Inside U-3313’s forward storage compartment, the penetrating chill was even more noticeable because of the constant blackness that prevailed here. Without even a single torch to provide them light, the six prisoners huddled closely together in their makeshift cell, with their blankets wrapped tightly around them.
Ever since the U-boat had presumably been hit by a torpedo and sunk to the bottom, they had had a minimum amount of contact with the crew. From what they gathered, over half of them had perished when the aft compartments flooded. The surviving members were gathered in the control room, and visited the storage compartment only to pick up the food that was kept here.
The members of NUEX had held up pretty well during this confinement. As divers, they were used to extended stays in cold, wet environments. Karl Skpllevoll had trouble adjusting to the numbing chill at first, and her companions did their best to warm her up by sharing their spare clothing and body heat.
All through their ordeal, the old Russian sat in the corner continuing-to blame himself for their misfortune.
Often they could hear his teeth chattering. And when the old man did manage to sleep, he did so restlessly.
Cold beans were still the extent of their meals. They dared not complain, or even this pittance might be taken away from them.
To pass the time in the perpetual darkness, they took turns telling stories. Whenever their spirits sunk particularly low, Jon Huslid would remind them of the time he accompanied a Norwegian Navy surface flotilla while it was participating in a NATO submarine rescue exercise. As long as the hull remained dry and the air breathable, they still had a chance, emphasized the photographer, while it was Knut who reminded them that one of the best features of the compartment in which they were held was that it contained the very hatch through which such a rescue would be carried out.
The dim Arctic dawn provided just enough illumination for Magne Rystaad and David Lawton to view an incredible scene unfold up ahead on the waters of Kongsfjord Strait. From the ultra-modern confines of the Falcon’s bridge, they gazed out at the three incongruous warships at anchor there. All of these vessels were approximately the same size, though the two submarines seemed to be dwarfed by the Nordkapp class cutter that they were floating beside.
“Considering that hit the cutter took, she doesn’t look too bad,” observed the Texan.
“The Nordkapp is very fortunate,” replied Magne.
“They were able to shore up the hole in their hull before their watertight integrity was seriously threatened, and from the report that commander Nilsen shared with me, his fire-control teams extinguished the fires just as the flames were lapping at the ship’s fuel tanks. If they had gone up, the only view we’d be seeing of the Nordkapp would be from our bottom scanning sonar unit.”
As the Falcon continued to close in on the center of the strait, the damages to the cutter were more obvious.
Its gray hull was stained with black scorch marks, especially amidships on the port side. The ship’s Lynx helicopter could be seen on the helipad, apparently unaffected by the flames.
“Thanks to that chopper, all of the Nordkapp’s seriously wounded have been transferred to the hospital at Longyearben already,” remarked Magne.
“And it’s a good thing that they weren’t relying on us to provide the transport, because Noroil One is still A.W.O.L..”
Lawton knew that Magne was referring to the Falcon’s own helicopter.
“Karl Skollevoll sure didn’t seem like the irresponsible type.”
“She’s not, and that’s what scares me,” said Magne.
“The last report she filed at the Tromso airport showed her returning to base, and since then, no one’s heard a thing from her.”
“Maybe she’s just shacking up with a beau,” offered Lawton.
“I hope that’s the case, David. Because otherwise, it doesn’t appear too promising.”
A strained silence followed as the Falcon completed its approach to the wounded cutter. As the diving support ship dropped anchor, David Lawton got his first good view of the two submarines sharing the waters with them. The largest of these submersibles had the Stars and Stripes billowing from its sail. Three sailors were visible on this structure’s exposed bridge, in the process of scanning the Falcon with their binoculars.
Less than one-hundred yards away, the other submarine displayed the crimson red hammer and sickle banner of the Soviet Union from its streamlined sail.
This vessel was smaller than the American sub, and also had three sailors perched on the conning tower, looking over the Falcon.
David Lawton found himself wishing that he had brought his camera along with him so that he could document this amazing sight. Surely such a photo would make front page newspaper copy worldwide.
It had been previously agreed over the radiotelephone that the command staffs of all four vessels would initially meet in the Falcon’s galley. The Texan was quite pleased when Magne invited him to join this meeting as his guest.
An hour after the Falcon dropped anchor, this conference was called to order. Lawton was genuinely moved as Commander Gunnar Nilsen provided a blow by blow description of events aboard the Nordkapp immediately before, during, and after the torpedo strike. Captain Steven Aldridge, C.O. of the USS Cheyenne, then introduced himself. He explained how his vessel sank the mystery sub responsible for this unwarranted attack with an amazing weapon by the name of SUBROC.
At this point Magne asked if the wreckage of this still unidentified craft had been found as yet. Standing up to answer him was a white-haired old man in a well-tailored blue uniform. Lawton was surprised to hear that this individual was an Admiral in the Soviet Navy. As senior officer aboard the Alfa class attack submarine Lena, he had ordered a sonar scan of the waters in which the mystery vessel had presumably gone down. In this manner, the vessel was located on the bottom of the strait, 407 feet beneath the surface.
This site was only two and a half kilometers due north of the Falcon’s current position. When Admiral Alexander Kuznetsov mentioned that the wreck’s hull still appeared to be intact, Magne immediately offered the services of the Falcon’s two diving bells to check for any survivors.
The white-haired Russian seemed genuinely thrilled by this offer. Quickly he asked the others present if they could initiate this rescue effort at once. There were no objections, and while the submariners returned to their vessels to monitor the proceedings, the Falcon moved into position.
Solo, the diving support ship’s ROV, was launched.
Through the magic of fiber-optics it was soon relaying back to them the first video pictures of the vessel that had attacked the Nordkapp. Both Magne and Lawton were staggered to learn that this submarine was a German Type XXI model. Even more shocking was the fact that it carried the markings U-3313 on its gilded sail, making it the sister ship of the U-boat that they had previously explored off the coast of Utsira!
That such a vessel could still be in working order was simply unbelievable. The only damage to the U-boat seemed to be confined to its aft portions, and when a standard-sized rescue hatch was found intact on the boat’s forward section, both agreed that it appeared to be readily accessible from one of the Falcon’s diving bells.
There was no question in their minds about who would man this bell. While the crew readied it for action, both veteran divers went off to don their heavy neoprene wet suits.
The descent to 407 feet went off without a hitch.
With continued assistance, a guide-wire led them straight down to the U-boat’s forward escape hatch.
“We’re going to have to see about putting you on the company payroll,” joked Magne as the bell attached itself onto the hatch and began to pressurize.