Kursk Down (21 page)

While working, the two divers watched each other for signs of “high pressure nervous syndrome.” Individuals who remained below 300 feet for a full shift while breathing the heliox mixture might suddenly develop trembling or other neurological complications that could become incapacitating.

After four hours of grueling undersea activity, the first diving team’s shift was up. Another trio descended in the second bell and two exhausted men made their way back to their sea-floor retreat. On the way up to the surface airlock that would allow them to enter their pressurized habitat, they sat shivering in their seats. Helium in their breathing gas conducts heat rapidly, which chills those who breathe it despite the circulating hot water in their suits.

By the end of the second shift, the divers had completed venting the compressed air ballast system tanks and were ready to begin the real work of making mansized entry openings into the submarine.

22 October 2000—The Kursk Site

The divers now confronted a different challenge. The outside of the submarine was coated with a three-plusinch layer of rubberlike elastomer to deaden sound and reduce surface friction while running at speed. This was bonded to the outer hull or superstructure, which was built from steel plate more than a third of an inch thick.

Cutting through the elastomer proved more difficult than predicted. In an earlier test, the “rubber” material had been dense. On the
Kursk
, only the top three-quarters of an inch was solid. Beneath that, the substance was honeycombed, which reduced cutting efficiency. The polymer outer coating was going to be a larger obstacle than envisioned, so a planning session was held to develop a strategy.

It was decided to make two cuts at an angle to the surface. This would create a V-shaped incision through the tough elastomer, almost down to metal. The divers, working with hydraulic chisels, would remove the V-section and then clear away the rest of the material to expose the steel. After fitting the wire Rubin Design template to locate the spot for the first hole, they began to cut.

This system worked and progress was excellent. With metal now exposed, the robotic arm was repositioned. When that task was completed, the first penetration of the superstructure or outer hull was set to begin.

The program called for cutting five circular openings through the outer hull to give the divers ample access. Each hole would be about four feet in diameter. After an opening was complete, a pair would enter the space between the outer and inner hulls to clear away piping, various obstructions, and cable. Uncluttered space would permit the cutting system to be transferred to the thicker pressure hull to make four more apertures. Crews handling the cutting system were also charged with slicing samples from the outer hull for later study. It was hoped these “coupons” would provide clues to the cause of the accident.

As an added safety measure, a preliminary hole, about six inches in diameter, would be made in the inner hull. A tiny video camera would be inserted into the sub’s interior for a visual inspection prior to entry. Then checks for radioactivity and water content would be completed as well.

Work progressed rapidly and expectations were high. The operation was ahead of schedule and all would be well if the weather held. It didn’t.

23–24 October 2000—The Kursk Site

A northwest wind that had been intensifying during the day built to gale force as evening approached. Waves increased to 35 feet, and the crews on the small fleet of ships prepared for a real blow. As the storm worsened, there was concern that the
Regalia
might be unable to maintain its position in the water, compromising the mission and risking the divers’ lives. On October 23 at 1715 hours, an emergency call went down to the men on the bottom. They evacuated to the diving bell and were returned to their habitat on board the
Regalia
.

Storms in the Arctic have a tendency to settle over an area and wreak havoc for days. This one was no exception. With everyone out of the water, space inside the pressure chambers was tight. Each man had a bunk, which left little floor space.

Since most of the diving crew were exhausted from their underwater activities, napping helped keep boredom at bay. Sufficient rest, however, opened the door to low spirits. Every minute that passed with nothing done took them further from their goal. Eight hours was enough. By 0145 hours on October 24 a team was back on the bottom. Conditions were abysmal. Bottom silt limited their vision and there was the ever present danger of suddenly being jerked backward and thrown down by the umbilical cord being dragged in a sudden motion of the ship. The divers lasted just over an hour before being forced to return topside to the
Regalia
.

Toward what passed for dawn in the high regions, wind lessened and wave heights decreased. The platform ship was once more inside its operational limits and could accurately hold station. As soon as the sea crew repositioned her, the men returned to work.

The underwater team had developed a system for this job. Each circular opening in the outer hull, after the polymer was chiseled away, required about an hour to cut. When a hole was completed, ragged metal edges were smoothed to prevent ripping a pressure suit or umbilical. For further protection, the entire perimeter of an entryway was cushioned with a rubberized collar.

Then a cleanup crew went inside the space between the double hulls to clear working room. They removed an astonishing array of pipes, tanks, structural supports, and control mechanisms. This task required major surgery with shears and cutting torches because the designers had filled the area to capacity to reduce clutter inside the pressure hull. Once a sufficient expanse was opened, another team set the Rubin-produced templates as cutting patterns on the inside hull.

To be certain those templates were accurate, Rubin Design engineers had checked their projections on a sister boat of the
Kursk
. Evidently, not all the giant subs were built to exactly the same dimensions. One of the patterns indicated cutting at a bulkhead joint. Metal in this spot was several times thicker than in other places because the boat had been made in sections or compartments that extended from bulkhead to bulkhead.

The divers ran into further difficulty when one of the surfaces to be cut was curved as opposed to flat. Improvising, the divers remained at the cutting site, continuously adjusting space between the cutting nozzle and the hull by hand. With water impeding every movement, alignment required diligence on the part of the dive team.

While the divers were methodically performing minor miracles down below, politics crept into the recovery project on the surface. In what can only be described as a contrived photo-op event, Russian Navy Chief Vladimir Kuroyedov flew to the site. His mission was to cancel the operation if he felt the divers’ lives might be imperiled in the search for bodies. His public stance served to support the notion that body retrieval was the main purpose of this activity. The admiral was accompanied by two widows of lost
Kursk
crew members who cast flowers into the waters and presented home-baked pies to the
Regalia
team.

Kuroyedov did not stop the project. So shortly before midnight, after hours of hard labor, the first diver-access port through the pressure hull was completed. Now they could enter the eighth compartment. As was customary, a video scan of the inside had been made to locate any potential hazards prior to sending in a diver. Although camera range was limited due to visibility, the area around the new entrance seemed clear of obstacles.

24–25 October 2000

Large batteries of lights were set in place to illuminate the opening. Then, as per the dive plan, Russians relieved their non-Russian counterparts. At 1500 hours a Navy diver swam to the portal. He was quickly joined by another man who would provide support.

It had taken a huge effort to gain access to the
Kursk
’s interior. Now the way was open. Without hesitation the Russian edged into the newly cut hole and slid inside the dark tomb. Moving about required considerable care because of the massive amount of debris cluttering all available space.

Water in the compartment was cloudy with silt. Neither the helmet light nor his high-intensity handheld lamp could dispel the gloom. At times, according to reports, visibility was down to inches.

Swimming cautiously, the diver began an examination of the boat’s interior. Video images he relayed to the surface showed traces of a massive fire and damage caused by impact with the sea bottom. A running commentary supported the pictures he sent.

The full nature of this first diver’s assignment inside the
Kursk
is not known. It is logical, however, to assume that part of his duties were exploratory. By providing an accurate account of conditions, he was establishing parameters for planning subsequent onboard activities.

As the diver moved toward the vessel’s rear sections, the lack of human remains must have seemed strange. Even though the
Kursk
was a huge, multilevel submarine and visibility was limited, there had been 118 people on board. Not all would have been destroyed by the blast or immolated in the blazing aftermath. So finding the first body must have been both a shock and a relief. The subsequent discovery of three more fallen comrades most likely generated a sense of sadness. As part of his training, he’d been told to avoid looking at the faces of the dead men. That was good advice, but impossible to follow.

Cold and salt water had preserved the bodies. The many days under pressure from the sea had given them zero buoyancy. They remained static, floating in place until shifted by an eddy or current. This weightlessness made moving the remains through the jumbled interior of the boat a relatively easy task. Considering adverse conditions, three bodies were retrieved in a relatively short period of time. The fourth corpse was trapped behind a mass of rubble and would require further work to collect.

Special containers were lowered from the surface and each body was placed in one of the sealable units. They would be airlifted to the naval hospital in Severomorsk. There, the Laboratory of Judicial and Medical Examination, Unit Number 1082, waited to perform autopsies and other tests on the remains.

To aid the divers, six psychologists had been brought on board as part of the recovery group. Now that remains were being recovered, their services might be in demand.

25–26 October 2000

Work inside the
Kursk
intensified. A pair of men had been sent to recover the fourth body. They labored under difficult conditions and had to be careful not to become entangled in the debris. Adding to their strain was news of more foul weather. It was anticipated the gale on the way would be worse than its predecessor. So as a safety precaution all divers were about to be recalled to the
Regalia.
The recovery team chose to continue their operation. Two hours were required to free the fourth corpse and more time was needed to pack the body into its container and lift it to the surface.

While work on the bottom was curtailed, engineers were able to refine their program. Opening the main hatch between the eighth and seventh compartments became the next priority. Templates were selected to cut an entry port into Compartment 7. As soon as conditions improved, clear water would be pumped into Compartment 9 in order to flush out enough mud and improve visibility. In the meantime, all they could do was wait for good weather.

CHAPTER 12

26 October 2000—Aboard the Regalia

T
HE STORM THAT STRAFED THE
R
EGALIA
WITH HAIL AND
high winds intensified as the day progressed. Recovery efforts were paralyzed, a planned memorial service was postponed, and all flight operations were canceled. So it was impossible to transport the retrieved bodies to the Vidyaevo Navy hospital. The remains of the four crewmen were placed in the
Regalia
’s sick bay. The ship had provisions for first-rate medical care. Even though the vessel was better equipped to handle industrial accidents as opposed to postmortems, the facilities were more than adequate.

Since the intent had been to fly the bodies to shore, the Russian hospital ship that had been standing by in port was not part of the salvage flotilla. There were, however, qualified Russian forensics specialists serving as part of
Regalia
’s company. Termination of flight activities did not necessarily mean having to wait to identify the bodies.

In the infirmary, standard military practice was followed. There was no apparent need for secrecy, so the infirmary area was not off-limits to ship personnel. Working with professional coolness, a corpsman laid out the first corpse and removed its clothing. With that completed, a doctor began a thorough examination of the body for visible wounds or other indications of trauma. At almost the same time, an assistant checked through the seaman’s clothes, searching for personal effects.

The man assigned that duty found a packet wrapped in plastic in a breast pocket. Opening it, he removed several handwritten pages. The edges were charred and the oilstained paper damp, but the writing was legible. Dmitry Kolesnikov’s carefully scribed notes had returned to the land of the living. And they were discovered in front of several non-Russians assisting or watching the physicians work.

Many experts believe that if Dmitry’s note had been uncovered in the naval hospital at Vidyaevo, its very existence would have been suppressed. Outside of need-toknow officials, chances are that no one, including Dmitry’s family, would have learned of its existence.

Several people who read Russian saw one or more pages before they vanished into the sealed archives of the commission investigating the disaster. So it was impossible for the government or military to deny that a note existed. From the standpoint of damage control, the best that could be done was to keep possession of the letter and publicly reveal as little as possible. So when the note was dispatched to shore, it was claimed by military prosecutors and classified Top Secret.