by Unknown
The bombardment lasted for nearly an hour before the fire was shifted further across the line. That was when the sound of tanks could be heard nearing the border. The patrols quickly left their trenches and made their way to an extraction area to be taken back to join other units. Within minutes, the Russian tanks rolled up to the high fence and pushed it over. The twenty yard no man’s land passed quickly. That was when the Russian tankers hit the tank traps.
Made from several welded pieces of jagged steel beams, the traps looked somewhat like three dimensional snowflakes on the ground. The tankers had hoped that the artillery would have gotten rid of them, but the traps had simply been moved around the area and deposited again. Some had actually fallen into the craters of the artillery shells and had made things even more difficult.
The first line of tanks tried to push the traps out of the way, only making things worse when one or more of the legs dug deeply into the ground and held fast. In only a few cases, was a tank able to nudge the obstacle out of the way and move ahead, only to come up against more of them. The advance ground to a halt with tankers calling for bulldozers to come up and make passages through the line.
Now it was the turn of the Polish army. Polish artillery, hidden in the surrounding hills and trees, began pounding the tanks which were slowed and stopped by the defenses. Mercilessly the rounds came down on top of the tanks and their crews, penetrating the lightly armored roof of the tanks and killing all inside. Within minutes, scores of tanks were burning along the border.
Now, in the gathering light of dawn, the Polish units came under fire from additional attack aircraft skimming the surface and dashing across the border. They began weeding out the artillery pieces and easing the destruction of their own units. The Polish fighters were on the scene now and dove in on their prey. The low level melee was not how the pilots had anticipated fighting a war. This was emphasized when the Russian fighters screamed in at treetop level to protect the attack aircraft. The results were not pretty. Polish fighters began to fall left and right from the Russian fighters. Although few of the attack aircraft made it home, by concentrating their attacks on the attack planes, the Polish fighters had left themselves open. The Russian fighters had plowed into them. In the end, nearly half of the Polish fighter aircraft had been destroyed.
On the ground, the Polish army pulled out the hand held anti-tank missiles. As the second wave came forward, they saw several crawl over the carcasses of their fallen comrades and drop down on the other side. They too became entangled in the tank traps. More artillery zeroed in on these units. But as more attack aircraft came in, fewer artillery rounds fell along the line. Soldiers carrying the hand held munitions aimed at the latest line to crawl over the hulls of their comrades and pulled the trigger. More tanks fell. That was when the field officers realized what the Russians were doing. They were building a bridge of tanks through the traps. Soon there was an unbroken line where the Russians could cross the borders. The tanks poured across, struck the mine field and kept going. The few tanks damaged made it possible for the others to get through. Within two hours, a division of tanks and infantry were across the border and into Poland.
Vyšné Nemecké, Slovakia
The sound of jet aircraft flying somewhere overhead put everyone at the little border crossing on edge. Everyone was expecting the Russians to do something and since they had taken the Ukraine, there wasn’t much to stop them. At the small border crossing two tanks were displayed with their guns pointed in the direction of Ukraine. A garrison of about 100 men and women kept an eye open in case the Russians made a move, but with a border of a little over fifty miles, it was impossible to watch it all. In just a few minutes the people on the grounds could feel the rumbling of heavy vehicles. Several aircraft streaked suddenly across the sky and released ordnance which took out both tanks and the small barracks the garrison was housed in. Two helicopters came up over the hill and began peppering the area with machine gun fire. Despite their efforts, the young soldiers were mowed down mercilessly. That did not prevent the garrison commander from sending a warning up the line. It didn’t mean much. Within ten minutes, highway 50 was filled with men and equipment. Only a small group stopped to secure the town. The rest were burning fuel to hop from one town to the next as quickly as possible. Their orders were to take highway 50 to R1, then all the way to Bratislava.
Bay of Naples
Captain Michael Hufnagel stepped from his cabin and walked up to the bridge of his ship, the German ship, Bayern, a Brandenburg Class multipurpose frigate. He had taken command just three months before and had taken his ship to the Mediterranean to operate with the Americans for a while as a part of their NATO Standing Naval Force. So far, the cruise had been exceptional. The American Navy was fun to work with and in the few times they had mixed with the officers on the American ships, friendships had begun.
Stepping onto the bridge of his small ship, he looked out from his anchorage in the Bay of Naples at the twinkling lights of the city and the looming hulk of the American aircraft carrier USS Abraham Lincoln. Hufnagel couldn’t imagine commanding something that big. Germany had a navy of only about 85 ships of all types, including tugs. The Americans had hundreds, and the aircraft carrier was at the top of the list. He sipped some of the coffee from his mug. He had insisted that a supply be available in his cabin for just such times as these – quiet times when he could free his mind from the duties of running a ship and simply enjoy the world around him.
Hufnagel climbed into his chair and eased back to watch the sun come up. Looking through the bridge windows he noticed that two of the Russian Grisha class corvettes had gotten underway early. He shook his head. The Grishas looked rough, utilitarian. There were streaks of rust down their sides and he could see smoke coming from one of the stacks. Hufnagel couldn’t believe the Russians still sent the things to sea. He watched as they began to make their way from the inner harbor out toward the entrance of the bay. They were passing close to the Lincoln.
A strange popping noise came from the direction of the corvettes. Hufnagel grabbed binoculars and peered into them. The two corvettes had turned their twin 57 mm guns toward the carrier and had opened fire, blasting numerous holes into the side of the great ship near the waterline.
Hufnagle jumped up and reached for the ship’s announcing system. “Battle stations!” he called out. “The Russians are attacking the American carrier. All hands to your battle stations!” he nearly screamed as he reached over and sounded the general alarm.
Almost immediately his crew sprang from their beds and rushed to their stations. Calling down to engineering, Hufnagel ordered the ship’s engines brought online. Men were rushing into the bridge now, taking up their stations. Within minutes the ship was fully manned and ready. Hufnagel ordered the ship’s anchor hauled in.
The two corvettes continued to fire into the carrier. As the anchor was raised, Hufnagel noticed both ships suddenly pick up speed. You won’t get away that easy, he said to himself. “Intercept those ships,” he ordered. The ship’s diesels began to pick up their revolutions as the ship gained steerageway.
Dashing back into his combat information center, Hufnagel ordered his gunners to target the corvettes. In seconds, the 76 mm OTO-Melara twisted in its mount and opened fire. As the ship picked up speed, he saw splashes from his gun all around the leading corvette. As the distance narrowed, the ship’s LM 2500 gas turbines came online and he felt the screws dig deeper, urging the German frigate towards the enemy.
There was a hit. One of the 76 mm shells struck just at the base of the corvette’s mast nearly ripping the radars and fire control director from the ship. A second round hit at the base of the stack as the corvette’s gun opened fire on the Bayern. That hit, caused the ship to slow and stop. Even the gun quit operating.
Not so the second corvette. It continued to increase speed and its gun had found the range. Shells splashed on either side of the frigate. Shifting fire to the second corvette, the German crew fra
ntically fired on their targets. The firing rate got even better when one of the 57 mm rounds struck among the life raft capsules just aft of the bridge. The firing remained fast and furious with several hits reported on the corvette and another hit knocking the Thales air search radar antenna off the Bayern.
Just as it looked as if the corvette might get away, a round penetrated her after gun and exploded inside the magazine below. The resulting explosion blew the stern completely off the corvette. Turning his attention back to the first corvette, Hufnagel saw them frantically trying to turn the ship’s torpedo tubes outboard to launch. He signaled for them to surrender. Machine gun fire erupted from a spot on the small ship’s stern. With reluctance, Hufnagel ordered his gun to open fire.
Firing from point blank range, the rounds peppered the small corvette’s hull. Smoke and flames seemed to come out of every opening on the ship, yet the machine gun continued. The small ship sank until only the top of its mast was visible above the waters of the bay.
Norfolk, Virginia
Norfolk was quiet. It was 11 pm and the Thanksgiving feast would begin the next day. Despite the orders to keep as many ships as possible at sea, a number were in port, including two carriers. Most sailors had been given liberty and were still in town enjoying the extended holiday. Radar watches for the area were lightly manned and in the defense centers there was an anticipation of a few days off with families. The operators watched their screens, not really anticipating seeing anything. Nothing appeared on their scopes.
The first warning came when the sound of jet engines streaked just 50 feet over Interstate 60 and Fort Wool at the entrance to Hampton Roads. Turning sharply to the left, the missiles centered on the first ship they saw – the carrier USS Dwight D. Eisenhower. The first three missiles struck along her port side, just below the flight deck overhang. Penetrating the hull, the warheads went off just below the hanger deck in the berthing spaces and shops. The fourth missile skimmed the flight deck and struck the island structure, tearing a hole through the center. The explosion sent steel and flames through the other side of the island and hitting USS Nimitz on the other side.
Another four missiles continued further into Hampton Roads before circling back to strike any other carriers in port. With the Nimitz and the Eisenhower at the same pier, they looked like just one ship on the missile radar, not so for USS Iwo Jima, an LHD nearly the size of a carrier, tied up the next pier over. All four missiles struck the ship near the waterline sending up huge gouts of flame and debris. Just back from a deployment, the Iwo Jima was fully loaded. When one of the missiles hit a magazine, the eruption lit the night sky for several miles. Almost immediately, the Iwo Jima began to list to starboard. Within a minute, the ship had turned over on its side. The flames inside the ship continued to consume her. It would take two days for the fires to be extinguished.
Aboard the Eisenhower, crewmen shaken from their racks began rushing to their stations to try and save their ship and shipmates. Flames engulfed the hanger deck from below and teams lit off the fire systems to dispense foam over the flames. But there was only the duty section aboard. The base firefighters arrived quickly and rushed aboard. Compartment by compartment, they made their way, dousing flames and pulling out the bodies of the sailors killed while asleep in their racks. In a few minutes the call went out to the city for more help. In all, fifteen fire stations emptied to kill the fires aboard the great ship. The engineers rushed deep inside to check the engineering plant to make sure the ship’s two nuclear reactors had not been breached. Fortunately, the compartmentalization built into the ship had done its job. Not only were the reactors still safe, the underwater hull had not been damaged. USS Dwight D. Eisenhower would survive.
North Island, California
There was only one carrier docked at Naval Air Station North Island. USS Stennis was in to repair a bearing in the number one engine room. Just a few hours before, USS Ronald Reagan had departed to be at sea in case something happened. Eight missiles streaked past Point Loma and turned toward the Stennis. Two missiles mistakenly struck hangers and warehouses near the ship. One came straight down the bow, skipping across the flight deck before exploding near the fantail. Another missile struck the island just below the bridge. A fifth missile glanced off the angled deck and skipped out into the harbor before exploding 500 yards away. Three other missiles missed the ship altogether, aiming instead at the museum, USS Midway berthed across San Diego bay. The first missile struck dead on the bow, destroying the ship’s secondary conning station, while the other two struck a taller warehouse just across the street.
San Pedro, California
The missiles tracked in from the sea into Los Angeles harbor. They had been programmed to strike the largest ship on the pier – USS Iowa. Five had been fired. Two struck the loading and unloading cranes on the adjacent piers. Three struck the huge Disney cruise ship Dream which had entered port just an hour before and docked just behind the Iowa. There had been over 5,000 people aboard. All missiles struck her starboard side, causing her to list and sink at her moorings. Of the 5,000 aboard, only around 1,000 survived.
USS Texas, Off North Carolina coast
Captain Frank Jacobs was not happy. An attack submarine, like the Texas, needed to roam freely to search for targets, not shepherd a bird farm. Yet, here they were, tied to USS John F. Kennedy, one of the newest carriers, like some wet nurse. His people had identified over twenty possible targets but no one would pull a trigger unless fired upon. So his highly trained crew would sit, listen, and wait.
Holiday routine would be observed today because of Thanksgiving. Already the smell of turkey was circulating through the boat. At least his supply officer had been able to get enough frozen turkeys to feed the crew. He looked in the mirror in his cabin and scratched his chin. “Another day…” he sighed to himself. He had lathered up when the call came over the speakers, “Captain to the control room.”
“What now,” he said to himself. Exiting his cabin, he made his way forward and stepped into the crowded control room. “Okay, OOD, what’s up?”
“Captain, sonar has some strange noises from contact twelve. She bears 083 degrees about 45,000 yards. They say they are hearing some metal on metal sounds,” the OOD said.
Jacobs hit the bitch box. “Sonar, what do you have?” he grumbled.
“Captain, we hear some metal on metal sounds and now I am hearing hull popping noises,” said the sonar watch.
“Where’s the carrier?” Jacobs asked.
“The carrier is 195 degrees, five thousand yards. That puts her on our port quarter, sir,” the OOD reported.
“How long have we been tracking this guy?” Jacobs asked.
“For the past three days, captain.”
Jacobs’ brow furled. He didn’t like it. “OOD, sound general quarters. Ready all tubes,” he ordered.
A muted klaxon sounded through the ship and the crew sprang to their general quarters stations. Within three minutes, all stations were manned and ready.
Jacobs had moved to sonar. “Okay, give me your best shot. What is she?” he asked.
“Captain, we already know she is a Russian. The machinery noises make her a nuke plant and definitely not one of ours. The signature is not in our computers, but is very similar to an Oscar. We have the signatures of all of them, but this one is a little different. I might guess that it may be the Tomsk. Remember, she had that accident about a year ago and she went in for repairs. There’s a good chance it changed her signature. That would explain it,” the chief said as he listened on a separate set of headphones.
“She’s a missile boat, isn’t she?” asked Jacobs.
“Yes sir. Cruise missiles,” said the chief. He suddenly jerked up and looked at the operator. “Fuck!” he exclaimed. “Captain, he’s launching missiles!”
“Shit!” Jacobs called out as he left the room. “OOD, make for contact 12. Make your depth 800 feet, speed 20. I’m going to blast his ass all over the ocean,” Jacobs shouted.
>
USS John F. Kennedy
“Missiles in the air, bearing 080!” came the cry from the combat information center. Immediately the Kennedy went to general quarters and turned away. Outboard, USS Anzio, an older AEGIS cruiser, sprang to life. The door on her launcher opened and an SM-2 erupted out of the launcher toward the incoming missiles. Several more followed.
“How many are incoming?” shouted the Kennedy’s captain.
“Four inbound. There are no ships on the bearing. It must have been a submarine,” the watch officer exclaimed.
“Is the missile launcher ready?” the captain asked.
“Ready, captain. Almost in range.”
The first SM-2 struck its target along with the second. The third SM-2 failed to go off and hit the water while the fourth struck the fourth missile in the line. The third missile adjusted its course toward the carrier and flew on just 100 feet above the water. It roared over the cruiser toward the bigger target beyond.
The Kennedy launched a Sea Sparrow. The smaller missile picked up the enemy missile and struck it just two miles from the carrier, spinning it into the sea where it exploded with a bang.
Aboard the Kennedy, the captain let out a whistle. “Too close. How far away was the launch?” he asked.
“About 25 miles, Captain.”
“Get some ASW assets in the air. Let’s hunt that son of a bitch down,” he said.
Aboard the missile submarine Tomsk
“The carrier is going away at high speed,” reported the ship’s sonar officer.