head-on fight with the Soviets.”
“Okay. That’s the good news then. The bad news is their air power.
They already have a damned strong contingent of fighters and bombers from
Frontal Aviation out there, and you say they’re about to reactivate Orland
with more squadrons of MiGs and Sukhois.”
“It’s already in service on a limited scale, Commander,” Lee corrected.
“By tomorrow they’ll be flying six or eight squadrons out of there.”
Magruder rubbed his chin. “And, of course, we’ve got their naval air to
contend with. Not just as extra cover for their operations ashore, but as a
direct threat to us as well. I don’t like these odds, Art.”
Lee shrugged. “I can’t do much about that, sir. I deal in facts. This
is what we’ve got to work with.”
“How reliable is our coordination with the Norwegians? Can we get any
help from them at all?”
“They’re pretty hard-pressed, Commander,” Lee said slowly. “You know
they’ll be doing everything they can, but I expect their resources will be
stretched to the limit by what they’re already up against.” He paused,
studying the map with a thoughtful expression. “One thing we might do is
encourage them to mount a strong raid toward Oslo, though.”
“How would that help?”
“Well, it would probably take every extra plane they’ve got, and it might
not cause a whole lot of damage, but as sensitive as the air supply pipeline
has to be right now, I’d say we’d draw a lot of their Frontal Aviation units
away from the navy. That would also probably block them if they’d planned on
an end run out of Oslo.”
“Hmph.” Magruder was still frowning. “Narrows the odds some, but not
enough. I’ve got one and a half interceptor squadrons, two Hornet squadrons I
can use as fighters or bombers but not both at the same time, and one squadron
of Intruders that are bombers only. With that we have to make a dent in their
attack force and still cover the Jeff.” Suddenly overwhelmed with fatigue, he
looked away. “Hell, I don’t know the answer. I don’t think CAG could’ve
covered all these bases.”
The damnable thing was that it was almost possible. If he was willing to
take some risks, he could probably put together an attack that would have a
shot at crippling the enemy amphib forces, but if he made one wrong step the
results would make the loss of the Gridley look like a minor lapse in
judgment. There were just too many variables … and Magruder wasn’t sure he
could face the tough decisions that would have to be made.
If he attacked and failed, a lot of good pilots could follow Stramaglia
and the others … and the Jeff herself could come under attack again.
Thousands of American lives were potentially at risk.
And if he did nothing, it would be thousands of Norwegians who might die,
and at the end of that road lay the ultimate victory of the Russian war in
Scandinavia, with all the potential for future trouble that carried with it.
As a squadron commander, back in North Korea, Magruder had first been
forced to face up to his responsibility for the life-and-death decisions that
went with command. He could still remember the torment of losing Coyote when
his plane went down in that first dogfight off of Wonsan. It was a lesson
every leader of men learned sooner or later.
But time and rank didn’t make that lesson any less painful. As a
squadron commander he’d been directly responsible for twenty or thirty lives
at best, though often his own personal actions had reached far beyond that
immediate circle. Now he was responsible for hundreds of lives directly, and
the fate of many more could also be affected by his decisions.
“Look, Art,” he said at last. “We can’t do anything else for now. Why
don’t you pack it in and get some sleep. We’ll get together and go over
whatever OZ gets in later on. Okay?”
Lee looked at him with a worried expression. “You going to be all right,
Commander?” he asked. “Seems like all this is hitting you pretty hard.”
“I know what I’m supposed to do, Art,” Magruder said slowly. “I just