Page 143 - Musings 2022

Burden and Resolve

Rishabh Dash
2019A8PS0170P

It was just another day in the life of Officer Vasili Arkhipov, aboard the diesel submarine B-
59. Being the Executive Officer aboard, the duty to preserve the lives of tens of his comrades

fell on to him. Vasili was a man with integrity, one who rarely faltered, and stuck to his beliefs

as much as possible. Endowed with a well-built frame and good looks, and having been married
for a decade, Arkhipov seemed to have it all going well for him. Yet, underneath his strong but

cheerful exterior lay a shy man, who felt terror at the very notion of jeopardizing his missions
or his colleagues. Every day was a hard-earned victory – the battle to continue surviving, in

this cruel, complex world, marred by wars, politics and deceit.

The cold war had not been any kinder. Who would have thought that the camaraderie the
Soviets and the Imperial Americans and Brits espoused against Hitler would fall apart as

quickly as two cars passing each other? Vasili was unlike his Soviet comrades – he personally
did not harbour any hate for his Imperial counterparts. In fact, he had quite enjoyed his time

amongst the English regiment back when they had invaded Berlin. So, what had gone wrong?
Why were the superpowers at each other’s throats?

Vasili often pondered upon this, but never dared to voice his thoughts out, lest he be branded

as a traitor and be tortured by the KGB. He had much to lose – his livelihood, his parents, and
even his daughter and wife, the love of his life. That absolutely could not come to pass. And

so, Vasili tugged on, braving multiple operations and slowly, but surely, rising through the
ranks.

Those missions were not without a cost, however. A few years ago, one of the experimental

nuclear submarines Vasili was assigned to had its reactor fail. Fixing that was an arduous work,
which exposed almost every single member of the crew to extremely high doses of radiation.

Many of Vassili’s superiors and mates died from the complications that arose in the following
years. While the doctor said Vasili was in the clear, that need not be the case forever. After all,

cancer was like an invisible hydra, stealthily rearing its many ugly heads in different forms

when one least expected it.
As idyllic thoughts of many different possibilities flashed through Vasili’s mind, the alarms

went blaring in the command room. One of the junior officers in command in charge of the
blast tank valve and floating systems rushed to him. He was a young, blond-haired man with a

chiselled jaw and well-proportioned build.

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