REM

X-Ray Delta

Being on the wrong side of a war was one thing, but being behind enemy lines unintentionally was a whole different ball game. That was the predicament I found myself in when I had moved to Russia to pursue a career in journalism. My intention was never to be a spy, or do anything of that sort. I wanted to study the language, the culture, the history, then graduate and start doing what I loved. Of course, life has a way of making detours for us all.

I was in my third and potentially last year of university when the war broke out. My assignment just so happened to be on the Russian army as I was fascinated by their submarines. Little did I know that particular day as I took notes and wrote my paper, there was tension brewing between Russia and the United States. It wouldn't be the first time the two power countries would go to war, but this time it was against one another.

My homeland versus my adopted one while in school were now ready to combat one another. You would think that submarines which might be used in a war would be sectioned off from the public, but no, that's not how things were in Russia. I was granted access to one of the war submarines with several other people, including a young boy who climbed on with his parents.

Writing down notes, I was too focused on finishing my assignment with as much firsthand detail as possible. No better way to write a paper than to see something in the flesh, unless of course it ends up putting your life in danger.

Sirens rang out on board as people ran for the escape hatch. Safety was so close for us, yet we couldn't make it to the dock in time. I was trapped with the young boy, but he didn't care. As the submarine began to move away from the dock, he continued toward the ladder, hoping that his parents would reach out for his tiny hands. He was gutsy, I'll give him that, but we nearly lost him as I found my way to the crew to find out what was going on.

"English? Do you speak English?" I asked out loud, hoping someone would give me an answer.

Many ignored me, except for one young man who was clean-shaven and wearing dark green army attire, including a beret.

"Yes, English," he nodded with a somewhat thick accent.

"Where are we going?" I tried to remain calm as I used my hands to help communicate.

"We are going to war," he replied. "No one is to leave. We need to dive."

"What about the boy?" Pointing to the hatch, the man's eyes widened as he sprung into action.

"Nyet!" He yelled and chased after the boy as another crew member repeated a word, or phrase several times, which I could only guess referenced to us diving.

A few seconds later water was starting to come inside as it trickled down the ladder. The man had sealed the hatch, the young boy following him back down the ladder in tears. They spoke in Russian once they made it to the floor. I followed the man, but he stopped and turned to me.

"You stay with boy. You be fine. No worry."

No worry? I'll be fine? Was this some sort of test so the tourists and visitors could have a real life submarine experience? It was Russia after all, but as the submarine continued its course, the sinking feeling that came with it didn't sit well with me at all. I was an American student inside of a Russian submarine, potentially going to war with a pen and paper.