Larry Bond - Cold Choices

The final step was to unscrew the heavy padeye, allowing the cable end with the hawser attached to drop free. As it hit the water, a winch on Altay started up, pulling the hawser in toward the tug’s stern. Once the hawser had pulled the cable aboard, it was slipped over a bollard at the stern. With the cable safely attached to the tug, the workboat went back to get the next cable.

Each tug would pull three cables, going to Severodvinsk’s bow, midsection, and stern. It was important to have the tugs doubling up. With each tug pulling on Severodvinsk’s bow, middle, and stern, there would be fewer problems in synchronizing their pulling power. It also provided a safeguard against a cable parting, or, God forbid, an engine failing on one of the tugs.

But it meant that the cables had to be different lengths, carefully calculated and cut, and once the tugs took the cables aboard, they were stuck to that one spot in the ocean where their three cables came together.

Five were already laid out to Severodvinsk, and with the arrival of the tugs, the last one would be attached directly to Pamir.

Meanwhile, on the seabed, Halsfjord’s two remotes worked carefully, laying fifteen-kilogram charges as far under the hull as possible. It was a time-consuming process because the mud and silt had to be cleared away before each charge was emplaced. In fact, the charges were being placed where the mud was thickest, as much as two meters. The explosions had a much better chance of freeing the sub if they went off inside the mud, next to the underlying rock, instead of just resting on top.

Another complication was that the charges would be detonated by electrical signals over wire, instead of by an acoustic signal, as they were the first time. The speed of sound in water was slow enough that a fraction of a second would pass between the nearest charges getting the signal and the ones farther away. Instead, the detonation signal would be sent over wires carefully cut to an exact length so that they went off in a staggered sequence, a ripple effect from stem to stern.

The web of detonation wires and cables required the remote vehicles to steer a careful path each time they approached the downed submarine, and as they ascended. It all took time.

After connecting the last cable to Severodvinsk’s hull from Pamir, the ROV did not immediately ascend to the surface. Instead, it rose just a little and turned to “face” the sub. Powerful lights illuminated the hull as it glided above the hull toward the bow. It slowed to almost a crawl, then followed the streamlined curve of the sail. Finally, embedded in the middle of the sail, the grayish outline of the rescue chamber’s panels came into sight.

The operator, sitting in Halsfjord, brought the ROV to a stop. “There it is,” announced Lindstrom. He told the operator, “Get as close as you can, then circle it.”

A Russian observer aboard Halsfjord, a qualified submariner, studied the image closely. The picture was also broadcast to Petr Velikiy, Rudnitskiy, and to Churchill.

USS Churchill

Aboard Churchill, a TV monitor in CIC displayed the underwater image sent by Halsfjord. Patterson, Russo, and Baker had the front-row seats, while the rest of her group and many of the crew clustered behind as closely as rank would permit. The grayish boundary of the escape chamber stood out clearly from the black anechoic coating.

One of Churchill’s officers, on watch, asked, “Isn’t it a little late in the game to be checking the escape chamber?”

Russo shook his head. “This isn’t the first inspection, it’s the last. We examined the chamber’s exterior panels on the very first dive from Halsfjord. This is a final check to make sure that we haven’t created an obstruction. We have to make sure the cables won’t snag the chamber when it detaches, or that some piece of debris hasn’t jammed it in place.”

Patterson and some of the others watched over his shoulder, but after the allotted twenty minutes, two complete circuits around the sail showed no obstruction. Everything looked like it was falling into place, adhering to Lindstrom’s intricate plan.

USS Seawolf

Jeff Palmer found Jerry in his rack, relaxing with a trashy paperback he’d borrowed from Chief Hudson. Boredom wasn’t usually a problem for Jerry, but with Seawolf simply waiting and watching, he had even managed to get caught up with all his paperwork.

He looked up at the knock, then put down the book and rolled onto his side when he saw Palmer’s expression. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing right now, thankfully,” Palmer answered, “but I’ve been doing the math again. Severodvinsk will have used up most of the chemicals we delivered yesterday and that will leave them hanging if this attempt fails. Shouldn’t we start preparing Maxine for another supply run?”

Jerry immediately shook his head. “We can’t. We need her to watch when they try to raise Severodvinsk. She has sensors that the Norwegian ROVs don’t.”

Palmer nodded quickly, but pushed his point. “Of course, but there are things we could do to prepare — bring over more cassettes from Rudnitskiy, for instance. And my guys think they can even precut some of the packing material. It would shorten the time we need to get more supplies over to them — just in case.”

Jerry thought about Palmer’s suggestion and seriously wondered if it was a good or a bad idea. There was a downside to making the preparations. The Russians might see it as a negative attitude. And while everybody acknowledged the possibility of failure, nobody wanted to think about it. Jerry certainly didn’t.

“So you think we should expend our last UUV getting more atmosphere control chemicals to them?”

The torpedo officer shrugged and looked uneasy. “I don’t like it, but it’s that or wait for them to suffocate…”

“And what happens once we’ve sent them more cassettes?” Palmer didn’t answer right away, and Jerry continued. “Everyone is already doing everything that can be done.”

Jerry forced the words out. “If this second try fails, and I was Petrov, I don’t know if I’d want more chemicals.”

Palmer shuddered. “You might be right. But choosing to end it, just giving up. ”

“The extra time would just give them more opportunity to think about what’s coming.”

“Unless someone can come up with something else.”

Jerry joked, “Sure, the Jolly Green Giant with a big-ass fishing net,” but neither he nor Palmer smiled.

“But it’s an option,” Palmer countered.

Jerry made a face. “All right, make up a checklist and a timeline. I’ll make sure the XO and the Skipper know we’re ready.”

“For the unthinkable,” Palmer added.

“For the unfixable,” Jerry replied.

Severodvinsk

Petrov kept them out of the escape chamber for as long as possible, but even huddled under their blankets, dozing and coughing in the foul air, he could feel the energy. He had skipped the last round of sleeping pills, and the crew was rousing, starting to feel restless. They wanted to move, but he told them to stay put, stay quiet. Save your strength.

He tried to rationalize it. It was colder in the escape chamber. All the food and medical supplies had been removed days ago. The wounded were more comfortable where they were. The rescue force wouldn’t be ready on time, or there would be some last-minute snag.

There. That was it. He couldn’t bear the thought of them going up into the chamber and then climbing back out of it again. They’d done it once already, and while most of his men had kept up a brave front, some had broken down, given up.