The Chase: One Courageous Skipper Battling The Perilous Evil Out To Destroy Him. (Sea Action & Adventure) Read Free

turn tail for every little problem.” Some of them suspected it was his own tail the Captain was protecting rather than the integrity of the Russian Navy. “I want your recommendations for a safe check-and-repair operation of the ELINT antenna”. He didn’t mention the word surfacing , yet it was definitely implied by what he said.
    “Comrades,” he continued with a bit of pathos, “this is the time when your country demands the most of you. Do not let her down”.
    The room went silent for a while. The low and steady hum of the electric motors dominated the space. Being used for spy missions, the Slavianka was modified to run extremely quietly, enabling her to approach vessels and ground installations without being detected.
    “With your permission comrades, I would like to point out some places which, I believe, may be suitable for surfacing without getting detected.” It was the navigation officer who interrupted the silence. He spread a 1:100,000 map on the table and tapped a nervous finger upon it as he explained:
    “These small bays on the Turkish coast are deep enough for the Slavianka and the steep rocky walls surrounding the bay offer excellent cover from aerial or space reconnaissance. The rocks cast a shadow over the water in the narrow bay for most of the day. It should also obstruct our infra-red signature from any satellite above, except one which may pass directly overhead”.
    “I am sure there is no satellite monitoring this hole in the rock,” said the radio officer, his comment being more a moral support of his fellow officer than a considered opinion on celestial snooping.
    The navigation officer thanked him with a brief smile and continued –“but there are people. Turks. This coast is mainland Turkey. An uninhabited coast, yes, but still there is a chance of people. Shepherds, hikers, army troops on maneuvers, God knows who…”
    “It is mainland Turkey,” he repeated with emphasis. “On the other side, here,” he pointed at a couple of small islands a few miles to the west, “there is nobody. These islands are barren. No one lives here or, indeed, has lived here for centuries. One of the islands is Turkish territory. The other belongs to the Greeks. Unfortunately, however, they do not offer the protection of the bay.” He stepped deftly back as he finished his short presentation. The room was silent again for a while.
    A few officers offered their professional opinions. The chief engineer was worried about sand getting into the cooling system or clogging the ballast water pumps, thus favoring the Turkish rocks over the Greek sand. The radio officer then pointed out that their radio would be completely blocked, both in reception and transmission.
    They debated, weighing pros and cons. There were technical issues and tactical considerations. For a half an hour no one ventured a decision. That would have to come from the Captain. It was probably the first time they were glad to have one.
    The burden was inscribed on the Captain’s solemn, furrowed face. The strain was obvious. At 57, Captain Valerie Nickolaiev Poliakov was a tired and morose man. He had fought the Germans fearlessly, but never made it to the atomic-powered missile subs. He couldn’t match the drive and ambition of the young officers who were born after the war and educated in the best post-revolution schools. He was doomed to sail forever in hostile waters, never to achieve anything. Only retirement would save him. Now he had to make a decision, crucial to him and to the country, to his career and his crew… he abruptly snapped out of his gloomy train of thought and returned to the problem at hand.
    “Comrades,” they all silenced as he stood up, “We shall sail at periscope depth on first daylight. It will be not far from the Turkish coast. Our divers will go out and check the antenna tower. It is now past midnight and we have five hours to prepare men, equipment and weapons for the operation”.
    By 0600 GMT,