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Subject: {ASSM} An Interview With Gorshin (Part 13) By Katzmarek (War, MF, Hist,Preg)
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Date: Thu, 14 Jul 2005 00:10:02 -0400
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<1st attachment, "An Interview WithGorshin13.txt" begin>

AN INTERVIEW WITH GORSHIN (Part 13)

   By KATZMAREK(c)

   The flotilla carved the still waters of the Gulf of Finland leaving its
foaming wake to gradually disperse far behind.  On the bridge of the
four-funnelled 'Destroyer Leader' Strelny, Commander Yvgeny Gorshin leaned
out with his binoculars at the 5 trailing behind.

   The Strelny was similar to the British Admiralty type 'V and W' Class,
one of several donated to their 'Triple Entente' allies.  It was bigger,
however, some 1400 tons, and adapted as a command ship with a powerful
Radio, extra torpedoes, and suitable accomodation for a Senior Officer and
his staff.

   "6 points starboard helm," he ordered, "I want an attack formation with
Strelny in the centre."

   "Yes, sir," he heard.

   The bridge was open to the elements with just a windbreak of canvas
spread on the handrail.  In the middle was a lightly armoured tower housing
the helm, and behind that the Radio shack.  Aft, in the waist of the boat,
the torpedo crews swung the two triple mounts outboard, fully loaded and
ready for action.

   "Tell the Gromky to keep station!" he ordered, "Feodorov's too anxious,"
he grinned.

   "Yes, sir!"

   "Sir!" yelled 'Observation,' "West Norwest group...  two Amazons and two
'G' class...  looks like Augsburg and two more 'G's to the South."

   "Ah, the Augsburg!" replied the Commander, "nothing like meeting old
friends!" There was a ripple of laughter.  "And she's brought some pals
along.  Let's have a party, hmm?"

   "Fuck!" cried 'Observation.'

   "What else?" Yvgeny asked.

   "Fat Mamas to port of Augsburg, sir, Sachsen and Schlesien, must be!"

   "What the Hell are they bringing them along for?" someone asked.

   "Hmm, probably bombarding the coastal batteries at Hango," Yvgeny
considered.  "Radio!  Get me Div HQ!"

   "Schleswig-Holstein...  and I think there's a fucking Dreadnought with
them...  Nassau class, it looks like," 'Observation' continued.

   "Radio!  We've got big trouble, can we make it snappy?" Gorshin yelled.

   "Sir, I have Div HQ!"

   "Good, message reads, four Battleships, including one Dreadnought, three
Light Cruisers and four Destroyers, 20 kilometres South of Hango Point.  I
want orders."

   A few minutes later came the reply.

   "Do what you can, sir.  That's all!"

   "What the Hell kind of order is that?  Shit!  Ok...  here's what we
do... we split up into twos and come in from different bearings...  split
their fire!"

   "Sir?"

   --------------------------------------

   "The Germans weren't our natural enemies," continued the Admiral, "The
Moslem Turk, they were our traditional enemies, not the Germans.  I tell
you," he pointed his yellowed finger at the Ensign, "I couldn't have given
a fuck for the Serbs.  They had no gratitude for Russia then and they
haven't any now."

   "No, sir!"

   "The French...  they started it..  they pushed us to mobilise against
Germany.  Germany was always going to stand alongside the Habsburg Empire.
That meant, with two powers against us, France would feel 'obliged' to
declare war against Germany and Austria-Hungary.  It was all a conspiracy.
My Father thought so and so do I.  France paid that Serb to shoot the
Arch-Duke Ferdinand, I know this as a fact."

   "You do?" asked the Ensign, in wonder.

   "Yes.  France wanted revenge for the War of 1871.  She wanted to take
back Alsace and Lorraine.  She had a score to settle with Germany and
wanted the Ivan to squeeze her from the East.  But Tannenburg...  tut, tut,
Hindenburg demolished Samsonov and Rennenkampf's armies in August 1914 and
we never really recovered from that defeat."

   "The Navy?"

   "We mined the Gulf of Finland, placed shore batteries along the coast,
sealed up Kronshtadt nice and tight.  I had a flotilla of my own and we
fought their light forces trying to penetrate our defences.  Every now and
then they'd come with units of the High Seas Fleet to bombard our guns."

   "...  And submarines," he added chuckling, "occasionally they'd try and
slip in a U boat and therein lies a tale."

   ---------------------------------

   The relatively shallow Gulf of Finland was easy to mine and dangerous
for undersea warfare.  The Russian minefields were extensive, submarine
booms protected the channels, and the whole guarded by shore batteries
along the Estonian and Finnish coasts.

   U7 was built in 1913 by Blohm und Voss, the Hamburg shipbuilders.  Its
Koerting, Kerosine/Electric engines were never that reliable and the German
Naval Submarine Service soon switched to Diesel/Electric.  The Koerting
boats were characterised by the dense clouds of white smoke they emitted
while running on the surface.

   U7 had been among the first to sortie out into the North Sea in
August/September 1914.  Since then, however, she'd been relegated to the
'less demanding' theatre of the Baltic after the North Sea Flotillas were
replaced with Diesel/Electric boats.  Their small size seemed to be an
advantage in the Gulf of Finland and the Koerting boats soldiered on until
replaced by 'UB' Class coastal submarines.

   In May 1915, U7 had done well to get so far into the Gulf.  Her luck ran
out just South of Primorsk, however, among the shifting sands and tiny
islands.  U7 grounded heavily on a sand bar, her mainshaft was dismounted,
transom frames bent and the hull split along a third of her length. 
Clearly, she was a 'constructive total loss.' The 25 crew were picked up by
steam launches the next day.

   Yvgeny watched the crew of the U boat being brought ashore at one of
Kronshtadt's quays.  They were miserable, cold and wet, and some Russian
sailors were handing out grey blankets and hot mugs of tea to them.  Their
Officers had a stiff, studied arrogance about their manner.  One of them
caught his eye, he thought he recognised the fellow.

   "Who's that bearded guy in the white cap?" he asked the launch Captain.

   "Their Captain, I believe, sir," he replied.

   "Who around here speaks German?" Yvgeny asked.

   "That you, Gorshin?" the German Captain asked in Russian.

   "Just who the Hell *are* you?" he demanded of the German.

   "Don't you recognise me?" he smiled, "are you still looking after my
cousin?"

   "What?  Is that you, Rolf?  What the fuck are you doing with this
outfit?"

   "I took your advice," he replied, still smiling, "except I went South
because I knew my Uncle would be looking East.  I stole a draught horse and
rode all the way to Germany.  I joined the Navy in Elbing...  graduated an
Officer in 1911...  U7 was my first command."

   "And ran it onto a sandbar?  That's bad luck!  What were you fishing for
in those waters, crabs?"

   "I cannot tell you."

   "Dammit, man, the *German* Navy?"

   Rolf shrugged.  "It seemed a good idea at the time," he told Yvgeny.

   ------------------------------------

   "I met him later," said the Admiral, "when we occupied Latvia in 1940.
They had a small Navy and I was sent to Libau to find out what we could
incorporate into the Soviet Fleet.  Rolf Talsii was a Rear Admiral in
charge of the submarines in the Latvian Navy.  They had two, the Kalev and
the Lembit, British-built...  we decided to use them.  The NKVD wanted to
take Rolf away and shoot him but I insisted I needed him to help us with
the technology."

   "I see," replied the Ensign, "and was he of any use?"

   "Don't know...  he escaped...  funny.  He found himself on a Naval
Auxiliary on its way to collect some supplies from Sweden, apparently."

   "Admiral, you didn't..."

   "Of course I punished the guards.  They were exiled to the Black Sea...
Poti, I believe."

   "Admiral, you..." The Ensign decided to halt the line of questioning.

   --------------------------------------

   The Admiral's mansion at Petrodvorets was all but deserted.  The senior
Gorshin had accepted a posting to the Northern Port of Arkhangel'sk on the
White Sea.  His Naval staff had all gone North while the domestics had gone
East with Yvgeny's Mother, out of danger.

   The Gulf of Finland had been closed to shipping, Turkey's entry into the
War had closed access to the Mediterranean and Russia's only ice-free Port,
Vladivostok, required a three and a half week journey by train across the
whole of Russia.  The small fishing port of Murmansk, and Arkhangel'sk
seemed the only way to maintain regular contact with Russia's allies.

   Stavka, Russia's General Staff, authorised the foundation of what was to
become the Northern Fleet to protect that route.  By late 1915 British
Merchant ships had started to arrive at Arkhangel'sk and Royal Navy escort
vessels began to use both there and Murmansk.

   Katka had refused to be evacuated.  The younger Gorshins had three
children, now, and all refused to be moved.  They remained at the empty
mansion with just the children's nanny for assistance.

   Where Yvgeny and Katka had explored along the shore, the mudflats were
now decorated with barbed wire.  In the grounds of the mansion a battery of
155mm guns was dug in.  Their crews were billeted in tents and the various
outbuildings.  Down the coast a little, two massive 260mms in concrete
barbettes stood menacingly out towards the Gulf of Finland.  They were
originally built as spares for the Oslyabya Class Battleships.  Clearly
they wouldn't be needed for their original purpose as Peresviet, Pobieda
and Oslyabya were no-longer in existence.

   Yvgeny visited the family between missions.  The Russian Light Forces in
the Gulf were very active as the German Navy was always testing the Russian
defences.  U Boats, Cruisers and Destroyers periodically raided, trying to
forge a path for their minesweepers to clear the fields.  Every now and
then German Battleships would hover at the mouth of the Gulf and attack the
shore batteries.  Katka could hear their bigs guns rumbling, it stilled her
breath.

   Yvgeny could tell her little about their operations.  Sometimes,
however, she watched the Strelny flotilla limp back to Kronshtadt.  She
counted the vessels as they arrived and scanned the Destroyers for signs of
damage.

   She learnt to spot the signs; a vessel sitting lower in the water, more
smoke than usual or pouring from a riddled funnel, black scorch marks on
her grey hull or deck.  She died a little death until she saw the Strelny,
her battle ensign proudly flying and command pennant fluttering from the
mainmast, sweep confidantly towards her tender across the estuary.

   She saw the signs of stress begin to show on Yvgeny.  He was thinner,
his eyes a little sunken and he appeared more easily upset.  Katka tried to
keep family life as normal as possible for him and their children.  He
began to call her 'his rock', an endearment he repeated many times during
their life together.

   One summer's day in 1915 she watched the flotilla arrive back and gasped
in shock.  There were only 5 Destroyers and one, listing and burning, was
being towed.  The Strelny itself had one funnel missing, was down at the
stern, and her afterdeck smoldered.  Obviously she'd been hit by a very big
shell.

   She didn't breathe again until Yvgeny strode up the cobbled path.  He
knew she knew, she knew he knew what she knew, so they pretended they knew
nothing.

   She kissed him, he held her a little longer than normal, they forced a
smile and walked, arm in arm' into the house to the children.  Eventually,
she could no-longer keep up the pretence.

   "Who's missing?" she asked suddenly.

   "Feodorov," he replied, after a pause.

   "I'm sorry, my Love."

   He shrugged a reply and looked sadly down at the carpet until little
Katerina bounced into his lap.  He managed a smile for the three year old
and played tickling with her for a while.  The Nanny arrived and took the
child out.  When Yvgeny looked at his wife again, he was in tears.

   -----------------------------------------------

   The flotilla had broken up into pairs and spread out across the sea. 
Almost immediately, German 150mm and 105mm shells began to splash around
the Russian Destroyers.  German fire discipline was good, the Krupp guns
were accurate and their Zeiss rangefinders the best there were.

   Their light cruisers stood off while the big 'G' class Destroyers
arrowed in towards their rivals.  Further out, the old Battleships,
Sachsen, Schlesien and Schleswig-Holstein together with the Nassau Class
Dreadnought, Rheinland, opened up with their secondary batteries.  The
Russian Destroyers weaved and dodged between the massive watery plumes.

   Lieutenant-Commander Feodorov's Gromky and her mate Bravy, ship names
carried on from the heroic Tsushima Destroyers, stood out from the rest of
the flotilla.  They both hared off after the four-funnelled Augsburg, a
familiar 'face' in the Gulf of Finland.

   The Light Cruiser's escorts made to intercept, firing rapidly from their
deck guns at the oncoming Russian pair.  The British-pattern 4 inchers of
the Russians barked a reply as the range came down.

   Yvgeny watched in alarm at the display.  He'd trained his Captains to
use their initiative but, on this occasion, he thought Feodorov was getting
too close.  He was allowing himself to get pinned between the fire of the
Cruiser and that of the German Destroyers.

   The two Russians appeared to be undamaged when they opened their flanks
to release torpedoes at the Cruiser.  The German G106 hit Bravy twice,
however, as she made to follow Gromky.  The Russian vented steam and brown
smoke as it began to slow.  Yvgeny saw Gromky circle her wounded sister
fighting off the Germans itching to finish her off.

   The Strelny flotilla didn't need to be told what to do.  Individually,
they aimed their boats at the drama unfolding around the Augsburg.

   'Whoomph' From the Augsburg erupted a splash of smoke and water 2 thirds
along her port side.  The German immediately began a tight turn back the
way she'd come, back towards her covering Battleships.

   The Destroyer Battle around the Gromky was intense and confusing as the
other Russian and German Destroyers tried to intervene.  Yvgeny watched
flash after flash until they were continuous and no-one could tell muzzle
flashes from exploding shells.  Eventually, Yvgeny saw the Gromky, smoking
from multiple shell hits, run straight and deliberately at the G106.  The
German heeled over on her beam ends as the Gromky struck her fair and
square amidships.  He watched as the sinking German began to drag down the
bows of the Russian Destroyer, locked together.

   The other Germans opened a fusilade at the sinking pair, regardless of
the crew of the G106 now trying to save themselves.  Eventually, the
surviving Germans were set upon by the rest of the Russians and withdrew,
some burning, from the battle.

   As the German Destroyers limped out of range, the Battleships opened a
shattering broadside from their 280mm main guns.  The splashes towered over
the Russian Destroyers, sending water and splinters roaring and ringing
over their decks.  Strelny was hit then, on the afterdeck, and the
Destroyer snapped and whipped, knocking everybody off their feet.

   It survived, the prop shafts miraculously undamaged and still turning. A
huge hole was left where once the after deck gun was mounted.  These 'V'
and 'W's were tough ships, however, and the Strelny steamed back with her
cousins up the Gulf.

   With the falling light, both sides decided they'd had enough for the day
and withdrew to lick their wounds.

   That final salvo from the German Destroyers caused terrible carnage on
the Gromky.  105mm shells demolished the bridge and killed all her
Officers, including her Captain, Feodorov.  She sank with her victim soon
after and the survivors picked up by the other boats.

   More names were inscribed on the Roll of Honour at the Kronshtadt Heroes
Memorial.

   -----------------------------------------

   Strelny was out of the War.  She would require extensive repairs and, in
the event, they were never effected by the time the Russian Armies broke
and the Revolution descended.  Commander Yvgeny Gorshin was short of
employment once more.

   By the end of 1915, Hoffmann's German 5th Army was near Riga and
preparing to march on Petrograd, as St Petersburg was now called.  The
Baltic States of Latvia, Lithuania and parts of Estonia and Poland were in
German hands.

   Russian resistance had stiffened, however, and the abysmal supply system
reorganised.  The energetic General Brusilov had taken command in the South
with a noticeable improvement in Russian performance.  The Armies at the
front had swollen to over three million men, backed by 7000 guns.  Stavka
and the Tsar began to breathe easier.  For the moment, the German invasion
of Mother Russia was put on hold.

   Stavka and the Tsarist Government's fatal mistake, though, was the use
of inflation to finance the Russian war effort.  Its effects were starting
to bite in the countryside and both landowning peasants and the large
estates were withholding grain supplies.  By the middle of 1916, the
workers in the cities were going hungry.  The storm that would envelop the
old Russia was beginning to gather.

   -----------------------------------------

   The Port of Murmansk lies at the head of the estuary of the Tuloma
River. In 1916 it had expanded beyond a small fishing village, dredges
worked 24 hours a day to deepen the channel and a harbour had been created
out of the fishing jetties.  Planning was well underway to use the Port for
Allied ships bringing much-needed war materiel.

   The British had given the Navy some Sub Chasers, small ships of several
hundred tons equipped with depth charges and a 3 inch gun.  They were
supposed to form a hunting group to combat the U boat menace.  Actually,
few U boats operated in those waters at this time.  It rather reflected the
submarine mania then affecting the British Isles then.

   Royal Navy personnel retained key positions on the Sub Chasers.  Russian
sailors fleshed out the crew, having been drafted mostly from the idle
Baltic Fleet.  The St Andrews Ensign flapped from their masts and they were
given Russian names, but operational control was in the hands of the
British.  In any event, no German submarine was ever so much as scratched
by the hunting group.

   When the sea ice broke up, around May 1916, Commander Yvgeny Gorshin was
posted to Murmansk to take nominal charge of the flotilla.  He found the
small fleet well and truly under the control of the Royal Navy, however,
the British were anxious for a senior Russian operational officer to smooth
cooperation with their allies.

   He found the posting arduous.  Murmansk was bleak, mountains surrounded
the port on three sides and the cold winds blew off the Barents Sea
continuously.  The British were frustrated by the supply difficulties and
the seeming inertia of their Russian allies.  Many Russians resented what
they interpreted as the British 'superior' attitude and were offended by
their insistence on controlling the port.

   Yvgeny found himself mired in administrative problems and trying to
placate prickly egos.  The British provided a Russian speaking Scotsman who
often missed some of the subtleties of the language.  Katka and the
children remained at Petrodvorets and he missed them greatly.  He was
relieved when the temperature began to cool again as Winter approached and
he was sent back to the Baltic.

   ----------------------------------------

   "What can I say of Murmansk in 1916?" shrugged Admiral Yvgeny Gorshin,
"ghastly!  But the British taught me Anti-Submarine techniques which I
found useful later on in my career."

   "What did you find upon your return to the Baltic?" asked the Ensign.

   "Changes...  riots in Petrograd...  hunger and agitation...  soldiers
forming committees.  A Soviet of Worker's and Soldier's Deputies had been
formed in Petrograd and they were agitating for the abdication of the Tsar
and his replacement by an elected Government.  'Kadets', they were the
middle-class Democratic party, and the Socialists had been brought into the
Government in an attempt to manage dissent.  Kerensky, a Socialist, was
appointed War Minister.  The Socialist Revolutionaries, however, dominated
the Petrograd Soviet and they wanted an immediate end to the war.  The
minor parties, the Bolsheviks for instance, played their own game and the
Anarchists called for a 'plague on both houses.' It was chaotic!"

   "The Fleet?"

   "Idleness had sapped morale.  They reflected society at large and we
officers found ourselves having to deal with deputies from the various
'committees' on a daily basis.  They began to question orders.  A near
mutiny occurred when Stavka wanted to draft personnel into land battalions
and send them to the front.  In the end, they were formed but were kept for
home defence."

   "Underlying everything," continued the Admiral, "was the belief that the
burden of war had fallen unequally upon the urban poor, the peasants, and
the lower middle classes.  In 1914, the causes were submerged in
patriotism, but now we questioned why we were fighting this war, why were
we giving our sons and brothers for this awful conflict?  It was easy to
see that vast profits were being made by a few in London, Paris and
Petrograd.  All, we came to believe, for the wounded pride of the French
and the Imperial pretentions of Germany and Britain.  Capitalism, that was
seen as the real culprit.  Workers were brothers the World over.  Why
should the Proletariat be fighting each other when we should be fighting
the real criminals?  It was a question easy to understand by the most
ill-educated worker."

   "I still believe," the Admiral said, "that they were relevant questions
in 1916 and, after all that's gone on, still relevant today."

   -------------------------------------

   Katka welcomed her husband home, now on leave from the Navy. 
Desperately they tried to rekindle domestic life again.  The weather was
cold, snow lay thickly on the ground, and the remaining Baltic Destroyers
had nothing to do once more.

   It would be a harsh Winter, that of 1916/17.  Yvgeny secured coal for
heating from Naval stocks, Naval supplies were being distributed among the
needy and greedy by corrupt quartermasters and altruistic officers and
ratings.  Eventually, the storehouses were well and truly plundered to
their very roof timbers.

   Katka was 8 months pregnant, the result of his last tour of duty at
Kronshtadt.  They'd moved their bed into the kitchen so they could stay
warm using the coal stove.  Gas supplies had ceased.  The kitchen had been
partioned with drapes and curtains.  Yvgeny and Katka's three children
slept separated from their parents by the thick material.

   Soldiers had taken over part of the house.  Some of them were coastal
artillerymen, but others had drifted in looking for shelter.  Although this
was Naval territory, things like that no-longer seemed important.

   Yvgeny felt a pang of guilt as he watched his wife prepare a bath.  He
was the man, the income earner.  It was his role to ensure the family lived
in comfort and prosperity.  Now Katka was boiling water on the stove in the
kitchen they called home.  Drapes served as walls and tallow lamps the only
lighting.

   During the day he foraged for food, sometimes by bartering with soldiers
and merchants, or occasionally he'd shoot a rabbit.  Money wasn't worth
anything, hyper-inflation had destroyed the Rouble as a currency.

   Katka seemed content as she lowered her swelling body into the tub.  'To
bring more children...' he thought.

   Her white skin shone in the pale glow of the lamp.  Steam bellowed from
the water, condensing on the ceiling and walls.  Katka sucked in her breath
as she timidly adjusted herself in the tub.  She had to pull her knees up
so she could immerse the upper part of her body.  Yvgeny knelt behind to
soap her back, a habit he'd adopted since before their wedding.

   He moved her long dark hair out of the way and draped it over her
shoulder.  The bumps of her vertibrae seemed to be more prominent these
days.  He fetched the hard cake of Navy-issue lye and rubbed it between his
hands until he had a slushy foam.  This he spread softly over Katka's back,
mindful of the fine grains of silicate that permeated the Navy's soap.

   Katka hummed in pleasure.  Yvgeny planted a kiss on her bare neck,
grimacing at the bitter taste of the soap on his lips.  She smiled as his
fingers curled around to brush the soft flesh of her swollen breasts.

   "A pity the tub's so small," he murmured.

   "For what?" she teased, "anyhow, we'd wake the children."

   "Don't make so much noise!" he suggested, helpfully.

   "Me!" she replied, "it's you with all that huffing and grunting." His
fingers squeezed her nipples.  "Ouch, careful!  They're sensitive!  When
you get horny you always grab me like a bag of coal."

   "I don't!" he answered with mock outrage, "and you can talk!"

   He turned his face, bent, and kissed her on the lips.  She hummed and
puckered up again, so he repeated the gesture, this time insinuating his
tongue between her teeth.  When he came up for air, her face was flushed,
and not solely because of the heat of the water.

   "Better?" he asked, softly.

   "Mmm," she replied, and puckered up again.
   KATZMAREK (C)

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