Frigate

John Wingate Frigate

The Spirit of the Navy is too old, too varied and too subtle to be adequately interpreted by any outsider, no matter how keen his interest, how deep his affection…

Isn't it possible that the very thoroughness with which the Navy has protected the nation in the past may constitute a source of weakness both for the Navy and the nation? We have been safe for so long and during all these generations have been free to follow our own devices, that we tax-payers as a body today are utterly ignorant of the facts and the forces on which England depends for her existence… Some of us think that the Navy does not much matter one way or the other; some honestly regard it as a brutish and bloodthirsty anachronism which if it can't be openly abolished, ought to be secretly crippled as soon as possible. Such views are not shocking or surprising. After four generations of peace and party politics they are inevitable…

In peace the Navy exists under conditions which it takes years of training to understand; in war it will be subjected to mental and physical strain three days of which would make the mere sea-fight of Trafalgar a pleasant change. We have no data to guide us for the future, but in judging by our thousand-year-old past, we can believe and thank God for it, that whatever man may do, or neglect to do, the spirit of the Navy, which is man-made, but which no body of men can kill, will rise to meet and overcome every burden and every disability that may be imposed upon it — from without or within.

From A Book of Words by Rudyard Kipling (written six years before the outbreak of World War I).

Dedication

This book is dedicated to the biggest single factor in war:

the man.

The Strategic Situation in the Arctic Wastes Arctic Ocean

Acknowledgements

My debt to the naval staff in the Ministry of Defence and to the officers and men of the Royal Navy and the Royal Marines is immense. Wherever I have travelled during my research, ashore and at sea, I have encountered nothing but forbearance, co-operation and kindness. I wish to thank everyone I met who unstintedly gave me their time, their help and friendship.

My sincere gratitude is also due to those who gave much of their time and good advice in checking the manuscript. I should like to emphasize that if there remain errors of fact, judgement or opinion, they are entirely of my own making.

To Captain Godfrey French, CBE, Royal Navy, counsellor and friend, my thanks are due for his wisdom, guidance and enthusiasm.

Finally, this work could never have been undertaken without the support, encouragement and advice of Admiral of the Fleet, Sir Edward Ashmore, GCB, DSC. For his contribution in creating the superb ships of our modern Fleet, the nation and the Royal Navy owe much.

JOHN WINGATE

1

Rotterdam, 24 November.

The final ship on that morning tide to be berthed was Arcturus Star. Although the Soviet Union had joined the Roll On/Roll Off league late in the day, they had more than a foothold on the European car market — and Rotterdam was now handling the majority of the Soviet's car exports into Europe.

'Arcturus Star was the latest of Russia's RO/RO ships and this was her fifth delivery to Rotterdam. Her master knew the ropes and was becoming known to the authorities — a difficult man who, until the last trip, had allowed his crew no shore leave. But now his crew were given leave until 2230, a privilege which amused the Rotterdam Docks and Customs Police.

Less than a month previously, the Dutch authorities had launched a new onslaught against the drug rings. In the van of the attack were the Rotterdam Docks and Customs Police, an efficient force, but confronted by a formidable challenge: Rotterdam was Europe's busiest port, handling ships from the remotest corners of the globe. On arrival at the port's outer limit, each ship was boarded and her master informed of the penalties he and his ship risked if drugs were found on board — and he was also informed that the police were empowered to conduct spot-checks on any ship within port limits. This vigorous policy was taking effect: there was evidence that the international heroin operators were seeking other European ports for their trade.

That Saturday night, the Duty Senior Police Officer was Inspector Johann Hendriks. His radio had been busy but there was nothing unusual in the routine: his patrols were picking up returning drunks, more to protect the seamen from themselves than for any other reason. He lifted the telephone shrilling on his desk:

'Number Seven Gate, Sergeant Ramussen here, sir: I've got a tricky one for you — a Russian.'

'Political asylum?'

'Mixed up with dope, sir. Being a Russki, I thought you'd like to know.'

'Right, Sergeant. I'll come down.'

'Better hurry, sir.'

'What's the rush?'

'There's a mob of his shipmates outside. They're insisting on taking him back to his ship, Arcturus Star. She berthed this morning.'

'Hold him, Sergeant. I'm on my way.'

By the time Inspector Hendriks had reached Number Seven Gate, the busload of police reinforcements had arrived. Sergeant Ramussen saluted.

'Arcturus Star's commissar saw we meant business, sir. He's taken his mob back to their ship.'

'Did they threaten violence?'

'Not to us. But I wouldn't bet much on their shipmate's chances.' He jerked his head towards the rear of the police gate. ' For his own safety, I've slapped him in cells. He speaks English, sir.'

'What's his game?'

'Drug rackets in the ship — says he's been threatened. They were chasing him down 38 Wharf. They almost got him when our duty car snatched him up. The patrolman locked the car doors on him when their commissar tried to bluster our lads into handing back the deserter.'

'Wheel the Russian in, Sergeant. I'll do the talking.'

The man who cautiously emerged from the cell seemed innocuous enough — but a fire flickered in his grey eyes, whether of desperation or of fanaticism, Hendriks could not decide.

'Name?'

'Dmitri Vasilievich Sysoyov.'

'Who are you?'

'Lieutenant in the Soviet Merchant Marine.'

'Why were you running from your shipmates?'

Hendriks watched the young pallid-faced man whose frightened eyes emphasized his sincerity as the words tumbled from his lips. He affirmed again and again his pacific ideals while he denounced Soviet militarism. He would take his own life, rather than return to the Soviet Union.

'So they're running drug rackets in your ship?' Hendriks prompted impatiently. 'But can you prove it?'

'If you search the ship…'

'One of the most difficult jobs there is, especially if the crew is alerted.'

'Sir, you must search the ship, even if you find nothing on the crew.' The man was pleading, gesticulating wildly with his arms.

'Where do I look?'

'Start on the fo'c'sle-head.'

'Anything there?'

'No.'

'Why, then?'

'To remove suspicion; to make your search realistic.'

Hendriks nodded. ' Can't you be more specific Sysoyov? We're short-handed — how do I know your story isn't a hoax?'

'Would I have risked my life, if I wasn't genuine?'

'This seems very dramatic.'

'It is. Do as I ask, for God's sake. I know what I'm doing, sir…'