fleet, or as much of their fleet as they can get to sea, either to
threaten us or to actually mount an attack. The fact is, we don’t have
a clue as to how they’re likely to react to our provocations. Everything
we’ve seen indicates that there’s total chaos over there. Leonov’s
forces have launched a major offensive in the south, and Red units have
invaded Ukraine and Belarus. That should work in our favor; the Moscow
faction will have more than enough to occupy them in the south without
having to worry about the Kola Peninsula.”
“Maybe,” Brandt said. “But I’ll tell you right now they’re not going to
take kindly to us parking a CBG in their backyard, Hell, what would we
say if they planted the Kiev battle group twenty miles off Hampton Roads
and dared us to make something of it?”
“Well, that’s why we’re going to have to be damned careful on this one,
gentlemen. One mistake could ruin our whole day.
“Our worst problem, of course, is going to be their submarines. Half of
all the Russians’ subs are based up here, and that means things are
going to be frantic for the ASW departments. As I said earlier, though,
we’ll be drawing heavily on support from Norway. That includes three
squadrons of P-3 Orions, and a Brit Nimrod group. They should be able
to let us stretch our assets a bit.
“CAG, your people are going to be running shy on sleep, I’m afraid.
You’ll not only be handling the brunt of the close-in ASW patrols, but
I’m going to want heavy CAPs up at all times. In addition, it would be
a good idea if you had at least two attack squadrons fueled, armed, and
ready to go on short notice, in case we have to engage Russian surface
units. I’d like at least one of those attack squadrons to be F/A-18s.”
“They’ll be ready, Admiral.”
“You have two days to make damn sure of that. How are your people
getting on so far?”
Tombstone knew the admiral was asking obliquely about the air wing’s
ongoing sexual integration.
“Some teething pains, Admiral. Nothing we can’t handle.”
“Your people are going to be in a real pressure cooker, son. Word from
Washington is that the Ike and the Jeff battle groups are going to be
pretty much on their own for at least a week. It’ll be that long before
the Nimitz gets here to reinforce us, and Washington is keeping the
Kennedy stationed off the Skagerr.”
“We’ll get the job done, sir.”
“I know, son. You’ve got the best people in the Navy. That’s why I’m
counting on you. Captain Brandt? Any problems?”
“We’re not going to get that week, Admiral. You know that as well as I
do.”
“I know. If they’re going to pull something, it’ll be sooner. A lot
sooner.”
“We’d just better pray to God that we’re ready then. Because when those
bastards come out of their hidey-holes, it’s going to be full strength,
fangs out, and ready for a major rumble.”
“With your permission, Captain, I’d like to tape a broadcast for your TV
station. Let the men know what’s going on, how we’re counting on them.”
“Of course, Admiral.”
Tarrant’s face looked terribly grim. “God help us if we drop the ball
on this one, people. We’re not going to get a second chance.
1720 hours
Crew’s lounge
U.S.S. Thomas Jefferson
The crew’s lounge, located far aft aboard the Jefferson, throbbed
faintly with the suppressed thunder of the ship’s four propellers, each
twenty-two feet wide. It was a utilitarian space, occupied by round
tables and plastic chairs, and decorated with framed prints showing
scenes out of naval history.
It was a popular place for Jefferson’s enlisted men and women to gather
when they went off duty. There were the usual collections of games to
be checked out–decks of cards, military board games, and classics like
Scrabble or Monopoly. There was a Coke machine, and a jukebox that
played pieces ranging from country to hard rock. One bulkhead was taken
up by a collection of arcade-type video games, most with names like MiG
Blaster and Torpedo Alley.
Photographer’s Mate Second Class Tom Margolis sat at one of the tables