Kursk Down Read online

  Those in the know realized this well might be the final effort before requesting foreign assistance. If they failed to achieve entry into the sub during the next few hours, public pressure to do so would become unmanageable. Recriminations for not acting sooner would be more difficult to explain. Like it or not, the need to accept Western help, no matter how embarrassing that might be, was becoming imperative.

  16 August 2000—0800 Hours—Barents Sea

  The fourth day dawned with a prediction of more storms. While that was disappointing, spirits rose with the arrival of another DSRV. This was a welcome addition to the fleet because the reliable AS-34 needed to be removed from the water and swung aboard the Rudnitsky for essential maintenance tasks. Repairs would enable the sub to be used for a longer period when placed back into service.

  Crane lines were made fast to AS-34. As she was lifted from the sea she swung in the wind, violently slamming her hull into the ship. Men grabbed cables dangling from the boat and struggled to stabilize the DSRV before the minisub hit again. It was too late. The damage had been done.

  A quick inspection revealed antennas required for sonar and electronic sensing had been broken. There were no replacements. Fixes were improvised and the submersible was able to return to limited service.

  While rushed repairs were being made to AS-34, other plans were evaluated. One concept was to lay water-filled pontoons alongside the Kursk hull. These floats would be connected by web belts. Compressed air could then be piped into the cylinders, forcing the water out. The pontoons would rise and lift the giant boat to the surface. The procedure was ruled more a salvage operation than a crew-rescue program, so the idea was discarded.

  Another concept called for connecting electrical power cables and an oxygen hose to the submarine. As there were no connectors on the Kursk’s hull suitable for such use, the necessary hardware would have to be fabricated and then attached by divers. The length of time required to accomplish this ruled out the project.

  By this point, different types of Deep Sea Rescue Vehicles had made more than ten attempts to dock and connect with the rear escape hatch. All had failed. The DSRV crews were willing to continue. There was little hope, however, that they would be able to perform a successful rescue. Even so, these men were the most effective option the Russian Navy possessed.

  Rumors sprang from failures. One held that the Kursk lay on the bottom with a 60-degree list and her bow down at an angle of 20 degrees. This position, tail high and leaning to one side, coupled with a swift current over the hull, suggested the need for help.

  At 1500 hours, President Vladimir Putin, still on holiday in the Black Sea resort of Sochi, described the situation as “critical.”

  Shortly afterward, Deputy Prime Minister Ilya Klebanov was quoted as saying there were no signs of life on the sub—this despite recent reports of hammering on the inside of the hull.

  Four days had elapsed. It was time for a different approach. After due consultation, President Putin, acting in his capacity as supreme commander-in-chief, passed the order for Navy head Admiral Vladimir Kuroyedov to accept foreign assistance. Kuroyedov’s team acted immediately to arrange help from both Britain and Norway.

  This presidential action was a political masterstroke. Being ordered to accept outside aid allowed the Navy to continue its effort while negotiations for help were under way. If Russia succeeded in entering the sub, national pride would be even greater. If they failed, they had still asked for assistance. The talks would overcome any future complaints about an unwillingness to look outside Russia for aid. Acting under orders also allowed the Navy to accept assistance without having to admit an inability to perform the needed tasks.

  Russia formally requested that Britain lend the LR-5 minisubmarine and crew. The British had readied the rescue vessel in case it was needed and approval to airlift the LR-5 into Norway was instantly granted. At 1900 hours, a transport carrying the LR-5 landed at the naval and port city of Trondheim.

  At 1200 hours on August 16, the Northern Fleet chief of staff called the commander of the Norwegian Navy on their direct line to request assistance on behalf of Admiral Popov.

  The Norwegians were asked to help in three different ways. First, alterations to the LR-5 hatch were essential so a watertight seal could be made with the Kursk. According to reports, a Norwegian manufacturing facility in Kirkeness was selected for this project. Next, transportation for the British LR-5 was needed from Norway’s Trondheim Navy Base to the rescue site. And finally, divers capable of working at depths exceeding 300 feet, along with their support vessel and necessary gear, were required.

  The Russian Navy’s diving school had been closed by lack of funding but they still had capable divers. Several volunteered their skills for the rescue effort. What the Russians lacked was the specialized equipment required for working long periods underwater to open the Kursk hatches. The rescue gear used for saturation diving had been rented out to oil companies.

  Saturation diving was perfected by the U.S. Navy during the late 1950s. Since that time the practice has spread from the military into civilian commercial and scientific applications. Offshore oil exploration and production industries, in particular, employ many saturation divers. This type of diving is the only method for a person to work underwater at depths as great as 2,000 feet without a lengthy decompression period.

  To handle the Russian request for divers, six employees of Stolt Offshore, a Norwegian contractor to the oil and gas industry, were pulled from a job near Haltenbanken, Norway. The four Britons and two Norwegians were aboard Stolt-Comex’s diving ship, Seaway Eagle, based out of Aberdeen, Scotland. Eight hours after the Russian call for aid, the team was rushing to the accident site.

  At 1200 hours on August 17, a Norwegian vessel, the Normand Pioneer, had loaded the British LR-5 and departed from the port of Trondheim.

  By this point, political storm flags were snapping in the wind. Public outcries caused the Russian government to form a special commission for overseeing rescue operations and investigating causes of the accident. Deputy Prime Minister Ilya Klebanov was named chairman of this group.

  17 August 2000

  Five days had passed since the accident and despite many tries, there had been no entry into the Kursk. All talk about tapping on the hull was done. The earlier stories now appeared to be just that—stories. Specialists, reviewing audiotapes of the tapping sounds, detected no Morse code. Some experts now believed the noises were caused by popping metal as the Kursk settled into the seafloor sediment.

  Underwater surveys of the boat had been expanded and the extent of damage to the submarine was now better understood. It was difficult for experienced Navy officers to hold much hope. Admitting a lost cause would bring unwanted reactions and dangerous questions. So silence on the true state of affairs continued—the same silence that helped maintain a state of anxiety.

  Prime Minister Mikhail Kasyanov, the number two man in Russian government, was quoted in The St. Petersburg Times as saying the situation was “close to catastrophic.” At almost the same instant, the Navy Press Center announced that those on board could survive until August 23, possibly August 25, if they were careful with air and water supplies.

  Whether or not anyone lived inside the wreckage, foreign help was on the way. And at least some of the Russians resented the intrusion of foreigners into their work. This reaction caused yet another redoubling of Russian rescue efforts. If there was any possible way, Navy personnel were determined to gain entry into the Kursk before “help” reached the site.

  A fourth DSRV arrived and was quickly readied. With added support, a renewed series of attempts to dock with the submarine began immediately. The previous problems remained and were cited as reasons for repeated failures.

  At the same time this grueling undersea struggle was taking place, better news was found. Water samples taken near the wreck and at random locations in the area continued to show no traces of unusual radiation levels. As hoped, the nuclear
piles had automatically shut down. This information was especially important to the Norwegians, who were invited to take their own samples. The Barents Sea, despite this and other dumped reactors, remains one of the least radioactively polluted bodies of water in the world.

  To lend air support to the rescue flotilla, the heavy aircraft-carrying cruiser Admiral Flota Sovetskogo Soyuza Kuznetsov was brought within 15 miles of the site. This additional resource provided air cover that allowed for increasing helicopter patrols seeking foreign subs that might be lurking in the zone.

  On the political front, Russian military delegates continued to meet with NATO officials. And a new voice was heard on the collision theory. Admiral Eduard Baltin, a senior commander of submarine operations in the old Soviet Pacific Fleet, came forward with a statement during an interview. He was quoted as saying, “I think the only realistic version is that the sub collided with a cargo vessel because it is in an area where there is a recommenced course for civil navigation.”

  If the foreign sub story failed to hold, any collision would apparently do.

  On this same day, Russian officials reported that George Tenet, director of the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency, arrived in Moscow for talks. Some part of those conversations most likely touched on the Kursk situation. While there was speculation as to the cause of Tenet’s visit, several newspapers reported that this meeting had been arranged before the Kursk disaster. The CIA and FSB, the Russian Federal Security Service, periodically discuss such issues as terrorism, drug trafficking, and organized crime.

  At the same time, the Government Kursk Inquiry Commission, headed by Deputy Prime Minister Ilya Klebanov, was meeting at the Severomorsk headquarters of the Northern Fleet. Ranking officers convened for eight hours to decide whether or not to continue their rescue operation. The committee also considered possible explanations for the disaster. Klebanov leaned toward a collision as the primary cause. The group also announced further study of a plan to raise the Kursk and remove its two nuclear reactors.

  Other theories, once quietly espoused, now began to leak to the news media. The Kursk might have struck a World War II mine. Or a sudden release of chlorine gas, a product of the batteries on board, could have knocked the crew unconscious. The list of possible causes grew longer. It would soon include terrorist action by Chechen rebel forces. Eventually the possibility of a UFO action, an act of God, or curse of the devil were considered. Any reason that cast no blame held an attraction.

  18 August 2000

  On the morning of August 18, six days after the accident, a single headline indicated control of the news media had slipped away. The Murmansk edition of the popular newspaper, Komsomolskaya Pravda, played it big: “18,000 Rubles for the Names of the Sailors of the Kursk.”

  Readers were informed that due to repeated refusals by the Northern Fleet and the Navy to supply a list of the Kursk crew, the paper had acted. They paid a “high ranking Moscow naval officer” the sum of 18,000 rubles (about $645) for a list stamped “Top Secret” by Navy commanders.

  The Russian media had been pressuring officials for a crew list. The response had been negative because, according to the Navy, relatives of those on board had been informed privately. There was no need for a public posting.

  Vladimir Shkoda, editor of the Murmansk edition, disagreed. He felt that publication of the list would offer reassurance to many families that their son or husband was not among the missing. According to his statement, the paper had tried unsuccessfully for three days to obtain the list. It was important to tell the families the names of those fighting for survival out there and just who was tapping the SOS on the inside of the hull. Disclosing the full list would keep many from worrying needlessly.

  Publication of the roster over the objections of the Navy, and the manner in which the list was acquired, came as a sharp blow to officials attempting to manage the press. And, since no one likes to be scooped, the release was a prod to the other news media to go after stories any way they could. It was also an opportunity for the media with a political agenda to use the disaster as a means of attacking President Putin.

  The first salvo in this discredit-Putin game was fired by painting him as uncaring because he did not leave his vacation and immediately rush to the disaster site. There had been murmurs of discontent along that line for the past few days. Now they became angry rumblings that refused to subside.

  To deal with the assault, Putin attempted a direct approach. In a newspaper account of a TV interview he gave from the city of Yalta, Putin was said to have appeared calm. He’d traveled to that resort for a summit of representatives from former Soviet republics. During the interview he reportedly explained that when Defense Minister Igor Sergeyev had informed him of the disaster he asked about the crew’s chances. The response he’d received was that there was a very small hope for rescue, but that it was still a possibility.

  He also noted he had not gone to the scene because he felt his presence would only hamper the rescue efforts. “Everyone should keep to his place,” was his reply.

  Putin’s remarks, although well received by most people, did little to stop his “lack of concern” from being played again and again by certain news sources. Open accusations of other authorities neglecting their duties soon followed. And headlines became vicious: “Putin Robs 118 Men of Four Days.” The story also contained accusatory comments: “By hiding in sunny Sochi, Putin has disappointed many who thought he would be a different sort of leader . . .” and “. . . then those deaths can be directly attributed to the president’s arrogance.”

  Commander of Russia’s Northern Fleet, Admiral Vyacheslav Popov, also chose August 18 to make his first public statement since the accident. Looking grave and obviously weary, he insisted that all the fleet’s work had been directed toward saving the crew. He had special praise for the operators of the DSRVs, noting that they were extremely tired but were not going to quit.

  In an open admission, Popov discussed flooding aboard the Kursk. He raised the problem of incoming water compressing trapped air, thus increasing air pressure on board. This process, he explained, negated the validity of previous estimates concerning how long breathable air inside the submarine would last.

  In the same interview, he attempted to reconcile the now-released Norwegian seismograph readings, which were evidence of an explosion, with the official commission theory of a collision with a foreign sub. In a new spin, he said, “There was an explosion inside a compartment of the submarine, but the reason for the blast could be because of something from the outside, I mean a collision, or . . .” He did not mention that “something from the outside” might have been a missile.

  Shortly, the official line would be a collision caused the Kursk to sink, and impact with the bottom set off the explosions.

  To help contradict the collision notion, the USS Memphis, one of the American subs that had been observing the Russian sea games, arrived in Norway. On a scheduled stop for crew leave, the boat docked at the Haakonsvern Navy Base outside the city of Bergen.

  There was no effort by the American government to deny that the Memphis had been in the proximity of the sunken Kursk. The earliest reports of the accident made mention of the U.S. submarines. Four Russian Ilyushin-38 surveillance aircraft, following a submarine, almost breeched Norwegian airspace. Two Norwegian fighter jets were scrambled in response. Then the next day, August 18, two more of the IL-38s repeated the near intrusion. These planes were following what the Russians claim to have been the Memphis.

  As a precaution, Admiral Einar Skorgen contacted Admiral Popov to discover why the Russian planes had almost violated Norwegian airspace. He was told there had been a collision with the Kursk and the planes had been searching for the submarine involved.

  When the Memphis docked, an alert U.S. Embassy obtained clearance and quickly staged a photo opportunity. Russian photographers were pointedly invited to participate. The offer was instantly accepted and all photos of the submarine showed no damage. This
session did little to set aside the collision concept, but the shots later served to counter a deliberate Russian trick using satellite photos.

  17–18 August 2000—Disaster Site

  Crews on the various Russian ships watched as Norwegian helicopters zoomed in low and hovered while taking water samples. Testing for radioactivity in air and sea was now being performed frequently by both nations. Results, to everyone’s relief, continued to indicate no contamination.

  Russian Deep Sea Rescue Vehicles were diving in rotation. One submerged, attempted as many dockings with the Kursk as possible, and resurfaced. Then another took its place and began its series of tries. This pattern gave the men little rest. They were near exhaustion from their intensive schedules.

  Finally, on one attempt, a crew met with success. They docked and managed to lock into the emergency hatch. Following procedures carefully, they achieved a partial seal with the hatch. The next maneuver was to pump water from the escape tube under the hatch before opening it. They tried, then tried again, all the while talking with their control officer on the ship above them. With battery power and air running low, they cast off from the Kursk and returned to the surface.

  With a crew heartened by the successful docking, the next DSRV sank beneath the now-shallow waves. They managed to dock as well but were equally frustrated by an inability to drain the escape route that would allow the hatch to open. This tense, difficult, unending routine was repeated over and over. Yet the hatch remained closed.

  Engineers gathered with the DSRV crew members to view videotapes and discuss the difficulties. No one liked either of the two conclusions finally agreed upon.