A Cry From the Deep

The letter came from a steel tomb on the floor of the Barents Sea. "All personnel from compartments six, seven and eight moved to the ninth," wrote a round-faced, 27-year-old naval officer, Lt. Capt. Dmitry Kolesnikov. Nearly two hours had passed since the shattering explosion that sank the Russian nuclear submarine Kursk last Aug. 12, killing most of the 118 crew members almost immediately. The watertight ninth compartment was designed for escape, and it happened to be the farthest part of the submarine from the site of the explosion. "There are 23 of us here," wrote Kolesnikov. Apparently some of the survivors were hideously burned; others had been injured by flying debris. Two or three sailors tried to flee through a hatch on the top of the compartment but found the escape tube flooded. The lights were dimming, the temperature was dropping, water was leaking in and the air was turning foul. "None of us," Kolesnikov wrote, "can get to the surface."

The note began with neat, cursive handwriting, suggesting the lights were still on. It included a message for Kolesnikov's wife, Olga, whom he had married only three months before; Russian officials kept that part private ... // 81% Remaining