Free Kursk Down by Clyde Burleson Page A

half-truths or outright lies.
    August 12—1330 Hours—On Board the Peter the Great
    Activities relating to the sea maneuvers continued. To halt the exercise would have focused instant attention on the situation—and produced unanswerable questions.
    The
Peter the Great
and her protective convoy proceeded to operate as a unit, turning this way and that to maintain their evasionary tactics. As the day progressed, with no practice torpedoes fired at them from the
Kursk
, the ship’s crew had to wonder why they were not attacked. Among those who knew or suspected the reason, concern for the lost sub grew.
    The
Kursk
’s schedule called for her to make a report to Northern Fleet HQ not later than 1800 hours. Until then, she was supposed to have remained in combat hunt-and-kill training conditions.
    Time passed slowly. As hour after hour slogged by, the air of anticipation and worry had intensified. While only a few knew or had reason to suspect the worst, they must have wordlessly communicated their concerns. Even among those who possessed all the facts, there was some hope. Maybe the
Kursk
was stuck on the bottom with propulsion troubles. Perhaps she was playing a trick on them by remaining silent. Or possibly she’d been crippled and had limped secretly back to home port. That would make sense. The Navy would maintain radio silence to keep news of damage to the submarine quiet. No sense revealing problems to the Americans or NATO.
    Rumors are a staple form of entertainment in every nation’s military. And, as rumors do, they began to multiply. Vague misgivings grew into plausible theories and even the thinnest bit of information was transformed to fit one or another scenario.
    As the 1800-hour deadline for the
Kursk
to report approached, plans were being laid in high places.
    Under the rule of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, handling this situation would have been a relatively simple issue. In many previous submarine disasters the loss was simply not mentioned outside a need-to-know group. Under the old regime, no information was released to the news media. Any stories that leaked out were flatly denied. Families were told nothing—or, at best, given notice that a loved one had been lost in action. And that report, in many instances, did not come until years after the event. There were no investigations, no public hearings, nothing. Justification for this attitude stemmed from the concept that every citizen was in essence a ward of the state. Therefore every citizen owed allegiance and even life to the state.
    In Russia today, actions are directed by a somewhat different, more humane viewpoint. Freedom and democratic rule by law were concepts that had taken root. Those principles also provided the basis for personal independence and opportunity.
    Old ways and attitudes are often difficult to forget, however, especially when they are more expedient, convenient, or serve a desired end. It appears that to some degree, a clash between the old and the new caused many of the difficulties related to the
Kursk
disaster.
    For example, the Northern Fleet had to obey regulations. They might bend procedures a bit and cut a corner or two, but Navy regs had to be followed. There were severe consequences for deviating too much from the book. And the book demanded action in a set manner within a specified period of time. As a result, officials had to make big decisions within an initial time window that was very tight.
    Second, naval command had to launch a concerted effort to deal with the media. What was to be released, and when, was crucial to keeping the situation from escalating into a circus. Coordination of news services was vital.
    Then there was always the matter of fault finding. If the tragedy could be blamed on some foreign intervention, then the leaders involved would be safe. This ploy, perfected by the military and government of the Soviet Union, traded on creating a paranoia based on a threat of aggression from