Russian navy has been dogged by disaster By Eric S. Margolis August 20, 2000 NICE, FRANCE - The sinking of the Russian submarine 'Kursk' last Saturday was a horrifying example of the dangers faced by submariners. After a powerful explosion, the 'Oscar-II'-class' nuclear-powered attack submarine, with a crew of 118, flooded and sank to a depth of 415 ft at the bottom of the icy Barents Sea. 'Kursk,' commissioned in 1995, was one of Russia's newest subs. A huge boat, displacing 13,500 tons submerged, this double- hulled monster can travel at 28 knots underwater and carries 24 SS-N-19 supersonic anti-ship missiles with a range of 300 miles designed to attack US aircraft carriers battle groups with high- explosive or nuclear warheads. The 'Oscar' also has short-ranged, SSN-15 nuclear-armed anti-ship missiles and deadly wake- homing torpedoes. Only Russia's 26,500-ton 'Typhoon'-class of 'boomers,' or strategic missile subs, is larger. Sailing on a nuclear sub is a remarkable experience. Five years ago, I put to sea aboard SSN-708, USS 'Minneapolis-St Paul,' a nuclear-powered, Los Angeles-class attack submarine. Older, conventional-powered subs are crammed, malodorous and claustrophobic. Nuclear boats are relatively capacious, their air is clean and fresh, and they run almost silently. Standing atop the conning tower, watching the sub cleave a great vee through the water, your whole body feels the enormous, throbbing power coursing from the nuclear reactors below. When SSN-708 dove to 1200ft, or twisted and turned like a porpoise, it felt like being in a jet fighter, rather than a ship. But as we went ever deeper, I couldn't escape the uneasy knowledge that if a pipe or vale burst under the rising pressure, we could plunge down into the black depths until the sub hit 'crush depth,' where water pressure would implode even its high-tensile steel sides and reduce us to pulp. Sub crews, a very special and courageous breed of men, have learned to live with this ever-present danger. At this point, the best guess is that one of 'Kursk's' Type 53 or Type 65 heavy torpedoes exploded either in its storage position, or while being loaded into a bow tube. These torpedoes are powered by a highly-explosive and corrosive hydrogen tetra-peroxide, a fuel abandoned by other navies decades ago as too unstable and dangerous. A Royal Navy submarine was sunk at its moorings by the explosion of a HTP torpedo. The explosion, detected by two US subs shadowing the Russian naval exercises in the Barents Sea off the Kola Peninsula NNE of Murmansk, flooded 'Kursk's' forward and probably center compartments, including part of the conning tower, almost certainly killing the sailors in the damaged section. The sub's efforts to blow its tanks and surface failed. The 'Kursk,' by now bow-heavy from hundreds of tons of seawater, sank nose-first to the bottom. Her reactors, which produce power, fresh air and heat, either failed, or were shut down. The survivors were trapped in a steel coffin. As electric batteries drained, and air-scrubbers failed, a toxic miasma of carbon dioxide and chlorine filled the sub, which was likely blacked out to save dwindling electrical power. The frigid Barents Sea lies within the Arctic Circle: inside the boat, the temperature dropped to near freezing . Probably because of internal damage from the explosion, the crew was unable to use an escape pod built into the 'Kursk's' large sail. Numerous attempts to attach a diving bell to the sub's hatches failed due to stormy seas above, and the steep angle at which the sub had settled. The suffering of the 'Kursk's' crew, and that of their families, must have been frightful. All Russia wept for her lost sons aboard 'Kursk.' Even I joined in prayers for the rescue of the crew. But as of this writing, hope is fading fast. This was Russia's fourth admitted loss of a nuclear-powered sub since 1970, and the first since the 'Komsomolets' went down off Norway in 1988. At least five more boats were lost during the Soviet era, but never reported missing. Critics call Russia's subs 'underwater Chernobyl's.' Russia has long had bad luck at sea. Though the world's preeminent land power, Russia's access to the high seas is restricted by narrow exits from the Baltic and Black Seas, and by heavy pack ice on the White and Barents Seas, and around her remote Pacific Ports. Russia's navy has always been dogged by poor maintenance, rotten food, and inept commanders. Yet Russian sailors have always shown the greatest courage and gallantry under fire and in the face of disasters. In 1961, for example, nine heroic seamen aboard the sinking Soviet nuclear sub, K-19, volunteered to shut down the boat's runaway reactors, though they were slowly burned alive by radiation. Instead of reacting with typical Cold War secretiveness and obfuscation, Moscow should have swallowed its pride and called on foreign help much sooner. NATO might have gotten a close look at 'Kursk's' stealthy anechoic coating, acoustic sensors, and counter-measures, but its remaining crewmen might have been saved. President Vladimir Putin deserves the storm of national criticism he is receiving for vacationing during this disaster. Russia, which used its soldiers to clear minefield in WWII, still remains disgracefully profligate with the lives of its fighting men. Copyright: E. Margolis, August 2000 ******************************************************************** War at the Top of the World - The struggle for Afghanistan, Kashmir and Tibet - by Eric Margolis is available at major book outlets and online in both the US and Canada - recently reviewed in The Economist as "His account of recent warfare in Asia's highest mountains is both gripping and instructive." 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