CARRIER 5: MAELSTROM By Keith Douglass

The great social experiment was over. Soyuz was doomed. The Russian

mystic in Khenkin had already accepted the trial-by-combat judgment of Fate.

At the same time, he knew that his death would mean nothing to Vorobyev

or the other militarists, or to Admiral Ivanov steaming north aboard the Kreml

at this moment. The struggle would go on, with thousands more dying to

confirm what he already knew: The Americans fought like demons, their

technology was superior … and the twin battles this day, at Romsdalfjord and

here, had proven that they had a will to fight for what they believed at least

equal to that of the Soviets.

The struggle and the dying would go on. The realization filled him with

sadness.

Beneath the inferno, gasoline and JP5 spewed from ruptured fuel lines,

turning hangar spaces into vast reservoirs of fuel-air explosives. Flames

raging through the paint locker spaces at the carrier’s stern ignited the

mixture. As Khenkin reached for a telephone on the flag bridge, the Soviet

aircraft carrier died around him.

With a crack like the thunder of Judgment Day, flame-licked smoke

mushroomed five hundred meters into the sky. Airplanes and pieces of

airplanes and house-sized pieces of the island and flight deck were whirled

end over end over end high above the stricken carrier, as explosion followed

explosion in a deep-throated barrage of savage detonations, each building one

upon another, a waterfall, a booming, rumbling tidal wave of raw and furious

sound.

In the sea a mile away, Hunter Harrison clung to his inflatable life

raft, his face gone slack with awe as he watched the rending of the skies,

felt the heat wash across his exposed face and hands, felt the terrible power

of that multiple, ongoing thunderclap.

And aboard Intruder 502, Sluf Dodd felt the shudder that reached out and

took the fleeing A6 like a dog worrying a bone. He gritted his teeth and held

the aircraft on course, as flame lit up the inside of the cockpit like a newly

risen sun.

Twisting in his seat, he glimpsed the pillar of smoke rising from the

sea, like the volcanic destruction of some exploding island. Opening the

tactical frequency, Sluf repeated a phrase that had already gone down in Navy

history, one first spoken some fifty-five years before after the sinking of

the Japanese carrier Shoho at the Battle of the Coral Sea.

“Camelot, Dealer One,” he called. “Scratch one flattop.”

Behind him, flames scoured the sky.

CHAPTER 23

Monday, 23 June

0900 hours Zulu (1000 hours Zone)

CBG14

The Norwegian Sea

The last blow struck by the American forces in what was to be known as

the Battle of the Freya Bank was something of an anticlimax. During the air

strike against the Soviet task force, the attack sub Galveston, which had been

dogging the enemy carrier group for days, at last slipped past a pair of

Kashin-class destroyers, located Soyuz and her consorts at a range of nearly

120 miles, and loosed her last two sub-launched Harpoons.

Soviet radar operators on the cruisers escorting the Soyuz, distracted by

the explosion that had demolished the carrier and turned her into a flaming

wreck, never saw the cruise missiles skimming the waves from a totally

unexpected direction–the northwest. Both Harpoons slammed into the cruiser

Admiral Yumashev, one in her helicopter deck astern, the other into her hull

just below her superstructure.

The detonation of warheads, helicopter fuel, and a magazine locker

holding several dozen antisubmarine torpedoes was not nearly as thunderous as

the blast that had destroyed Soyuz, but the Yumashev was a much smaller

vessel. Her spine snapped, she broke in two at 0842 hours and went to the

bottom, taking 303 of her complement of 380 officers and men with her.

Soyuz, meanwhile, continued to burn.

The first American ship to reach the Soyuz was the frigate Stephen

Decatur, but she could not approach closer than a hundred yards because of the

fierce heat from the burning carrier. Explosions aboard had opened Soyuz to

the sea. Already, the waves broke over her stern quarter, while her island

superstructure canted far to starboard.

There was little Decatur could do but try to rescue some of the

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