“Transmit,” Ivanov ordered.
The Watch Officer turned and pressed the transmit button on his console.
91
Captain Second Rank Josef Buffanov stood in the Central Command Post of his nuclear attack submarine, with his arms folded across his chest as his eyes shifted between watchstanders. His crew was tense, and for good reason, but their communications remained disciplined, his men speaking in subdued tones using the succinct orders and reports they had been trained to use. His First Officer made his round through the Command Post, stopping behind each watchstander as he checked on the performance of their duties, casting an occasional glance in his Commanding Officer’s direction.
Buffanov knew what his First Officer was thinking; he was wondering about the Commanding Officer Only messages Severodvinsk had received, messages Buffanov had not yet shared with his crew. Considering what had just transpired, Buffanov figured it would not be long before another message arrived.
A few hours ago, the shock waves of two torpedo detonations had rumbled past his submarine. Vepr and the American guided missile submarine had engaged. At first, there was no indication as to which submarine had survived. Perhaps neither, with both submarines sunk in a torpedo exchange. Then Hydroacoustic picked up a bottom impact, followed by the American SSGN returning to the ice hole at ahead flank speed. Vepr had been sunk.
Severodvinsk had been a bystander in the encounter, remaining ice-picked against the polar ice, using the VLF antenna in the conning tower to copy the broadcast as directed. As Buffanov wondered when he would receive the next message, the Communication Party Leader’s voice delivered the awaited report.
“Command Post, Communications. In receipt of a Commanding Officer Only message.”
Buffanov entered the Communication Post, stopping by the printers as he had done twice before. “Ready,” he said, and a sheet of paper slid from the nearest printer.
Buffanov read the message. It was short and the directive clear. He returned to the Command Post, and this time did not withhold the content of the message. He stopped at the navigation table, laying the message face up on its surface.
“First Officer, Watch Officer. Join me.”
Captain Third Rank Novikoff, his First Officer, and Captain Lieutenant Ronin approached the navigation table.
“Read,” was all Buffanov said as he slid the message toward them.
The two men read the message, and Buffanov could tell both men read it again, surprised at the directive. They looked up, awaiting amplification.
“As you can see,” Buffanov began, “we have been ordered to destroy Yury Dolgoruky. The Americans will not be allowed to board her and scavenge her tactical and strategic systems, weapons, and countermeasures.”
“However,” Buffanov continued, “we have an issue to address.” He paused, hoping his two officers understood the problem.
When neither man responded, Buffanov asked, “Where is the American guided missile submarine?”
Ronin answered, “We lost her when she slowed from ahead flank, but our solution put her on a bearing of three-five-zero, near the ice hole.”
“How far away from Dolgoruky?”
“A few hundred meters.”
“Do you understand the problem?” Buffanov asked.
It took a moment, but then the light came on in his First Officer’s eyes, followed by his Watch Officer. Concern worked its way across their faces.
Buffanov answered his own question. “The American submarine has already been attacked today by a Russian submarine. If we fire at Dolgoruky with the American submarine nearby, the American Captain will conclude we are shooting at him and counterfire.”
The commanding officer of Severodvinsk paused, then asked a follow-on question. “Which means?”
This time, his Watch Officer knew the answer. “We must surprise and destroy the American submarine first, to ensure it cannot counterfire.”
Buffanov turned to his First Officer. “Attacking the American submarine is not in our directive.” He pointed to the message on the navigation table. “But it is the only way to ensure our survival. Do you concur?”
As Buffanov waited for their concurrence, he hoped they didn’t see through his thinly veiled plan. Vepr had been sunk, and she would be avenged, regardless of the American submarine’s threat.
Captain Third Rank Novikoff contemplated the question for a moment before answering, “I concur,” as did Ronin.
Buffanov’s eyes swept across the Command Post again. Like Vepr, Severodvinsk would engage the American guided missile submarine. However, Severodvinsk was no Vepr. The new Yasen class submarine was vastly superior to Vepr and the American submarine, both built in the mid-’80s of the last century. Severodvinsk was the more capable submarine by far, and, barring bad luck, the outcome of their duel with the Americans was not in doubt.
He directed his Watch Officer, “Man Combat Stations silently.” Ronin acknowledged the order and word was passed to the crew via messengers. Buffanov followed up, “Shift to the electric drive.”
In the conflicting need for stealth and maximum propulsion, Buffanov chose stealth. His plan was to approach close and leave insufficient time for the American crew to counterfire, which meant Severodvinsk would use her electric drive instead of main engines.
Ronin relayed the order, and a few minutes later reported, “Captain, Combat Stations are manned. Propulsion has been shifted to the electric drive.”
Buffanov acknowledged, then called out, “Compensation Officer, secure from ice pick. Make your depth one hundred meters.” The Compensation Officer complied, and as Severodvinsk drifted downward, Buffanov added, “Steersman, ahead two-thirds. Left full rudder, steady course three-five-zero.”
As Severodvinsk turned toward the American submarine, Buffanov ordered his Weapons Officer, “Flood down and open muzzle doors, tubes One and Two.”
92
It had taken longer than Christine expected, but the silhouette of Dolgoruky’s hull in the video monitor finally appeared. The PRM slowed to a hover over the submarine’s aft-compartment hatch, and the pilot adjusted the articulating skirt on the bottom of the PRM to match the angle of the stricken submarine. The next few minutes passed slowly as Ennis dewatered the transfer skirt.
After the seal was established, the pressure in the PRM was increased to match the last recorded pressure in Dolgoruky’s aft compartments, so there would be no pressure differential between the submarine and submersible. However, Christine wondered how they would open the submarine hatch, with no one inside the submarine to operate the handwheel.
Eddie Stankiewicz, the Auxiliary Division Chief accompanying them, explained there was a special tool for each class of submarine. Stankiewicz produced just such a tool, which looked like a large metal T. He climbed down the metal rope ladder into the transfer skirt and slid the end of the tool into an indentation in the center of the hatch fairing. He then twisted the tool, which rotated the hatch mechanism inside the submarine. After several revolutions, the hatch popped up an inch, and after several more turns, Chief Stankiewicz removed the tool and reached down, opening the hatch and locking it in place.