The Last Israelis - an Apocalyptic, Military Thriller about an Israeli Submarine and a Nuclear Iran (13 page)

BOOK: The Last Israelis - an Apocalyptic, Military Thriller about an Israeli Submarine and a Nuclear Iran
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From that firmness in Yisrael’s voice, Daniel understood that there was no point in trying to avoid or deny the letter any longer because Yisrael already knew the truth, and the only question now was how to manage this truth. That was the part that he hadn’t yet figured out. He could see that Yisrael was still trying to keep his cool but running out of patience.

“Look Daniel, we have to survive on this submarine together for the next month and a half or so, and this issue isn’t going to go away. So we’d better resolve it right now. I want to see the letter.”

“She asked me to keep it private.”

“So where is it now?”

“In the only part of the submarine that can be considered truly private.”

“Inside your clothes?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then you should pull the letter out, Captain, before I have to invade your privacy.”

In that moment, Daniel felt a dilemma of conflicting loyalties and concerns. Above all, there was submarine safety and mission integrity, which required cohesion and cooperation among the crew. On the other hand, there was the reassurance of secrecy that he had given to Netta, and there was the risk that Yisrael might react even worse after seeing what she had written. But Daniel realized that at this point he really had no choice but to hand Yisrael the letter, his superior rank notwithstanding.

“She had only good intentions with this,” Daniel said, reaching into his pocket, pulling out the letter and reluctantly handing it to Yisrael. “And with her request that I keep it confidential.”

Yisrael unfolded the paper, bracing himself for the worst as he started to read it.

“Dear Daniel, I’m sorry for putting you in this awkward position but I think handling things in this way is the most appropriate thing to do, given the circumstances. I know you are a man of great character and good judgment, and I think you need to be aware of certain things concerning Yisrael, so that your next mission together will be as successful as possible.

Unfortunately -- like so many other frustrations as a navy wife -- I feel like I just don't have enough time. Not enough time with Yisrael, and not enough time right now to think about how to explain everything to you in the best possible way. Naval command just told me that you're returning to shore, so I have to leave in a few minutes if I don't want to miss any of the precious moments that I'll have with Yisrael during this unexpected and terribly short visit. But I'll try my best to explain everything to you.

Sadly, while he was in the submarine the last ten days, Yisrael lost his beloved grandfather, and I’m afraid he might take it very hard because they were so close. There are also some medical issues that have been affecting him. They shouldn’t interfere with the performance of his specific duties as Deputy Captain, but they might impact his mood a little...I guess if I say only that, then I’ll leave you wondering what exactly the problem is. And that could in itself create issues, so I guess I should just tell you – despite how uncomfortable it makes me to share this with you. I’m putting my total faith in you as a decent person and as a naval commander with the highest professional integrity, and I trust that you will not reveal this information to Yisrael or anyone else. So here it is: we've been trying to have a child for a long time now, and last week we received results that confirm that Yisrael is infertile. I don't plan to tell him this until I have more than a few hours with him, but he’s very good at reading me and he’s a bit obsessed with the issue, so he’ll probably try to force me to tell him about the results. So I need to tell you, just in case it somehow comes out during our visit. This way, you can be prepared and informed of the overall picture, in case it impacts his mood or behavior in some way.

I am very worried about Yisrael, and I just wanted you to know about these concerns so that you can keep them in mind, should anything unusual or difficult happen with him on the submarine. I hope everything will be fine, but in case there are any problems, please reread this letter before you try to resolve them. I decided to write my concerns to you in this letter because I didn’t think I’d have much time to talk to you privately at the picnic and, more importantly, because I want you to remember my message throughout the entire mission. Please don’t even mention this letter to Yisrael, because he might get the wrong idea and would probably get upset about the fact that I even told you such private details, or that I felt that I could confide in you about such things. But I’m really worried about him and, again, I trust that you’ll treat this information with the greatest care and sensitivity – as if it were top-secret information that you received from naval command.

Yisrael and the rest of the crew are lucky to have you as captain, and I know that you will do the right thing in whatever situations arise.

--Netta”

Yisrael’s hand holding the note dropped and he looked down, unsure what to say next. Daniel was looking at him, also unclear about how best to close their discussion.

“Do you see now that you have nothing to worry about?” Daniel finally asked. “She loves you very much.” Daniel could sense that Yisrael was still a little troubled, perhaps from wounded pride, but the crisis had probably passed. “Do you trust me again?”

“Yes, Sir,” Yisrael responded, a bit removed.

“I think in this conversation we were leaving out the ‘Sir.’ No need to add it now,” Daniel said with a smile.

Chapter 16: Miss Dolphin and Mister Life Vest

While Boutrous was off-duty, he found his commanding officer, who was also off-duty, near the crew quarters.

“Come here, I have something to show you,” he said, with a mischievous grin.

Eitan smiled in curiosity as he followed Boutrous over to the other crew area on the second deck. Boutrous led him to the communal closet and put his hand on the latch to open it. “The new Miss Dolphin is already on stage,” Boutrous said with a guilty blush as he swung open the closet door, revealing a gorgeous, buxom model standing completely naked in a provocative pose.

“Where’d you get that?” Eitan asked with a sinful grin.

“Jacob’s brother brought it to the picnic and gave it to him. And then Jacob quickly passed it on to me before his girlfriend showed up.”

“Sounds like a submariner’s maneuver!” Eitan remarked.

“Ha. Well, we could use some new company. The last centerfold was getting really old.”

“Yes, we desperately needed a new Miss Dolphin,” Eitan agreed.

Hoping to exploit the transitory moment of male bonding with no one else around, Boutrous broached a request that he had been waiting for the right time to mention: “Any chance I can get the story behind everyone’s nickname now? I’m officially on my first mission now, right?”

“Yeah, but you have to do something to earn it. And putting up the new Miss Dolphin doesn’t quite count as earning it, Boutrous.”

“I see…So what counts?”

“Something memorable. Ideally, something that’ll make you and me proud. But historic stupidity can also do it.”

“What do you mean?”

“My second year as a qualified submariner, there was one sailor who did something so stupid that it earned him his nickname right away. And so at that time we also told him the stories behind everyone else’s nicknames.”

“Ha. What did he do?”

“Well, this one sailor, Shmuli, was about four feet eleven inches tall, so he was a midget even by submariner standards. And originally we were going to call him ‘Roomy’ because when this tiny guy boarded the Dolphin for the very first time – back when he was still trying to get admitted to the force and I was on the submarine that he first toured – he said something like, ‘Wow, this ship is really roomy.’” Boutrous laughed.

“Really?”

“Yeah, it cracked up the crew so much when I told them that we were sure this would end up being his nickname if he made it into the force. But that was nothing compared to what Shmuli did on his first mission, so we had to give him a different nickname in the end.”

“What did he do?”

“Well, he was done with his shift in weapons support but there were no bunks available for him to sleep in, and he was really tired, so he went around looking for a place to nap. Six hours later, when the time for his next shift came around, nobody could find Shmuli. And as the hours go by, the whole crew is going crazy, looking in every part of the sub trying to find this guy. And we just can’t figure it out. I mean, the place is sealed airtight and we’re about 120 meters under water, so where the hell could the guy possibly go?” Boutrous burst into laughs.

“And it’s now been three hours into Shmuli’s shift and everyone knows that somehow a sailor has gone missing, and everyone’s trying to find him, but no one can locate the guy. And in a few hours, the captain has to send an update to naval command. And it would have been hugely embarrassing for the captain to have to report that one submariner is now unaccounted for, given that the submarine had been underwater for the entire time since its last communication with headquarters.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, so the captain got really pissed off – and you see how he is. I mean, he’s a pretty even-tempered man. Daniel doesn’t usually lose his cool like that. But it just drove everyone crazy, including him, that somehow one of 35 men on board just disappeared and nobody could find him, no matter how long we looked or where we tried to find him.”

“So what happened in the end?”

“In the end, the missing sailor woke up, got hungry, and came out for food.” Boutrous laughed again.

“Came out from where? Where was he?”

“Well, that’s what we all wanted to know, after spending hours looking for him. So the captain and various officers insisted that Shmuli show them exactly where he had been sleeping, because they all needed to know, just in case anyone ever again went AWOL on a submerged submarine.”

“And?”

“And he had gone missing in a tiny compartment on the second deck containing life vests.”

“And nobody ever checked it?”

“No we checked there too. Four different people stopped by and looked in that compartment. But Shmuli was so small, and he had piled so many life vests on top of himself, that everyone who opened the door to that tiny space just saw a bunch of life vests and moved on.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. In fact, one of those guys looking for him even took a few life vests off the top of the pile, just to be sure. But he saw nothing unusual: Just a bunch of life vests, like the other three guys who had inspected that area before him. And the sleepy sailor was apparently so tired that he slept through the whole thing. But he did eventually wake up rather refreshed.”

“Haha. That’s hilarious. So what nickname did he get?”

“Life vest, of course.”

“So funny – I love this guy! And what happened to him?”

“I heard he got married last year – to a woman who’s even shorter than him.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I can’t wait to see how tall their kids end up. If they stay together that long – he’s always getting into some kind of trouble.”

“Haha…So he’s no longer in the submarine force?”

“No, he is. But he got transferred to the Leviathan a few years ago, so we don’t see him much.”

“Oh man. So he’s one of those poor guys barfing on that damaged submarine now?”

“Yeah, he should be on it – if they can find him.” Boutrous chuckled again. “But – going back to the moral of the story – you don’t want to earn your nickname privileges the Shmuli way. Try to make me and the rest of our team proud. When that happens, we won’t necessarily give you your nickname, but you’ll get all of the stories then.”

“Got it.”

Chapter 17: The Suez Canal

At 4 a.m. the next day, when the Dolphin was about 24 kilometers away from the Fairway Buoy of Port Said, Ambesah established contact with the Suez Canal Port Office by marine VHF radio. Daniel then provided port officials with all of the information needed to obtain a pre-clearance for Suez Canal passage, including the submarine’s current latitude and longitude position and various vessel-identifying details.

“You want passage in the second southbound convoy leaving Port Said at 0700 hours?” the Egyptian voice on the other side asked in a thick accent.

“Yes, Sir,” Daniel replied.

“But we require a notice of five days in advance. This is stated very clearly in canal regulations. We received notice from your naval base in Haifa only yesterday. And we are talking about the transit of a sensitive military vessel.”

“My base already addressed that issue at a higher level, Sir.”

“And what level is that?”

“With the highest level there is: the Chairman of the Suez Canal Authority, Sir.”

“There are still higher levels that may need to be involved. Again, we are talking about a sensitive military vessel requesting transit without proper notice. This is a most unusual request. So unusual approvals may be needed. I hope you can understand my position, Captain.”

“Understood, Sir. I believe the appropriate fines have already been paid, but I will confirm this again with headquarters before arrival.”

“Yes, you should check about the payments. You are welcome to moor in the harbor, but I make no guarantees about when you can transit. We will see what can be done.”

“Your cooperation would be very much appreciated, Sir,” Daniel replied, before signing off.

****

At 4:20 a.m., the Dolphin slowly approached Port Said. Even at that early hour, there were still some scattered shore lights and enough water traffic equipped with bright visibility beams to illuminate the otherwise dark and expansive skyline, sending ripples of light across the nighttime waters. Tankers, pilot boats, cargo ships, yachts, catamarans, tugboats pulling large vessels, and other watercraft moved about slowly to their various destinations.

The intelligence briefing had mentioned no cause for concern about crossing the Suez Canal and the ominous feeling still brewing in Daniel’s stomach concerned things that he expected would happen long after they crossed the canal. But for a moment the captain considered yet one more heavy rock that might suddenly be placed on his shoulders to balance along with the others: What if Egypt decides arbitrarily to deny his vessel passage now?

BOOK: The Last Israelis - an Apocalyptic, Military Thriller about an Israeli Submarine and a Nuclear Iran
2.46Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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