by Noah Beck
“I think in this conversation we were leaving out the ‘Sir.’ No need to add it now,” Daniel said with a smile.
Chapter 16: Miss Dolphin and Mister Life Vest
While Boutrous was off-duty, he found his commanding officer, who was also off-duty, near the crew quarters.
“Come here, I have something to show you,” he said, with a mischievous grin.
Eitan smiled in curiosity as he followed Boutrous over to the other crew area on the second deck. Boutrous led him to the communal closet and put his hand on the latch to open it. “The new Miss Dolphin is already on stage,” Boutrous said with a guilty blush as he swung open the closet door, revealing a gorgeous, buxom model standing completely naked in a provocative pose.
“Where’d you get that?” Eitan asked with a sinful grin.
“Jacob’s brother brought it to the picnic and gave it to him. And then Jacob quickly passed it on to me before his girlfriend showed up.”
“Sounds like a submariner’s maneuver!” Eitan remarked.
“Ha. Well, we could use some new company. The last centerfold was getting really old.”
“Yes, we desperately needed a new Miss Dolphin,” Eitan agreed.
Hoping to exploit the transitory moment of male bonding with no one else around, Boutrous broached a request that he had been waiting for the right time to mention: “Any chance I can get the story behind everyone’s nickname now? I’m officially on my first mission now, right?”
“Yeah, but you have to do something to earn it. And putting up the new Miss Dolphin doesn’t quite count as earning it, Boutrous.”
“I see…So what counts?”
“Something memorable. Ideally, something that’ll make you and me proud. But historic stupidity can also do it.”
“What do you mean?”
“My second year as a qualified submariner, there was one sailor who did something so stupid that it earned him his nickname right away. And so at that time we also told him the stories behind everyone else’s nicknames.”
“Ha. What did he do?”
“Well, this one sailor, Shmuli, was about four feet eleven inches tall, so he was a midget even by submariner standards. And originally we were going to call him ‘Roomy’ because when this tiny guy boarded the Dolphin for the very first time – back when he was still trying to get admitted to the force and I was on the submarine that he first toured – he said something like, ‘Wow, this ship is really roomy.’” Boutrous laughed.
“Really?”
“Yeah, it cracked up the crew so much when I told them that we were sure this would end up being his nickname if he made it into the force. But that was nothing compared to what Shmuli did on his first mission, so we had to give him a different nickname in the end.”
“What did he do?”
“Well, he was done with his shift in weapons support but there were no bunks available for him to sleep in, and he was really tired, so he went around looking for a place to nap. Six hours later, when the time for his next shift came around, nobody could find Shmuli. And as the hours go by, the whole crew is going crazy, looking in every part of the sub trying to find this guy. And we just can’t figure it out. I mean, the place is sealed airtight and we’re about 120 meters under water, so where the hell could the guy possibly go?” Boutrous burst into laughs.
“And it’s now been three hours into Shmuli’s shift and everyone knows that somehow a sailor has gone missing, and everyone’s trying to find him, but no one can locate the guy. And in a few hours, the captain has to send an update to naval command. And it would have been hugely embarrassing for the captain to have to report that one submariner is now unaccounted for, given that the submarine had been underwater for the entire time since its last communication with headquarters.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, so the captain got really pissed off – and you see how he is. I mean, he’s a pretty even-tempered man. Daniel doesn’t usually lose his cool like that. But it just drove everyone crazy, including him, that somehow one of 35 men on board just disappeared and nobody could find him, no matter how long we looked or where we tried to find him.”
“So what happened in the end?”
“In the end, the missing sailor woke up, got hungry, and came out for food.” Boutrous laughed again.
“Came out from where? Where was he?”
“Well, that’s what we all wanted to know, after spending hours looking for him. So the captain and various officers insisted that Shmuli show them exactly where he had been sleeping, because they all needed to know, just in case anyone ever again went AWOL on a submerged submarine.”
“And?”
“And he had gone missing in a tiny compartment on the second deck containing life vests.”
“And nobody ever checked it?”
“No we checked there too. Four different people stopped by and looked in that compartment. But Shmuli was so small, and he had piled so many life vests on top of himself, that everyone who opened the door to that tiny space just saw a bunch of life vests and moved on.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. In fact, one of those guys looking for him even took a few life vests off the top of the pile, just to be sure. But he saw nothing unusual: Just a bunch of life vests, like the other three guys who had inspected that area before him. And the sleepy sailor was apparently so tired that he slept through the whole thing. But he did eventually wake up rather refreshed.”
“Haha. That’s hilarious. So what nickname did he get?”
“Life vest, of course.”
“So funny – I love this guy! And what happened to him?”
“I heard he got married last year – to a woman who’s even shorter than him.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I can’t wait to see how tall their kids end up. If they stay together that long – he’s always getting into some kind of trouble.”
“Haha…So he’s no longer in the submarine force?”
“No, he is. But he got transferred to the Leviathan a few years ago, so we don’t see him much.”
“Oh man. So he’s one of those poor guys barfing on that damaged submarine now?”
“Yeah, he should be on it – if they can find him.” Boutrous chuckled again. “But – going back to the moral of the story – you don’t want to earn your nickname privileges the Shmuli way. Try to make me and the rest of our team proud. When that happens, we won’t necessarily give you your nickname, but you’ll get all of the stories then.”
“Got it.”
Chapter 17: The Suez Canal
At 4 a.m. the next day, when the Dolphin was about 24 kilometers away from the Fairway Buoy of Port Said, Ambesah established contact with the Suez Canal Port Office by marine VHF radio. Daniel then provided port officials with all of the information needed to obtain a pre-clearance for Suez Canal passage, including the submarine’s current latitude and longitude position and various vessel-identifying details.
“You want passage in the second southbound convoy leaving Port Said at 0700 hours?” the Egyptian voice on the other side asked in a thick accent.
“Yes, Sir,” Daniel replied.
“But we require a notice of five days in advance. This is stated very clearly in canal regulations. We received notice from your naval base in Haifa only yesterday. And we are talking about the transit of a sensitive military vessel.”
“My base already addressed that issue at a higher level, Sir.”
“And what level is that?”
“With the highest level there is: the Chairman of the Suez Canal Authority, Sir.”
“There are still higher levels that may need to be involved. Again, we are talking about a sensitive military vessel requesting transit without proper notice. This is a most unusual request. So unusual approvals may be needed. I hope you can understand my position, Captain.”
“Understood, Sir. I believe the appropriate fines have already been paid, but I will confirm this again with headquarters be
fore arrival.”
“Yes, you should check about the payments. You are welcome to moor in the harbor, but I make no guarantees about when you can transit. We will see what can be done.”
“Your cooperation would be very much appreciated, Sir,” Daniel replied, before signing off.
****
At 4:20 a.m., the Dolphin slowly approached Port Said. Even at that early hour, there were still some scattered shore lights and enough water traffic equipped with bright visibility beams to illuminate the otherwise dark and expansive skyline, sending ripples of light across the nighttime waters. Tankers, pilot boats, cargo ships, yachts, catamarans, tugboats pulling large vessels, and other watercraft moved about slowly to their various destinations.
The intelligence briefing had mentioned no cause for concern about crossing the Suez Canal and the ominous feeling still brewing in Daniel’s stomach concerned things that he expected would happen long after they crossed the canal. But for a moment the captain considered yet one more heavy rock that might suddenly be placed on his shoulders to balance along with the others: What if Egypt decides arbitrarily to deny his vessel passage now?
Yes, there was still a peace treaty in place. But how long would that agreement survive the Egyptian revolution of 2011? A string of events in recent years had marked the deterioration of the Egypt-Israel relationship, and nobody could predict how much worse bilateral relations might get. Growing lawlessness in the Sinai peninsula had claimed eight Israeli lives and increased the terrorist threat against Israel’s southern border in late 2011. In 2012, Egypt revoked the natural gas deal that it had signed with Israel in 2005. The rise of Islamist political parties became official, culminating in the election of Muslim Brotherhood presidential candidate Muhammad Morsi. After Morsi’s election, a video from 2009 surfaced in which Morsi had urged his followers to “nurse our children and our grandchildren on hatred” for Jews and Zionists, whom he had called “descendants of apes and pigs.” At the highest levels of power in Egypt, there was increasing talk of “renegotiating” or even canceling the country’s 1979 peace treaty with Israel. There were also hints of a desired rapprochement with Iran, as Egypt hosted an Iranian president for the first time since Iran’s 1979 Islamic Revolution. Thus, it was certainly possible that Egypt might abruptly decide to deny passage to Israeli naval ships in need of a Suez Canal transit.
“After all, what is peace?” Daniel thought. “It’s just a promise. And like a promise, peace can be broken at any time.” But his gut told him that – as bad as a broken promise might be now – the real problems were waiting beyond the Suez Canal. “It must be some kind of bureaucratic mix-up,” he thought to himself. “These things can happen even between neighboring countries with the warmest of peaceful relations.” He further reassured himself by remembering that, while the Muslim Brotherhood was the new political force in Egypt, the somewhat chastened army was still arguably the most powerful player in the country. The Egyptian generals had no interest in antagonizing their northern neighbor when there was so much political instability and economic decline already plaguing their country. “There might be some delays to clear things up, but…It’ll be fine,” he thought.
Daniel turned on the intercom and addressed the crew: “We are going to follow Suez Canal regulations as if we had written them ourselves. I don’t want the slightest deviation from the rules.” All Daniel could do at that point was to eliminate any legitimate, rule-based denial of passage and pray for some good luck.
In strict accordance with all Suez Canal regulations, Daniel and his crew fastened the Dolphin to a berth in Port Said harbor, using the mandated mooring ropes and buoys, and keeping the submarine’s bright lights on, as required in order to avoid collisions with other watercraft. Daniel had with him all of the documents needed for passage, including the Suez Canal Special Tonnage Certificate and Calculation Sheets and a variety of declarations confirming compliance with various canal regulations.
At 4:40 a.m., the Suez Canal Harbor Master approached the Dolphin and ascended the ladder left for him, so that he could confirm compliance with canal regulations, and verify the vessel’s seaworthiness certificate. Then a pilot came on board and checked that the main engines, compasses, steering gear system, engine room, telegraph, rudder angle and RPM indicators, VHF and radar were all in good working order.
It was customary to give the Harbor Master and pilot a pack or two of cigarettes at the end of their duties; Daniel gave the Harbor Master a carton of 10 packs. “Thank you for your generosity, Captain. But the decision is not mine. Let’s see what the main office says.”
Ambesah established a radio connection with the main office. The Harbor Master reported in Arabic to his superiors that the submarine had complied with all regulations and that his colleague, the pilot, had confirmed that the vessel was in every respect ready to transit the canal once permission was granted.
The Harbor Master turned to Daniel. “The office supervisor would like to speak with you.”
Daniel spoke into the radio: “Yes, Sir.”
“Captain, we received all necessary payments. Now we are just waiting for certain approvals. We are doing our best to expedite the process because it’s now 0441 hours, and we cannot allow any vessels to join the 0700 convoy after 0500 hours, even with the additional fines paid. These are strict regulations.”
“I understand, Sir. Thank you for your help in getting the additional approvals as fast as you can, Sir.”
“You see, Captain, there are some very important officials involved in this approval.”
“All of your help here is much appreciated, Sir.”
As Daniel stood there, waiting for the clearance, he began to envision the various scenarios with which he might be faced if this hurdle was not cleared. Maybe they would have to stay berthed for a night or two at Port Said, waiting for the relevant powers to communicate with each other. Maybe more money would have to be paid. Or maybe all of the money already paid would be refunded because Egyptian policy had changed with respect to Israeli naval boats. Maybe this request by the Dolphin was the first opportunity that Egypt had to announce and enforce its new policy of military realignment towards Iran. What then? To travel from Port Said, where they were waiting, to Bandar Abbas, via the Suez Canal, involved a distance of about 5,185 kilometers, which meant roughly 24 days at sea. If, however, they were refused passage and had to take a route around west Africa and down to South Africa’s Cape of Good Hope, the distance would be about four times as great. That circuitous route translated into an additional 71.5 days at sea in order to reach their target, without accounting for stops to replenish their fuel and food provisions in friendly ports.
None of the concerns associated with a Suez Canal crossing would have arisen had Israel maintained a regular submarine presence in Eilat, but the port there was used mainly for trading with East Asian countries. Israel’s submarine force was needed much more along the country’s Mediterranean Sea border to defend the densely populated coastal cities from a range of seaborne threats potentially originating in Lebanon, Syria, or Gaza. They were also needed to protect Israel’s exploration and development of natural gas in the state’s territorial waters and near Cyprus, where the two countries were cooperating with a Texas-based energy company to exploit the huge offshore gas reserves discovered in the Eastern Mediterranean.
“Maybe with all of the changes in Egypt, it’s time for the Navy to modify the port in Eilat so that we can always keep some subs stationed there,” Daniel thought to himself, as he considered ways around the current impasse that his mission faced. “Then again, even the route from Eilat to Iran could be blocked by Egypt,” he reminded himself. Egyptian naval blockades of the Straits of Tiran, the narrow waterway allowing passage from Eilat to the Red Sea, were among the causes of two major Arab-Israeli conflicts in the past: the Sinai War and the Six-Day War.
“It’ll be fine,” Daniel kept telling himself, as he and his crew quietly watched the remaining minutes ticking aw
ay.
****
During the tense wait for official permission to transit the Egyptian canal, Zvi began to reflect on his own family roots in Egypt. He thought about the surreal idea that – if the Dolphin was allowed to pass – he would at some point traverse a part of the earth that his mother and her parents had crossed on their way to Israel, almost 60 years earlier. Zvi imagined for a moment standing on the mast, looking out over the nearby coast and watching his grandparents and his mother as a child, shuffling along with just a few possessions as they proceeded towards the new country and life ahead of them. He imagined waving to them, but they just slogged forward without seeing him. His mother had been born in Alexandria, Egypt in 1952. In 1956, the Egyptian government ordered her parents, along with about 25,000 other Egyptian Jews, to leave the country after signing declarations “donating” their property to the Egyptian government. They arrived in Israel penniless, with nothing but the clothes and memorabilia that they could pack into two suitcases.
Zvi’s thoughts then moved to his father, who was born in 1946 in Baghdad and had a similar story. Zvi’s paternal grandparents were harassed under a 1948 government law that made all Zionist activity illegal. All of their property was confiscated, and after almost being imprisoned, they escaped with their baby son to Israel to restart their lives from scratch. And so Zvi’s father, like his mother, grew up in a struggling family that had immigrated to Israel to escape the persecution of Jews in an Arab country. Zvi’s father would go on to serve as an IDF medic before becoming a physician specializing in emergency medicine. But as Zvi imagined the later years of his father’s life, the 22-year old submariner began to feel nauseous and didn’t want to revisit his last memories of him, when he was a senior emergency doctor at Rambam Hospital. It came from a chapter in his past that was too dark.
So Zvi quickly sent his mind back to his most recent happy family memory: the evanescent reunion they had just enjoyed on shore. He saw himself with his two older brothers and his blind, wheelchair-bound mother. He and his family were socializing with his best friend and fellow submariner, Jacob, the 22-year old Indian-Israeli who served as a sonar specialist. Jacob’s family was also present and, as always, felt like next of kin to Zvi. Unlike Zvi, who maintained a meticulous neatness, Jacob was by far the most disheveled of the crewmembers, with his dark hair often out of place and part of his shirt not tucked into his pants.
