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Captain Second Rank Aleksandr Stakhayev took these notes dur- ,ng a deployment this year. After I obtained permission from Aleksandr Sergeyevich to publish the notes and undertook to do so, he was somewhat surprised. He asked what about the Uotes was extraordinary, since all he had done was set down in words the 0rdinary life of a submariner. To this I objected, saying that in these notes he had captured our life, the life of a submarine crew, while out for uninterrupted weeks and months in an enclosed space. . ..
Day One. In the blue-gray haze, the shore nielted away, and with it the contours of the base facilities and housing. The now- hidden community, which is not a good
place to put down roots and where no one stays longer than a duty tour, again raises the painful question (especially in these times)—where would I go after being released from active service? Still, watching that shore, where we will not set foot for two months, melt into the polar night, one’s thoughts linger on that sad but somehow dear bit of home. . . .
We drove on the surface for four hours. We left the Kola Inlet and entered the open ocean. The trim calculation by Captain-Lieutenant Yuri Shelayev was done very well. As a result, the boat submerged without incident and immediately attained a good trim. . . .
Day Two. There is a problem with the food supplies. I held back my anger but had a sharp talk with my assistant, Cap
tain-Lieutenant Vyacheslav Puganov. Of course, Senior Supply Warrant Officer Aleksandr Shugin was also chewed out. He was very embarrassed by the incident.
About the food supplies—more precisely, the produce. Nowadays, each time we load food supplies, we have a problem. Before, I never got headaches over such issues, but now, things are different. Regardless of what the book says, we are not always supplied with what we are supposed to get. This is especially true regarding extremely scarce produce (especially in the Far North!), which is almost indispensable. Fresh vegetables, fruits, juices—these are “scammed" only though great efforts. Of course, the flotilla supply department makes great efforts, but what good does it do? If there is a break in deliveries, I’m told: “Well, Cap
*
tain, show some initiative! Pave your own road to one of our polar state-owned farms, set up some long-term ties, work on the basis of ‘I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine.’” That is about the best you can do, given our circumstances. What this means is that for several weeks post-cruise, the sailors (draftees only, of course) work on the state farm instead of going on R&R. Fortunately, they are happy to do this. The farm has a swimming pool, a gym, a discotheque, and provides an opportunity to meet local young people. Thus, what is pleasant for them is useful for us. The sailors display their good submariner qualities, even when working in the fields. They work hard to put food on our table. . . .
Day Five. The tension we get at the beginning of a deployment has begun to slacken. We develop a rhythm of daily routine and work. The beginning of the work day and reveille for the crew begins at 1000. Before ten minutes have passed, we hold a drill and evaluate it as part of a damage control inspection. This happens daily and takes an hour. We’ve been taught, as they say, by sweat and sad experiences. ... An interesting side note: the worst submarine accidents and catastrophes occurred, as a rule, during this morning period. Maybe the reason has to do with personnel not being at their best right after reveille, getting ready for breakfast, and anticipating the relief of the night watches.
After the drill I checked on how my people were carrying out (and I’m not afraid to use the phrase) their sacred duty—field day. In the fourth compartment (Senior-Lieutenant Aleksey Pekarev’s division) I was delighted to see not a single face, just boots and butts, sticking out of every possible and impossible corner. The men were steady at their work without noise and fuss. (An observation: those who make the most fuss for the officers often are putting on window dressing, hiding their laziness.) As always, the man in charge of the compartment is supervising the work—Senior Warrant Officer Yuri Vladimirovich Be- zontov. Bezontov is a real gorilla, a submariner’s submariner, and he treats the sailors like kids, chewing them out and punishing them as he sees fit. The important thing is, he will give them the attention they need and teach them everything they need to know. We could use more like him. ... .
Day Seven. I inspected the crew’s lounge again. A submarine of our class, unfortunately, doesn’t have an adequate one, so the sailors hang out in available spaces in other compartments. However, we are better off than some diesel boats, where
relaxation for the personnel is the problem of all problems. Of course, the highly acclaimed Americans aren’t any better off in this regard. When they visited our modern nuclear submarines, they were surprised at the living conditions, which I am glad to say are quite pleasant.
It is understood, of course, that the conditions still, to put it mildly, take some getting used to. More than one sailor, having been submerged for X number of days—with the pressure changes, the constant background noise, the tense nerves—gets back to shore and can’t sleep. Some, I’ve heard, can’t stand the quiet, especially right after they’ve gotten back; they will even sleep with the radio on. . . .
Day Thirteen. We are bombarded by thoughts of home. There is reason to be worried, especially in these troubled times. Take this awful money crisis, for example.
Before deploying, we get advance pay and leave it with our families. But what happened to us when we did it last year? We went to sea just before prices jumped, wrecking our family budgets. When we came back, our families were half- starved. Of course, we later retroactively received compensation pay, but I need not explain the fact that because of the previous hyperinflation, the “weight” of the money had been sharply reduced. As everyone knows, you need dinner on the table at mealtime, not three days later. Not surprisingly, these days we’re uneasy every time we go out. [As he feared, the situation did repeat itself, and the crew’s families again had to go short.—Ed.]
Day Fifteen. Last night we were ordered into action. The assigned area where we were to search for a possible adversary was being intensively fished. We didn’t expect this, and apparently neither did the shore command. The commercial situation changes quickly and can’t be predicted: fish have their own logic. The schools of fish and fishermen were swept into our search area. I will add that, as unpleasant as it is for us to work among trawlers, the more specific problem is their deep water tackle, which they probably don’t even need. It is hard enough when there are five or six fishing boats, let alone the dozens in this situation, but to slip by their large fishing nets makes things significantly more complicated. However, on the bright side, if one of our adversaries had been trying to follow us, the prevailing conditions would have been bad for him too.
Given all this, we did pretty well. The watch performed brilliantly. . . . The day watch sailors only found out in the morning of the difficult night maneuvers.
Day Sixteen. Today we had a milestone-" we awarded some young sailors their submarine qualifications. There were six who qualified. . . . Each of them in turn >s called to Control, where, in accordance with tradition, the sailor is granted the ^ privilege of drinking from a tankard ot 1 sea water drawn from the deeps and tak- ' ing a bite of hardtack. He is then ph°' tographed, and the personnel officer pte- sents him with a beautifully inscribed scroll, a photograph of the ceremony, and best wishes for the future. Of course, this all takes place with laughter and good fun. . . . 1 c
Of course, a tight-ass could say that such rituals are not spelled out in the regulations. My reply is that the above mentioned tradition has been in the subma- j rine force for ages. It would be another matter if it had a negative influence. By taking charge of the activity, we keep h from getting out of hand. I think we did this to everyone’s satisfaction.
Day Twenty-Three. Some bad luck—the port side circulation pump is clogged, the result of discharging garbage in a nonregulation manner. Oh, the poverty of our Russia! On the boat we get fewer (they say they’ve stopped making them altogether) of the special polyethylene bags designed for garbage disposal. Instead of them, or more precisely because of the lack of them, we have begun using paper bags, which get soggy after entering the water. . .and so our pump is clogged. If not corrected, this situation could result in dire consequences. So much for our paper bags. If only the problem was just with our bags!
The shortage of spare parts increases the demand placed on all the equipment, as a result of which wear and tear is growing threateningly. Although the decision to extend the use of the equipment is made by a commission on the basis of required calculations, it is left to me to demand the maximum out of our equipment, literally running it until complete failure.
Day Thirty-Seven. What I feared has happened: the oxygen generator [it produces oxygen and hydrogen from electrolysis of water—Ed.] went out of commission.
This will result in more than one gray hair on the head of its master, Senior Lieutenant Vitalii Zyukin. He has spent more than one sleepless night with it (and under it) to supply the ship’s compartments with normal air. But how much it takes out of him!
The fleet depends on such people, masters of their crafts, professionals. i It’s horrifying that first class specialists are leaving (voluntarily!). Before, I never would have thought that a motive for
me"
sub-
who
rn is ance I the ■d of tak- pho- pre- ibed and this* e'r leaving could be to serve the interests °f their various nations, as is now occurring. . . . The massive exodus of gained personnel as a result of
events in our country and the world. This information is posted on a read board and made available for everyone to see out-
the
countries of the New
Abroad—especially Ukraine— establishing their own armed .0rces has disrupted the stabil- “y °f many crews. The ones who stay behind are left in difficult Clrcumstances. Of course, the "jorkup of a submarine for deployment imposes a whole set of arsh demands and special con- jhons. Of all of them, this issue °‘ crew stability (meaning its Maximum coordination, synergy and psychological cohesiveness) stands at the head of the line. If ttle number of sailors (and new |ecruits don’t count) suddenly ls not within minimum require- jaaents, plans go down the drain, ‘^e and resources get used up. ur crew gets newer every day, and it has to be trained almost trorn ground zero.
a)' Thirty-Eight. I reread what "rote last and decided to add a few lines. The problem of ringing manning to full strength, n°t to mention manning quality, 's without question one of the biggest problems facing the fleet, justifiably, our hopes rest on en- ' hsting contract sailors. Locally, "e have had some success at attracting young men to work on contract. But our habit of cutting good and necessary things “off at the shoulder” doesn’t surprise me any more. Like before, the captain is under the gun: “Do more! ,° more! How many volunteers did you sign? Why so few?” You 6et the same feeling as in the old days, when you had to fulfill the Plan with both truths and lies. On t°P of that, they require a report every damned day, early in the morning, just like we used to report the votes cast in military di- v*sions and garrisons. Are the numbers again more important than the goals? The real candidates that could serve as my crew members on contract I know like a book. You couldn’t get more °f them from anywhere, even if you ran near and far, from morning till night. . . .
The massive exodus of trained personnel as a result of the countries of the New Abroad—especially Ukraine— establishing their own armed forces has disrupted the stability of many crews. The ones who stay behind are left in difficult circumstances.
• :k
at the radio and also soaks in the news from shore.
Lately, the news is not very comforting: discord in the country, politically and economically, squabbles between former republics, which are now sovereign governments. What can this do to the souls of our young people but add confusion and unrest? Among those in my care are Russians, Byelorussians, Chuvashes, Bashkirs, Maris, Ukrainians, Tatars, Moldavians, and Kazakhs. I am just amazed at their wisdom, and maybe their sense of responsibility, not allowing unhealthy emotions to grow.
It is interesting that we get clear broadcasts from “Voice of Peking,” “Voice of Israel,” the BBC, and Malaysian and Australian radio stations, but our own programming— “Mayak” and “Radio Russia”—we either can’t get at all or can just barely hear. That really hurts. . . .
i \
T>ay Forty-Nine. Twice a day we come to signals depth to receive information from headquarters concerning our deployment. Then we get the news, that is, a very short summary, on
The beginning of the work day and reveille for the crew begins at 1000. Before ten minutes have passed, we hold a drill and evaluate it as part of a damage control inspection. This happens daily and takes an hour. We've been taught, as they say, by sweat and sad experiences.
Day Fifty-One. Military training is in full swing: classes and training are under way per the plan of the day. The fire control party is working attack problems against surface and subsurface contacts, short of firing torpedoes. Damage control training is, of course, going on at the shipwide, compartment, and watchstation level. Above all, the most important element of military training remains watchstanding. That is, working the real world problem, and of course, practical operations in unusual situations. There have been many such opportunities: we already have had several “contacts” with American submarines. They don’t need to economize on fuel, for which they can be envied. . . . From any point of view, it’s the same as at home. . . .
side the galley or the wardroom. In parallel with the broadcast, while at periscope depth, the personnel officer sits
Day Fifty-Four. The “contact” this time is a highly prized target, a Los Angeles-class submarine. The boat is like new, “clean,” quiet. The Americans have been very successful in this area, which is why they primarily use passive sonar as their means of detection, so as not to give themselves away.
J
We had honestly fulfilled our duty, but what awaits us here, on shore, in the community, or in the country? What will we see in the eyes of our wives and children running to greet us?
We are no slouches either. This time the trick was that we picked them up on a piece of equipment the equivalent of which, as far as I know, the Americans don’t have. We held the hiding contact for a day and a half. Then we lit off our active sonar, which of course illuminated us. We tracked each other for a while, but that was already per our plans.
I won’t hide the fact that I got some satisfaction from the ordeal: at least we weren’t “warming the water” for nothing. I’m sure the emotional lift from the event was felt by the whole crew for some time, everyone from the executive officer to the average sailor, the pharmacist’s mate to the cook. . . .
Day Fifty-Seven. Vigilance and attention to detail are extremely important for us. While inspecting operating equipment during his watch, Seaman Il’mir Khamikov noticed a decline in the operation of a transformer and reported it immediately. The equipment was secured and repairs made. A possible fire was averted.
Khamikov distinguished himself a few days ago when he noticed ball bearings overheating in the same electrical power unit. Khamikov is a fine young man—conscientious, meticulous, a bright sailor, even though he has been a crew member only six months. (To show my gratitude, I will present him with the Ushakov medal. . .)
Day Sixty. Our contact is the U.S. sonar ship Invincible (Stalwart class)—an unusual event. The mission of these ships is to sense the underwater environment using a towed antenna array for long distance sonar detection—SURTASS. The system has immense capabilities. As a rule, the Americans take antisubmarine warfare very seriously—on the order of a national concern, to which they freely admit. That’s why they spare no effort or expense in resolving the issue, despite protests by politicians who say we are no longer enemies, but are almost friends. This contact with the Invincible is evidence that the Americans have in no way tempered their military activities. The Barents is a shallow sea, and to fully exploit the capabilities of very capable ships like the Invincible, you need the right kind of areas. That’s why until last year they did not approach closer than the Greenland and Norwegian Seas. I ask that you have some compassion for the situation we find ourselves in. I need not
explain what I mean to Navy sailors. . . .
Two months of deployment gone by. At 1710, while standing watch, the executive officer, Captain Second Rank Oleg
Vasil’yuk, announced that someone smelled smoke in the second compartment. The emergency alarm was sounded, and I flew to Control to guide the damage control effort. Reports were received about the preparation of fire extinguishing equipment and on the readiness to move it on command from Control to the compartment with the casualty. Finally, the painstaking inspection of the space and equipment was performed.
This event struck hard at the nerves, of course: this was the first time during the entire deployment where we had to call away a real emergency. A fire is the most terrifying thing that can happen on a boat.
Finally, after 15 minutes of tension, the third division officer, Captain-Lieutenant Yuri Shelayev, announced from the second compartment, “Captain, the source of the fire has been found—burned prunes that fell on the stove!” It turns out the cooks were preparing dinner, and one of them, Sergey Safoneyev, was not careful and splashed some sauce from the prunes on to the red-hot stove top. In the end, there was laughter and relief.
As it turned out, the first person to call away smoke to Control was Warrant Officer Viktor Cheryavskiy. He did the right thing, in a competent manner: First, one should not think long or look for the source, should not do anything but make
the report to Control. This, as I already noted, is the duty of every submariner. and beaten into the heads of the damage control leaders. There are plenty of ex- i amples where these rules were not fo'" lowed, and we call then1 tragedies. (Of course, there are critics who would say the prunes could have been de- r
feated more easily, but lets stand behind the actions of the |
warrant officer.) 1
A few days later. The first days of deployment are par- '
ticularly hard because the i
thoughts of everyone in the crew, without exception, are still on shore. But it is significantly harder at the end of 3 (
patrol, when moral and ph>'s' |
ical fatigue have accumulated- It’s understandable that during the last two to three days, many in the crew are deprived of sleep, and instead slip away in small groups, talking.
And so, today, on the general announcing circuit I told the crew when we would return to base, having received the order from headquarters--' information they usually wait for with impatience and jubilation. “We return to base the day after tomorrow at 1400!” echoed through the I boat. . . .
Day of return. When we entered the inlet, the sun was blinding, and in the small inlet, which we wanted to rename Happiness Bay, the sea gulls flew about, as | though welcoming us.
Our old friend the tug came out to meet us. It accompanied us to the pieF and the executive officer and I, standing on the bridge, were already waving to friends and family, looking in the direction from which we could hear the band welcoming us with a march, and where it looked like there were bouquets of colorful flowers. . . .
Then—tying up, the official welcom- 1 ing ceremony: solemn and well deserved. Then, all at once it seemed like that sea of flowers swooped down on us, overflowing with the sounds of children's voices.
We went to meet them, gripped with a feeling of ecstasy, mixed with alarm: we had honestly fulfilled our duty, but j what awaits us here, on shore, in the community, or in the country? What will we see in the eyes of our wives and children running to greet us?
Translated by Lieutenant Commanders William C. Green and John Volkoff, U.S. Naval Reserve.