Gesny grunted and raised his binoculars.
Anton shifted his observation to the aft portion of the submarine. The last line was aboard and being rolled up. The boatswains would stow it away inside the tower until they returned.
Lieutenant Tomich stepped back a couple of steps to give Anton more room.
“Thanks,” Anton said, cocking his head at the young man. “How old are you, Comrade Tomich?”
The young officer snapped to attention.
It is going to take some time to unwind this one, thought Anton.
“I am twenty-nine years old, Comrade Captain.”
Anton gave the young officer a sharp nod. “You know I need you to tell me anything I may be unaware of on board the boat,” he whispered to the zampolit. “Together we will make this a great success for the Soviet Union.”
“For the party,” Tomich said with a serious eagerness that surprised Anton.
“For the party,” Anton replied in the same low voice. The young officer would have been sixteen or seventeen when the Great Patriotic War ended. “Did you see action during the war?” Many as young as fourteen wore the uniform in the dark days of the war when German troops pushed deep into the Soviet Union. Russia is like a great sponge that soaks up invaders by its vastness. Like Napoleon before Hitler, eventually the tide turned and the Red Army fought, killed, and pushed the invaders away, across the borders, and eventually across Germany. It was a great victory for the Communist nation.
Tomich looked embarrassed. “No sir; I was too young.”
Anton nodded. Too young? Why was Tomich too young while so many Communist youth gave their lives for their country?
The Whale inched forward, moving away from the pier, and toward the channel leading out of the dock. Anton raised his binoculars as the XO lowered his. He scanned the area of the bay waiting for them at the end of the channel.
“Keep an eye on the port fender!” Gesny shouted to the forward “sea and anchor” detail.
Anton lowered his binoculars slightly to see what the XO was taking precautions against. He watched two of the sailors near the bow of the Whale take position near the edge where the boat would sail past the huge rubber fenders lining the docking area. Fenders served to keep a ship from damaging itself by hitting the hard concrete and metal of a pier.
Zotkin told him the boats and shipping lanes would be closed during the morning to allow him to maneuver the boat for the day. This was his “familiarization cruise,” as the good doctor called it. It would be the only one because Zotkin needed the K-2 tied up so he could prepare it for the at-sea trial in the near future.
“How long will we be out today, Comrade Captain?”
“As long as it takes, Lieutenant Tomich. This is to familiarize me with the boat; its capabilities; the energy of our new propulsion system. We have six weeks before we take it out on sea trials, so we want to be ready.”
“We are excited over your arrival. The other captain. .” Anton recognized the pause of the young officer as an attempt to draw out what Anton knew. But he knew nothing other than one moment the former captain was the captain; and the next, he was gone. He wondered for a moment if this young man had anything to do with it. Most likely yes. Whenever someone disappeared suddenly in the Soviet Union, people such as Tomich were nearby. Youthful exuberance mixed with unfamiliar power made for tyrants in zealotry.
“What about the other captain?” Anton finally asked.
The young officer shrugged and joined Anton at the front of the conning tower, almost touching him, they were so close. The XO shifted over a couple of steps, opening up his distance from Anton and Tomich.
The young man was confident in his position on board. Who did he know? Anton’s lower lip pushed up against his upper. This officer was too young to be a zampolit on such an important project without some high official approving it. Maybe his first name, Josef, was the key. He was young enough to have been named after Stalin, but Khrushchev had discredited Stalin earlier this year. Then why was this young man still in this position of authority where his youth, exuberance, and ambition could destroy the greatest opportunity for the Navy? No; someone had top cover for this young officer, and it would be in Anton’s interest to keep the young man close. Keep Tomich happy. Tie the man’s ambition to the success of this project.
Anton took a step to starboard and glanced back. The stern of the Whale was clearing the dock.
“Not much longer,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Recommend course zero eight zero!” the navigator shouted from the conning tower.
“Sir! Recommend course zero eight zero!” Gesny said.
Anton lifted the brass covering of the voice tube, looking at Gesny. He leaned down and spoke into it. “Very well, come to course zero eight zero, speed two knots,” Anton said. Why shout through the hatch when you had a voice tube at your service? Maybe the XO could explain why later.
The next twenty minutes moved the Whale from its hidden berth into Kola Bay. As far as Anton could see, not a single civilian ship was visible, not even the fishing vessels that had seemed to dot the never frozen waters of Kola Bay. North of them — he counted from left to right — four destroyers weaved back and forth.
They were there to ensure that no one interfered with him and to protect the Whale. He also knew they were there to sink the Whale if he tried to head away from the operational area assigned. They had never had a Soviet Navy ship or boat mutiny yet, and professional sailors never would.
He looked south. On the horizon the pall of industrial smoke filled the skies above Murmansk. He looked north across the bay and could make out the cold morning outline of Severomorsk. Severomorsk was better. Admiral Katshora’s office was in this city, and it was here where the commander of the Northern Fleet’s Submarine Force spent his days.
Severomorsk had little industry in comparison to Murmansk, but it was in this smaller city where the administrative headquarters of the Soviet Northern Fleet was located. He pitied the parts of the Northern Fleet located in the hard-to-breathe air of Murmansk.
Anton moved to the other side of the bridge, leaning over the stanchion to make sure everything was stowed from the sea-and-anchor detail.
Gesny lifted the brass cover of the voice tube. “Depth?” he asked into it.
Anton smiled when he saw the XO ask the question. We will get along well, he thought.
“Twenty- five meters.”
“Still too shallow to dive,” Gesny said to Anton.
“How far out do we have to go to reach suitable waters?”
“About two kilometers, Captain. Then the bottom drops off rapidly, but within two kilometers of the facility, I recommend staying surfaced.”
Anton nodded. “I am going below, XO. You have the conn.” Gesny saluted, lifted the brass covering, and said, “This is the XO. I have the conn.”
Below, in the conning tower, someone would make a notation in the logbook of the shift of maneuvering control from the skipper to the XO.
Anton turned to Tomich. “I think we can go below and practice some dives. What do you think?”
The young officer snapped to attention. “I agree, Comrade Captain.”
Of course, if he failed to build a sense of partnership with this zampolit, he could always throw him overboard. He looked at the XO and was surprised at the hostile look he caught on Gesny’s face as the man’s narrowed eyes watched the zampolit scurry down the hatch. He bit his lip, wondering if it was because Tomich went below before him, or if there was something else, something he should know. In the Navy, there was always something else to know.