The Real-Life Hunt For Red October Happened 50 Years Ago
Naval mutinies have long captured the public imagination, but, for the most part, open rebellions on the high seas are consigned to the Age of Exploration, in centuries past. One notable exception occurred in the Soviet Navy 50 years ago this month and, based on available evidence, almost led to the use of nuclear weapons. The mutiny aboard the frigate Storozhevoy is all the more remarkable for the fact that the Kremlin attempted to cover up its existence, with details only emerging in public a decade after its bloody end.
The story was dramatic enough, and its potential implications were worrisome enough for it to be an inspiration for Tom Clancy’s iconic Cold War novel (which in turn led to the film), The Hunt for Red October. This is the story of the fictional Soviet submarine captain Marko Ramius, who apparently goes rogue while commanding a highly advanced ballistic missile submarine.
In the real-life incident, the protagonist was 36-year-old Valery Mikhailovich Sablin, a political officer onboard the Storozhevoy, a Project 1135 anti-submarine warfare frigate, known to NATO as the Krivak I class, and with a displacement of around 3,000 tons. A representative image of a Krivak I is seen at the top of this story, at anchor.
At the time, this was one of the most advanced surface combatants in Soviet service. It had been commissioned in 1974, and it was assigned to the Baltic Fleet. The primary anti-submarine armament of the Krivak I was the quadruple launcher for URPK-4 Metel’ missiles (known to NATO as SS-N-14 Silex), located on the bow, each of which transported a torpedo payload. This feature led to the NATO mnemonic ‘Hot dog pack, smokestack, guns in back — KRIVAK,’ to aid identification.
Unlike Ramius, Sablin was seeking not to defect, but to urge a rethinking of the communist revolution, since he was convinced the Soviet regime had strayed dangerously far from the Marxist principles that he believed in.
Sablin’s plan was to take advantage of the excitement surrounding the anniversary of the 1917 revolution, celebrated every November 7. At the time, the Storozhevoy was moored in Riga, in the Latvian Soviet Socialist Republic. Most reports agree that, apart from its primary anti-submarine missiles, the frigate was fully armed, including with surface-to-air missiles for point defense, anti-submarine torpedoes, and 76mm guns.
Sablin wanted to take control of the Storozhevoy and sail east, to Leningrad, where he would arrive alongside the museum ship Aurora (the cruiser that was and remains a potent symbol of the 1917 revolution), and incite something like an uprising against the current regime, under Premier Leonid Brezhnev.
The mutiny began on November 8, 1975, by which time Sablin had already convinced a 20-year-old naval rating, Aleksandr Nikolayevich Shein, and other sympathetic crewmen to assist him.
With a third of the 194-man crew on shore leave, Sablin and Shein surprised and locked up the ship’s commanding officer. The remaining officers were summoned to a meeting, where Sablin explained the situation. Shein stood outside the door armed with a pistol. Those officers who refused to join the mutiny were also locked up.
In the meantime, two crew members had managed to escape the frigate, climbing onto a mooring buoy, then attracting attention. However, their story was not initially taken seriously.
When Sablin became aware that his plan had likely been revealed, he gave up on the idea of reaching Leningrad and instead decided to sail out into international waters, from where he could transmit the speech he had prepared and, he hoped, trigger a new revolution.
Traveling radio silent, with no radar turned on, the Storozhevoy could not move as quickly as usual, since navigation was degraded. Nevertheless, at around 2:50 a.m., the frigate moved out into the Gulf of Riga.
Once it was noticed that the frigate had set sail, a response was launched but seems to have been somewhat slowed down as a result of the effects of copious alcohol consumed in the course of the weekend’s revolutionary celebrations.
Still, 45 minutes after the Storozhevoy sailed, other ships began their pursuit.
Unfortunately for Sablin, the Soviet authorities were now convinced that he must be poised to defect to the West.
Early on the morning of November 9, a large flotilla was ordered to find the Storozhevoy, including warships sailing from Liepaja, also in the Latvian SSR. Among them were small missile corvettes, faster than the Krivak I.
It seems the first vessels to sight the Storozhevoy were torpedo-armed patrol boats from the Soviet Border Troops, who ordered the frigate to stop, but their signals were ignored. They were then ordered to fire upon the rogue warship, but this order was rescinded before they could open fire.
The reason for the change of plan was that the incident had now been passed higher up through the chain of command, and news of it had reached Moscow.
In the meantime, Sablin had sent an encrypted telegram to the commander-in-chief of the Soviet Navy, laying out his demands. These included declaring the shop a free territory, permission to make a radio and TV broadcast, safe anchorage in Soviet waters, and more. The navy rejected the demands and instead called for Sablin to return the Storozhevoy to port.
A furious Sablin then tried to broadcast a message, outlining the reasons for the mutiny, on an open channel. Unbeknownst to Sablin, the radio operator tasked with the job again used the encrypted channel.
At around 6:00 a.m., the Soviet premier was woken and informed of the situation. Terrified by the prospect of the modern Krivak I class falling into an adversary’s hands, Brezhnev now called for the destruction of the Storozhevoy at all costs. This fear seems to have entirely overridden any concern to hear out the demands of the mutineers, if they were even taken seriously.
Several efforts were made to attack the frigate.
First, it had to be located.
On the morning of the 9th, two Il-38 May maritime patrol aircraft, flying out of Riga, began to look for it. One of them found it at around 8:05 a.m. in the Irben Sound, the main exit out of the Gulf of Riga and into the Baltic Sea.
Ultimately, the commander of Naval Aviation of the Baltic Fleet called for Tu-16K-10-26 Badger-C bombers to strike the Storozhevoy with K-10S (AS-2 Kipper) anti-ship cruise missiles, including authorizing the use of nuclear-armed weapons. Nine of these bombers were launched from Bykhov Air Base in the Belarusian SSR at 8:30 a.m. At least one of the aircraft appears to have been carrying a nuclear-tipped version of the K-10S missile. As well as a single K-10S, the Tu-16K-10-26 sub-variant of the Badger was able to carry two KSR-2 (AS-5 Kelt) or the more modern, supersonic KSR-5 (AS-6 Kingfish) anti-ship cruise missiles, but available accounts don’t mention that the aircraft were loaded with these.
The bombers were in the vicinity of the Storozhevoy shortly after 09:00 a.m. For around an hour, the Tu-16s repeatedly dropped below the cloud base and made passes of the frigate, with the aim of forcing Sablin to surrender. Warning shots were fired using the bombers’ 23mm defensive cannons. The Badger-C had a fairly heavy cannon armament, with two 23mm AM-23 cannons each in remotely operated dorsal and ventral turrets and a crewed tail turret, but they were not designed for engaging surface targets.
When the cannons didn’t have the desired effect, the Badger crews instead took to flying very low over the warship, selecting full power on their twin turbojets, and successfully forcing the ship to deviate from its course.
By 10:05 a.m., the Storozhevoy was headed west, toward the Swedish island of Gotland, though Sablin always insisted his original plan was not to enter Swedish waters.
miles of the Swedish coast. Google Earth
Such evasive action only increased the concerns of the Soviet authorities, who now called into action the Yak-28 Brewer tactical bombers based at Tukums, in the Latvian SSR. Armed with free-fall bombs, these were a more flexible option than the Tu-16s. The Yak-28 unit was informed that they were to attack a foreign warship that had penetrated the Gulf of Riga. However, the unit was also unfamiliar with attacking naval targets and initially failed to locate the Storozhevoy. There was also no coordination between the (Air Force) Yak-28 unit and the (Navy) Il-38 and Tu-16 units.
By 10:00 a.m., there were around 20 Yak-28s in the air and, by 10:20 a.m., these had begun to attack, from a height of around 1,500 feet. Unfortunately for the Air Force, it was the wrong target: The Brewer crews had misidentified a Soviet cargo ship, onto which fragmentation bombs now rained. The ship’s crew radioed for help, and the attack was called off, with no injuries.
At 10:28 a.m., the Yak-28s located the rogue warship and were ordered to hit it, with no warning shots this time. Again, however, bombs were dropped on the wrong target, namely the Komsomolets Litvy, a Project 50 or Riga class frigate, and the lead ship in the flotilla that was chasing the Storozhevoy. The ship launched signal rockets, which were misidentified as anti-aircraft fire, before the pilots realized they had again hit the wrong ship.
The Soviet commanders then called upon the Tu-16 units once more. The pursuit flotilla was ordered to move, and the bombers tasked with holding station behind the Storozhevoy, from where K-10S missiles would be launched.
The order then came at 10:16 a.m. to launch a missile, including the protocol for the use of nuclear weapons. The Tu-16 flown by the commander of the unit, Colonel Arkhip Savinkov, took position.
By this stage, other members of the frigate’s crew understood that their time was nearly up. A group of them freed the captain and other detained officers, who then armed themselves and stormed the bridge. In the confrontation that followed, Sablin was shot in the leg and was then locked up. The freed captain then sent a message that the mutiny was over.
With the Tu-16 preparing to launch, the headquarters of the Baltic Fleet received an urgent message that the Storozhevoy had surrendered. Orders went out to stop the attack, but Savinkov, the Tu-16 unit’s commander, either didn’t receive them or ignored them, perhaps determining that they were meant for the Yak-28 unit.
For another two tense minutes, after the crew had messaged their surrender, the Tu-16 unit was still hunting the Storozhevoy with the intention to destroy it. Savinkov then reported a radar malfunction. Whether this was true, or a result of him not wishing to unclear a nuclear strike (especially against his countrymen), or that he was now too close to the target to launch a missile, he called off his attack. Puzzlingly, another two Tu-16s from the same unit briefly continued their attack plan. It’s unclear if these Badgers carried Kipper anti-ship missiles armed with conventional warheads, if there was some kind of breakdown in communication between the formation, or if all the bombers involved actually had no real desire to attack the warship.
Regardless, at 11:00 a.m., the fire-damaged Komsomolets Litvy reached the Storozhevoy. With an Il-38 and more Tu-16s patrolling overhead, and several other patrol boats in the vicinity, the boarding party of 15 men took over the vessel. The frigate changed course and was then anchored off the island of Saaremaa. The crew was then returned by boat to Riga. Here they were interviewed, with the 12 sailors identified as mutineers — among them, Sablin and Shein — were arrested and taken to Moscow.
The incident had highlighted the poor combat readiness and inefficient chain of command within the Baltic Fleet, and efforts were immediately made to cover it up, including the destruction of documents.
Nevertheless, details leaked out, and some presumed details of the mutiny began to be published in the Western media. A key source of information was Swedish military intelligence, which had monitored the events via signals intelligence (SIGINT). Early Western reports included erroneous accounts that as many as 15 sailors had been killed aboard the Storozhevoy and that 35 more were killed on the ship that was accidentally attacked — the Komsomolets Litvy.
As for the two ringleaders, Shein was imprisoned, while Sablin was sentenced to death for treason and executed in August 1976.
In retrospect, the idealistic Sablin’s plan was likely always doomed to failure. It remains fortunate, however, that his was the only life lost in an incident that could have had much more serious repercussions. Indeed, the available evidence that has emerged since the mutiny suggests that, back in November 1975, only a few minutes stood between the Soviet Navy launching a nuclear strike against one of its own vessels.
Ultimately, perhaps, Colonel Arkhip Savinkov, as commander of what appears to have been a nuclear-armed Tu-16, might have been the one responsible for preventing what could have been a catastrophe. Ironically, the fact that he didn’t launch his missile, for whatever reason, meant that he would be viewed with suspicion by the Soviet military leadership for the rest of his career.
The author is indebted to the work of Michael Friedholm von Essen, whose authoritative account of the mutiny aboard the Storozhevoy is published by Helion & Company.
Contact the author: [email protected]
