enough to face the biggest Alpha Strike of his career without being saddled
with a squadron CO’s extra duties as well.
At least they were both better off than Tombstone. Magruder had put in
long hours ever since CAG’s death, and he was still stuck on board the carrier
coordinating the operation from CIC. Knowing Tombstone, Batman knew he’d be
fretting, wishing he was in a Tomcat flying alongside the Vipers. This would
be a tough mission, and Batman would have been happier himself if Tombstone
had come along.
“What do you think, Mal?” Batman asked over the ICS. “Think we can pull
this one off?”
“If we can’t, nobody can, compadre,” Malibu answered, sounding cheerful
enough.
“Odin Flight, Odin Flight,” Magruder’s voice broke in. “This is Asgard.
Operation Ragnarok, go for Phase One. Repeat, go for Phase One.”
“That’s us!” Batman said. His hand closed around the throttles and
advanced them into zone-one afterburner. Banking sharply, he steered the
Tomcat north.
Behind him, twenty-four more planes followed, the first wave of the
attack that would determine if Bergen stood or fell.
2345 hours Zulu (2345 hours Zone)
Flag Plot, Soviet Aircraft Carrier Soyuz
In the Norwegian Sea
“Yes, Admiral, I am certain. The AEW aircraft has counted a minimum of
twenty-five enemy planes heading directly for Soyuz. There can be no doubt
this time.”
Admiral Khenkin listened to Glushko’s anxious voice and studied the
tracking data being relayed from the An-74 to his own plotting board. This
time Glushko didn’t seem to be exaggerating. “Very well, Glushko. Get as
many planes off the deck as possible to assist in the defense.”
“You know that the MiG squadron on deck has been arming for
ground-support operations, Admiral,” Glushko pointed out. “They will not be
useful for dog-fighting.”
“Get them off the deck anyway,” Khenkin snapped. He had studied the
disastrous mistakes of the Japanese carriers in the Great Patriotic War,
caught all too often with planes on deck loaded with ordnance when American
air strikes hit. He wouldn’t allow that to happen today.
“Yes, Admiral,” Glushko said. “But that still leaves us weakened against
the enemy attack. I request permission to recall Escort Mission Osa.” That
was Sergei Sergeivich Terekhov’s MiG squadron, currently sharing escort duties
over the invasion fleet hugging the Norwegian coast, about three hundred
kilometers to the east.
Khenkin bit his lip, thinking. Glushko had foolishly allowed an
imaginary threat to the carrier to distract an entire squadron during the last
fight with the Americans, and though neither Glushko nor Terekhov had raised
the point, Khenkin knew the victory had been less than complete as a result.
But this time was different. This time the American target was clear. And
they could guard against additional American attacks easily enough. Soyuz was
closer to the invasion fleet than the Americans, and her jets could make it
back to the fleet any time a threat materialized.
It was odd, he thought idly, that the Americans had chosen to launch
their strike on the carrier rather than trying to interfere with the
transports. Had they been taken in by the maskirovka then? It certainly
appeared that the Norwegians believed the token paratroop landings southeast
of Bergen were the real threat. Perhaps the Americans agreed, and discounted
the risk of a landing.
Or maybe they saw an attack on the Soviet carrier as somehow symbolic.
They could do little enough damage in any event except by the greatest
possible good fortune. Striking out at Red Banner Northern Fleet’s flagship
might be perceived as a dramatic gesture demonstrating American courage or
determination in the wake of the defeats they had already suffered.
“All right, Glusko,” he said at last. “Recall Escort Mission Osa, but
wait until the Americans are thoroughly committed. Understood?”
“Yes, Admiral,” Glushko responded.
Khenkin looked at the plotting board again and smiled. As long as the
Americans were ignoring the transports, they were only compounding their
earlier mistakes.
CHAPTER 23
Monday, 16 June, 1997
0004 hours Zulu (0004 hours Zone)
Fulcrum Leader, Escort Mission Osa
Off Bremenger Island, Norway
Sergei Sergeivich Terekhov scanned the waters below, his heart swelling
with pride at the sight of the ships of the invasion force keeping tight