A Voltaire quote hung on the wall of Admiral of the FleetSergey Georgyevich Gorshkov’s office, “Better is the enemy of good enough.”
The admiral lived by this. Therefore, Sherensky considered having made good his escape from a 688 to be good enough. “There is no need to sink him if he cannot hurt us. We evaded him easily.”
Zampolit Poplavich berated Vasiliy, “Our mission, Lieutenant Baknov, is to forge into the Pacific and destroy the enemy’s ability to replenish and rearm himself, not sink harmless submarines in the Sea of Japan. Do you suggest we disobey our orders and risk this ship in combat against a unit that shows itself to be of no value to the enemy?”
Sherensky took a breath to answer but thought better of it. He had warned young Vasiliy about the seriousness of his situation with the vindictive zampolit. Vasiliy had either forgotten the warning or believed his advice would be taken in the context presented and not as lack of confidence in the Soviet system.
Vasiliy replied, “We cannot expect the Americans will remain baffled by our new tactic. It is only a question of time before they discern it. This 688 has been frustrated twice and gains new experience with each escape. We must prevent this tactic from returning to America for pass off to its other submariners.”
The zampolit folded his arms stoically. “Do not bore me with your self-fancied wiser view of our mission than the one given us by our leaders. Simply answer my question.”
Immediately, Vasiliy realized what he had done and attempted to make amends. “Forgive me, Comrade Zampolit. I fear I permitted the power of the moment to blind my better judgment.”
“You would do wise to think well on those words.”
The zampolit departed the Attack Center, walked directly to his tiny office, closed the door and unlocked his file cabinet. Withdrawing a folder marked Lieutenant Vasiliy Baknov, he opened it and made some handwritten entries.
Eric Danis said to his friend as they turned into the driveway of the Digs, “This place is gorgeous. Damn it, Dave, how come you’ve never had me out here before?”
Dave replied in a somber tone, “One more comment like that, sir, and it’ll be no vino for you for the rest of the weekend.”
The balmy weather of the spring afternoon yielded to a stiffening breeze from the southwest and skies became leaden in color. A mild surf showed the coast’s wild beauty.
Eric greeted his wife Eve with a kiss. “Hi, Sweetheart. Hope you got everything done before you left.”
Dave shook a finger at Danis. “Eric is really asking for it today, Eve. Don’t know what we’re going to do with him.” He hugged her warmly. “Sure is great to see you again.” Holding her at arm’s length for a better look, he continued, “Glad somebody in the family managed to keep their good looks. You know, Eve, there’s a lot of handsome and available guys around. Take me for example. Maybe you should give some thought to throwing the old man over.”
Eve replied, “And lose all that good Navy retirement? Same old Dave Zane.”
“Maybe you could find a rich one. From the looks of you, you could do a lot better than the old sea dog here.”
Laughing, Eve said, “I’ll think real hard on it, Dave. First, line up all the available candidates and have them wear net worth labels instead of nametags then I’ll let you know.”
After Bea and Eric exchanged greetings, he asked, “What about all that lovely weather you keep promising me, Bea? You lure me up here then damn near blow me away.”
“That’s because you blew all the other invitations, Captain Danis. The Digs has its own personality and maybe thinks you don’t like it.”
With a serious tone, Eric said, “Bea, now that I’m finally here, I sure regret the missed opportunities. It’s truly gorgeous. I envy you and your dad. And about this captain nonsense … only old codgers get called that by beautiful women.”
Losing herself in an engulfing smile, Bea regained her composure. “Comments like that’ll only get you the best dinner you ever had,” she bragged.
Eric asked, “Bea, how about a glass of wine? Your dad says I’m cut off.”
“From a bottle of our very best, saved specifically for this occasion. If Dad doesn’t clean up his act, he gets one from the box. Cook’s the only one who does the cutting off around here.”
Dave wailed, “See, Eve. I’m always the one that gets picked on. Eric here puts up all the flak and I have to pay the dues. Now I ask you. Is that fair?”
Eve shook her head. “Tsk-tsk. Scapegoat’s written all over you, Dave. But you look none the worse for the wear.”
“Well if I at least look good, I can live with that.”
Dave opened a bottle of vintage Chardonnay and the old friends toasted their reunion before a roaring fireplace.
Raising his glass, Dave said, “To friendship. May it remain endless and the walls of these Digs provide it an equally endless retreat.”
Voices joined in the coziness of the rustic family room, “Hear! Hear!”
Outside the weather increased to a full-fledged Sou’wester.
The women excused themselves to attend the finishing details of dinner while the men settled in before the fire for another of their chats.
With the ladies gone, Dave said, “Eric, I know us old EDOs,” referring to his Engineering Duty Only designator, “got no business knowing how the big war is going, but what can you tell me? A lot can be concluded from the lack of anything encouraging coming out of Washington.”
“A pregnant observation, Dave. Lack of even a little fabricated good news is unnerving.”
“Anyone back there think surrender’s a viable option?”
“There are folks who’d answer yes to Patrick Henry’s question, ‘Is peace so dear and life so sweet it is to be purchased at the price of chains?’ And you know the damn special interest groups control the country.”
Dave added, “And the irony is politicians need the majority to get elected. What’s wrong with this picture? Is anybody doing well for us? Besides the Armed Forces, I mean.”
“Right now, it’s an Army-Air Force show. Apparently, they got things checked in Europe. Not sure how long they can hold out. Everything has to be flown in and the Soviets don’t have that problem. Wasn’t it Sherman who said ‘More beats better every time’?”
“You got me, Eric … you’re the history buff. So what about tactical nuclear weapons? They in the picture?”
“Not really. The Soviets want to be sure there’s something left if they prevail. They don’t want to win an empty bag. If TacNucs do come into use, it won’t be limited to Europe. Their land attack cruise missiles would make things damn tough. The SS-N-21 has long legs and can be submarine-launched off our coasts. We’d shoot down some of them but not enough to make a difference. Both sides are holding their breath ’cause TacNucs run up the chance of escalation. Neither wants that, particularly the Soviets.”
Dave said, “Well it’s not very damn likely we’d be first to use them. How about our new buddies, the Chinese? They like the Soviets about as much as we do.”
“Not much help there either, Dave. Look for China to ride the fence and jump in on the winning side when that becomes apparent.”
“Looks grim, doesn’t it?”
Eric thought for a second. “If we don’t regain control of the sea, we’ve had it. Despite the great job we’re getting from the Army and Air Force, we need the ocean to cart in and deliver the stuff required to win the land war.”
“So Eric, you think our submarines are doing any good?”