Cold Choices - [Jerry Mitchell 02]

by Larry Bond

  It was well into the afternoon before the chief of staff made the announcement that Petrov was longing for, and dreading at the same time.

  “Our last report will be from the Chief of the Combat Training Directorate. Vice Admiral Vlasov, will you please present your findings.”

  “Good afternoon, comrade Admiral,” spoke Vlasov with a severe and deliberate tone. “In accordance with your instructions, my staff exercised the crew of Severodvinsk in as thorough a manner as was humanly possible. We drove them near to the point of breaking, and then we pushed even harder.”

  “No shit, you damned Cossack,” muttered Petrov under his breath. The clearing of Borisov’s throat, and a stern look, informed Petrov that the comment had been heard and was not appreciated. Chastened, he turned his attention back to Vlasov as he continued his report.

  “As most of you are aware, my directorate is responsible for evaluating a crew’s performance in the execution of combat training tasks. Although we assist the other directorates with phase one and two exercises, it is the phase three at sea exercises that concern us the most. Captain Petrov and the crew of Severodvinsk completed all prescribed combat training tasks as required in the Russian Navy manual on Combat Readiness Training for Nuclear Submarines. The detailed reports are in your binders but in the interest of brevity, we found the crew to be satisfactory in carrying out their combat-readiness requirements.”

  We are much better than that, you miserly bastard, thought Petrov, fuming. Many of the older boats, some that were not even able to go to sea, had crews that had earned a satisfactory rating in their combat training tasks. By contrast, his crew had worked infinitely harder, and to get the same rating was way beyond insulting. Striving valiantly to contain his anger, Petrov stewed while Vlasov droned on.

  “Therefore, we assign the crew of Severodvinsk a collective grade of 4.5 for all combat training tasks, and it is our judgment that the crew is ready for independent operations. We further recommend that the submarine be accepted in to the fleet’s combat-ready force.”

  Petrov sat in stunned silence and stark disbelief. The grading scheme for Russian naval readiness exercises is based on a five-point scale with 3.0 being “Satisfactory.” A collective grade of 4.5 was in the “Superior” to “Excellent” range and reflected a crew that was on top of their game. Both Borisov and Vidchenko were clearly pleased with such a good score and there were murmurs of approval from around the conference room.

  “Quiet please,” barked the chief of staff. “Do you have anything further to offer, Vice Admiral Vlasov?”

  “Sir, I have a personal observation that is not in the final report that I would like to bring to this board’s attention.”

  A still-shocked Petrov looked at Vlasov with a mix of confusion and concern. Raising issues that were not documented in a final report was definitely not the norm for the Russian Navy.

  Kokurin leaned forward, a serious expression materialized on his face as he looked intently at his chief of training, “Please continue, Admiral.”

  “During the final antisubmarine exercise, Captain Petrov displayed unusual aggressiveness in prosecuting his attack against PLA K-157 Vepr. On at least two occasions he knowingly violated the one-kilometer safety zone as he executed his maneuvers. And while I believe Captain Petrov retained a firm grasp of the tactical situation, such aggressiveness has brought this fleet no small degree of suffering in the recent past.” The allusion to the loss of Gepard as a result of Admiral Yuriy Kirichenko’s unbridled aggressiveness was not lost on all those present. Even Petrov bristled at the implied comparison, especially since the after-action analysis of the engagement had proven he had correctly assessed Vepr’s exact location and intended movement. Once again there was murmuring as several side discussions started up.

  Thumping the table loudly with his fingers to gain everyone’s attention, Kokurin stood up and said, “Thank you, Yuriy Vasilyevich, for your candid statements. All of you would do well to remember that this is exactly what I asked for at the beginning of this board.”

  The fleet commander paused, rose, and began to slowly pace around the room, a well-known habit of his that he displayed only when considering how to respond to an important issue. It was said that he’d worn a groove in his office carpet while thinking.

  “Admiral, while I value your observation, we will have to disagree. In my opinion, there is a marked difference between my predecessor and Captain Petrov. I say this for two reasons. Firstly, by your own admission in the evaluation report Captain Petrov exhibited a calm composure during the antisubmarine exercise and seemed to weigh all considerations before issuing a maneuver order that brought him within 850 meters of Vepr. To me this is not undisciplined aggressiveness unleashed in the heat of the moment, but rather an example of rational decision-making skills and a well-honed ability to consider the risks before taking action.”

  Realizing that the tenor and volume of his voice was rising, Kokurin stopped momentarily and straightened his uniform jacket before resuming.

  “Secondly, most of you are aware of Captain Petrov’s upbringing in the submarine force. His teacher, Dmitriy Ivanovich Makeyev, was the best submarine tactician that Russia has ever produced and he spoke very favorably of our young captain’s abilities. And while Captain Petrov’s record speaks highly of him, I cannot think of a better judge of an officer’s tactical qualities than Makeyev. So, no, Admiral Vlasov, I do not agree that Captain Petrov’s aggressiveness is excessive. I will agree that it is unusual, and that is a shame. Right now Russia needs a few more wolfhounds; not another tethered mongrel whose best defense is that it barks loudly.”

  As the fleet commander walked back toward his chair, Petrov scanned the room and saw that everyone was looking straight at him. Uncomfortable with this degree of attention, the young captain occupied himself by straightening the papers and binders in front of him.

  “Gentlemen,” Kokurin said as he sat down. “Unless there are any more issues to discuss, I will now read the judgment of this board.” The silence assured everyone that the time for discussion was over. Clearing his throat, Kokurin proceeded with the formal announcement.

  “Captain First Rank Aleksey Igorevich Petrov, it is the judgment of this board that the crew of the Severodvinsk has met all combat training requirements and tasks, and that the submarine is at one hundred percent technical readiness. We therefore certify the submarine and crew as qualified for independent combat duty. We further decree that the Russian Federation submarine K-329 Severodvinsk is hereby accepted into the Northern Fleet and is assigned to the Twenty-fourth Atomic Submarine Diviziya of the Twelfth Submarine Eskadra. Congratulations, Captain.”

  A hearty applause broke out from all corners of the conference room; Petrov rose and thanked the collective audience for their kind sentiments. He then spent the next half hour receiving individual congratulations and wishes of success from the directorate chiefs and their staffs.

  As the last of the participants slowly departed, Petrov and his commanders were ushered back to the conference table by the chief of staff. As they headed toward their original seats, Kokurin motioned for them to move down, closer to his end of the table.

  “Pavel, please join us.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  In stark contrast to the packed room earlier, there were only eight men at the table now, including Petrov and his immediate superiors. Of the five fleet officers present, Petrov had met the majority of them, including the deputy fleet commander and the deputy chief of staff for operations. He didn’t know, however, who the rear admiral was that sat next to his eskadra commander. A large map board with a chart of the Barents Sea was brought forward and placed to the left of the fleet commander’s chair. The entire scene filled Petrov with an immense sense of curiosity as he recalled the admiral’s earlier cryptic comment.

  “Now that the bureaucratic requirements have been met,” said Kokurin, eyeing his chief of staff, “we can get on to more important business.”
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  Pointing to the unidentified admiral, he added, “This is Rear Admiral Litenkov, my Chief of the Intelligence Directorate. He will brief you on the operational background. Afterward, we’ll discuss what I intend to do about the situation. Admiral.”

  “Thank you, sir. Comrades, you may or may not know that we have indirect evidence that a U.S. submarine was involved in the loss of Gepard several years ago. I say indirect evidence because there was no positive proof other than several hydroacoustic detections. I say again, nothing definite. Unfortunately, we do have direct evidence of Russian torpedoes exploding either in or on contact with Gepard. To compound the uncertainty, the prosecuting antisubmarine forces recorded up to half a dozen simultaneous confirmed submarine contacts over an area that spanned several hundreds of square nautical miles. This lack of precision in reporting significantly weakened any case we had against the Americans, and the president determined that our only option was to issue a diplomatic demarche to the American ambassador. Since then, there have been a growing number of contact reports of foreign submarines in our operational areas.”

  Litenkov rose and walked toward the map board. “During the latest exercise period last month, there were eight such reports. But only one led to a follow-on prosecution by fleet antisubmarine assets, the rest were inconclusive and could have been false alarms. Unfortunately, contact was held only briefly before the submarine escaped to deeper water. We were, however, able to identify the submarine’s nationality. It was an American Los Angeles-class submarine.”

  Picking up a pointer, Litenkov traced out an area on the chart just west of Novaya Zemlya. “This latest contact was in Operations Areas 21 and 22, which are the fleet’s northernmost combat training ranges. In addition, there is some evidence that certain U.S. attack submarines are fitted with tethered remote operating vehicles that are used for intelligence-gathering purposes. One such attack submarine, USS Alexandria, was at sea during the time frame in question. Alexandria is an Improved Los Angeles-class PLA.”

  As Litenkov put the pointer down and returned to his seat, Kokurin suddenly leapt to his feet, reached over, and slapped the chart with his burly hand. “Since the loss of Gepard we have been wallowing in despair, and we have been very timid. Such attributes do not command respect. Without question, Kirichenko was out of control. He may have been blinded more by frustration than the political motives that were claimed, but his intentions were valid! I will not tolerate the Americans strolling merrily through my training ranges as if they were a park! Something must be done!”

  Petrov was impressed and taken aback by the fierceness of Kokurin’s outburst. As Kokurin sat down, he gestured sharply to his chief of staff for operations. “Aleksandr, explain the plan to our comrades.”

  “We plan to set a trap along the border of Operations Areas 21 and 22 using fixed acoustic sensors and Severodvinsk. We have one more small exercise period in October, before the ice gets too bad, and we intend to use Operations Areas 18 and 19 to the south. It is our belief that if the Americans attempt to send a submarine on a reconnaissance mission, they will approach from the north and use the broken ice as cover.”

  Petrov watched as the operations officer flipped the large-scale chart over to reveal a smaller-scale one with greater detail of the operating areas.

  “This chart shows where we’ve laid thirty-six of the new Amga autonomous submarine detection buoys in a single line barrier. The buoys are four nautical miles apart, which gives us a ninety percent probability of detection should a submarine attempt to traverse the barrier. You, Captain Petrov, will take Severodvinsk and patrol along the south side of the barrier. Fleet headquarters will relay any contact reports from the buoys. You will be close by, ready to pounce. Any questions?”

  “What kind of sensors are on these new buoys?” asked Borisov.

  “They use passive acoustic hydrophones with broadband and narrowband processing. The technical specifications are included in your orders packet.”

  “I’m concerned about false alarms,” injected Vidchenko. “How does the buoy’s processor determine if a contact is valid?”

  “The buoy’s onboard processor will compare any signal it detects to an extensive library of submarine signatures and other sounds. The false-alarm rate is much lower than previous systems. But your point is still valid and that is why we are going to use Severodvinsk. A nuclear-powered submarine is a much better platform to do the follow-up detection and prosecution. Anything else?”

  Both Borisov and Vidchenko signaled they were satisfied for the moment. Somewhat hesitantly, Petrov raised his hand and asked, “Sir, what are my orders if I find an American?”

  “Drive him away with his tail between his legs,” answered Kokurin firmly. “This is where Kirichenko failed us all. He wanted a trophy to demonstrate our prowess to the world. I’m not interested in convincing the world of our greatness, that’s the job of the foreign and economic ministries. All I care is that the United States, Great Britain, and the rest of NATO knows that my fleet has the ability to protect our homeland and its contiguous waters. They must learn to respect us!”

  “You are,” continued the operations officer, “not authorized to fire any weapons unless fired upon first, and then only if you cannot evade and report. You are authorized to use decoys and countermeasures at your discretion to achieve the mission’s objective. Are there any other questions?”

  Petrov shook his head indicating he had nothing more to ask.

  “Excellent!” cried Kokurin as he rose. “This mission is very similar to your phase three antisubmarine exercise, Captain Petrov, only this time with an unfriendly and uncooperative opponent. I expect you to embarrass the Americans, should they show up, as badly as you did poor Vepr and Captain Zubov.”

  “I will strive to not disappoint you, sir.”

  “I know you will, Captain. But may I offer you one piece of fatherly advice?”

  “Yes, sir. Anything.”

  “Admiral Vlasov is partially correct. You must be mindful of your own warrior spirit.” Kokurin advanced slowly, deliberately toward Petrov as he spoke. “Aggressiveness can be a blessing or a curse. If it is not tempered by wisdom, it will lead to recklessness. And that can have unfortunate consequences. Be my wolfhound, but don’t be a rabid one.”

  Bursting with pride and overwhelmed by the fleet commander’s gentle admonition, Petrov could only nod his understanding.

  Extending his hand, Kokurin said, “Good luck, Captain, and good hunting.”

  Grasping the old submariner’s hand firmly, and looking him straight in the eye, Petrov replied, “Thank you, sir.”

  As he departed, Petrov could not believe his good fortune. Receiving an unexpectedly good evaluation score, full certification and acceptance into the fleet, and his first mission all in one day was just too much to comprehend. The stars, as his mother used to say, were aligning in his favor.

  ~ * ~

  3

  PRIDE OF THE FLEET

  Sayda Guba Submarine Base, Russia

  The hour-long drive from Severomorsk to Gadzhiyevo seemed unnaturally short, almost as if Petrov were dreaming. And yet, he clearly remembered discussing several aspects of his upcoming mission with Vice Admiral Borisov and Rear Admiral Vidchenko during the return trip. Still feeling a little giddy from the conference, Petrov stared out at the rocky terrain along the ill-kept road and tried to figure out just how he was going to get his boat to sea in only three weeks. There were still some minor adjustments to be made to the navigation, sonar, and combat systems. The torpedo bays and missile complex needed a full ordnance load, and then provisions and spare parts would have to be brought aboard.

  As fatigue started to set in, Petrov found it hard to concentrate on the growing list of things that needed to be done before Severodvinsk could slip free from her earthly bonds. Slumping back into his seat, yawning, he thought to himself, I shouldn’t worry so much. Vasiliy will see to everything.

  A sinister amusement rose in Petro
v as he tried to imagine how his poor starpom would take the news of the radical change in their plans. As the ship’s executive officer, Captain Second Rank Vasiliy Sergeyevich Kalinin would have to oversee all of the preparations. A master planner with a hyperactive sense of responsibility, Kalinin was an indispensable asset to Petrov and the boat. Unfortunately, his regimented personality didn’t take change very well. No, Vasiliy will not be amused by his captain’s news.

  Petrov was gently pushed back in his seat as the car started climbing up the hilly approaches to the coast. As the vehicle crested the top of the ridge, he could see the submarine base below with its piers arrayed in a rough semicircle and a number of large bluish black objects nestled alongside. The sun was already well down on the horizon and the bright red and orange twilight made the submarines look even more spectral. The sheer beauty of the moment was soon shattered as the run-down and dilapidated gray buildings of the base came into view. Most of the buildings along the main road were apartments for the submarine crews and their families. It angered Petrov to see some of the finest men in the navy and their families live in such squalor. But there was nothing he could do but suppress the image. Dwelling on the unpleasantness of living on the Kola Peninsula only led one to drink. This was the escape of choice in Russia, especially for those who lived above the Arctic Circle, where there was no sunlight for months during the frigid winters.