Kursk Down (19 page)
The Russian Navy had a serious need to know what really happened. Gesturing and posturing could continue in public, but privately, answers were needed. And those answers were needed quickly.
16 September 2000–5 October 2000
I
N AN ALL-OUT EFFORT TO RESOLVE ITS PROBLEMS, THE
Russian Navy was about to launch a major, classified, clandestine activity. The fact that there was no way to hide part of the venture made this extremely difficult. Worse, the function they had to perform in the open was going to attract the scrutiny of the world press.
Ideally, the total undertaking would have been done in secret. The resources to bring it off, however, were simply not available. Accomplishing the mission required a high level of technical expertise, expensive, dangerousto-use cutting tools, and a specialized ship. A compromise plan was needed, one that would provide an airtight cover story. It was decided to use the stage magician’s old standby, misdirection.
A salvage operation, to recover the bodies of the
Kursk
crewmen, would hold the attention of the news media. While focus was on that project, the secret activity would be done out of sight, under 350 feet of water.
The Navy wanted Russian divers inside the sunken
Kursk
. Publicly, they would be there searching for bodies. That was a popular goal. Privately, those divers would conduct a classified four-part mission.
Part one was a thorough check of the twin nuclear reactors. The divers were to be certain the two units had not been damaged by the emergency scram shutdown. If problems existed, the Russians did not want the world to know. Even if the reactors were all right, it would not do to have the media learn Russian technicians were even looking at them. The resulting stories would cast serious doubt on their repeated assurances of safety. So either way, the inspection needed to be accomplished without attracting notice.
Part two was the recovery of any remaining encoding devices or books, manuals for operating the boat’s systems or weaponry, and the ship’s log. If these documents had not been destroyed in the blast, they had to be located and retrieved. Past experience had shown that the United States would spend unimaginable sums of money to acquire such information from a sunken hulk. Who could tell what the U.S. might try this time. Drilling a hole through the center of the earth to gain entry via the underside of the submarine was apparently not beyond them.
Even though the codes had been instantly and automatically changed during the first hours of the
Kursk
disaster, old codes still had value. NATO and the Americans had thousands of hours of taped transmissions just waiting to be deciphered. Newly interpreted information would give valuable insights into Russian plans and preparedness.
Part three centered on a hunt for any evidence, no matter how slight, to support the collision theory. Performing such a search openly would be tantamount to an admission of lacking adequate proof to support the accusation. And, if such evidence was discovered, it was better to keep it confidential until the most advantageous moment for revelation.
Finally, the Navy desperately needed to define the cause of the explosions which they knew had occurred. Determining a reason for the blasts would allow modifications to programs and hardware that would help prevent future disasters. Understanding the cause would restore morale among the submariners and allow the
Kursk
’s sister submarines a quicker return to sea duty.
The brief entry into Compartment 9 through the escape hatch had demonstrated an absolute need for additional access to the interior. Moving about had been difficult because of the debris. Going from one compartment to another, due to the closed watertight doors, was impossible.
Diver safety was also an issue. Every yard a diver stepped away from his entry point meant that another three feet of umbilical, containing the air hose, water line, and power-video-communications cables, had to be played out. If any of these vital connections happened to snag or were damaged, the diver would be effectively out of action. If the air or warm water supply were interrupted, the diver would die.
The ideal method for gaining access would allow a diver to enter the inside pressure hull through several portals. The closer an opening to the search site, the less the length of his umbilical and therefore a lessened risk of accidents.
To conduct this extensive operation, the Navy called upon Rubin Central Design Bureau for assistance. Originally responsible for laying out plans for the
Kursk
and her sister boats, the Rubin Bureau was the logical choice. A team of engineers and marine architects was now given what was for them a sort of reverse challenge. Their usual assignment was to create submarines. Here they were being asked, in a sense, to dismantle one.
Rubin managers immediately began planning how best to cut through the sub’s outer hull, then slice into the inner hull to gain access. Top Central Design Bureau personnel started a critical review of the submarine’s original engineering drawings with three ideas in mind.
They needed to locate places to make the outer hull incisions in areas free of bracing and other structural impediments so cutting would be less difficult. Ideally, they would breach the outer hull in places where a diver might move between the two hulls for some distance along the length of the boat. Free access would allow them to make several holes in the inner hull from one opening in the outer shell. Finally, for simplicity, they wanted to find the best locations for piercing the inner hull so as to avoid bulkheads and support members. The goal was to make full-size templates that could then be placed against the side of the submarine to assist in locating the exact cutting sites.
The Rubin team’s next task was to deal with the divers. Not just any divers would do.
Each of the mission goals required the skills of trained experts: one in the field of nuclear reactor design, one with an advanced understanding of damage evaluation and marine architecture, and a third with knowledge of explosives allied with arson investigation. Finding divers with this expertise proved to be impossible.
Since it would take too long to train the needed experts in saturation diving, the decision was made to teach several divers the basics of reactor design, marine architecture, and the rest of the needed specialities. The divers would enter the wreck and conduct their inspections. Video images and verbal comments would be relayed to the real experts who would be on-site in the mother ship. These specialists could then request more information or different views to arrive at their conclusions. Although complicated, this plan was the best available option.
Divers for the mission were selected from members of the 328th Emergency Search and Rescue detachment of the Russian Navy and immediately began their necessary crash courses.
Since part of the mission was body retrieval, those who would enter the
Kursk
needed basic forensic skills. To help each man overcome the emotional and psychological burden of handling dead bodies, volunteers from the diving detachment were assigned to work in a morgue and take classes at St. Petersburg Scientific Institute No. 40.
Because parts of the operation were clouded by secrecy, a dive plan was developed that allowed only Russians inside the submarine. As each hole was completed, one Russian diver would enter the hulk, equipped with lights, video, and a 60-plus-foot umbilical to allow for freedom of motion. A second Russian would remain at the opening, tending the umbilical, ready to render assistance. All non-Russian divers would stay outside.
Inside the submarine, body parts would be collected and hauled to the surface in plastic bags. Bodies would be placed in special containers to help preserve forensic information. After a hole had been used, it would be sealed to prevent others from reentering.
The danger inherent in roaming inside the destroyed sub was evident. As recently as 1986, two Russian divers were killed during an excursion into a surface ship that had sunk in the Black Sea. Every precaution was needed to prevent deadly mishaps.
While this operation was under way, Rubin was also acting as government adviser on negotiations with Stolt Offshore of Norway. Since Stolt had furnished divers and equipment for the original entry into the
Kursk
, the company was the first choice for the body recovery assignment. Russian divers were scheduled to depart for the Stolt training base on Saturday, September 16. It was a surprise to many when, with little warning, the divers were told not to go. Their mission was canceled.
The Norwegian Division of Stolt Offshore was reportedly asking the equivalent of $12 million to perform the recovery work. Rubin estimated the job should cost about $9 million. This price differential may well have been caused by Stolt’s previous experience with Russia’s lack of cooperation during the rescue effort. The two groups failed to reach an agreement on price and negotiations were stalled.
Wednesday, September 20, marked the fortieth day after the
Kursk
sinking on August 12.
A tenet of the Russian Orthodox faith is that the soul of a departed person leaves the body and ascends to heaven on the fortieth day after death. So on this date, from one end of the nation to the other, mourning services were held. People filled country roadside chapels and huge city cathedrals.
On the military base at Vidyaevo, priests chanted liturgies in ceremonies attended by families of lost loved ones. The city of
Kursk
held packed services fortified by the special bond between the town and the submarine.
In a touching moment, a large granite slab, set in the sand dunes outside the town of Severodvinsk, where the
Kursk
was first laid down in 1992, was unveiled as a monument to the missing men. It is inscribed, “This sorrowful stone is set in memory of the crew of the nuclear submarine
Kursk
, who tragically died on August 12, 2000, while on military duty.”
During the day, in contrast to the churchgoers, crowds of protesters gathered outside the U.S. Embassy in Moscow, demanding an inquiry into whether or not a U.S. submarine had rammed the
Kursk
.
The mission to recover bodies was scheduled to begin in less than two weeks. But controversy over risking the divers’ lives, as opposed to waiting until the entire submarine was raised to the surface, grew. Many of the dead sailors’ families sided with safety.
On RTR television, the son of one of the crew members asked, “Why risk additional tragedies? Why deprive those divers’ families of fathers, as happened in this case?”
Komsomolskaya Pravda
printed an editorial on the Navy tradition of a sunken ship being the crew’s grave.
The dispute became a moral issue. In an open letter to Putin, 78 relatives of the deceased
Kursk
crew asked that any recovery effort be postponed. They did not want any more men to “risk their lives.”
In a way, the relatives’ wish for a delay was granted. Talks between Rubin Design and Stolt had been abandoned. Rather than announce a termination of negotiations, signing of the contract was postponed indefinitely. This setback had the potential to delay the start date for entering the
Kursk
. So Deputy Prime Minister Klebanov convened a meeting of government officials and ordered Rubin to make a deal as quickly as possible. A list of eight firms capable of handling the complex job was made and discussions were scheduled with each of the organizations.
The controversy over the body-recovery program did have one distinct advantage. The furor helped cloak an important search activity taking place at the
Kursk
’s resting place.
26 September 2000
The
Akademik Mstislav Keldysh
, a scientific vessel belonging to the Russian Academy of Sciences’ Institute of Oceanology, is registered in the port of Kaliningrad. The
Keldysh
has been operating for two decades and had made 45 scientific expeditions in 17 areas of the world’s oceans.
Developed for marine studies, the
Keldysh
has a number of capabilities. One is its role as mother ship for two
Mir
deep-water submersibles. These football-shaped, orange and white submarines are propeller driven and fully self-contained. They are capable of operating in depths approaching 20,000 feet and can remain down for 15 hours. Equipment includes video recording, sonar detection, manipulator arms for collecting samples or fragments, and accommodations for passengers.
After an extended voyage from the North Atlantic, the
Keldysh
arrived at the
Kursk
disaster site. The Russian government was reported to have paid more than ten million dollars to hire the services of the vessel and its highly trained crew.
The mission was carefully detailed. The
Keldysh
would deploy the
Mir
craft. Then the mother ship and her minisubs would scour the path taken by the
Kursk
and the sea floor around the submarine itself. The goal was to find and retrieve debris that would prove or at least indicate a collision between the
Kursk
and a foreign boat. By combining a sonar search from the
Keldysh
and rigorous undersea hunting by the two
Mir
submersibles, the ocean bottom would be subjected to a foot-by-foot examination.
When Admiral Vladimir Valuyev, first deputy commander, Baltic Fleet, finally revealed the plan to reporters, he noted that when proof was found, “apart from moral liability, there will also be financial sanctions” against those responsible.
Mir-1
and
Mir-2
had experience working with submarines. During 1994 and 1995, the two submersibles had been used on the sunken
Komsomolets
nuclear sub. The task had been to install plugs in the torpedo hatches to prevent plutonium from leaching out of the atomic warheads into the water.
For five days at the
Kursk
site, one or the other or both of the craft were down. The exhausting undersea search required 95 hours of sustained drudgery. Using every instrument and capability, the small, tough craft crossed and recrossed each block of a meticulously laid out search zone.