Soviet submarine B-59 surfaces off Cuba in 1962 before returning to Russia. U.S. National Archives

Almost History: The Cuban Nuclear War

Fifty-five years ago today, the Cuban Missile Crisis ended after thirteen tense days. Although we know now how everything turned out, the conflict very nearly took a much different, and profoundly darker, tack through history.

The world has never come closer to full-scale nuclear war than it did on the evening of 27 October 1962 during a hair-raising encounter between the American Navy and a lone Russian diesel submarine.

Today, we face new nuclear threats, and the risk of miscalculation and escalation is very real. With almost daily saber-rattling from North Korea, tensions and tempers are rising again. This little-known story from the Cold War is more relevant than ever.

You might never find the fate of the world resting on your next words, but we can all learn a lesson from this story of level-headed personal courage and fortitude.

The Cuban Missile Crisis

President John F. Kennedy was locked in a dangerous political battle with Moscow. Neither he nor the Premier of the Soviet Union, Nikita Khrushchev, wanted to blink first.

The U.S. had deployed several Jupiter ballistic missiles in Italy and Turkey on Russia's doorstep. With a maximum flight time just under 17 minutes at their furthest reach, missiles carrying 1.45 megaton nuclear warheads would land on Russian soil before their early warning network could give them time to react.

Russia was falling behind in the intercontinental ballistic missile race. Their ICBMs were not as reliable as the Americans’, and they had no hope of reaching parity in the immediate future. Khrushchev could, however, move his more successful short and medium-range missiles closer to their targets, just as Kennedy did. Unfortunately for him, geography limited his possible options within his own territory.

He found his answer in Cuba. A Communist island only 90 miles south of Florida, Khrushchev easily pressured dictator Fidel Castro. Only a year earlier, the U.S. had backed a failed attempt to overthrow the dictator at the Bay of Pigs. Castro was not thrilled with Khrushchev’s plan, but he nevertheless consented to the deterrent against a common enemy. The logic was simple. The U.S. would think twice before invading Cuba again, and the Russians could successfully retaliate against an American strike. For Khrushchev, balance was restored.

If the Soviets would have only minutes to live, so would the Americans.

Over the next two weeks, tensions escalated. A U-2 spy plane was shot down over Cuba. A separate U-2 overflew Russia, and the resulting MIG and F-102 scramble almost resulted in an aerial nuclear exchange. Kennedy ordered a naval blockade of Cuba. Castro feared imminent invasion, and Curtis LeMay staunchly advocated it.

The world watched.

Aboard the B-59

On 27 October in the Caribbean Sea, thirteen days after the crisis began, the aircraft carrier USS Randolph (CVS-15) and four destroyers steamed towards the site of a reported submerged contact. She located the sub that afternoon and, as was common practice, dropped hand grenades over the side to challenge the boat to surface and identify itself.

Deep below, the Russian submarine B-59 desperately tried to remain as silent as possible. Living conditions were miserable. Their air conditioning, designed for use in cold arctic waters, had long since failed in the warm Caribbean. Temperatures in hull reached 122 degrees Fahrenheit. Atmosphere control equipment performed poorly. Carbon dioxide levels steadily rose while oxygen levels simultaneously steadily depleted.

They had not communicated with Moscow for days. They could only do so while surfaced or at periscope depth. Both options proved difficult with the heavy American antisubmarine patrols. But, even when they did communicate, Moscow told them nothing meaningful about the developing crisis. They had learned about the missiles deployed in Cuba only by listening to American radio news broadcasts.

When the American ships forced them deep, they could no longer monitor the airwaves. Now, as the grenades detonated closer and closer, the Russian submariners aboard B-59 feared for their lives. They could surface, but Russian submarine captains viewed that as a total humiliation, and B-59 Captain Valentin Savitsky knew that by doing so his Admiralty would impose severe consequences upon him when they returned home – if they made it home at all.

From his vantage point, Savitsky was convinced the harmless American grenades were actually lethal depth charges. This far below the surface, the laws of radio propagation forbade him the luxury of knowing if the next World War had begun or not. Either way, he and the B-59 crew were caught in the middle. They would have to wait it out...

... or use their fifteen kiloton nuclear torpedo.

The Breaking Point

The B-59 was one of four diesel-powered Foxtrot-class subs the Soviet Navy had ordered to sail to Mariel, Cuba. Each boat had twenty-one conventional torpedoes, plus a single torpedo with a nuclear warhead the size of which had destroyed Hiroshima. These were among the first Foxtrot boats to ever receive nuclear arms. It was not normal, and the Americans had no idea what they faced.

Savitsky required explicit permission from the Kremlin to use his nuclear weapon. Unable to reach them while trapped below in the sweltering, oxygen-depleted boat, however, Savitsky decided to ignore that technicality.

To the Russian crew, it sounded like the Americans were slamming a sledgehammer against a garbage can. After one landed particularly close to the hull, the Captain had enough. Furious and strained to the breaking point, he ordered the officer responsible for maintaining the nuclear torpedo to prepare it for use.

“We are going to blast them now!” he screams. “We will die, but we will sink them all – we will not become the shame of the fleet!”

Even without Moscow, he still required two other officers to concur. The first was the political officer, Ivan Maslennikov. He agreed. The final vote, and the fate of history, now rested with a single man: his second-in-command.

Vasili Arkhipov.

One Second to Midnight

Had Savitsky commanded any other boat in the flotilla, he would have had all the concurrence he needed from the political officer, and he would have shot. Arkhipov (pictured) was unique, though. Although he was the second-in-command, he was equal in rank to the Captain. He also commanded the entire Foxtrot sub flotilla enroute to Cuba.

The previous year, Arkhipov had distinguished himself as the executive officer aboard the infamous K-19, the nuclear Hotel class submarine that suffered a major reactor coolant leak that ultimately killed dozens. Now involved in a completely different nuclear crisis, all waited to hear his decision.

He voted no.

Arkhipov's opinion carried significant weight due to his experience on K-19. His ability to stay calm under such intense pressure helped bring his comrade back from the edge of the cliff. After four terrible hours, the sub could no longer endure the inhospitable atmosphere and depleted battery. To remain submerged was certain death from either suffocation or crushing sea pressure. Savitsky finally agreed, and he decided to take his chances with the nuclear war that most certainly raged above him. He ordered the B-59 to surface.

He sailed his ship East, surrounded by an escort of American destroyers. The sun had set, and the destroyers illuminated the defeated submarine with their spotlights. But he did not find the war he expected.

Instead, wafting over the waves came the most peculiar sound from the deck of one of the destroyers, and at once he realized Vasili Arkhipov was right. The war had not begun, but he had almost started it.

To prove to the Soviet Captain that they meant no harm, Valentin Savitsky sailed towards home to the tune of a live American band playing jazz.


Selected Bibliography

Burr, William, and Thomas S. Blanton, eds. The Submarines of October: U.S. and Soviet Naval Encounters During the Cuban Missile Crisis. Vol. Electronic Briefing Book No. 75.: National Security Archive, 2002. Web.

Isachenkov, Vladimir. "Russian Book Looks at Missile Crisis." Johnson's Russia List (2002): Web.

Krulwich, Robert. "You (and Almost Everyone You Know) Owe Your Life to This Man." National Geographic 25 Mar. 2016: n. pag. Web.

U.S. Navy. USS Beale (DD-471). Deck Log, 27 October 1962.


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