Free Kursk Down by Clyde Burleson Page B

the West. It had worked famously in the past. There was no reason to abandon its use now.
    Beyond that, and of potentially equal importance, came dealing with the families, maintaining Russian prestige, keeping a high level of morale in the Navy, not allowing the incident to become politically destabilizing, as well as a host of other vital issues.
    Without doubt, the Navy high command was faced with an enormous responsibility. Hard choices had to be made—and be made quickly.
    12 August 2000—1700 Hours—Northern Fleet HQ
    The
Kursk
’s reporting deadline was 1800 hours and based on what was already known, it was senseless to wait until that time. More than five hours, used for hurried discussions and preliminary planning by the high command, had elapsed since the second blast.
    To begin the operation, naval officials went to the rule book. At 1700 hours, the Northern Fleet Rescue Service chief on duty was notified that there might be a problem on board the
Kursk
. With this done, Northern Fleet HQ used a secure communications channel, and 30 minutes later, at 1730, sent an order to the
Kursk
: “Report your coordinates and operations.”
    The Navy procedure manual allows six hours for a response. Anxious officers and men, divided into parties for monitoring space communications, automatic communications, radio intelligence, telegraphy, and regular radio bands, dealt with every form of long-distance communications technique available.
    No response was received.
    In accordance with what Colonel-General Valeriy Manilov, first deputy chief of the Russian General Staff, was quoted as calling the “requirements of normative documents,” the
Kursk
was declared to be in distress. A Northern Fleet emergency alarm was sounded. The time was 2330 hours. The date, Saturday, August 12, 2000, almost exactly 12 hours after the explosions.
    This moment marked the commencement of one of the largest search-and-rescue investigatory salvage operations in the history of the Russian Navy.
    At that point, no one knew actual conditions aboard the
Kursk
. Several high-ranking officers had strong suspicions, and rumors were rampant. Even though efforts had been made to prevent news of the accident from reaching the media, word of trouble travels fast in the military.
    In Vidyaevo, the Navy village where so many of the submariners lived, families appeared to have known there was something wrong by 1700 hours on Saturday. More, a story passed from one to another was that the
Kursk
had been hit by a Russian missile during the exercises. The sub’s fate was cloudy. Some said there had been great damage; others, more optimistic, believed the boat was still operational.
    In an attempt to contain such gossip, and to leave communications links open, telephone service to the various residential enclaves was shut down. Only official calls were allowed in or, more important, out. Disruption of service effectively isolated these communities from the rest of the nation.
    On a more heroic level, the men of the Northern Fleet Rescue Service went into action. Most of these sailors knew nothing of the loftier concerns being debated in high places. They assumed the
Kursk
was down. It was their job to save the lives of as many of the crew as possible.
    A two-pronged operation was launched. One effort focused on finding the stricken vessel. The second was rapid deployment of ships and equipment needed to help those on board. Fortunately, the operating area assigned to the
Kursk
was known. There was no reason to assume the submarine had left its war games zone. So all activities for locating the vessel would be concentrated in that limited geographic area. This knowledge also allowed the Rescue Service to transport its resources closer to where they would be needed.
    A joint air-sea search was quickly instituted. A Russian officer, Lieutenant Colonel Dergunov, commanded one of the four-engined Ilyushin-38 aircraft. With a useful range of 4,500 miles, this