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Authors: Clyde Burleson
Tags: HIS027000
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contained the initial blast and directed the hellish energy, the interior of the pressurized hull now assumed the same role. An unstoppable shock wave, accompanied by a fireball of intense heat, flared through the submarine. Watertight doors sealing off the first five compartments could not hold against this insane pressure. As bulkheads were bowed, door seals failed and the explosive force rolled on.
Even more deadly, though, was the incandescent gas that shot through the ventilation system, sending gouts of fire into every compartment of the
Kursk
.
The third-generation nuclear reactors on board were a major advance over their predecessors. As electrical connections melted, the built-in safety features of the reactor modules automatically activated. Before heat could build in the pile, the control rods were shoved to their fully inserted positions, dampening the atomic activity. This action stopped the formation of steam, so the turbines slowed, then spun to a halt, stilling the huge twin props.
In spite of the blown ballast tanks, the submarine was nose heavy with inrushing sea. So the
Kursk
sank bow-down through the chilling water. The heavy vessel struck bottom with tons of force, scattering debris in a wide circle and sending up a thick curtain of primordial ooze. All was silent. In time, the sediment, carried by a small current, spread and settled. The deep now held the
Kursk
in a final embrace.
1133 Hours—Aboard the USNS Loyal
The sensitive undersea pickups deployed by the surveillance team relayed blast information to the many recorders on board. And the crew found no problem identifying the source of the event. In the following minutes, new sounds, easy for trained ears to decipher, told a nightmarish story. As all propulsion died, the noise of propeller cavitation or turbulence was replaced by the almost whalelike chorus of moans and shrill shrieks produced by metal flexing under massive stress.
The team of scientists and technicians hurriedly duplicated the recordings of their findings. They would be relayed to the National Maritime Intelligence Center in Suitland, Maryland, as quickly as possible. Dubs were not as good as original tracks but would suffice to get an investigation started.
An original recording of the event could also come from either of the two U.S. submarines, the British sub working the area, or the Norwegian
Marjata.
All would have detailed records of the explosions and sinking. The
Memphis
was scheduled to stop in Norway. From there, tapes and disks would be flown back to the States.
Aboard the Kursk
Dmitry had been writing. He might not have wanted to think “last thoughts,” but it would have been difficult not to do so.
Putting words on paper probably caused him to recall the foreboding he’d had about this cruise. He hadn’t wanted to worry Olechka with his premonitions of disaster. It was difficult enough for her to remain behind while he sailed in harm’s way.
They had decided he should leave the submarines. A position in science or engineering at one of the St. Petersburg Navy installations would be an ideal new assignment. It was not an easy decision. As a married man, he had responsibilities, as a submariner, obligations.
Before she had opened his emotional side, leaving the submarines would have been unthinkable, the loss in his life too great. Now she had filled that void.
On the day he departed St. Petersburg for this duty, he had left her a set of his identity tags, a crucifix, and a poem. One line vowed his love, declaring he could silently drown in her eyes.
By this point, Dmitry’s trained and disciplined mind had accepted the truth. The odds on their making it were now very low.
That reality must have angered him. They weren’t down that deep. And the explosions had to have been noted. So help should be on the way. Where were they?
Dmitry’s life had been spared during the original blast of explosions and flames. And for what? The facts were there to
Even more deadly, though, was the incandescent gas that shot through the ventilation system, sending gouts of fire into every compartment of the
Kursk
.
The third-generation nuclear reactors on board were a major advance over their predecessors. As electrical connections melted, the built-in safety features of the reactor modules automatically activated. Before heat could build in the pile, the control rods were shoved to their fully inserted positions, dampening the atomic activity. This action stopped the formation of steam, so the turbines slowed, then spun to a halt, stilling the huge twin props.
In spite of the blown ballast tanks, the submarine was nose heavy with inrushing sea. So the
Kursk
sank bow-down through the chilling water. The heavy vessel struck bottom with tons of force, scattering debris in a wide circle and sending up a thick curtain of primordial ooze. All was silent. In time, the sediment, carried by a small current, spread and settled. The deep now held the
Kursk
in a final embrace.
1133 Hours—Aboard the USNS Loyal
The sensitive undersea pickups deployed by the surveillance team relayed blast information to the many recorders on board. And the crew found no problem identifying the source of the event. In the following minutes, new sounds, easy for trained ears to decipher, told a nightmarish story. As all propulsion died, the noise of propeller cavitation or turbulence was replaced by the almost whalelike chorus of moans and shrill shrieks produced by metal flexing under massive stress.
The team of scientists and technicians hurriedly duplicated the recordings of their findings. They would be relayed to the National Maritime Intelligence Center in Suitland, Maryland, as quickly as possible. Dubs were not as good as original tracks but would suffice to get an investigation started.
An original recording of the event could also come from either of the two U.S. submarines, the British sub working the area, or the Norwegian
Marjata.
All would have detailed records of the explosions and sinking. The
Memphis
was scheduled to stop in Norway. From there, tapes and disks would be flown back to the States.
Aboard the Kursk
Dmitry had been writing. He might not have wanted to think “last thoughts,” but it would have been difficult not to do so.
Putting words on paper probably caused him to recall the foreboding he’d had about this cruise. He hadn’t wanted to worry Olechka with his premonitions of disaster. It was difficult enough for her to remain behind while he sailed in harm’s way.
They had decided he should leave the submarines. A position in science or engineering at one of the St. Petersburg Navy installations would be an ideal new assignment. It was not an easy decision. As a married man, he had responsibilities, as a submariner, obligations.
Before she had opened his emotional side, leaving the submarines would have been unthinkable, the loss in his life too great. Now she had filled that void.
On the day he departed St. Petersburg for this duty, he had left her a set of his identity tags, a crucifix, and a poem. One line vowed his love, declaring he could silently drown in her eyes.
By this point, Dmitry’s trained and disciplined mind had accepted the truth. The odds on their making it were now very low.
That reality must have angered him. They weren’t down that deep. And the explosions had to have been noted. So help should be on the way. Where were they?
Dmitry’s life had been spared during the original blast of explosions and flames. And for what? The facts were there to
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