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disclaimers that I was merely a long- retired naval officer who held no brief in today’s Navy. The Soviet reply, repeated often, was “Sir, once you are
pany unless we so requested— everywhere. f
As we approached our final stop, we passed through the guarded check points of the closed area north of Murmansk, with Admiral Fedorov clearing the way for our motor convoy. Later, he asked my impressions of the large Severomorsk base, and I mentioned my surprise that such a large area, comprising two cities, should be a fenced and controlled area. When a captain responded that just beyond the area lay Norway—a strong NATO country— and asked what my reaction would be to having an Iron Curtain country as my northern neighbor, I was forced to smile and admit, “Yeah, I might just put in a fence or two.”
Given a single word to describe Typhoon, I’d say—BIG. The length of Trident, but with almost twice the beam, it jutted high above the pier, an example of much positive buoyancy- Freshly painted, the completeness of 1
My exclamation, “It’s not a sub, it’s a . . . mountain!”—when interpreted to our host Soviet naval officers—elicited laughter and nods of agreement. Even for a career submariner, who has experienced the progression of submarines from World War II through the gamut of nuclear designs, a very big Polaris, and a jumbo-size Trident, the sight before me was a real show-stopper. It was a Typhoon, the largest submarine in the world, moored at a pier in the headquarters port of the Northern Fleet in Severomorsk, on the Murman coast of Russia. It floated high, very high, the bridge and sail looming stories above us as we approached from the head of the pier.
Only days before the abortive attempted coup in the Soviet Union in August, my Typhoon visit was the culmination of 15 days through Soviet submarines and their bases and installations. How did a career submariner—a veteran of more than a dozen years of Pentagon infighting and a few more citing “the threat” in defense of Trident and strategic weapons programs before the Congress, but now a retired old coot—find himself in this situation? Asked if I would have thought it possible ten, five, or even one year ago, my answer would have been a fast “Negative!” But here I was.
A year earlier, a television producer had undertaken the task of building a multi-segment documentary on the history of submarine warfare, planned for airing by The Discovery Channel in the fall of 1992. He requested that I serve as a technical adviser; the early plans included working with U.S., German, English, and Japanese submarine war veterans and current submariners. Further, I was asked to take still photography for a book to go with the television series. Less believable to me were his plans to include Soviet World War II “aces,” Soviet Navy submarine school training, and the massive Typhoon. But the evolving Soviet moods and lessening tensions were timely, and the earlier visits of Admirals William Crowe, then-Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and then-Chief of Naval Operations Carlisle A. H. Trost to Victor III submarines certainly paved our way.
In Moscow our first night we enjoyed a Georgian feast, stout pledges of cooperation from Rear Admiral Yuri Fedorov and his staff, and even stouter and repeated vodka toasts, the rooms echoing our “Nazhdarovija! From the start, it was obvious that I was to be some sort of honoree, despite my daily an admiral, you are always and in all places an admiral, even in darkest Africa!” Also obvious was that our hosts considered a visit to Typhoon a high point, and much seemed keyed to my
personal visit to the ship.
Our first “action” was a television interview with Fleet Admiral Vladimir Chernavin, the Commander in Chief of the Navy. Basically, he stressed what he sees as the defensive nature of his naval forces. As a final stroke, he read and presented a proclamation signed by then Defense Minister Yazov: “ . • • the Defense Ministry poses no objection to Vice Admiral Kaufman board- j ing and being on the bridge of the Typhoon submarine.” It was surely one of his final proclamations.
Following days featured visits and briefings at training facilities, schools, colleges, and engineering academies and enough museums to assure me that the Soviet Navy has a well-grounded appreciation for and sense of history as well as a penchant for erecting monuments in commemoration of heroic moments in history and warfare. At each facility, the senior admiral present met and accompanied us, and we were feted in style. My biography—in some detail—was on the desk of each of our hosts. They gave all requests careful attention and, by and large, accommodated them. It was obvious that the Soviet Navy was proud to have us pay them attention, and eager to play for the audience in the United States. Two or three senior officers from Cher- navin’s staff accompanied us or preceded us in visiting bases or facilities, and it was evident that my rank and Navy-guest status were used freely to smooth passage through customs and airport bureaucracy. We experienced m’ surveillance, and traveled with no com
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sheath of anechoic coating was very evident. Obviously, one aim of the sub’s design was to have the largest missile submarine in the world, and to attempt to minimize its acoustic profile. The captain and several crewmembers awaited my boarding, each second of which was videotaped for U.S. television and caught by a number of Russian cameras. The captain, the son of an Admiral, spoke fairly good English, and his “Welcome to the submarine Typhoon!” is bound to excite the television audience. We walked the entire topside and bridge, with my camera shutter emphasizing points of interest. 1 was amazed at the internal size of the sail, with three levels leading up to the bridge, ending up with a wooden spiral staircase. I was a bit surprised that the bridge structure was open without the streamlining of a “clamshell,” such as
was installed over the communications buoys and other hull openings.
Walking to the stem, I became riveted by the size of the rudder. The shrouds around each of the two propel' lers extended well above the water. Some recently repaired damage to the top of the rudder, as well as some to the acoustic coating of the sail, no doubt could be attributed to ice. A tele' vision camera in the main deck aft,
^oking Up js an obvious under-ice ba ' * greatly appreciated the steadying en<l °f the captain as I walked the , lre top of the sail, photographing
aft. The same hand helped in ara lng the slippery bow and stem 3^ Us- We talked as we walked, this onl^ear old submariner who had served 57 y >n nuclear missile subs, and this ^ear-old geezer who had served in ny types of U.S. subs. We discussed the changes in the world, had a few disparaging words for politicians, and noted the situations that had influenced my being on board this fine ship of which he was so obviously and justifiably proud. With a smile and a puff on his pipe, he offered, “Sir, you are in the Guiness Book of Records!”
Later that day, the television crew taped various scenes inside Typhoon; the crew at diving stations; sailors en
joying the sauna and hot tub, believe it or not; the sub’s 50 officers dining in a communal mess hall with the enlisted ratings; shots of the sonar room, captain at the periscope, missile compartment, the cook, and sailors in their berthing spaces. The next day, from a helicopter provided by the Navy, the sub was filmed getting under way as well as diving and surfacing after a four-hour run to sea. Clearly, this se-
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quence will be a highlight in the television documentary.
It was a totally unusual experience. Clearly, there is a mood and a desire on the part of a large segment of good and gentle people for change, and those moods and desires were very evident to me and others of our group. The cooperation and openness have been impressive, far beyond anything I could have anticipated. But each of us should play
the role for which he is qualified, and I come from a background of submarine operation, not statesmanship. I can, as many of those 1 met, hope. I often remember the final words of Admiral Crowe, in his farewell speech as he retired from the Navy and as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, “I am often asked with regard to this new openness with the Soviet Union,
‘Where is it going?’ I can only reply, ‘I don’t know where it’s going—but it’s going!’ ”
Vice Admiral Kaufman is a widely published ph«' ! tographer based in suburban Washington, D.C. “’I Navy career included submarine service in the Seawolf (SSN-575), the Cavalla (SS-244), the Scorpion (SSN589), and the Will Rogers (SSBN' 659), as well as being one of the pioneers of the Trident program. He and his son Steve produced the book Silent Chase (Charlottesville, Va: Thou*' asson Gant, 1989).