watched sadly as the sailors strained against the fire-blackened wreckage,
timing their effort to the gentle roll of the ship. The shattered MiG edged
forward, slowly at first, then with a rush plunged nose-first off the flight
deck. It struck the sea close by the Soyuz’s starboard side in an explosion
of white foam that was quickly swallowed by the carrier’s wake.
Khenkin heard footsteps on the walkway behind him and a familiar clearing
of the throat. “Admiral Khenkin?”
“Yes, Dmitri Yakovlevich.” He kept his eyes still fixed on the spot, now
falling astern of the Soviet carrier, where the MiG had fallen into the sea.
“What is it?”
“A priority message, Admiral. Just arrived.”
Khenkin turned then, his wintery eyes taking in the tall, almost gaunt
form of Kapitan Pervovo Ranga Bodansky, his Chief of Staff. “You look tired,
my friend.”
Bodansky swallowed. “There has been little time for sleep these past few
days, Admiral.” There were circles under his eyes, and his blue, braid-heavy
uniform jacket, normally meticulously clean and sharply pressed, looked as
though he’d been sleeping in it.
Khenkin extended his hand. “Let us see what the zampolits have to tell
us, eh?”
“Da, Admiral.” Bodansky handed Khenkin the page. “I must also inform
you that Flight Operations now reports twenty-one aircraft destroyed or
damaged beyond our ability to repair them at sea. That is, of course, in
addition to the aircraft we lost in the battle.”
Khenkin nodded slowly as he took the paper. A serious blow. Soyuz had
lost nearly half his complement of navalized MiG-29s and Sukhoi-27s. Worse,
though, was what the columns of figures in his hands could not list–the blow
to morale felt by every officer and crewman in the Red Banner Fleet, the
sluggishness of exhaustion, the critical dulling of the carrier group’s
fighting edge.
Those factors would be far more serious than the loss of a hundred
fighters. Planes could always be replaced. But the men, the men …
Khenkin gazed for a moment at the eastern horizon, lost now in the
deepening twilight haze of late evening. Here, this close to the Arctic
Circle and at this time of year, it never grew truly dark, though at least the
sun did dip below the horizon for a few hours each night. Five hundred
kilometers to the east, unseen beyond haze and horizon, lay the rugged cliffs,
islets, and fjords of Norway. There, the future of the Rodina, the blessed
Russian Motherland, still hung in the balance. The Soviet invasion of Finland
and Norway, the subjugation of all of Scandinavia and the reemergence of
Russia as the strongest nation in the world, all now depended on how well he
handled the ships and men of the Red Banner Fleet.
But damn it all! Why had no one in Moscow foreseen the possibility of
American intervention … or made room in their calculations for the
possibility, the certainty that in combat, plans always go wrong?
Khenkin began reading the decoded document.
To: Commander Red Banner Fleet
Congratulations on your victory over American carrier forces in the Norwegian
Sea operational area.
You are hereby directed to make necessary repairs with all possible speed in
preparation for immediate renewed offensive in coordination with planned
deployment of Lenin Fleet, code-named ANVIL.
Red Banner Fleet now designated HAMMER. Joint operation against American
forces in region now code-named VULCAN will be under overall command Admiral
Ivanov. Ivanov’s flag transferred to Kreml, effective this date.
The eyes of the Motherland are upon you. Your part in the glorious victory
over imperialist forces will not be forgotten.
Vorobyev
Khenkin’s lips curled in a grim half-smile. Hammer and Anvil, working
together in the forge of Vulcan, blacksmith of the old Western gods. The
symbols appealed to Khenkin, who had the Russian’s abiding love of mystic
symbolism, with its promises of future success, of destiny. They would need
those promises in the coming days. Vorobyev and the Soviet high command might
be calling the recent battle a victory, but every officer in the fleet knew
better.
The giant LSD Vitaly Oganov and dozens of smaller vessels destroyed, the
Bergen landings called off, Soyuz struck and damaged by American Harpoons …