Two small dinghies searched again and again through the oily waters around the place where the trawler had gone down, between the broken pieces of timber and debris floating in the water. In the distance, the muffled sounds of explosions were heard. These were the depth charges that the USS Iowa was dropping with the intention of hitting the unknown submarine, or at least of causing it enough damage to force it to the surface.
The water was almost frozen and it was clear to everyone that even if some survivors from among the Royal Marines and the trawler’s crew had made it out alive, they would not survive in the water for more than a few minutes.
“There’s a head!” a voice was heard on one of the two rescue boats, which raced toward it. An athletically-built man was holding on to a piece of lumber floating in the water.
“This one isn’t one of ours, and he’s as strong as a horse”, said one of the rescuers, while pulling the survivor out of the water and into the boat with the help of two of his mates. The survivor seemed to be in shock. He was shivering and his teeth were chattering, making a knocking sound. They laid him down in the center of the boat and covered him with an aluminum thermal blanket to preserve what little remained of his body heat. Despite his condition, he was fully conscious and probably aware of his surroundings.
Within a short time the survivor, supported by two seamen, was brought up to the British frigate and led to the officers’ mess. His clothes were removed and he was dressed in a warm, dry uniform. An electric heater was brought and the survivor was served hot tea.
“Spassiba”, [thank you, in Russian], he whispered.
The frigate’s Captain entered the mess hall and looked down at the survivor. He reckoned that despite his condition, the man was bearing up surprisingly well.
“Do you speak English?” the Captain asked him.
“Nyet, ya gabrit Prusky”, he answered in Russian, saying that he spoke only Russian.
The phone on the wall rang and one of the seamen answered. He listened and passed the handset to the Captain.
“It’s for you, Captain.”
The Captain took the handset.
“This is the Captain.”
“This is Captain Mitchell, of the USS Iowa. Please accept my condolences. I understand that you’ve lost some of your men.”
“Yes, we have. It seems that all sixteen of our Marines are lost at sea. Thank you for your condolences. Now go on, please.”
“We chased after the enemy submarine and dropped several depth charges, but is appears that the enemy wasn’t hit and managed to escape to the east. If you have any Russian survivors, we can help. We have an intelligence officer who speaks Russian here on board.”
“We have one survivor and he is now…” “You say Russian?”
“Affirmative.”
“What’s his condition? Can he be questioned?”
“I believe so. He looks pretty tough to me. He was given a change of clothes and some hot tea and he is now recovering. I’m not at all sure that he’s just a fisherman.”
“OK. Under these circumstances, we don’t abide by British etiquette. I promise you that he will very quickly forget he’s Mister Tough Guy.”
“I’ll sail closer to you, and we’ll transfer this fisherman to you in an
Omega chair across a wire.”
“Hold it, Captain. The Intelligence Officer is right here next to me, and he has two requests. First, tie him to the Omega chair with his hands behind his back so he doesn’t try to jump and kill himself. Second, put his original clothes in a plastic bag and send them to us as well.”
“No problem, Captain. We’ll do all that, and thanks for your help with the submarine.”
“Don’t mention it. Too bad we didn’t hit it. Again, I’m sorry for your loss. We’re now approaching your starboard side.”
Within minutes, the huge USS Iowa was approaching the British frigate, coming closer and closer. A rope was shot into the water from the Iowa’s deck and was collected on the HMS Chester’s deck and, fifteen minutes later, a steel-threaded wire was suspended between the two ships.
The Russian survivor was lashed tightly to a chair hanging from an overhead pulley on the cable. Hundreds of seamen stood on the decks of the two ships and watched the Russian survivor being pulled across to the Iowa over the wire.
The Intelligence investigator looked through the Russian’s original clothes, and having finished inspecting them, walked to the next room and sat facing the Russian, who was guarded by an armed seaman. He first inspected him visually for quite some time. It was hard not to be impressed by the calm bearing, and strangely enough, even by the confidence displayed by the Russian, considering the circumstances in which he now found himself. The Intelligence officer addressed him in his mother tongue.
“What is your name?” “Vassily.”
“Vassily what?” “Vassily.”
The interrogator could swear that he noticed a hint of a grin at the corner of the mouth of this Russian, who seemed a hard nut to crack.
“What was your job on the ship? I can see you’re not a boy.” “Chief Engineer.”
“Show me your hands.”
The Russian extended his two palms for his interrogator to see.
“And what have you been doing in the past twenty-four hours?”
“We were fishing.”
“Tell me about those fish that you caught in these frozen waters. What did you fish? Sardines? Whales? Frozen fillet?”
“I don’t know. I am only a Chief Engineer.”
“Interesting”, the interrogator replied in disdain. “I’m looking at the pictures taken by our maritime patrol airplane, which you must have seen passing above you. It’s strange; there are no fishing nets on the deck. Maybe you were fishing with those long antennas that covered your entire ship? I hear about fisherman that use explosives for fishing, even though it’s illegal, but fishing with a nuclear bomb? Haven’t you gotten it mixed up? Do you agree with me that maybe you went overboard just a little bit?”
The Russian survivor kept quiet and displayed no emotion.
“Now tell me, what’s this big thing covered with a tarp in the middle of the ship? Maybe that’s where you stored all your fishing nets? No? To me it looks rather like a tank or a self-propelled gun. Maybe it caused your ship to sink to the bottom of the ocean like a stone after you were hit by the torpedo — the tank or the gun rolled forward and its weight caused the ship to stand on its nose and to plunge to the bottom. There’s another thing I want to ask you, just out of curiosity. Tell me, do all fishermen in Russia have Soviet Navy storm coats?”
The interrogator looked at the Russian’s face and thought he noticed some signs of uneasiness, but he was not sure of it, and he decided to increase his subtle pressure on the Russian.
“Listen up. This was only the foreplay, and our foreplay ends now. I know you are an officer in the Red Army. As one officer to another, I will share with you some important information. You were sunk by two torpedoes, and these torpedoes were fired by your own nuclear submarine K-219. Now, isn’t this obvious to you? Would it make sense for us to sink you before we found out what you have on board and while we had sixteen British Marines on your deck? Why do I have a strange feeling that you know this submarine, and I have a hunch that you also know its Captain personally? You left from the same port, right? When we caught you, you were trying to run towards Murmansk. Now tell me, are you stupid? Don’t you realize that this submarine was ordered by your own commanding officers to sink you, in order to silence you forever?”
The Russian survivor struggled valiantly to maintain his composure, but then the interrogator hit him with the final blow.