“Ready,” Aaron said.
They walked past Cobra’s large, black fin and continued on toward the bow, stopping at a steep, narrow set of steel stairs leading down into the sub’s dark interior.
“These bow stairs were cut through what used to be the torpedo loading hatch I mentioned earlier,” Uri said.
“Above the Forward Torpedo Room,” Aaron said.
“Yes, Compartment One,” Uri agreed. “We submariners didn’t have the luxury of these stairs. We entered the boat through the fin hatch using the ladder to the Control Room. These and most of the handrails and ramps you see on deck were installed by the maritime museum for the benefit of the public. But since they’re here, why not use them. Follow me.”
Aaron and Uri descended the tourist stairs into the Forward Torpedo Room.
“Foxtrots were armed with high explosive torpedoes with a range of ten miles,” Uri said. “The weapons could be fired from six forward, or four aft 533 millimeter or 21-inch torpedo tubes. You’re looking at the six forward tubes.”
Aaron could not believe the amount of equipment crammed into such a tight space.
He saw what reminded him of a World War I gas mask hanging from a hook. "Is that for if the air in here goes bad?” he asked, pointing at the odd looking device.
“You’re close,” Uri said. “It’s actually a Submerged Escape Apparatus. In other words, a lung, for breathing underwater during an escape.” He took it off the hook and handed it to Aaron.
Aaron turned the contraption over in his hands. It consisted of a rubber lung, a steel bottle, a mouthpiece, and goggles. “How does it work?” he asked.
“It combines a CO2 scrubber with supplemental oxygen to hopefully provide enough breathable air for an escapee to make it to the surface.” Uri said. “The museum hung it here, along with other memorabilia, to add realism. That one’s pretty old, though. The scrubbing canister’s probably shot, and I doubt there’s much oxygen left in the bottle. I never had to use one, thank God.”
Aaron hung the lung back on its hook.
“A submarine torpedo tube is like a large naval gun,” Uri said. “It’s basically a barrel with a breech and muzzle. However, a torpedo tube uses compressed air rather than an explosive for the purpose of firing, and the tube's projectile is self-propelling, the tube supplying only the initial boost for the torpedo.”
He indicated one of the heavy torpedo racks. “When fully armed, Cobra carried twenty-two torpedoes. These are two of them.”
Aaron stepped over to take a closer look at the huge, colorful bombs, both over 20-feet long. One of the weapons was painted fire-engine red, with white stripes. It was shaped like a cigar, like the torpedoes he had seen in pictures.
The second torpedo, however, looked quite different: it was painted forest green and was at least two feet longer than the other. It was tipped with an articulating nosecone made of brightly polished metal, and looked much sleeker, faster, and deadlier than its counterpart.
“These torpedoes have been disarmed of course,” Uri said. “Would you like to see how they’re loaded?”
“Sure,” Aaron said. He had always wondered how that was done.
“The gantry crane is used to move the rack and align a specific torpedo with the tube,” Uri said. “Then the pulley system pulls the weapon in.”
He craned the rack over and loaded the red and white torpedo into tube 5. “Did you get how that was done?” he said.
“I think so,” Aaron said.
Uri withdrew the bomb and settled it back onto the rack. “Go ahead, try loading the green torpedo into tube five.”
Aaron followed Uri’s instructions and loaded the weapon, and then he reached up to close the tube’s inner hatch cover.
“You can leave the hatch cover open,” Uri said. “I’ll secure everything later. Let’s move on to Compartment Two.”
Compartment Two was accessed through the first of the four watertight hatches along the main corridor. Uri led the way and Aaron ducked in behind him. The corridor was very tight, leaving barely enough room for two men to squeeze past each other.
"Daily life was on a three-shift schedule,” Uri said. “On duty, maintenance, sleep. The first door on your right is the Captain’s Cabin, followed by the Sonar Room and a four-berth Officer’s Cabin. Only we officers had our own bunks. Enlisted men hot bunked.”
"What's hot bunked?” Aaron said.
"Fifty four crewmen sharing 27 bunks located in the Electric Motor Room and the Aft Torpedo Room,” Uri said.
Aaron peeked into the various cabins, each with its own thin wood door. He was amazed by how small they all were — he’d been spoiled by the generous accommodations on the Cayman Jewel.
Uri pointed out a tiny conference room with enough space for about six officers tightly packed. “The last room, here in Compartment Two, is the Officer’s Ward Room,” he said. “A Zampolit, or Soviet Political Officer, was assigned to every submarine. He also quartered here in Compartment Two, near the Commander, and near to any meetings held here. Usually a Captain Third Rank, his sole task was enforcing adherence to Communist Party doctrine.”
They continued on, passing through the second watertight hatch and into Compartment Three.
“This is the Control Center,” Uri said. “The nerve center of the submarine.”
He pointed to a ladder a short distance away. “That’s the main ladder leading up to the fin hatch, the hatch to the bridge. It also leads to the periscope viewing compartment. The periscope was normally not accessible from here in the Control Room, but for safety reasons the conning tower is not open to tourists, so the attack periscope’s well was cut away to permit access at this level.”
Uri had taken that into consideration when calculating the team’s minimum manpower requirements.
Aaron looked up the ladder into the fin longingly.
“There in the corner is one of only two heads on board,” Uri said, pointing to a small open door in the corner of the Control Room. “Two toilets and one shower served 80 or so officers and enlisted men for up to three months at sea. Lingering in the head was considered a crime against humanity, and the men often used the ship’s flooded areas as convenient latrines.”
“Wow,” Aaron said, and then he followed Uri through the third watertight hatch into Compartment Four.
Uri showed Aaron the Radio Room and the Midshipmen’s Cabin. Next came the pantry and the tiny galley, a space barely large enough for two short cooks to stand. To Aaron the galley looked like an afterthought, which seemed weird, considering the importance of food.
“The chef and his assistants prepared four meals a day here,” Uri said. “Menus were chosen by the Supply Officer and the Chef a week in advance and approved by the Captain. The Captain and Supply Officer also tasted all meals served at dinner and supper to ensure they met the required standard. Officers down through seamen ate the same menu. Chefs were highly prized by submarine captains, because good food meant a happy crew, and Russian submariners enjoyed the best food in the Soviet Navy.
“A typical day would have been breakfast at 7:00, consisting of coffee, bread, cheese, eggs, sausage or bacon. Dinner, midday, was soup or borscht, meat with rice or noodles, or goulash, salad or vegetables. Dinner also included a half a glass of white wine, but they would have much preferred the officially banned vodka that the officers enjoyed. Supper came at around 6:00, with soup, meat with rice or noodles, a soft drink or juice, a chocolate bar, salted fish, tea, caviar, and fruit. Tea followed at 10:00, with cookies or pancakes or piroschki.”