Vasili Arkhipov and October 27

I’m unabashedly patriotic. I tear up when watching Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. I am convinced (and my family is somewhat tired of hearing me say this) that the government of the United States is the finest example of human achievement in the history of the planet. My dad’s US Army dress uniform hangs in my closet, and I’m proud such a man was my father.

So why do I call your attention to the deeds of an officer in the navy of one of America’s fiercest rivals? I assure you it’s an amazing story.


I was five years old during the Cuban Missile Crisis, and honestly remember nothing about it. But I did grow up in the cold shadow of nuclear war. For some reason AM radio was an integral part of that in my world. I remember hearing Eve of Destruction in the parents' car driving through Oregon, wondering if I would live to be a teenager. When I heard Stephen Stills sing For What It’s Worth I thought the lyric
Stop! Children what’s that sound-everybody look what’s going down
referred to the big Soviet bomb falling from the sky and the last few seconds we all had to look around before being incinerated. (It was actually about the Sunset Strip curfew riots in November of 1966, but I was just a kid.) Atomic Armageddon was something we all grew up with. It was baked into our psyche.

Arguably the closest humans ever came to killing themselves and the planet was Saturday October 27, 1962. A flotilla of four Soviet submarines, each armed with a nuclear-tipped torpedo (referred to as the “special weapon”) was ordered to sail to Mariel, Cuba, and establish a submarine base there in support of ships bringing missiles to Cuba from the USSR. The commander of the flotilla was one Vasili Alexandrovich Arkhipov, a well-respected submariner and the actual human behind Liam Neeson’s character in the movie K-19: the Widowmaker



Vasili Arkhipov, the man who saved the world

A US Navy P2V Neptune had picked up the four subs heading southwest near Iceland, and two task forces were dispatched to intercept them. One was centered around the USS Essex, the other on the USS Randolph, two WWII-era aircraft carriers that had been modernized as state-of-the-art anti-submarine warfare (ASW) platforms.

The four Soviet Foxtrot-Class submarines could not have been less suited to running the American blockade. They were noisy and slow, their design based on German diesel attack boats seized by the USSR at the end of WWII, and required regular surfacing to run the diesels and recharge the batteries. They were no match for the technologically advanced Americans. Conditions aboard the boats were horrible—the HVAC plants were unequal to the challenge of keeping the boats habitable, and broke down regularly. The Soviet military, knowing they would be unable to communicate with the subs, gave their captains a level of autonomy unheard of in the Soviet Union. They were authorized to engage, up to and including the “special weapon”, if attacked or forced to the surface. Sure enough, the orders given to the Essex and Randolph groups were to force the subs to the surface (and then escort them out of the area). The stage was set for a disastrous confrontation.

The Randolph group found the first sub, B-59, near dusk on the 27th. Navy procedure called for dropping five hand-grenade-sized practice depth charges in the sea near an unidentified submarine as a signal to surface. When the depth charges exploded, things quickly began to unravel inside B-59. Valentin Savitsky, captain of B-59, believing his ship under attack and a war possibly already under way, made preparations to launch the special weapon in order to destroy as much of the enemy as possible. The special weapon had its own KGB officer, Ivan Maslennikov, and procedure required that both he and Savitsky agree in order to launch the weapon. One additional thing made B-59 unique, however. It also carried Arkhipov. Technically, Arkhipov was second in command of B-59, but as the commander of the flotilla he was also the ranking officer. Protocol required that on B-59 Arkhipov must be in agreement as well, or the weapon could not be launched.

Accounts vary, but most say that Savitsky and Maslennikov were convinced that war had already begun, and agreed to launch. Arkhipov, however, did not concur. He was the only officer aboard any of the subs who knew what their actual mission was, and as such had an idea of how the US Navy might react. With the sub bombarded by high-amplitude sonar waves from the circling destroyers, battery power nearly exhausted, and temperatures inside reaching unsustainable levels, Arkhipov showed superhuman calm countermanding the launch order and reasoning with Savitsky, finally managing to convince him to surface the boat in order to communicate with Moscow and recharge the batteries (also getting a little fresh air to the terrified crew).

The destroyer closest to B-59 was the USS Cony. Cony, unaware of her nuclear peril, engaged in something of a standoff with the Foxtrot. A sort of crude communication was established between the two, and Cony asked B-59 if she required assistance. Savitsky replied Nyet. Things nearly went pear-shaped a second time when an ASW Neptune overflew the sub and dropped some incendiary devices to light it up in the darkness. The loud sounds and flashes nearly convinced Savitsky that this time he was actually under attack, but the unaggressive behavior of Cony made him think twice before launching. Wanting to be certain, he wheeled the sub around to face Cony, and opened his outer torpedo doors.

To his credit, Cony’s captain apologized to Savitsky for the behavior of the aircraft. Eventually things calmed down to the point where the destroyer sent over a shipment of fresh bread and American cigarettes. B-59 closed its outer doors, wheeled back around to the east, and began to retire, accompanied by another American destroyer.

B-59 on the surface two days after the confrontation


Before the crisis came to an end, three of the four subs had been forced to surface and all were headed back toward their base in the Arctic circle. But things could have turned out far worse had Arkhipov not been on board B-59 on that Saturday. Had she launched, and the Hiroshima-sized weapon detonated, the Randolph task force would have been destroyed, and President Kennedy would have been forced to retaliate, probably starting a nuclear exchange. This is why I call your attention to Vasili Alexandrovich Arkhipov, and memorialize October 27: but for the actions of one reasonable man, we might not have a habitable planet.

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