CARRIER 6: COUNTDOWN By Keith Douglass

that on to your people in your morning briefing.”

Tombstone’s heart was pounding in his chest. “Aye, aye, sir.”

“Air Force attacks will be continuing as well, of course, so it’s likely

to get a little crowded over the beach.”

“Are any strategic bombing runs planned, Admiral?” Brandt wanted to

know.

“No, Captain. B-52s, B-1Bs, and B-2s deployed out of CONUS would all

carry the risk of making the Russians think we’re escalating a strictly

regional conflict into global war … or that we might be trying to

sneak in a preemptive nuclear strike.

“But anything else goes. Last night, the ships of II MEF shifted

eastward to position themselves for the amphibious operation. That will

begin at 1000 hours. Both Jefferson and the Ike will be joining the

amphib force later today. Throughout that time, CAG, I want every

aircraft you can muster in the air, hitting the Russians everywhere you

find them, keeping them off balance. White Storm won’t have a chance if

Krasilnikov’s people can catch their breath and concentrate their

forces.”

“The next phase of the air op calls for interdiction of the rail lines

and roads connecting the Kola bases with the south, Admiral,” Tombstone

said.

“We’ll be paying special attention to Kandalaksha, at the head of the

White Sea, because that appears to be the hub of the local command

structure.”

“Excellent. I know if anyone can carry it off, Tombstone, it’s you and

your people.”

“Thank you, Admiral. I’ll pass that along to them.”

But as they continued discussing the day’s operations, Tombstone felt

the depression, the pressure, the spiritual tiredness that had been

weighing him down for the past several days, returning. If the Russians

had reserves, if they were holding something, anything, back, it would

be revealed today when the Marines began storming ashore.

And Tombstone would be here, in Jefferson’s Air Ops, while his people

were dying.

Never in his life had he wanted more to disobey a direct order.

CHAPTER 24

Tuesday, 17 March

1000 hours (Zulu +2)

Off the Kola Peninsula

The U.S. Marines were coming ashore.

During the night, II MEF had deployed for its landings. Covered by the

Eisenhower carrier group, the Marine amphibious force had taken up a

position some fifteen miles northeast of the land mass called Poluostrov

Rybachiy, a near-island thirty-five miles long connected to the mainland

by a slender isthmus at the head of a narrow bay called the Motovskiy

Zaliv.

Within the U.S. Marine Corps, the Marine Expeditionary Force is the

largest modern deployable force, consisting of a Marine division, an

aircraft wing, and an MEF Service Support Group, a total of 48,000

Marines and 2,600 naval personnel. II MEF, assembled off the Murman

coast under the command of Marine Lieutenant General Ronald K. Simpson,

included two LHAs, Saipan and Nassau; two LPDs, Austin and Trenton; two

LPH helo carriers, Inchon and Iwo Jima; the LST Westmoreland County; the

LKA cargo ship Charleston; and an escort of two Perry-class frigates,

two destroyers, and the nuclear-powered guided-missile cruiser Virginia.

The Marines’ first beachhead was a stretch of low-lying dunes and tundra

along the headland west of the Kola Inlet. In this part of the Murman

Coast, the northern tree line ran east-to-west some twenty-five miles

south of the beach. North of that line, the terrain was tundra, a

region of frozen subsoil with only low-growing vegetation, dwarf shrubs,

and stunted birches. Cover was scant, and tactical advantage went to

the side with superior mobility. In a lightning operation, CH-53E Super

Stallions approached behind an aerial blitz of Marine Harriers and

Intruders, touching down long enough to disgorge their loads of

fifty-five troops apiece. Close on the Super Stallions’ heels were the

air-cushion landing craft, or LCACs, troop-and-equipment-carrying

hovercraft capable of traveling twenty nautical miles at forty knots,

crossing sea, surf, or the flat, often swampy ground behind the beaches

with equal ease.

Following the LCACs, rising from the water like snarling, prehistoric

monsters, were the Marines’ AAVP7s, boxy, full-tracked armored vehicles

descended from the amtracks of WWII. Each carrying twenty-one men and a

crew of three, they were capable of swimming through ten-foot surf on

twin water jets or surging across the land at up to forty miles per

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