they just purchased some nuclear warheads from Pakistan as an extra insurance policy against even an American military strike. So now it’s too late for anyone to stop them.”
“What’s really fucking scary is that now the Ayatollahs can actually carry out the threats that they’ve been making against us for so many years,” Bao said.
And so the chatter went on among virtually all of the men. But throughout the crew’s commentary Daniel kept his thoughts to himself. He just listened quietly, knowing that his men needed to release their emotions for a while. He didn’t want to encourage too much negativity or complaining by his own example, so he didn’t tell anyone how much he already missed Sivan and their little Esty, or how ominous the news about Iran and the Leviathan seemed to him. He let these sentiments simmer away in his skull, hidden from view by a placid, focused expression.
Zvi also tried hard to ignore the crew’s conversations about Iran and the Leviathan. Because of the childhood events that had scarred him forever, Zvi had a delicate emotional constitution. He had to do his best to keep his feelings at a distance, both for his own sake, and to maintain the image of calm coolness that he studiously projected for everyone on the submarine. He and his family never quite recovered from the trauma, but with seven years of psychological and speech therapy, and a lot of love and support from his family and friends, Zvi was able to minimize his depressive moods and ameliorate his stuttering problem to the point where his speech was almost normal. About a year after the devastating incident, Zvi’s mother also enrolled him in a special religious program to give him a little more structure and certainty, and to foster in him a certain faith. He carried that faith with him to his military service, as evidenced by the skullcap he wore, the slight beard he maintained, and the daily Jewish prayers that he would quietly recite, in part to help keep himself balanced and calm.