“Well, Comrade Kalinin, your report?”
The Admiral was so keen to know that he overlooked returning Captain Second Rank Mikhail Stepanovich Kalinin’s crisp salute.
Admiral Oktyabrskiy grasped Kalinin’s shoulder in a show of emotion.
“Spit it out, Mikhail.”
“I have signed off on vessel fifty-one, Comrade Admiral. The Chief Engineer assures me that fifty-four will be ready for my inspection as of tomorrow at 1500. I anticipate, if all goes well, that I will sign her off on Monday at the latest.”
Oktyabrskiy clapped his hands in joy, for reasons that were not apparent to Kalinin, who had no idea of the nature and tone of the phone call that the Black Sea Fleet commander had just endured.
“Forget fifty-four, Comrade. You are ordered to commence sea trials.”
“When, Comrade Admiral?”
“Your crew have done their training. I’ve seen your efficiency reports…”
“On the mock-up only, Comrade Admiral. I would require…”
“You have the weekend only, Kalinin. You are ordered to undertake whatever sea trials you dictate to bring fifty-one to readiness and make her operational. Is that clear?”
“Sir… Admiral… this is a magnificent submarine… but if I go to sea in it without a properly trained crew… and I mean not one trained on mock ups… but with water under and over them… I cannot…”
“You will do it, Comrade Kapitan. I have received a direct order, and I pass it on to you. You will take fifty-one to sea at 0900, Monday morning and conduct trails to bring her to a state fit for the Motherland’s use… for use as soon as is possible.”
Kalinin looked hard at the Admiral, and then at the sleek form of fifty-one, and then back, his face set in resolution.
“Comrade Admiral, you know… you have to know… this is madness…”
“It is an order, Comrade Kapitan.”
“It’s fucking lunacy, that’s what it is, Comrade Admiral, fuc…”
Again, Oktyabrskiy grasped the junior man’s shoulder, this time in warning, more than friendship.
“Shut up, you fool, shut up.”
The furtive glances that the Admiral shot in all directions told Kalinin all he needed to know about where the order had come from.
“You will do your duty, Comrade Kapitan. You will take her to sea and perform whatever sea trials…,” Oktyabrskiy lowered his voice but increased the weight of delivery in such a way that Kalinin got the message loud and clear, “…that you dictate… before making her operational. Do you understand, Mikhail?”
“Yes, Comrade Admiral.”
“Good.”
He released his hold on the submarine commander’s shoulder, and his posture became more relaxed.
“I have other news… good news… Comrade Kapitan. Your vessel will be J-51 of the Soviet Naval Submarine force, and will have a name, especially chosen for her by our glorious General Secretary.”
Kalinin noted the J-51 with approval, as he and his crew had started calling the Type XXI ‘Jana’, after the young NKVD officer who had been killed when a crane dropped part of the submarine on her.
Oktyabrskiy motioned to a group of four waiting sailors, who struggled forward something, clearly heavy, concealed under a canvas.
“Come, Mikhail.”
They descended from the gantry onto the dockside.
The Admiral waved his hands and the sailors dragged the cover away, revealing a nameplate.
Kalinin read the two words.
‘Sovetskaya Initsiativa.’
“What do you think, eh, Comrade Kapitan? A fine name, eh?”
“Yes, indeed, Comrade Admiral. One worthy of her purpose.”
“Have one of your officers oversee its installation before the official launch ceremony, Mikhail
With a hearty slap on the back and a soft-spoken reminder of his orders, Admiral Oktyabrskiy went on his way.
Watching him depart, Kalinin resolved to call her ‘Jana’, as ‘Soviet Initiative’ was far too much of a mouthful.
Chapter 170 – THE RESPONSE
All you have to do is hold your first soldier who is dying in your arms, and have that terribly futile feeling that I can’t do anything about it… Then you understand the horror of war.
The atmosphere in the bespoke meeting room was little short of openly hostile, the encouraging air of détente and cooperation washed away by the events in Hofbieber the previous day.
Undén called the meeting to order and, as he had agreed, despite the pleading from Minister Molotov, gave the floor to the Allied delegation.
“Thank you, Chairman Undén.”
Eyes turned away from US Secretary of State James Byrnes towards the man who unexpectedly rose in his stead.
Ernest Bevin, Foreign Secretary in Churchill’s coalition government, was to deliver the Allied response.
“Chairmen Undén, fellow delegates, it with a heavy heart, and with incredulity, that I must report a change to the war situation that has now been confirmed since we last convened.”
His West Country accent was difficult for the translators to fully understand, so he spoke slowly, and as precisely as he could.
“At roughly one pm yesterday, in and around the German villages of Hofbieber and Allmus, the armed forces of the Soviet Union employed a deadly weapon against soldiers of the Allied Armies, one employed in direct contravention of the 1925 Geneva protocol for the prohibition of the use of Asphyxiating, Poisonous, or Other Gases, and of Bacteriological Methods of Warfare, which came into effect on the 8th February 1928, and to which the government of the gentleman opposite is a signatory.”
He took a sip on his water as the translators caught up.
“Chairman Undén, the Allied Alliance has entered into these discussions in good faith, accepting the generous offer of the Swedish Government to come here and meet with our enemies, to find common ground, and to attempt to establish some means of ending the conflict and returning the world to the peace it so richly deserves… and desperately needs.”
Molotov was white, not through fury, but through his embarrassment and his shock at the events being described, even though he had been told the previous evening.
The phone call, from no less than the General Secretary, had been very much one-way, and he was left in no doubt as to what he needed to do when the strangely accented Englishman had stopped prattling on.
“Chairman Undén, these proceedings will be terminated with immediate effect whilst we consider our position, a position that includes a response with any and every means available to the Allied Alliance, including the use of our Atomic weapons.”
The entire Allied negotiating team rose as one, intent on departing, but Minister Undén responded loudly.
“Gentlemen, please! Remain seated for a few moments longer, please.”
He gestured them to sit, and they did, their theatrical attempt to leave wholly staged for dramatic effect, as they were well aware that Molotov had pleaded with the Swede for first statement, and had no intention of leaving before hearing his words.
“At your request, we will stay, Chairman.”
Undén bowed his head graciously in acknowledgement.
It was all theatre, all the dance of brinkmanship and diplomacy, although it didn’t sit well with Byrnes, who was all for a ‘pistols at dawn’ approach.