“Put up the chart of the waters adjacent to Vladivostok.
“We have a visitor in the Sea of Japan. Intelligence concludes with high probability it is the USS Denver, a 688-class attack submarine, recently completed overhaul at Bremerton. Her tactical priorities are questionable. She torpedoed and sank a tiny reydny traishchik that cost much less than the ADCAP torpedo that took her to the bottom with ten of our brave comrades. Our Alfa class Legeroff reported an attack by a 688 near this position.”
A spot-point flashed three hundred miles northeast of Vladivostok.
“The attack failed, thanks to a newly developed defensive tactic, the Zhukov Maneuver, named for the ship that originated it. A description is included in all your operational packets and is now tactical policy. Familiarity with this maneuver is a required pre-condition to all future deployments.”
Vasiliy’s heart throbbed with excitement. His child, the Zhukov Maneuver had saved a Soviet submarine. But what went wrong? It should also have resulted in the death of the 688.
Later Sherensky discussed the briefing with his junior officer. On hearing of Vasiliy’s concerns, the captain comforted his weapons officer. “Ah, Vasiliy. You wish to have everything at once. Be happy for enabling us to fend off the enemy. You have silenced a major impediment to our war plan. If we continue to nullify the cream of the American battle fleet, we’re sure to win. Let’s not draw hasty conclusions based on a single engagement. We’ll continue to perfect the ZM and I shall ensure our learned zampolit knows of your hand in this important achievement.”
Saving his comrades in Legeroff pleased Vasiliy, especially because two of her officers were personal friends, but he still felt deprived. He hungered for vengeance against an enemy he believed responsible for his and his mother’s grief.
Later Vasiliy visited the security vault and paged through the intelligence brochure on Denver. Zhukov would sail in a few days and with luck would encounter this hapless 688. He found foreign names difficult to pronounce, Bostwick, Olsen, Patrick. Ah, there he is, my counterpart. Lieutenant Brent Maddock, weapons systems officer. U.S. Naval Academy, 1982, submarine school, nuclear power school, previous service in a 637 class, married, one child, Vasiliy read. The intelligence community had not yet recorded the divorce. So here is my foe, thought Vasiliy and said aloud, “I look forward to our meeting and providing you a peaceful sleep beneath the waves.”
That evening, Vasiliy and his mother dined at a Vladivostok restaurant on the eve of Zhukov’s deployment. Ekaterina looked well for a woman in her sixties. Years at the dance preserved for her the figure of a most attractive woman.
“I have an announcement, Vasiliy. I’ll stay here at Vladivostok until your return. There is little for me in Kiev and summer will soon be upon us. Spring is lovely here and I plan to enjoy every second.”
“This pleases me. You will stay in my apartment, of course.”
“No, Vasiliy. I have taken a flat in the new building. You must permit an old woman her independence.”
“If you say so, Mother. But if you change your mind, I’ll leave a key.”
At that moment, the waiter brought their drinks. They touched glasses and toasted with excellent vodka. In the Motherland, there is no other kind.
“To your success and good fortune, my son.”
“And to yours, Mother.”
“I’ve already had more than my share of success. And what need has an old woman for good fortune?”
He revisited his all consuming vendetta. “To repay you for the cruelty life has shown you because of my father’s cowardly act.”
“Vasiliy, you must learn to forget. Put the pain and anger behind us and make the best of our remaining days together. You smile so infrequently. Why is this? A mother’s favorite gift is a smile from her handsome son.”
“My life’s a constant reminder of father’s disdainful act. It follows me constantly, most lately in the attitude of comrade Commander Poplavich, our zampolit. He regards my father’s defection as cause to question my loyalty to the Party.”
“Pay him no mind. You do well in the Navy and I am proud. Now make me happy. Put this anger aside and enjoy your life. Find a good woman and give me a grandchild to dote over.”
“War is not a proper time to bring children into the world. Perhaps when Capitalism is destroyed, the world will again be such a place.”
“Ah, Vasiliy, you turn even pleasant thoughts into grist for your vendetta. Learn to forgive Yuri. He loved us but he is an artist. Art can be a cruel master.”
He had never heard his mother speak her husband’s name. Before, it had always been your father or my husband.
She continued, “He could not find artistic freedom here. You see some of this yourself, Vasiliy, in the actions of the zampolit. You have ideas about your profession but they are thwarted. Try to understand. If we continue to find cause to put off the important things in our life, we’ll never get to them.”
She reached across the table and pressed her son’s hand.
Vasiliy did not agree but could not bring himself to deny his mother her tender moment. He blamed America for the misery she tried to hide, as well as for the plight of the downtrodden throughout the world. He intended to play a major role in hastening the defeat of his hated enemies.
“You have given me much to think on, Mother, and I shall,” Vasiliy lied.
Eve Danis exclaimed, “Bea Zane! Ooh, your mother. You have so much of Dale it’s like seeing her again.”
Bea had driven to Hoquiam to gather up Eric’s wife for a weekend at the Digs. They had not seen each other for over ten years so the women embraced warmly. Eve and the Zanes had been close friends when their husbands shared junior officer days.
“Mrs. Danis, it’s great to see you again and looking so well.”
“Please, Bea, call me Eve. Mrs. makes me feel so ancient, which I am, of course.”
“If you’re ancient,” Bea hesitated then used the offered invitation, “Eve, I hope time flies by quickly, because I can’t wait to look that good.”
“A way with words … from your dad, no doubt. He was full of them. Never believed him but loved hearing what he had to say. When will I see him?”
“This evening. He’s really excited about the weekend. Whenever Captain Danis comes to town, Dad tries to get him out to the Digs but it never works out. It took you to come along to make it happen.”
“I’m pleased to be the culprit.”
Bea changed the subject, “So, how do you like Hoquiam?”
“I really can’t tell the difference between here and the other places I’ve lived. Just put our things around and from the inside, all houses look the same. So far I’ve only been out enough to hit a few grocery stores.”
“You’ll love Washington, especially in the spring. We get great weather and best of all, no food shortages at the Digs. We live on clams, fresh salmon, Dungeness crab and fresh veggies from the garden. Old Dad, the squirrel, has laid in a lifetime supply of vino. There are enough empty cardboard wine boxes under the house to be a fire hazard.”