Майкл Ридпат - Launch Code

‘Weps, you’ve got to have seen Barbarella half a dozen times,’ Lars said. On the submarine, Craig, like every weapons officer before him, was always known as ‘Weps’. Craig had a thing for Jane Fonda, and since Maria had walked out on him it was getting out of control. There was even a poster of her on the wall of his rack. ‘What about Blade Runner ?’

‘I hate sci-fi.’

‘What do you think Barbarella is? A war movie?’

Commander Driscoll stirred at the head of the table. ‘How about The Magnificent Seven , gentlemen?’

Craig knew when he was defeated. ‘I think The Magnificent Seven is an excellent choice, sir. I’ve always been a great fan of Mr Brynner.’ He managed to inject just the right amount of humour into his obedience.

There were eight of the ship’s fourteen officers present at the table, the rest were on watch or asleep. The wardroom was the most luxurious space on the submarine. It was dominated by a rectangular table with a blue cloth, white china and the ship’s silver. Fake wood lined the bulkhead, upon which was mounted a mishmash of instruments, framed photographs, typed instructions, exhortations such as ‘transients kill’ and ‘think quiet’, and a TV screen with a VHS recorder. Behind the captain was a portrait of Alexander Hamilton himself, General Washington’s chief of staff, one of the Founding Fathers and the first secretary of the Treasury. His pointed nose and long chin had become so familiar to us over the previous year and a half, he felt like one of the crew.

The captain sat at the head of the table, with the XO on his right. A steward served us food that was surprisingly good. It was the same fare as the crew, but the submarine service claimed they provided the best food in the Navy. We had just finished ice cream sundaes, and were waiting for coffee.

There was no alcohol served on the vessel. Which was probably wise when things were getting tense.

And things were getting tense. That was why the captain, who usually let his officers squabble over the choice of movie, had exercised his authority. When things got tough, he liked to watch The Magnificent Seven. He had chosen it after the reactor scram the previous January, and when we had successfully evaded two Soviet attack submarines in the Greenland Sea during our last patrol.

Soon after I had joined the Navy in 1975, the Cold War had begun to thaw amid Strategic Arms Limitation Talks and détente. But, since Ronald Reagan had become president, all that had changed. Now the messages emanating from the White House were all about increasing, not decreasing, nuclear weapons, cruise missiles were being deployed in Europe and there were plans to develop anti-ballistic missile systems in space. And then in September the Russians had shot down the Korean airliner.

The Alexander Hamilton had received two Emergency Action Messages that day. The first, which I had decoded with Lars, was for information only. It announced the start of a major NATO exercise known as Able Archer, which was designed to test the NATO command structure’s response to a conventional attack by the Soviet Union that went nuclear. That in itself wasn’t concerning. We had been briefed at the start of the patrol to expect the exercise.

The second EAM of the day was much more worrying. It had raised the state of nuclear readiness to DEFCON 3, with no explanation. There were five levels of readiness, ranging from DEFCON 5, which applied nearly all the time, down to DEFCON 1 which meant launch of nuclear missiles was imminent.

The technical definition of DEFCON 3 was not particularly alarming: ‘increase in force readiness above that required for normal readiness’. But during the whole Cold War, DEFCON 3 had only been set three times: in the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962 — when it had eventually reached DEFCON 2, during the Yom Kippur war between Israel and the Arabs in 1974, and in 1976 after a flare-up on the Korean peninsula.

So DEFCON 3 was a big deal.

Of course, the crew of the Alexander Hamilton had reacted to the change in status with calm professionalism, and Commander Driscoll had briefed the officers and senior chiefs two hours earlier, as much to steady nerves as anything else. Which was why we were still watching a movie that evening.

In theory, officers were not supposed to ‘talk shop’ in the wardroom. In practice, on the Hamilton it was allowed at the end of the meal.

I had a question.

‘Sir? Do you think the DEFCON 3 status has anything to do with Able Archer?’

Every officer in the room looked at the captain, who took a moment to puff on his cigar. He seemed to come to a decision and turned to his right. ‘XO? Can you tell these gentlemen what you told me earlier?’

Lieutenant Commander Robinson seemed surprised by this request. He raised his eyebrows, but Driscoll nodded, confirming his instruction.

‘Aye, captain.’ He leaned forward and looked at the rest of us around the table. ‘What I am about to say is Classified. Secret. And some of it is speculation.’

‘But it is directly relevant to the situation we find ourselves in,’ said the captain. ‘I think you need to know the answer to your question, Bill.’

‘As most of you know, I was transferred to the Hamilton directly from the Pentagon,’ Robinson began. ‘I worked on planning the Able Archer 83 exercise for six months. We do Able Archer exercises every year, but this year it’s a bit different. This time the scenario is that the Warsaw Pact invades West Germany, reaches the Rhine and SACEUR decides to respond by nuclear signalling.’

SACEUR stood for the Supreme Allied Commander Europe. ‘What kind of nuclear signalling?’ I asked.

‘Limited nuclear attacks on some Eastern European cities.’

I nodded. But ‘nuclear signalling’ struck me as a seriously bad idea.

‘From there, the situation escalates further, and two days later NATO will order a full-scale nuclear attack.’

This was roughly what had been described to us at our briefing.

‘Now unlike previous years, this exercise involves signals between SACEUR in Brussels, the various NATO governments and strategic commands. A new encryption system has been instituted for the exercise. These signals won’t be sent to individual SSBNs. So the DEFCON 3 instruction we received is not part of the exercise.’

That was bad news. That meant it was for real. ‘So there is no link with Able Archer?’ I said.

‘I believe there might be,’ the XO said. His thick black eyebrows were furrowed over his dark eyes.

‘In the Pentagon, I was working closely with a CIA officer who was an expert on Soviet nuclear doctrine. His view was that the Russians fear we are about to launch a first strike.’

‘ We are about to launch a first strike? That’s absurd,’ said Craig. ‘Surely they are the ones who are going to launch the strike if anyone is?’

‘That is what NATO has always believed. And that’s what they still believe. But my CIA colleague, and a number of others including agents on the ground, think otherwise. And if the Soviets think we are going to launch a first strike, they will expect us to do it under the cover of a military exercise.’

‘Like Able Archer?’ I said.

‘Like Able Archer. Especially if, unlike previous years, it involves signals traffic to air, sea and missile headquarters around Europe. And especially if this traffic uses new encryption. The Soviets will ask themselves why the new codes? And they will decide it’s because we are planning to do something we don’t want them to anticipate. Like a pre-emptive strike.’

I glanced at Driscoll. He looked grim.

‘Then why did NATO go ahead with the exercise?’ I asked.