CARRIER 4: FLAME-OUT By Keith Douglass

developed an overprotective attitude toward his new superior, and seemed

unduly worried at the pace Magruder was trying to maintain, but he was a rock

when it came to the administrative details. If Owens had been a little better

used to taking responsibility and making tough decisions, he would have made a

better CAG than Magruder.

Not that the tough decisions came any more easily to Magruder. It had

taken every ounce of self-control to contemplate the possible results of the

Alpha Strike without breaking down entirely. When young Bannon had requested

the chance to go back on the roster, it had required a real effort to keep

from giving in to his urge to keep the kid out of combat for his own good.

And Coyote’s decision to return to duty had been even harder on him, despite

their strained relations. Too many friends were at risk in this whole

operation, and Magruder had to live with the knowledge that it had been his

crazy idea, in Tarrant’s eager hands, which had put them all on a collision

course with battle.

“Sir,” Owens began breathlessly. “Sir, it’s going down. OZ has been

tapping into real-time satellite data, and it looks like they’re on the move

out of Murmansk.”

That made him sit up straight. It was the moment they’d been waiting

for, when the Soviets finally committed themselves. The next few hours would

tell them where the Russians were going and whether or not Jefferson had a

hope of intervening.

They were as ready now as they would ever be. Magruder could only hope

and pray that they were ready enough for what lay ahead.

CHAPTER 22

Sunday, 15 June, 1997

2100 hours Zulu (2100 hours Zone)

CVIC, U.S.S. Thomas Jefferson

In the Norwegian Sea

CVIC was crowded, more crowded than the briefing Tombstone had attended

with Stramaglia the day after he’d arrived aboard. Was it really less than a

week ago?

That briefing had been for ship commanders and other senior officers of

the battle group, and it had mostly dealt in generalities. Tonight, by

contrast, only Jefferson officers were in attendance, most of them squadron

COs and XOs from the Air Wing. And tonight’s session was focusing on concrete

plans to deal with the unfolding situation on the Norwegian coast.

Magruder had never been much of a public speaker, but Tarrant had turned

the bulk of the meeting over to him so that he could explain the attack plan,

code-named Operation Ragnarok, step by step. Watching the reactions of the

men who would be executing the operation, Tombstone had started worrying all

over again. It was clear that most of them were dubious about the strike.

But it was too late now for changes. He had done the best he could in putting

together the plan. It was up to these men to take the ball and run with it.

“That wraps up the highlights of the mission profile,” he said as his

presentation was winding down. “There are more details in your folders.

Familiarize yourself with the operation and then pass on the info to your

squadrons.”

He paused and looked around the room again. Admiral Tarrant and his

staff were near the front, along with Brandt and his Exec. Their expressions

were somber, but receptive enough. Commander Monroe, the Air Boss, seemed

cheerful enough, a study in contrasts with the officers representing other

parts of the carrier’s Air Department. Getting the percentage of aircraft

rated FMC–Fully Mission Capable–to a level that would support Ragnarok’s

tough requirements had taken everything from cajoling to threats to bribes,

and most of those officers were less than happy with the pressure Magruder had

been bringing to bear ever since the admiral had authorized the strike.

But it was the squadron commanders and their executive officers who

counted most. Commander Quinn of VA-89 looked especially grim. In

Jefferson’s last cruise two full squadrons of Intruders had been deployed on

the carrier, but budget cutting had reduced CVW-20 back to the old

mid-Eighties organization of one attack squadron. They would be regretting

that change in the hours ahead.

The skippers and execs from the two Hornet squadrons formed a tight-knit

group. They looked reasonably happy with their roles in the coming mission,

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