encouraging. At 0400 that morning, Marines of the 2/8th RLT had fought their
way down Riksveg 6, past the Peace Chapel and into Narvik proper. Marine LAVs
had engaged and destroyed a column of Soviet BMP personnel carriers, and,
after a sharp fight at the city’s small airport, had reported the town of
Narvik secured. The picture was still incomplete, but early reports gave
partial credit for the swift victory to units of Norwegian militia, guerrilla
forces that had descended from the hills of Narvik to attack Soviet positions
as soon as American ships were seen entering the Vagsfjord.
Tombstone, his new eagles gleaming on the collar of his khaki shirt,
knocked on the door to Admiral Tarrant’s office. He heard a muffled “Enter,”
and walked in.
Admiral Tarrant was standing with Captain Brandt, bent over a small
worktable smothered in charts.
“Good morning, Admiral. Captain. You sent for me?”
“Hello, Captain,” Tarrant said, gesturing. “Get your butt over here.
We’ve got problems. Have a look at these.”
He passed a set of black and white photographs to Tombstone, who took
them and studied them critically. They showed aerial views of ships at sea,
photographed through broken clouds. Coded information in the corner told him
that these were TENCAP photos, taken within the last hour.
TENCAP–Tactical Exploitation of National CAPabilities–had been a
powerful resource for American military commanders for the past several years.
Once, satellite photos had always been routed by the NSA through NPIC, the
National Photographic Interpretation Center in Washington, D.C., which
distributed them to the President and to senior policymakers. Only slowly, if
at all, had they reached the commanders in the field who could use them
tactically–and who needed them quickly. TENCAP allowed commanders in the
field to request satellite coverage on the spot, and to have the results in
their hands within minutes.
“The Baltic Fleet,” Tombstone said. He recognized the huge, Soviet
carrier in two of the shots. He’d seen the Kreml firsthand two years ago off
the coast of India. “Where were these taken?”
Brandt’s mouth twisted, an unhappy scowl. “Less than one hundred miles
from here. It seems our Russian friends managed to steal a march on us. Took
advantage of the storm last night to slip up the Norway Coast. Our best guess
is they’re heading for the landing beaches. They could be there by late this
morning.”
“The Marine escorts?” II MEF had arrived with about a dozen
escorts–several frigates, four guided missile destroyers, and the
nuclear-powered cruiser Virginia.
“About midnight last night,” Tarrant said slowly, “the Kiev battle group
sortied past North Cape. Virginia and most of the other surface combatants
deployed north toward Fugley Banks to meet them … and to avoid being pinned
against the coast if they made a stab for the landing beaches.”
Tombstone closed his eyes, picturing the tactical situation. “Leyte
Gulf,” he said.
“That,” Tarrant said, “is just about the size of it.”
In 1944, during the war in the Pacific, U.S. Marines had gone ashore at
Leyte Gulf in the Philippines. The Japanese fleet had deployed in a complex
plan to decoy the American carrier and battleship fleets under Admiral Halsey
out of position, allowing a column of Japanese battleships and cruisers under
Admiral Kurita to strike the undefended beaches at Leyte.
In one of the most heroic and desperate actions of the war, “Taffy 3,” a
squadron of light escort carriers, destroyers, and destroyer escorts under the
command of Rear Admiral Thomas Sprague–all that stood between Kurita and the
Marine beaches–had hurled itself against the enemy. In a furious assault by
sea and air, they sunk two Japanese cruisers and damaged another, while losing
two escort carriers and three destroyers to the heavy pounding by enemy
battleships. Then, miraculously, the vastly superior Japanese force had
turned and fled. The tenacity of the American defense had convinced Admiral
Kurita that he was facing the main body of the American fleet, and he had
broken off the attack at the moment of victory.
“There’s just one problem with the analogy,” Captain Brandt pointed out.
“Admiral Kurita didn’t know what he was facing, didn’t know the true strength
of the squadron he was up against. If he’d had spy satellites, Leyte Gulf