Whiskey on the Rocks - Part III
It was Falldin upon whom the immediate decisions in the crisis fell. The submarine had been seized and its crew taken with only two losses of life, one of which was the captain. Swedish soldiers now occupied the submarine and were quickly documenting its design, machinery and equipment, most of which the Soviet crew had not had a chance to destroy in the chaos. Thus, the highly-classified specifications of a Whiskey-class nuclear sub, including warheads onboard, were for the time being in Swedish hands.
General Lennart Ljung, head of the Swedish Armed Forces, thus presented Falldin with a list of options as the weather worsened and the Defense Ministry debated whether or not to broadcast the incident to other counterparts around the world. The simple fact was that this could very easily be contained as a Soviet-Swedish matter; they were the only countries directly involved, it was Sweden's responsibility to take care of the captured Soviet sailors and it was Sweden's sovereign waters that had been violated. A quiet return of the submarine after being thoroughly inspected was the most obvious off-ramp. Of course, this could not stay quiet long; spies in the Swedish military were almost certainly leaking to their home countries, both in NATO and the Warsaw Pact, what had happened. Ljung, for his own part, favored a different course of action: telling the West immediately. He was certain that the Soviets, uncertain what the fate of its prized submarine was, would immediately try to send a rescue operation and at minimum attempt to insert a
Spetsnaz special forces team near Karlskrona to destroy it before Sweden could fully document the submarine. Having NATO fully aware of the USSR's incursion into Swedish waters would create a fair deal of public and private support for Sweden come what may.
Falldin was sympathetic to the former point of view, but his hand was forced by poor weather that made it difficult to tell what exactly was ongoing out in the Baltic, and Swedish suspicions that Soviet boats were inbound. Coastal batteries were thus manned and the curiously long, straight roads in the wooded Swedish countryside with barns conveniently placed just behind the trees suddenly saw jets armed with anti-ship missiles taking off as Falldin gave the fateful order to Ljung: "Hold the border." With Sweden preparing for an outright military engagement as poor radar visibility suggested several ships near Karlskrona could be the Soviet Baltic Fleet, it was now imperative that the West get involved. Washington DC woke up to frantic phone calls from Stockholm as defense ministers in London, Paris, Bonn and Rome paired communications about a Soviet submarine being captured by Sweden along with its crew of sixty men with their dinners.
Of course, Moscow was watching events unfold as well - on the 27th, it was not the Soviet fleet but rather fishing boats from Germany that Swedish radar had spotted. Andropov's initial instinct upon learning via backchannels that the Swedes had sixty men and were outraged was in fact to stand down. It had been a Soviet blunder, and it was better - and more face-saving - to just quietly accept the mistake and arrange for the return of the sailors. This was not necessarily a popular view within the Politburo, starting with Defense Minister Ustinov, who favored a much more robust response, in part due to events in Poland. His line of thinking was that if Moscow flinched in the face of Sweden, then the Polish opposition would be emboldened there, too. The fact that Sweden could sink much of the Baltic Fleet if they so desired was of course a major difference, but Ustinov's definition of saving face was very different from Andropov's.
Once it became clear that Sweden was announcing to the world what the USSR had done, though, and that the submarine had not been successfully destroyed, Andropov's calculations changed dramatically. Now, the Soviet Union's prestige would be irreparably damaged within the Eastern Bloc if it did not at least formulate some kind of direct response. Andropov swayed the Politburo in meetings late into the night on the 27th that a limited military engagement was the most desirable path as compared to an overwhelming attack that would surely draw a Western response or standing down entirely. The Baltic Fleet was routed towards Sweden and the Air Force scrambled to carry out operations over the Gulf of Bothnia, and Andropov finally, with a fair deal of reluctance, ordered operations to commence in the morning of the 28th, especially as Sweden began to think that the German boats they had identified were all they were going to see.
The brief Soviet-Swedish War - known as the October Crisis in some parts of the West - had begun...