Sherry Sontag;Christopher Drew by Blind Man's Bluff: The Untold Story Of American Submarine Espionage Read Free Book Online Page B
to New London, Connecticut, or they could ride back, the rescued and the rescuers, both crews crowded aboard Tusk. Every man who could travel went home on Tusk.
Cochino's loss made headlines in the United States-and in the Soviet Union. The Soviet Navy newspaper Red Fleet published an article accusing the United States of undertaking "suspicious training" near Soviet waters and of sending Cochino near Murmansk to spy.
For its part, the U.S. Navy had gone public with the disaster, acknowledging, in effect, that its men and its fragile boats were not yet any match for the treacherous northern seas. Austin's spy gambit had failed, but the Navy had no intention of disclosing that, or even that a spook had been on board at all. When asked to comment on Soviet claims that Cochino had been near Murmansk, officers gave the same answer that the Navy would offer to other such questions for decades to come: "No comment."
Despite the tragedy, and the initial reluctance of some commanders and admirals, there was no question that the Navy would continue to send subs to monitor the development of the Soviet atomic threat. Just nine days after Cochino was lost, an Air Force reconnaissance plane picked up evidence that the Soviets had detonated a nuclear device. The other side had the bomb. The anticipated threat that had inspired the submarine spy mission in the first place was now real.
Two - Whiskey A-Go-Go
The USS Gudgeon (SS-567) pulled into Yokosuka, Japan, on Sunday, July 21, 1957. This was the final stop, the place where submarine crews coming from Pearl Harbor and San Diego could make preparations to sneak close to Soviet shores. This is where they would return after their missions, to celebrate, to relax, to prepare to go out again. Yokosuka had become spy sub central in the Pacific.
This base at the tip of Tokyo Bay was marked by a mix of espionage and debauchery, tension and release. It had been a Japanese Navy port and was later taken over by the Allies. Here, an enlisted man could get drunker than hell and here officers had created a "submarine sanctuary" in a walk-up flat decked out with a bar, a few bunks, and images of bare women writhing on black velvet.
It had been nearly eight years since the Cochino tragedy, and submarines had become central to the cold war intelligence effort. They had proven their worth once and for all during the Korean War, when snorkeling diesel subs were sent into the Sea of ,Japan to stand watch against any Soviet efforts to intervene. Ever since, even the submarine force's most die-hard warriors had recognized the value of hanging right off the enemy's coast, watching his comings and goings. Unless war broke out, surveillance would be the submariners' primary mission, their reason for being, the best way to gather detail about the Soviet naval buildup that was now unfolding in full force.
Spy subs already had brought back news that Soviet shipyards were churning out new long-range subs, including more than 250 Whiskeyand Zulu-class boats equipped with snorkels. The Soviet high command had made clear that it was preparing to challenge the U.S. Navy on the high seas using the submarine as the principal weapon. The Sovi ets were still learning how to operate their subs; for example, one of the first 30-day test runs on a Whiskey left her crew so ravaged by noxious gases that their hands and legs were swollen to twice their normal size. Despite these problems, the Soviets continued to move ahead. Indeed, the United States had received reports, albeit unconfirmed, that the Soviet Navy was modifying some of its Zulus to carry missiles, possibly with atomic warheads.
That was enough to convince even the most traditional admirals that there was more to this idea of submarine spying than feeding a bunch of egghead analysts stashed away within the bowels of Naval Intelligence and the still-mysterious CIA. Realizing they could use submarines to steal intelligence that was vitally important to
Cochino's loss made headlines in the United States-and in the Soviet Union. The Soviet Navy newspaper Red Fleet published an article accusing the United States of undertaking "suspicious training" near Soviet waters and of sending Cochino near Murmansk to spy.
For its part, the U.S. Navy had gone public with the disaster, acknowledging, in effect, that its men and its fragile boats were not yet any match for the treacherous northern seas. Austin's spy gambit had failed, but the Navy had no intention of disclosing that, or even that a spook had been on board at all. When asked to comment on Soviet claims that Cochino had been near Murmansk, officers gave the same answer that the Navy would offer to other such questions for decades to come: "No comment."
Despite the tragedy, and the initial reluctance of some commanders and admirals, there was no question that the Navy would continue to send subs to monitor the development of the Soviet atomic threat. Just nine days after Cochino was lost, an Air Force reconnaissance plane picked up evidence that the Soviets had detonated a nuclear device. The other side had the bomb. The anticipated threat that had inspired the submarine spy mission in the first place was now real.
Two - Whiskey A-Go-Go
The USS Gudgeon (SS-567) pulled into Yokosuka, Japan, on Sunday, July 21, 1957. This was the final stop, the place where submarine crews coming from Pearl Harbor and San Diego could make preparations to sneak close to Soviet shores. This is where they would return after their missions, to celebrate, to relax, to prepare to go out again. Yokosuka had become spy sub central in the Pacific.
This base at the tip of Tokyo Bay was marked by a mix of espionage and debauchery, tension and release. It had been a Japanese Navy port and was later taken over by the Allies. Here, an enlisted man could get drunker than hell and here officers had created a "submarine sanctuary" in a walk-up flat decked out with a bar, a few bunks, and images of bare women writhing on black velvet.
It had been nearly eight years since the Cochino tragedy, and submarines had become central to the cold war intelligence effort. They had proven their worth once and for all during the Korean War, when snorkeling diesel subs were sent into the Sea of ,Japan to stand watch against any Soviet efforts to intervene. Ever since, even the submarine force's most die-hard warriors had recognized the value of hanging right off the enemy's coast, watching his comings and goings. Unless war broke out, surveillance would be the submariners' primary mission, their reason for being, the best way to gather detail about the Soviet naval buildup that was now unfolding in full force.
Spy subs already had brought back news that Soviet shipyards were churning out new long-range subs, including more than 250 Whiskeyand Zulu-class boats equipped with snorkels. The Soviet high command had made clear that it was preparing to challenge the U.S. Navy on the high seas using the submarine as the principal weapon. The Sovi ets were still learning how to operate their subs; for example, one of the first 30-day test runs on a Whiskey left her crew so ravaged by noxious gases that their hands and legs were swollen to twice their normal size. Despite these problems, the Soviets continued to move ahead. Indeed, the United States had received reports, albeit unconfirmed, that the Soviet Navy was modifying some of its Zulus to carry missiles, possibly with atomic warheads.
That was enough to convince even the most traditional admirals that there was more to this idea of submarine spying than feeding a bunch of egghead analysts stashed away within the bowels of Naval Intelligence and the still-mysterious CIA. Realizing they could use submarines to steal intelligence that was vitally important to
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