Belford shrugged, the scar on his right cheek seeming to glow in the red light of the conning tower. “I always keep three rain slicks in the locker here, sir, in the event of foul weather. That’s not to say Arctic weather is never foul, but just when you think the Arctic has thrown everything it can at you, it always has another trick up its sleeve that needs one more garment on your shoulders.”
“Thanks, Chief,” Shipley said as he slipped the rain slick over his jacket. The rain slick was more like a poncho than a coat. It had a spot for your head to stick through in its center, but no sleeves or pockets to mark it as an article of clothing. Most sailors avoided using it because once on, it made movement hard, but for topside watches, it helped keep the sailor dry.
Cumbersome now with his head through the rain slick, Shipley pushed his hands from underneath it and climbed up to the bridge. “XO, I expect to see you in thirty minutes.” So began one of the more routine jobs of the Navy: topside watch. Two sailors followed Shipley up and took positions on the port and starboard sides of the bridge.
Looking forward, ice was already beginning to cover the forward exposed section. Aft, it was the same thing. The main induction valves were open, spitting out the filthy air of twenty-four hours and bringing into the boat fresh, freezing Arctic air to replace it. It would be hours before the Squallfish would be able to return to a more moderate freezing temperature inside the boat. Belowdecks, out of sight of Shipley, sailors were layering up with T-shirts, shirts, sweaters, watch caps, and scarves. Diesels never had the spare power to be able to fight the cold of the depths, much less the cold of the Arctic.
“What is the temperature?” Anton asked Gesny.
“Sir, it’s thirteen degrees Celsius.”
Anton shook his head. “It’s below freezing topside.”
“Minus fifteen degrees when you came belowdecks, sir,” Gesny said.
“And we are basking in heat at thirteen degrees. A diesel would be lucky to reach freezing in this weather.”
Gesny nodded, no smile breaking his face. “That is true, Comrade Captain, but then we are lucky — would you say — to be on the first atomic-powered submarine of the Soviet Navy.”
“This will be a terrible secret to let the surface force know, Comrade XO,” Anton said, his voice serious.
Gesny cocked his head to the side.
“If they found out how cozy it is going to be for submariners, then they would try to replace us.” Anton smiled, a slight laugh following.
Gesny nodded, his lower lip pushing up the upper. “That is so, Captain.”
Anton laughed. “XO, you have to learn to enjoy what the Navy gives you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Anton pointed up. “We’re at fifty meters depth. Let’s take the Whale to sixteen meters and check how our surface comrades are doing.”
Moments later the Whale’s periscope broke the surface. The sun had set, but the freezing rain continued. He felt the slight vibration along the scope as the rain turned to ice on contact with the metal. He did not want to keep it above the surface for long. Spinning the scope, Anton spotted the faint running lights of the two destroyers. On board one of them would be Doctor Zotkin and his team of scientists. He wondered if the German scientist Doctor Danzinger would be with them or if the presence of a German scientist would be something Zotkin kept hidden from the bulk of the Soviet Navy.
“Target bearing zero four zero degrees!” the sonar operator shouted. “Second target bearing one one zero degrees!”
Without removing his eye from the scope piece, Anton asked, “Okay, sailor: what type of targets are they?”
“They are Soviet destroyers, Comrade Captain.”
Anton grinned. “And you are able to tell me that from the sounds?”
A slight pause and then the sailor said, “No, Comrade Captain; I heard you tell the XO what the two ships were.”
Anton stepped back and nodded. “I am glad you are listening to what is going on around you. Now tell me why, based on your own observations and sounds, you think they are destroyers. Can you do that?”
The sailor grinned. “Yes, sir; I can do that.”
“Then do it, and then tell me why they are destroyers.”
The sailor slipped his earphones on, lifted a pencil, and began to measure the sound intervals and screw rotations.
Anton watched for a few seconds and turned back to the periscope.
A good sonar operator could tell from the noise of the screws how fast a ship was traveling; whether the ship was approaching or separating; how many screws a ship had and even how many blades on each screw; and from just the noise of the screws, most ships could be identified to a specific class. Warships were what Soviet sonar operators were trained to detect and identify. All else were merchants, but even in war a submarine’s primary targets were most times in the merchant fleet of the enemy. Deny an enemy its supplies and you choke him to death on depleted resources. He wondered for a moment if that was still true in today’s modern world, where aircraft could lift so much. The Americans, the British, and the French had kept a continuous airlift going only seven years ago, to keep Berlin resupplied. Not much a submarine could do against an airlift.
Lieutenant Antipov climbed into the conning tower.
“Lieutenant, are you not the officer of the watch in the control room?” Gesny asked.
“Yes, sir, I am, but—”
“Then return to the control room. You are not to leave your post when you are the assigned watch. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir, Comrade XO, but this message came in for the captain.”
Gesny took it. “Now return to your post.”
Antipov nodded sharply and disappeared quickly down the ladder.
Anton raised his head when he heard the exchange, but then returned to the periscope. XOs had their duties to do also.
Gesny unfolded and read the message, letting out a deep sigh.
“Captain,” he said, touching Anton on the shoulder.
Anton stepped back and took the message from Gesny. Anton nodded at the periscope, and Gesny grabbed the handles and began his own search of the surface. “It is very terrible out there,” he said.
Anton read the message. “But it looks as if Admiral Katshora has decided to continue onward with the sea trials.”
“Yes, sir; I guess he believes the protective arms of the bay are sufficient against the weather.”
“For us, the weather is something we can avoid for the most part as long as we stay submerged, but the destroyers are probably already heavy with ice.”
Stepping gingerly, Gesny rotated the periscope, observing the surface conditions for 360 degrees.
After a couple of minutes, Gesny stepped back. “The periscope is getting covered with ice, Captain.”
“Bring it down.”
“Lower periscope,” Gesny said to the chief of the watch.
The sound of hydraulics pierced the conning tower as the periscope slid downward into its sleeve.
“We will have to be careful raising it later, XO. If the water freezes around the periscope, we run the risk of breaking the lens. It would blind us.”
Gesny nodded.
“Admiral Katshora sends word that we are to remain inside Kola Bay for the sea trials. I wonder why he felt he had to send this. We already decided to stay within Kola Bay and reschedule the at-sea trials in the Barents for a later date.” He looked at Gesny. “I think that is the prudent action to take.”
Gesny nodded and let out a deep breath. “Most likely Doctor Zotkin has been trying to change his mind. Maybe the admiral wanted to make sure we knew his position.”