The Polar Spetsnaz brigade was trained and equipped for warfare in Arctic conditions, with DT-30P Vityaz tracked vehicles. However, against their potential adversary, they would not need their armored vehicles. Their training, small arms weapons, and helicopters would suffice.
Captain Klokov arrived at the quarterdeck and the two officers saluted each other. After the required greetings, Klokov led the Admiral down a hallway and into his office. Ivanov settled into a chair across from Klokov’s desk, then Klokov took his seat.
Klokov began with the expected pleasantries, but Ivanov interrupted him. “I have an assignment for your unit.”
Ivanov laid out the unit’s assignment and timeline. When he finished, Klokov said nothing while he worked through the various scenarios. He finally responded, addressing a critical issue.
“There will be many witnesses.”
“Minimize the casualties,” Ivanov replied, “but mission success is paramount.”
Ivanov departed without ceremony, then stepped into the back of his sedan. His driver awaited guidance, and Ivanov said, “Murmansk Airport.”
As the car headed toward the base exit, Ivanov reflected on what he had done today. The plan had been put in motion, but he could not predict the outcome or his fate if it failed. His career had been distinguished, guiding Russia’s Navy through its darkest times, and he’d been Fleet Admiral longer than anyone. As he leaned back, sinking deeper into the leather upholstery, he told himself again that the potential gain was worth risking what was left of an old man’s career.
31
Commander Paul Tolbert stood in the deserted Control Room, the light from his battle lantern cutting through the darkness and reflecting off ice-coated consoles. Without power to run the ventilation heaters, temperature had stabilized at twenty-nine degrees Fahrenheit, matching that of the ocean beneath the polar ice cap. The watchstanders had wiped away the moisture condensing on the submarine’s metal surfaces, but now that temperature had dropped below freezing, everything was coated in a thin sheen of ice.
As the temperature fell, hypothermia became an issue, and after conferring with North Dakota’s corpsman, Tolbert secured all watches except the essential ones in the engineering spaces, and sent everyone to their racks, where they were hibernating in their SEIE suits beneath every available blanket. Tolbert shined his light on the dead Ship Control Station. He had no idea what depth the ship was at, but was confident they had pumped off enough water to keep them pinned against the bottom of the ice cap.
He was about to head aft to check on Electrical Division’s progress again, but decided otherwise. There had been little else to do the last three days, and repairs were proceeding even slower than Chief Moran had predicted. As the temperature plummeted, the electricians lost dexterity in their fingers, affecting their ability to conduct the delicate repairs. Even though the SEIE suits came with flexible neoprene gloves, they were of no use since the work required bare hands.
Tolbert spotted a yellow glow creeping his way. A moment later, the Chief of the Boat, Master Chief Paul Murgo, entered the Control Room, a battle lantern in hand. Like Tolbert, he conducted frequent tours, checking on the condition of the men and ship.
Murgo shined his light across the frozen consoles.
“Ahh, there’s no place like home.” The Alaskan native seemed unfazed by the frigid temperatures. “What I wouldn’t give for a hundred and thirty pairs of red slippers, though,” he said. “Just click three times …”
“We’re not in Kansas, anymore, Toto,” Tolbert replied.
Murgo grinned.
Two more beams of light appeared, and the Engineer Officer and Auxiliary Division Chief entered Control. They joined Tolbert and Murgo around the navigation plot. In the dim light, Tolbert noticed worried looks.
“We’ve got another problem,” Lieutenant Commander Swenson said. “The potable water tanks have frozen. We can’t get any more water.”
Of all the things they’d been worried about, Tolbert thought — air, power, and temperature — who would have thought water would be an issue? But submarines weren’t designed to operate at three degrees below freezing, and they had never had to think through the implications. He reviewed the different fluids aboard — seawater, pure water, diesel fuel, hydraulic fluid, and battery acid, and figured the only issues were the pure water — based systems.
The reactor plant water would be fine. Even though the reactor was shut down, heat was still being generated from the radioactive decay of fission by-products, and Tolbert could feel the welcome warmth emanating from the bulkheads as he passed through the Reactor Compartment Tunnel. That left the Engine Room systems.
“If potable water is freezing,” Tolbert said, “the Condensate and Feed systems will also freeze, if they haven’t already done so.”
Swenson replied, “I just checked Condensate and Feed by opening some of the drains. The feedwater piping near the Reactor Compartment is still above freezing, but everything else is frozen.”
They had realized the problem too late. As water froze, it would expand and potentially crack piping or separate joints.
“Any evidence of damage?” Tolbert asked.
“Nothing so far. I think we’re okay in the Feed System, as that piping is designed for high pressure so it can force water into the steam generator, but the Condensate System is low pressure. We could have some issues there. We won’t know for sure until we thaw everything out. Which brings up another problem. We have to thaw everything out before we start up.”
Tolbert realized the implication immediately. They couldn’t start up with frozen Condensate and Feedwater systems, nor did he want to start spinning a turbine with ice formations inside. He would have to warm everything up first, placing an additional drain on the battery. His decision to open the battery breaker had been wise, preserving the remaining energy. They were going to need every bit of it.
“We’ll restore the ventilation heaters and warm up the Engine Room before start-up,” Tolbert said. “Our immediate problem, however, is water. Any recommendations?”
“Chief Johnson has one,” Swenson replied.
Tolbert turned to Larry “Big Red” Johnson, the tall A-Gang Chief with red hair and a temper to match. Johnson answered, “As the Eng said, the metal near the reactor is still warm and some feedwater hasn’t frozen. I had Chief Scalise check, and the Pure Water Tank hasn’t frozen either.”
Tolbert considered Johnson’s idea. Pure Water was used as reactor coolant. But as its name implied, it was pure water, nothing more. “Great idea, Chief. Use the Pure Water Tank for drinking water. Check the tank temperature with a surface pyrometer every hour, and if it drops to thirty-three degrees, drain the remaining water into containers and store them in the Reactor Compartment Tunnel.”
With the water problem solved, Tolbert turned to Master Chief Murgo, “How are we doing on carbon dioxide?”
“We’ve got one more day of CO2 absorbers left,” Murgo replied. “After that, we’ll have to start a scrubber, whether we’ve got a turbine generator up or not. It’s your call as to when, but Doc recommends we keep CO2 below one percent.”