Red Star Rogue (11 page)

The U.S. Navy had begun installation of a SOSUS network of hydrophones in the Atlantic as early as the 1950s. Installation in the Pacific began in the early 1960s. By 1968, Navy facility (NAVFAC) listening stations were already in place on Adak in the Aleutians; Midway Island; the Hawaiian Islands; all along the Pacific coast of the United States, from Alaska to the Baja Peninsula; and at “choke points” traveled by Soviet subs leaving and returning to port. The U.S. Pacific coast system was code-named Colossus; the central Pacific network surrounding Pearl Harbor and the Hawaiian Islands was code-named Sea Spider. One of the extended arrays that was instrumental in tracking the K-129 ran along the Aleutian Islands. Another array extended on the western side of the Kuril Islands to detect submarine activity in the Sea of Okhostk.

The network that would follow K-129 for most of its voyage was strung along the Emperor Seamount, and covered the Soviets’ Kamchatka Peninsula bases. Captains Kobzar and Zhuravin did not know it, but their submarine was sailing directly toward that SOSUS array.

No matter how hard Soviet designers had worked to make their subs run silent, they still made noise, and the Americans were expert in detecting the slightest sound emitted by the boats.

Even though K-129, as a diesel-electric boat, was somewhat quieter than the early nuclear-propelled Soviet missile submarines, it radiated noise from hull vibrations, power plant equipment, and propellers. Its very movement through the ocean depths created flow or hydrodynamic noise that could be monitored by hydrophones and sensitive sonars aboard American attack submarines, stationed off the exit channels from Soviet submarine bases.

Fifteen miles from the exit of Avachinskaya Bay, Captain Zhuravin knew the mission was “good to go,” as K-129 approached open ocean. He ordered the submarine up to periscope depth to transmit the first of a series of mandatory mission reports to Naval Main Staff at fleet headquarters at Vladivostok.

Radio officer Senior Lieutenant Alexander Zarnakov dispatched a message notifying headquarters that the boat was entering deep water and the mission was underway. This transmission, which was sent in a millisecond microburst signal, could be picked up, but not deciphered by the U.S. Navy. It was the first of several mandatory radio reports that all Soviet missile submarines made at fixed points to report the progress and security of their missions. Submarine commanders were permitted to disregard these periodic reports only if they thought they were under active surveillance by antisubmarine warfare units of the U.S. Navy or were being tailed by American submarines.

While the instantaneous radio burst could not be decoded by the Americans at that time, it provided highly valuable intelligence to the ever-listening U.S. technical spy network. Radio signal monitoring was the second layer of the Americans’ elaborate surveillance system.

The Soviets were unaware that the real purpose of the American radio communications eavesdropping system was to locate the submarines, not to try to read their coded messages. The Americans had not yet broken the Soviet naval codes. A radio-monitoring network, code-named Boresight, had been deployed to cover the oceans of the world from the early 1960s. In the Pacific, Boresight consisted of an array of powerful, radio-signal listening stations strategically positioned around the rim of the ocean. Huge antenna frames, nicknamed elephant cages, were positioned in 360° arrays at listening posts in the Aleutian Islands, Japan, the U.S. West Coast, and the Hawaiian Islands chain from Pearl Harbor to Midway. The elephant-cage antennas were ten stories tall and one thousand feet across. The computer-controlled receivers were tuned to all frequencies used by the Soviets; whenever a submarine transmitted even the briefest message, these sensitive listening posts snatched the message from the airways.

The transmissions were recorded by Navy operators at the antenna sites and relayed to huge central computers operated by the National Security Agency in the United States. When stations in two or three locations—for example, Midway, Adak, and Hawaii—picked up a radio transmission signal from a submarine, it was fed into a computer and the bearings triangulated. The intersection of these lines marked the exact location of the transmission. U.S. Navy intelligence was immediately notified of the location, and the Americans’ extensive antisubmarine warfare system had another accurate fix on the submarine it was tracking.

Immediately after radio officer Zarnakov sent the message, K-129 returned to its cruising depth of two hundred feet. Just as it reached this operating depth, the sub left the area above the Asian continental shelf and entered the first deep waters of the ocean. The bottom of the sea was 3,250 feet below.

Silently waiting at the edge of those deep waters, American attack submarines, assigned to monitor the comings and goings of Soviet submarines, were constantly recording the class and capacity of the Soviet missile submarines stationed at the Rybachiy Naval Base.

When K-129 reached the deep ocean beyond the Kuril Trench, the Soviet submarine came under surveillance by one of these silent U.S. picket boats. Despite K-129’s best efforts to evade detection by sailing in silent-running mode under cover of darkness, the Soviet submarine was no match for a Permit-class, nuclear attack submarine patrolling the Russian coast from Vladivostok to the Kamchatka Peninsula. As the Soviet boat leveled off and powered up to its cruising speed of seven knots, it may have seemed like a silent shadow moving in the deep, but the hunter submarine had a vivid picture that told the Americans everything they wanted to know about it.

The U.S. Navy Permit-class hunter subs had been commissioned in the early 1960s. They were a new line of “super sub,” which had evolved from the prototype Thresher submarine. Equipped with the latest sensor gear, the submarine stalking K-129 boasted a BQQ-2 bow-mounted sonar and a veritable arsenal of the latest American torpedoes and mines. However, a U.S. attack submarine’s primary job in peacetime was to monitor the Soviet boats as they left port, identify them, and radio the intelligence back to Pearl Harbor as quickly as the enemy boats hit the Pacific. The Permit-class submarine was well suited for the job, because the modern American boat was far quieter than the best of the Soviet submarines. This stationary stalker was virtually undetectable to the K-129’s passive sonar.

The sonar operator of the U.S. surveillance sub reported that a Golf II–class submarine was heading out to deep sea. Later, the sonar recordings would be entered into the Navy’s powerful Cray computers and the Soviet boat identified as the ballistic missile submarine K-129. Every missile submarine in the Soviet navy had its own dossier in the electronic records of the United States Navy. K-129’s unique acoustical fingerprint was already on file.

Navy intelligence casually noted that K-129 was sailing much earlier than expected, having returned only recently from a regular patrol. They had closely monitored that patrol, too. Even though K-129 was one of the older-type ballistic missile subs of the Soviet North Pacific Fleet, the boat was still considered a dangerous weapon. The Americans, fully aware of the three one-megaton ballistic missiles ready in a row behind the conning tower, would record every movement of the Soviet sub, to the best of their technological ability.

Even though the Soviets had chosen their sailing time to avoid detection by satellite, it did them no good. The Americans had other satellites that covered the vast expanses of the open seas.

The U.S. Air Force had an orbiting network of spy satellites with infrared sensors that could track submarines in midocean by the slight variation of water temperature in their trailing wake. The primary mission of these satellites was to spot missile launch tests anywhere on earth. But they also covered the Pacific Ocean looking for the thermal wakes of submarines, particularly the heated water discharged by nuclear-powered subs. With a lesser degree of accuracy, they could detect the warmed wakes from diesel submarines.

The Americans had not yet perfected their surveillance systems to the point where they could continuously track a Soviet missile sub on its entire mission. However, they did know when the Soviet submarines sailed, when and where they called headquarters, when they came near the surface to recharge their batteries, and when they returned to port.

Unaware of the extent of U.S. surveillance, the commanding officers of K-129 carefully followed every procedure they knew, in hopes that their departure on this mission would go unnoticed.

The two Soviet captains were likewise unaware that the Americans were not the only observers surreptitiously watching the sailing of their sub. A shadowy group of men in Moscow, who would normally have little interest in the routine mission of a diesel-electric submarine, was also keenly tracking their progress.

T
HE FIRST DAYS OF THE VOYAGE OF
K-129 to an assigned patrol station in the mid-Pacific appeared to be routine, if such a dangerous undertaking could ever truly be routine. After leaving the safety of Avachinskaya Bay, K-129 set out upon a voyage across the expanse of the Pacific that would normally have taken two weeks’ sailing time for a submarine of this type.

K-129 was capable of cruising at depths exceeding eight hundred feet. But during daylight and under noncombat conditions, Soviet diesel-electric submarines usually sailed submerged at depths between one hundred and two hundred feet, using electric motors run off the power provided by massive banks of batteries.

Living conditions during a long sea voyage were dramatically affected by changes in sea climate in the regions the submarine traveled. In the extreme climes of the North Pacific where K-129 sailed for the first few days after departing base, the crew endured bitter cold inside the hull, because outside waters were just above freezing. Small radiators were used to bring the near-freezing temperatures in the hull to more comfortable levels. As the boat continued into warmer waters, almost to the Tropic of Cancer, external temperatures rose into the sixties. When an older submarine like K-129 entered near-tropical waters, conditions inside the submarine became almost intolerable. Heat from the huge electric motors could raise the engine-room temperature to as high as 120 degrees. The heat, along with the foul air created by gases and unbathed bodies crowded into the small living area for many days, made the environment almost septic.

The ship’s doctor, Major Sergey Cherepanov, and his assistants constantly checked the compartments for carbon dioxide, hydrogen, and other gases. Even under normal conditions, air in the living space was odorous. The air became increasingly foul following each snorkel to recharge the batteries. Soviet commanders in the Pacific rarely surfaced—even for brief periods, which would have flushed out the bad air—because they tried to avoid giving the Americans’ spy technology a clear footprint of their location.

During daylight hours, K-129 ran on its main electric motors, maintaining an average submerged speed of seven to eight knots. Each night the sub ascended to within forty feet of the surface to snorkel and recharge its batteries, using a giant generator driven by one of its diesel engines. The snorkel drew in air for the diesel engines and exhausted carbon monoxide produced by the engine combustion. The smell of diesel oil seeped into everything; before long, the clothing, bedding, and even the skin of the mariners was saturated with a permanent oily odor.

During the snorkeling operation, the submarine ran on two of its diesels, while the third was coupled to generators to charge the 448 two-volt batteries. The massive arrays of batteries, located below decks in compartments two and five, were also a source of gases. The discharging batteries produced explosive hydrogen gas, which sometimes rose from the bowels of the submarine to add to the dangerous environment.

It took eight to ten hours to build a full charge. While near the surface, the submarine’s two navigators used radio signals from land-based transmitters to take readings of their position. It was during these periods of snorkeling and the start-up of the diesel engines that K-129 was most vulnerable to detection by American antisubmarine warfare systems—infrared sensors on spy satellites, the hydrophone network, and patrolling ASW aircraft.

Because of the crowded conditions, sleep and toilet facilities were strictly regulated. But if living space was at a premium, the Red Navy compensated for the hardship by giving their submarine crews the best food the Soviet Union had to offer. The lowest-ranked Soviet submariner typically dined on meals that were usually available to the highest party officials or to regular Russians only at holiday feasts. On K-129, officers and enlisted men all enjoyed the same menu. They were fed four meals a day, including breakfast, dinner, supper, and tea, which was a late-night snack. In addition to meat or fish, vegetables, and dessert, all members of the crew were provided caviar, wine, and chocolate bars with their meals. Perishables were kept fresh during the first several weeks of the voyage in large refrigerators located beneath the living decks.

It is possible to chart the last voyage of K-129 with a reasonable degree of accuracy. The distances the submarine traveled, and the dates of departure and arrival at its approximate last location are known. From K-129’s sailing on February 24, to its last known location on March 7, the Golf II submarine’s final journey took slightly less than fourteen days. The great circle route from Rybachiy Naval Base on the Kamchatka Peninsula to a site between 350 and 400 miles northwest of Honolulu, Hawaii, was a voyage of just under 2,400 nautical miles.

When the records of the prevailing currents and wind conditions for that part of the ocean, on those dates, are factored into the charting, along with the boat’s operational characteristics—such as speed capability and required time for snorkeling—a day-by-day account of the trip can be reconstructed.

FEBRUARY 24 (Departure from Rybachiy Naval Base)

K-129 leaves in the early morning hours, before daybreak. It runs on the surface, to get as far from port as possible before the next pass by an American satellite. Five million pounds of machinery cut through the water at a brisk sixteen knots. Although Pearl Harbor lies to the southeast, the K-129 steers a more northerly course into the prevailing 0.6-knot current flowing down from the Bering Sea. This compensates for the sideward push created by the currents (drift).

The wind is blowing from the northeast at a speed of seventeen to twenty knots. Waves are moderate at six to eight feet, with numerous whitecaps and some spray. The water temperature is 33°F and air temperature is below freezing.

Fifteen miles from the mouth of the bay into open seas, the Asian continental shelf lies 750 feet below the keel, then sharply drops away to waters 3,250 feet deep. The submarine runs parallel to the drop-off for the next twenty-five miles. K-129 radios headquarters that they have entered deep water. The early run on the surface has given the sub a good start on its voyage.

K-129 has traveled approximately 175 nautical miles.

FEBRUARY 25 (Day Two)

The prevailing current is from the northeast at 0.6 knots; wind and sea action remain steady. The water temperature is still 33°F, but the average air temperature has dropped several degrees below freezing. The navigator makes adjustments as the current changes, pushing the boat off its intended course. Each time the boat rises near the surface for navigational fixes and snorkeling, it risks colliding with calved icebergs, commonly adrift in the area.

North of the course is the Meizi Seamount, a minor ridge running from northwest to southeast, and rising to within 9,500 feet of the surface. Just beyond the seamount is Ostrov Beringa, the last island in the Aleutian chain, which forms an almost perfect arch from Kamchatka Peninsula to the Alaska Peninsula. The valleys of that trench reach depths to 24,000 feet below sea level.

Deprived of daylight, the crew settles into an “at-sea” routine—sleeping, working, eating, and standing watch. The submarine is snorkeling at night, running at nine knots and cruising submerged at seven knots during the day. It will operate in this manner for most of the voyage. Occasionally, if seas are calm, and the electronic surveillance measure (ESM) shows they are alone in the vast openness of the North Pacific, the submarine will surface and run at a higher speed, between twelve and fifteen knots. Here in the open ocean, K-129’s missiles are worthless; the faster it is on station, the sooner its deterrent value will be realized.

Captain Kobzar orders a series of drills that train the men for disaster response to flooding, fire, and hydraulic leaks. These drills will be continued—partly to hone skills and partly to relieve the boredom—two, three, and four times a day until they reach the patrol box.

K-129 has traveled approximately 369 nautical miles.

FEBRUARY 26 (Day Three)

For most of the day the submarine glides above a deep, broad ocean plain three miles below. It is heading directly for the Northwest Pacific Seamount chain. The boat’s course is now running almost parallel to the angled slope of the International Date Line.

The 0.6-knot current shifts from the northwest, giving the submarine a “tail current” and an extra 0.5-knot boost in speed.

K-129 has traveled approximately 563 nautical miles.

FEBRUARY 27 (Day Four)

K-129 moves in a southeasterly direction, pushed by following currents of 0.6 knots. The ocean temperature has risen to 37°F and the air temperature has climbed above freezing for the first time since leaving Kamchatka. Sonar contacts increase as the submarine enters the great circle route taken by freighters traveling the sea-lanes between San Francisco and Yokohama, and between San Francisco and the Luzon Strait in the Philippines. At any time, hundreds of merchant ships are engaged in the transportation of goods vital to the economies of the Free World traders.

K-129 has traveled approximately 757 nautical miles.

FEBRUARY 28 (Day Five)

As the day passes, the following current begins a slow turn to the west and K-129 loses some of its added drift. The navigator increases the frequency of course corrections, compensating again for the sideward motion of the current. The ocean temperature has risen to 39°F and the air on the surface has risen 2 degrees. Sonar contacts drop off as the submarine leaves behind the well-traveled sea-lanes.

K-129 has covered approximately 951 nautical miles.

FEBRUARY 29 (Day Six)

To the northwest of the submarine’s course is the Emperor Trough, 4.6 miles deep. Ocean currents, temperatures, and wind force remain unchanged. The ocean floor is 19,500 feet below sea level.

K-129 has traveled approximately 1,145 nautical miles.

MARCH 1 (Day Seven—West of the International Date Line)

Early in the morning the submarine passes the halfway mark between Rybachiy and Pearl Harbor. The milestone goes unnoticed, except by the navigator and duty officer. Currents and winds remain constant, but the temperature of the water and surface air has risen to 43°F. Frequency of sonar contacts again increases as the submarine crosses another major Pacific sea-lane, the great circle route between Los Angeles and San Bernardino Strait in the Philippines.

Sometime during the day the submarine crosses the 180th meridian—the International Date Line, where today becomes yesterday for eastbound sailors. Traditionally, the captain would announce the event, which would occasion some mariner merriment and jokes about getting to live the day all over again. But today is different.

The first indication that something is amiss aboard the submarine comes at the end of the day, when the submarine fails to dispatch a routine signal to headquarters that the International Date Line has been crossed.

K-129 has covered approximately 1,339 nautical miles since sailing.

MARCH 1 (Day Eight—East of the International Date Line)

Again, it is March 1. Below is a flat, featureless expanse of ocean bottom. By the end of the day, K-129 is nearing an underwater volcano that sharply rises ten thousand feet from the ocean floor. But there is no danger. Even at maximum depth, the highest peak will pass 3,800 feet below the submarine.

K-129 has traveled approximately 1,533 nautical miles.

MARCH 2 (Day Nine)

The currents pushing K-129 to the northwest begin to change course. The submarine is on the edge of a giant underwater cyclone—a swirling mass of water three thousand miles wide—moving at a leisurely .5 knots. The vortex, which prevails in the North Pacific, is centered seven hundred nautical miles north-northwest of Oahu at this time of year. The temperature of both the air and surface water has risen to 53°F. Sonar contacts increase toward the end of the day, as the sub approaches the passage between San Bernardino Strait and Mexico.

K-129 has traveled approximately 1,727 nautical miles.

MARCH 3 (Day Ten)

The submarine begins the day crossing another of the seemingly endless underwater volcanoes, and then enters a zone of flat, featureless ocean floor.

K-129 has traveled approximately 1,921 nautical miles.

MARCH 4 (Day Eleven)

There is another indication that something is wrong aboard the submarine. Instead of slowing down to begin the usual silent patrolling in the mission box, K-129 keeps sailing toward Pearl Harbor. The water and air temperatures continue to rise, reaching the low sixties. Sweaters have been stowed and the boat’s heating units are shut off.

K-129 has traveled approximately 2,115 nautical miles.