“Good job, Lieutenant,” Anton said without turning.
“Thank you, Comrade Captain. I do not think other zampolits have had the opportunity you are giving me.”
Anton guffawed. “I am sure other captains recognize the importance of your job and the caliber of officers who are assigned to your important duties. It would be a travesty for us not to expand those skills into helping the ship fight.”
“Yes, sir. You are right, of course, and I will not forget this honor.”
That is my intention, Anton thought. Tomich could have refused, which would have been the political officer’s right. But the man had jumped at the offer, which, regardless of Anton’s intention, had raised his confidence in the zampolit.
The bow of the Whale crossed from beneath the top of the covered dock into the open. Freezing rain started to work its way across the boat as more and more of it emerged into the open. Dark gray clouds covered the sky, and the bay appeared like whipped bits of cream on dark chocolate, changing with the wind from the north. The trapped cold beneath the covered pier seemed almost warm as the Arctic wind and rain strapped a cold, icy cloak around the bridge, bringing conversation to a stop. Each breath seemed to be of ice as Anton maneuvered the boat through the channel leading from the hidden facility into Kola Bay.
He looked at the small dock on the port side of the entrance to the covered area. Tied alongside in the falling rain was the torpedo boat Bolshevik. Lieutenant Jasha stood on the open bridge, saluting. Anton returned the honor. Jasha looked inside the covered dock area, drawing Anton’s attention. He glanced aft and saw Doctor Zotkin and his group heading toward the torpedo boat. He wondered what was going on with them.
“It is cold up here, Comrade Captain.”
Anton looked at Tomich. “You are welcome to keep me company for a few more minutes, Lieutenant. It is an opportunity few have to get a submarine under way. I will see it is entered in your record.”
The zampolit beamed, his smile stretching from side to side. “Thank you, Comrade Captain.”
Even the honor of getting the Whale under way failed to keep the zampolit topside much longer. As the rain picked up its attack, Tomich excused himself and disappeared down the hatch.
Anton smiled. He glanced back. The Bolshevik was still tied to the pier. This weather might be too much for the small boat to handle.
He tightened his gloves and raised the collar of his foul-weather jacket. Even water-resistant winter-issue coats would provide holes for the rain that turned to ice upon hitting. Maybe he would grow a beard, like some of the other officers. He reached up, untied the straps of the hat, and let the fur-covered flaps fall over his ears.
He opened the sound-powered voice tube and shouted down more commands, keeping the boat in the center of the channel. The two sailors standing watch t opside — one on the starboard side and the other on the port side — hunkered down inside their heavy coats. The one facing forward with him caught the full force of the weather. The watch staring aft had his collar up, the rain beating against the back of the foul-weather coat.
There was nothing more to do but wait until they reached the deeper waters of Kola Bay. Then he could take them down.
The sound of a ship’s horn drew his attention. Across the bay several dark shapes of Soviet destroyers became visible. The Whale never got under way without the inevitable escorts provided by Admiral Katshora. The Friday meeting crossed his mind.
Even here, where the weather could kill you in minutes, the battle for the hearts and minds of the fleet continued.
Zotkin was right. There are always lives lost in bringing new technology to the fleet. A successful sea trial would vindicate the loss of lives. Stand aside, Britain and America; here comes the Soviet Union.
Gesny appeared in the hatchway, no hat on his head. The icy drizzle pelted the small bald spot in the center, turning Gesny’s hair around it into a patch of ice.
“Get a hat, XO,” Anton said.
“Just a quick message from the commodore of the destroyers approaching. He sends his regards and best wishes.”
“Tell him thanks.”
“He also passed along the contact frequencies and their operations zone while we are submerged.”
“They should be standing outside of our OPAREA,” Anton said.
Gesny lifted a Navy message. “Seems we are going to do more than test the repairs of the aft torpedo room, Captain.” Anton raised his binoculars and scanned ahead of their intended path. “How’s that, XO?”
“Seems this is going to be the sea trial we thought we had put off until better weather. Seems Doctor Zotkin, while we were arguing to delay the at-sea operational test, has convinced Admiral Katshora that we should go forward and do the tests inside Kola Bay.”
Anton dropped his glasses. “Are you sure?”
Gesny nodded. “I’m sure. When you come below, we will have the message and test plan laid out, sir.”
“But we did not come prepared—”
Gesny shrugged. “Seems that is not a consideration, comrade.”
“I’ll be below when I get below, XO. Have everything ready. Did they send us the operational order with the communication channels, order of events, officer in tactical charge, depths, courses, everything we need to do it?”
Gesny nodded. “We received a package just before we sailed. The message told us to open it. We did. It’s there.”
“Someone from the Soviet Submarine Force had to approve it.”
“Sir, my head is freezing.”
“Get below, XO. You could have passed all of this via the tube.”
“I tried, sir, but the weather is making it hard for the whistle to be heard up here. Besides, I thought I might want to see your face when I told you this news.”
“How far to deep water?” Anton asked, shivering.
“We are twenty minutes to shallow depth for diving.”
“Then we dive in twenty minutes.”
“Comrade Captain,” Gesny shouted above the noise of wind and the rain, “give me five minutes and I will come relieve you?” Anton shook his head. “No need for both of us to be frozen. Tell the cook I will want the hottest cup of chocolate he can brew when I get off the bridge.”
He turned and glanced at the two watch sailors, then back to Gesny. “Send up watch reliefs in five minutes.”
Gesny nodded and disappeared down the hatch.
Five minutes later two sailors appeared and relieved the two on deck.
Anton heard the periscope spinning again as the navigators took lines of bearing on the navigational aids aligned along the channel and up on the hills behind them. He glanced at the hills and withdrew the thought about using those navigational aids. The rain blocked them out. Visibility was dropping fast. Anton raised his binoculars and scanned ahead for the two destroyers heading toward them.
He flipped open the tube again. “You have radar contact on the destroyers?”
“That is a negative, sir,” came the garbled reply. Anton leaned closer, careful not to touch his ear to the metal. “Too much land smear.”
“Very well,” he replied. He turned to the lookouts. “Keep a close lookout off our port bow!” he shouted above the noise. “We have two of our surface ships out there. Should be about ten to fifteen kilometers!”
“Aye, sir!” they shouted in unison, both turning in that direction.
He touched his cheeks, pushing them in with his gloved hands, seeing ice fall from them. He now understood better why beards seemed the norm for Arctic sailors.
Here he was not concerned about keeping a visual for 360 degrees. They were inside the protection of the bay, where no enemy warship could reach them. As for air, everyone knew the Americans were flying reconnaissance missions over Soviet territory. One day they would shoot one of them down and prove to the world the secret war America was fighting against the Soviet Union. If America would leave them alone, they could achieve their goal of a workers’ paradise, but that would be a threat to capitalism.