“For more than four decades, under the cover of classifications even higher than top-secret, the United States sent tens of thousands of men in cramped steel cylinders on spy missions off the rugged coasts of the Soviet Union. There, the job was to stay hidden, to gather information about the enemy’s intentions and its abilities to wage war at sea. By their very nature, submarines were perfect for this task, designed to lurk nearly silent and unseen beneath the waves. They quickly became one of America’s most crucial spy vehicles. No other intelligence operation has embraced so many generations of a single military force, no other has consistently placed so many Americans at risk. As many as 140 men on each sub, several subs at a time, nearly every man who ever served on a U.S. attack submarine was sent to watch Soviet harbors and shipyards, monitor Soviet missile tests, or shadow Soviet subs. Several boats…were specially equipped to tap cables or retrieve pieces of Soviet weapons that had been fired in tests and had fallen to the bottom of the sea. No one was involved who didn’t volunteer…”
- Sherry Sontag and Christopher Drew, Blind Man’s Bluff: The Untold Story of American Submarine Espionage
Imagine that you are wharf-side in the salt-air of New London or King’s Bay when you come across a bar with a weather-beaten sign and a faded Pabst Blue Ribbon ad in its small window. When you open the door, you are met with a seemingly-eternal half-lit gloom, and a dozen pairs of eyes that have trouble adjusting to the sunlight you’ve just let in. The wood-paneled walls are covered in service plaques, naval pennants, and black-and-white photos of diesel submarines from the Second World War. Everyone is drinking shots of rye or Lamb’s rum, backed by Narragansett beer. The men around you in this dark, smokey, hushed establishment are festooned with tattoos of ship names – Alabama, Seawolf – and anchors. Some of them probably have a chicken-and-pig inked on their feet.
The bartender is skeptical of you and your cargo shorts, but eventually serves you the iced chardonnay that you’ve requested. So, you sit at the bar, drink your chilled wine, and listen to the men around you talk. The stories they’re telling – riveting, taut, sometimes incredible, undoubtedly embellished, often unverifiable – would probably sound something like Sherry Sontag and Christopher Drew’s Blind Man’s Bluff.
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Blind Man’s Bluff tells the story of American submarine espionage from 1949 to the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991. This is a wide swath of history covered in a brisk, highly engaging 277-pages of text. While the Cold War is a complex period, marked by high-level, often high-risk diplomatic maneuvering, Sontag and Drew stay strictly within the parameters they’ve set for themselves. This is a tale of submariners told by submariners.
Though it proceeds in rough chronological order, Blind Man’s Bluff is arranged episodically. Sontag and Drew are not attempting a comprehensive approach, but an anecdotal one, typically devoting each chapter to a single episode. For example, there are separate chapters on the fire aboard the USS Cochino, the sinking of the USS Scorpion, and the exploits of Commander Chester “Whitey” Mack aboard the USS Lapon. Especially good are the sections on the tapping of Soviet underwater cables, providing a rare trove of intelligence in an espionage war that the United States mostly seemed to lose.
Some chapters cover triumphs, others cover failures, but almost all of them feed off of the nail-biting tension that comes from locking yourself into a steel vessel, descending into the depths of the ocean, and then facing all the nightmares that come from darkness, claustrophobia, drowning, fire, and crushing pressure.
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Whatever else can be said about Blind Man’s Bluff, it is entertaining. At the time of its 1998 release – just after the Cold War’s conclusion – it was sold on the basis of its revelations. It was meant to shock and startle people who were otherwise unaware of the undersea spy games being conducted off the coast of the Soviet Union, beneath the ice caps, and at the bottom of the sea.
Even though I am by no means well-read with regard to the Cold War in general or Cold War subs in particular, I was already aware of most of Sontag and Drew’s disclosures before picking this up. Indeed, some of their vignettes – such as Howard Hughes’s Glomar Explorer being used to pluck a Soviet sub from the seabed – have been expanded into their own standalone books.
With that said, it is a testament to the writing of Sontag and Drew that Blind Man’s Bluff remains such fascinating reading. It is crammed with novelistic details that put you right into the action. Submarines make for inherently good drama, and the authors both recognize this, and capitalize on it.
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Of course, as with all sea stories worth repeating, there is the issue of credibility.
In the preface, Sontag and Drew explain that they contacted “hundreds of submariners,” talked to many of them, and spent several years researching. They also admit to severe limitations. For one, they did not have access to much by way of documentation. Most of Blind Man’s Bluff comes from interviews. However, the majority of the sources are anonymous. The closing chapter is titled “Trust but Verify,” but the authors are – in a very real way – asking the reader to simply trust.
The sourcing of Blind Man’s Bluff engendered some controversy upon its publication. Having no interest in getting into a 24-year-old fight, I will say only a couple things.
First, the lack of documentary evidence is a bit troubling. Documents themselves are fallible, as they can contain as many lies as any oral report. Still, they are typically generated contemporaneously with an event, and have at least a patina of objectivity.
Second, anonymous or not, any story told by a sailor ten, twenty, or even forty years after an event is bound to be affected by the limits of memory. Things can be forgotten. Things can be misremembered. False memories can be unconsciously created to fill in cognitive gaps. These witness errors – which are both unintentional and unavoidable – can be mitigated by corroboration. But as already noted, Sontag and Drew did not have much by way of a paper trail.
Still, it’s worth noting that while some of the details might be wrong – or in contradiction to other accounts – the big picture stuff seems generally correct.
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Blind Man’s Bluff was written at the dusk of the Cold War, making it interesting to read now, at the dawn of a new era of superpower standoffs. Sontag and Drew certainly celebrated the exploits of American submariners, but also questioned the necessity. After all, the Soviet Union had collapsed for reasons other than oceanic hide-and-seek. With hindsight, it all seemed like an unnecessary risk. With the 21st century still a couple years away, Sontag and Drew wrote of a declining submarine force, with limited missions going forward. At the time, they seemed right.
The trouble with prophecy, though, is that the future is always changing, even as we make our best guesses. With China an undisputed superpower, and the Russian Federation doing a zombie-Soviet Union impression, it is highly likely that the current generation of American submariners are quietly – and dangerously – embarked on a whole new iteration of this old game.