Mutiny: The True Events That Inspired The Hunt for Red October

Although it’s not part of her job to listen in on Russian military communications frequencies, Sampsonn’s ELINT console is capable of not only detecting and identifying radar signals but also intercepting Russian military traffic. Anyway, one of her many talents is a near-perfect fluency in Russian. She was raised by her grandmother on her mother’s side, who was from Leningrad. From time to time Sampsonn does a little eavesdropping on the side.

She dons a set of headphones and switches to one of the main ship-to-ship channels that Baltic Fleet Headquarters uses. Normally most broadcasts are encrypted, but this morning they are broadcasting in the clear.

The channel is choked with what sounds like the frantic messages from frightened men. Sampsonn sits forward and presses the headphones a little tighter to her ears, her heart starting to accelerate.

“What the hell is going on?” she mutters.

53. THE BRIDGE

“Storozhevoy, Storozhevoy, this is the coastal patrol vessel Smirnov off your port quarter,” the VHF radio on the overhead blares. “Immediately shut down your engines and prepare to be boarded.”

Soloviev and Maksimenko are looking at Sablin, waiting for him to respond, to say something or do something, anything.

But in Sablin’s estimation there is nothing they can say or do, except continue on their present course and speed. As soon as they reach international waters they will be relatively safe. But as soon as they can clear the Ristna peninsula on the western side of Hiiumaa Island they can start to make their turn away from Sweden and make directly for the Gulf of Finland, at the end of which is Leningrad.

Once they make it that far, no one in Fleet Headquarters or in Moscow will be able to misunderstand Sablin’s intentions.

Sablin doesn’t reach for the radio. Instead he goes over to the hatch that opens outside to the port wing, but he doesn’t go outside. Only KGB patrol boats have names; all the others merely have numbers.The navy considers it a little pretentious to name such small vessels. Such a sentiment does not bother the KGB.

The Smirnov is a Pchela-class fast-attack hydrofoil boat capable of much higher speeds than the Storozhevoy can manage. He’s only twenty-five meters on deck, with a crew of twelve, but he is armed with four 23mm cannons, with which the gunners could take out the Storozhevoy’s bridge. He’s also equipped with depth charges that could be laid out ahead of the Storozhevoy.

More important, the KGB boat has sophisticated radar and communications equipment. By now every military unit in the Soviet Union knows, or at least thinks it does, exactly where the Storozhevoy is headed: to Sweden, where Sablin and his mutineers mean to defect.

It’s galling to Sablin that he cannot make them believe he’s no traitor. But he knows that nothing he can say will convince them. He simply has to suvive long enough to make the turn toward Leningrad. But that seemes like a million light-years from here.

“Storozhevoy, Storozhevoy, this is Smirnov; respond,” the order comes over the radio.

“Maybe we should answer them,” Maksimenko suggests fearfully.

“There’ll be no further radio messages from this ship,” Sablin says, not taking his eyes off the KGB boat.

He can see the Smirnov’s skipper and two others on the bridge and several crewmen on deck, two men manning each cannon. They mean business.

“Captain, we have two more patrol boats coming up fast from astern,” Maksimenko says from the radar set.

“How soon before they reach us?” Sablin wants to know. Another KGB crewman has come up on deck. He raises a light gun and begins signaling. It’s in Morse code, something Sablin was good at in the academy.

S-T-O-R-O-Z-H-E-V-O-Y, H-E-A-V-E T-O. P-R-E-P-A-R-E T-O B-E B-O-A-R-D-E-D.

Even three small patrol boats don’t worry Sablin much. It’s the aircraft probably on their way that bother him.

He looks up into the sky, but nothing is heading their way at that moment.

Perhaps his message broadcast to the Soviet people is finally having the effect that Sablin intended. For the first time since the radio message from Fleet Headquarters, Sablin truly believes they will succeed.

It’s a heady feeling.

A couple of KGB parol boats can’t do a thing to a warship the size of the Storozhevoy, and the fleet steaming through the Gulf of Riga will never catch up with them. He wants to dance a jig or clap his hands.

Wait until Nina finds out that he has succeeded. All of the Soviet Union will thank him, but what is even more important is his wife’s approval.

54. CHAIN OF COMMAND