Readers have the right to know why after thirty years I decided to tell this story. It was not an easy decision. I still have many doubts and a lot of fear how the new KGB will react. My only hope is that Russia has taken a new course toward democracy, in which perestroika—openness—actually means something.
I think that I’m doing the right thing, telling the real story behind the mutiny aboard the Storozhevoy in November 1975, because it was one event in a long chain of events that heralded the beginning of the end for the old Soviet regime, of thought police and gulags and the ever present danger that confrontation with our enemy the United States would result in a global thermonuclear war.
Besides, I owe it to my crewmates, to set the record straight.
When I was seventeen I entered the St. Petersburg Military Engineering Academy because I believed the lie. I wanted to serve and defend my country, and build a better future for myself. I wanted my parents to be proud of me. The Academy was one of the most prestigious schools in all of Russia, and I wanted to use it to build a career in the navy.
It was a great honor. But at the time I had no way of knowing that a mutiny would take place, that Moscow would order we be hunted and sunk, that the idealistic young officer behind the mutiny, a man who only wanted a better life for himself and all Russians, would be shot to death, that the careers of many good men were permanently ruined, and that an American author would make his career writing a novel based on the mutiny. After the incident was over, and all of us were under arrest, even those who opposed the mutiny--it made no difference to Moscow--my eyes began to open to the way things really were. |  Soviet Navy Military Dagger And I began to ask myself questions. Why didn’t my government recognize who the true heroes were? Why were the punishments so harsh and unjust? How could the Politburo send the order to kill the Storozhevoy and kill all her crew? How could my government swear me, and the others, to absolute secrecy on pain of death?
There were to be no disclosures. No discussions to help us get through the pain. No getting it off our chests, not even to relatives, not even to our wives.
Do I regret that I studied at the Military Academy and wanted to dedicate my life to serving my country and my people? No, I do not.
Do I regret my blind dedication and firmness following my orders, something that the Soviet government drummed into its people’s heads from the time of birth? Yes, I do.
After the mutiny, the crew of Storozhevoy signed a KGB document promising never to tell what happened. Everything was buried. For the old Soviet Union, truth had always been the enemy. In some ways I expect that mindset may still be the case in Moscow.
So why have I written this book? And, maybe more importantly, should I have told the true story?
I left Russia and I’m no longer bound to keep my promise to the secret police, I’m an American citizen now.
The mutiny was a significant event and the facts should not be lost to history.
The men and officers, who with me opposed the mutiny, have had to live with the consequences. Moscow unfairly blamed them, as well as the mutineers, and their lives and careers were irreparably ruined. With this book I hope to finally set the record straight, to clear their good names and reputations.
And, finally, I hope to let the reader see inside the true story behind Tom Clancy’s The Hunt For Red October.
|