Mutiny: The True Events That Inspired The Hunt for Red October

But if he expected to find the answers at the academy he would be disappointed, because those kinds of explanations did not exist. He dived headfirst into Lenin and Marx and Engels in the original books and articles. He was trying to understand the October Revolution at the intellectual level. But like a Catholic priest who begins to doubt his faith and the reasons for his celibacy, Sablin was already starting to have trouble swallowing the doctrine. Wherever he looked he saw corruption, inequality, and the unearned privileges of the nomenklatura.

They fought the revolution to stop all that, to stop the class system, to give the working class the true power, but all that had gone by the wayside. A few old men in the Kremlin, not the people, were in charge.

When he tried to dig even deeper—after all, the revolution was perfection; it was simply his understanding that was faulty—he discovered that a lot of material was off-limits. For instance: Leon Trotsky had been one of the revolutionaries alongside Lenin, but his books and articles were not available. Not even to academy students, who were supposed to be the crème de la crème of Communist youth. The guys who were supposed to go out into the service and, like pastors, guide their flocks. It was as if seminary students were not allowed to speak about the Devil.

Despite the censorship, despite the disappointments, Sablin graduated and went out into the fleet a dedicated Communist who wholeheartedly believed in the philosophy, if not in the bureaucracy.

In a capitalist world the ordinary workers had to accept the fact that there would be rich people and there would be poor people. It was a natural outcome of such a system, and like it or not, the proletariat had to live with the consequences. But in Socialism there weren’t supposed to be such inequalities. Communism was designed to be the purest form of civilization. In theory.

In practice even the most casual observer could see that reality in the Soviet Union didn’t come anywhere close to the ideal.

The men who ran the nation from Moscow would never voluntarily give up their power. There would be no elections. The new revolution had to come from within. This time a zampolit would have to provide the spark.

Sablin’s favorite theme in his political lectures was revolution. Especially the October Revolution and the mutiny aboard the Potemkin.

In fact, it’s the zampolit’s position that revolution is a fine navy tradition that shouldn’t be discontinued.

“Before you make your choice, there is something more I have to tell you,” Sablin says.

He has the absolute attention of every officer and midshipman in the dining hall.

“I and the officers and men with me will take the Storozhevoy’s mooring lines in and leave in the morning for Kronshtadt.” It’s in the Gulf of Finland just twenty kilometers from Leningrad. “I will declare that this ship is a military base all by itself, and I will demand that Moscow give us access to radio and television so that I can personally speak to the people of the Soviet Union.”

This is even worse than treason. It’s outright insanity. Sablin means to get them all killed.

“How can you even suggest such a thing to us?” Sadakov shouted angrily. “You’re our political officer. You’re a good Communist. You’re supposed to set an example.”

We didn’t jump up and get out of there, Gindin remembers. None of us stormed to the front of the room to take our zampolit, who obviously was a criminal, into custody. “All of us officers were trained in military academies where we were taught to follow orders no matter what. Sablin outranked us, and it was mandatory to obey him. It was our legal and moral duty.”

The Russians say that all the brave men are in prison. You’re the boss, and I’m the dummy.

Someone gets up, walks to the table, and drops one of the backgammon pieces into the basket. Gindin can’t remember who was the first, nor could he see which piece the officer chose, but they are voting now.

The silence in the dining hall is thick. It’s like they are attending a funeral. Their own.

Gindin gets to his feet and walks up to the table. He stops for a second to look Sablin in the eye. The zampolit is fairly glowing with excitement. This is real history in the making. There will be movies and books and maybe even songs about this mutiny. It’ll be just like the Potemkin.