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

Even most of the midshipmen seemed sanguine. The crew thought highly of Captain Third Rank Sablin, according to Viktor Borodai. But the captain had warned Sablin more than once about getting too close to the enlisted crew. A warning that he never heeded.

For Seaman Shein it started one evening when Sablin called him into the dining room where the political lectures were given. The enlisted man had no idea what the zampolit wanted with him, but orders were orders.

“I have a question for you, Sasha,” Sablin says.

Shein nods uncertainly. He’s never been talked to like this by an officer. He doesn’t know what to say or how to act. This is new territory for a kid from Togliatti.

“How would you like to work for the KGB?”

It’s like a hot poker has been stuck up his ass. He’s disappointed and pissed off. After everything the zampolit has taught them about honor and equality and the true meaning of Communism, now he’s recruiting his crew to be spies, informers for the KGB.

Shein turns on his heel and starts toward the door. He may get in trouble for walking out on an officer, but he doesn’t have to stand there taking that kind of shit.

“Wait, Sasha!” Sablin cries. “You have to calm down! I was just making a little test. I don’t want you to be angry with me.”

Shein turns back. He’s confused. What’s he supposed to do? What in heaven’s name can Sablin want with him?

“I want you to sit down now,” Sablin says, his voice lower. “I want to talk to you. This is serious stuff.”

Sablin had an agenda from the start, and nothing in heaven or on earth would stop him. He meant to take his message to the people.

“Moscow has betrayed the October Revolution, so it’s time now for another revolution. All it will take is a bold stroke and positive leadership and the workers will rise up again. They will be with us, Sasha. I need you to be with me!”

That was three days ago, and this evening the first seeds of Sablin’s revolution are beginning to sprout.

Once the officers and midshipmen who had voted with the black pieces are safely locked up below, Sablin sends Shein down to the forward port compartment to stand guard over Potulniy in case the captain figures out a way to escape.

Next Sablin gets on the 1MC and calls a muster of all the crew on the quarterdeck for ten minutes after eight. This will be the moment of truth. A few officers and a handful of midshipmen cannot operate the Storozhevoy without the help of most of the crew. If he has the enlisted men behind him, Sablin knows that he has a real shot at doing this thing, actually disconnecting from the mooring in the morning and getting under way up to Leningrad, where he can broadcast his message of the new revolution directly to the people.

Most of the crew has already returned from liberty ashore. Those in the dining room watching the movie and those in their quarters or already up on deck having a smoke are the first to pull on their winter coats and form up on the aft deck. The others, either on duty or, like Shein, armed and guarding someone, have already been recruited by Sablin. They are his core supporters.

Now it is up to him to convince the bulk of the crew that what he is asking of them is not only necessary but also right and just and that they will have a real chance of succeeding.

The evening is turning surreal in more than one way. A fairly thick fog has formed so that the shore is mostly lost, but the quarterdeck is bathed in a strong white light from the spreaders, and straight overhead the stars are visible, as is a full moon. It’s as if the Storozhevoy and his crew have been transported to a distant universe and for all practical purposes are utterly alone.

Sablin hesitates at a midship hatch before going out on deck and heading aft to confront the crew. He is wearing his black winter coat, with officer’s shoulder boards, and a standard-issue Makarov pistol in a belt holster. His heart was racing earlier in the midshipmen’s dining hall when he was talking to the officers, but he’s calmed down now. In any event, the die has been cast and there’s no way of reversing the clock.

He’s about to step outside when he becomes aware that something is going on belowdecks. He can plainly hear that someone is shouting. It sounds like Potulniy.

Sablin turns and races downstairs as fast as his feet will carry him.

“Sablin is a traitor!” Potulniy shouts. His voice is faint, coming all the way forward near the bow of the ship, but the message is clear nevertheless. There’s trouble.

Coming around a corner, Sablin yanks the pistol out and plays with the safety catch. He’s not much of a shot, but he does know how to fire the weapon.

He pulls up short. Shein is standing at the end of the short corridor in front of the hatch to the sonar compartment where the captain is being held prisoner. The seaman has a dazed, frightened look on his broad peasant’s face. He looks like a deer suddenly caught in the headlights of an onrushing truck.