Larry Bond - Cold Choices

“She is quite well, sir,” replied Borisov as a devilish grin appeared on his face. “But, I regret to inform you that she is most displeased with you. Twice now, you have been to Gadzhiyevo without stopping by to visit and she is very disappointed that. ”

Kokurin interrupted, waving his hands in mock surrender, a pained expression sweeping across his brow. “I know. I know. I… I am guilty as charged.” Sighing heavily, and placing his large hands on Borisov’s shoulders, he said, “Please tell Her Highness, the tzarina, that I will pay my respects the next time I must travel to the submarine base at Sayda Guba. You have my word!”

“I will gladly inform her of your most wise decision,” jabbed Borisov. Both men burst into laughter.

Composing himself, Borisov then gestured toward his two officers. “Sir, this is my new Commander of the Twenty-fourth Submarine Diviziya, Rear Admiral Vasiliy Vitalyevich Vidchenko.”

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” replied Vidchenko stiffly.

“Ah, yes. Welcome to the Northern Fleet, Admiral. I hope your transfer has gone smoothly. You came to us from the Baltic Fleet, did you not?”

“Yes sir. The trip north was uneventful, and I am getting acquainted with my new duties.”

“Excellent. I look forward to working with you and the submarine commanders in your division,” responded Kokurin as he mentally took stock of the junior admiral.

Vidchenko acknowledged the fleet commander’s comments with a slight bow and stepped out of the way as VADM Borisov brought Petrov forward. “And you know Captain Petrov, of course.”

“Good day, sir,” Petrov said politely

Kokurin took a slow deliberate step toward Petrov and offered his hand. “Welcome to Northern Fleet Headquarters, Captain. And today is a very good day indeed. It has been far too long since we took acceptance of a new podvodnaya lodka atomnaya and I have been looking forward to this day with great anticipation.” Petrov was surprised by the old admiral’s sentimental tone and the intense emotion in his eyes. This man truly cares for the fleet, thought Petrov, and receiving a new atomic submarine after nearly eight years was, in this fleet commander’s mind, a cause for celebration.

In the old days of the Soviet Union, shipyards turned out three or four nuclear submarines each year. New classes followed each other in quick succession, each improvement closing the quality gap with their Western adversaries. Now it was years between commissionings, and Kokurin’s celebratory mood was well justified. Petrov’s pride was all the greater. He’d had many rivals for Severodvinsk.

“I have read every inspection and evaluation report with great interest,” continued Kokurin sincerely, “and I am very impressed with your crew’s performance. You have done well, Captain Petrov.”

“Thank you. sir,” replied Petrov uneasily. “I will convey your compliments to the crew.” It had been a very long time since he had received a favorable comment from a flag officer. Petrov was far more accustomed to the lectures and stern criticism that had been the staple of his crew’s training diet throughout the long certification process.

“I must also ask for your patience today, Captain.”

“Sir? I, ah, I don’t understand.” Petrov was now completely confused and it showed.

Amused by the young captain’s response, Kokurin’s face broke out into a broad smile. “You and your crew have gone through a lengthy, trying, and difficult certification process. One that I demanded to be more rigorous than usual. Now that the end is in sight, I know you just want to get this over with so you can take your boat to sea.” Petrov felt his face flush, like a schoolboy caught by the headmaster with his hand in the cookie jar. Can this man also read minds?

The fleet commander chuckled loudly and said, “I was once a young new submarine commander itching to be set free from the fleet’s bureaucratic clutches. So I know exactly how you feel. But today, many of us old men, some with more ballast than we need,” Kokurin patted his protruding abdomen as he spoke, “are reliving those memories through you. So please, be patient with us today. I promise the proceedings will end this afternoon.”

“Of course, sir,” responded Petrov confidently. And then with heartfelt sincerity, “It is an honor to be here today, Admiral.”

“Excellent!” exclaimed Kokurin happily. But as the elderly submariner looked up, the smile quickly vanished from his face. For over at the head table was his chief of staff pointing in an exasperated fashion at his watch.

“Bah,” sneered the fleet commander with a curt dismissing wave.

“Is something wrong, sir?” inquired Borisov after seeing his friend’s abrupt mood change.

“It’s just my personal nag, Pavel. He’s complaining that I haven’t started the conference on time.”

“Pardon me, sir, but I do believe that is his job,” replied Borisov with a hint of sarcasm.

With a deep sigh and resigned nod, Kokurin said, “You are correct, as always, Pavel Dmitriyevich. But I just wish he wouldn’t take such joy in exercising his duties. There are times when I wonder who really is the Commander of the Northern Fleet!” Turning back to his chief of staff, Kokurin politely gestured for him to call the conference attendants to order.

“Comrades,” announced VADM Radetskiy, “please take your seats so we may begin.”

As the various admirals and captains shuffled about getting to their assigned chairs, Kokurin turned one last time toward Borisov and said, “Admiral Borisov, I want you, Admiral Vidchenko, and Captain Petrov to remain once the conference is completed. I have another issue, of a more operational nature, to discuss with you afterward.”

Sensing the shift from friend to superior, and recognizing when an order had just been given, Borisov drew himself to attention and answered with a militarily appropriate “Yes, sir.”

As Kokurin walked back toward the head of the table, Vidchenko and Petrov both looked at Borisov with bewilderment. With a mild shaking of his head, and a puzzled expression, Borisov signaled to his subordinates that he didn’t know what the fleet commander meant either, and motioned for them to take their seats.

Petrov moved quickly to his chair and looked around the conference room as the flag officers slowly sat down. He recognized many of them, since they headed numerous inspection teams during the various stages of the certification process.

The chiefs of navigation, armaments, communications, and the technical directorate had been tough judges of his boat’s capabilities. Petrov respected their findings and accepted their recommendations, even though it hurt his pride a little. But the chief of combat training, VADM Vlasov, was the devil incarnate. Nothing Petrov or his crew did seemed to ever satisfy this man and he was particularly acidic in delivering his critiques during the combat training exercises. If there was one member of the certification board who could hold up Severodvinsk’s acceptance into the fleet, it was him. Realizing that he was staring intently at Vlasov and that his resentment was growing, Petrov shifted his gaze back to Kokurin, who had taken his place at the head table.

“Greetings, comrades,” boomed Kokurin as he rose, “and welcome to the fleet acceptance board for PLA K-329 Severodvinsk. I do not believe it would be inappropriate for me to remind everyone that this is the first new atomic submarine in nearly a decade to join the ranks of the Russian Navy. Because of this unfortunate hiatus, I have been doubly hard on the inspection teams, as well as the commanding officer and crew of the Severodvinsk. To this I make no apologies. I had to be certain that with all the problems the shipyard encountered during this submarine’s construction that we are accepting delivery of a fully functional combatant, and not a floating Potemkin village. Therefore, I must stress that these proceedings are no mere formality. And I expect everyone to be truthful with his findings, opinions, and recommendations. Our goal is, and must remain focused on, ensuring the proper certification of the crew of the Severodvinsk for independent operations.”