Afterburn c-7

by Keith Douglass

  Tombstone shook his head. This wasn’t the Navy he’d joined more years ago than he cared to remember just now. That had been a close-knit fraternity of men and women who’d dedicated their lives to the Service and to the nation. There’d been some lingering inequities, yes, but for the most part it had been an institution where hard work and devotion to duty were the paths to success. Hell, it had been a Service where millions of minority men and women had gone to get a better shake than they would be able to on the outside. He wondered sometimes how an American military more worried about minority quotas and sensitivity to the feelings of others than about solid career experience would handle the next crisis that came down the road.

  “Attention on deck!”

  They all surged to their feet as Rear Admiral Douglas E. Tarrant entered the room, followed closely by Captain Brandt. Their appearances contrasted sharply ― Tarrant was tall, silver-haired, aristocratic, while Brandt was shorter, with close-cropped hair and a bulldog-ugly face ― but the two men had proven to be a superb team in Norway and the Kola Peninsula. A knot of staff officers followed them, finding seats near the front of the room.

  “As you were,” Tarrant said quietly as he reached the podium. Chairs scraped against the deck as the assembled officers of the battle group sat down again. The air was tense with anticipation.

  “Good morning,” Tarrant said. “There have been some developments that impact on our operations. We have new orders from Washington and will be redeploying the battle group to extend our operational area north and west. Commander Sykes will cover the details of the situation. Commander?”

  He nodded toward Commander Daniel Sykes, the Flag Intelligence Officer, who walked up to take Tarrant’s place at the podium. He laid a thick file folder in front of him and produced a telescoping pointer from his pocket. A petty officer set up an easel beside him and put up a chart of the Black Sea.

  “Gentlemen,” Sykes began. “Our original purpose for this deployment was to oversee the no-fly zone over Georgia. This was necessary because of Turkey’s decision to deny both basing privileges and permission for overflights of their territory in protest over the UN’s policy of encouraging ethnic minority separatist movements. The MEU operating with the Guadalcanal group was to be the initial ground component for the humanitarian effort in Georgia, with a British peacekeeping unit taking over in about two weeks.” The intelligence officer paused. “As of this morning, however, all operations in Georgia assume a lower priority. They are not suspended, but our new operational orders have precedence.”

  Magruder heard coughs, groans, and restless movement around him. It wasn’t uncommon to have the White House change a mission profile in midstream; indeed, that sort of thing was all too common. But evidently they were being asked to take on additional duties, stretch their resources thinner to try and keep doing their original job while taking on a whole new task as well.

  Sykes waited for quiet before going on. “You all know the chaotic situation in the former Soviet Union. The Reds and the Blues are still fighting in Russia proper, while the other republics are for the most part declaring independence and throwing out whichever faction has troops on their soil. In many cases those troops are simply going home, or defecting en masse if they contain local contingents.” The pointer indicated the territory of the Ukraine, colored gray on the map. “By far the best organized of the breakaway republics at present is Ukraine. They have the largest army and a lot of first-line equipment inherited from the Reds, and their government seems to have the only clear-cut agenda of any of the contenders. Unfortunately, that agenda is one Washington regards as dangerous.”

  Tombstone found himself nodding. The latest group to seize power in Kiev had been led by right-wing extremists who preached the twin sermons of security and nationalism with an all-too-familiar and chilling fervor. They had already been accused of attempting a program of ethnic cleansing inside their borders, and they made little effort to hide their intentions of expanding Ukrainian territory at the expense of their war-torn neighbors.

  “High on the list of Ukrainian priorities is the conquest of the Crimean Peninsula,” Sykes went on. His pointer tapped the map to indicate the rough diamond shape dangling from the underbelly of Eurasia. “Traditionally, the Crimea has been part of Ukraine from the time modern Russia first began to take shape, at least for geographic and administrative purposes. But the ethnic composition of the Crimean population contains a higher proportion of Russians, and after Gorbachev dissolved the Union there was considerable friction between Russia and Ukraine over the fate of the peninsula. To make matters worse, the Crimea contains some of the most important military bases in the Black Sea region, as well as one of its finest ports, at Sevastopol.”

  Sykes paused to allow the enlisted man to put up a new map, this one a more detailed view of Crimea proper.

  “The, ah, political future of the Crimea has continued to remain in doubt. Most of the peninsula’s population actually favor Russian control. However, the Red faction, which maintains control of the peninsula, is too weak and too occupied with the Blues elsewhere to adequately defend the place. The man in charge is General Sergei Andreevich Boychenko. Intelligence tells us he was something of a compromise for the post, a man trusted by both the fleet and Red Army elements in the area.

  “In fact, Boychenko has been rather cool toward the Red cause. He sided with the Reds initially, but he suffered a lot of defections and at least one fair-sized mutiny within the fleet, and he’s voiced opposition to the Krasilnikov regime more than once.”

  Sykes paused as if for dramatic effect. “Last weekend, while negotiating for the return of the Russian nationals from that Victor III we sank, he put out feelers to both the United Nations and to Washington, offering to surrender the Crimean Military District to international control. His stated reason is a desire to avoid an expansion of the civil war, but we believe his real fear is that the Ukrainians might be about to assert their claim to the peninsula. Intelligence sources, including satellite surveillance, suggest that the Ukrainians may be about to move, probably through an amphibious landing on the Crimea’s west coast. Boychenko’s forces would be completely inadequate to stop a determined attack.

  “Washington and the UN have decided to honor General Boychenko’s request.”

  The briefing room dissolved in a chaotic babble of many noises. “Christ, CAG!” Owens said. “They’re getting us involved in the Russians’ war again!”

  Admiral Tarrant stepped up to the podium once more, waiting patiently until the noise died down. “There’s no doubt,” he began, then stopped, waiting until absolute silence descended on the room before continuing. “There is no doubt at all,” he continued, “that if the Ukrainians take over the Crimea, they will bring their ethnic cleansing operation right along with them. In that sense, at least, this will be a humanitarian effort. The United Nations sees Boychenko’s offer as an opportunity for the cause of international peacekeeping. But it is also a huge responsibility. Basically, if the UN takes Boychenko’s surrender, they’re guaranteeing the Crimea against outside attack, and that’s a far cry from sending in humanitarian aid to some third-world nation still locked up in tribal warfare. The Secretary General won’t accept that responsibility without a firm commitment of American support. That’s where we come in.”

  He paused, and to Tombstone it felt as though he were wrestling with something unpleasant… and trying not to show it.

  “The UN has asked for,” he said quietly, “and Washington has granted, operational authority over U.S. forces in the Crimean Peacekeeping Operational Zone. For the duration of this mission, my immediate boss will be the UN Special Envoy in Sevastopol. He will determine exactly how, when, and where we will be used in support of the other United Nations personnel that will be deployed into the region.”

  A babble of protest erupted throughout the room. “UN control!” Commander Hough shouted. “What dim bulb thought that one up!”

  “I thought w
e’d settled that in Somalia!” someone else cried.

  Tarrant raised a hand. “Quiet!” he roared. “Quiet down there! This is a briefing, not a free-for-all!” He waited for the room to be silent again. “Okay, people, I know how you all feel. This breaks with our whole military tradition. It’s not what any of us bargained for when we signed on. But the Administration, the President, has his reasons for agreeing to these terms. Maybe you don’t agree with him, but by God he’s our commander in chief, and when he gives an order, each of us is going to obey it, or die trying!

  “We will, therefore, operate under United Nations command until the President says otherwise. In the interim I expect my officers to uphold the standards of military decorum. That means you keep your comments to yourselves… and you treat United Nations personnel, military or civilian, with the same respect you would treat fellow American servicemen. Do I make myself clear?”

  There were muttered responses and a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

  Apparently, though, it was enough for Tarrant… possibly because he’d gauged the emotions in the room and decided that it was the best he was going to get. Or possibly, Tombstone thought wryly, he agreed with them but couldn’t admit to the fact.

  “Very well,” he continued. “That’s the background to this operation. We are naming it, incidentally, Operation John Paul Jones. Those of you up on your Navy history will remember that after the American Revolution, John Paul Jones accepted a commission as a rear admiral with the Russian navy, under Catherine the Great. It was a difficult period in his life, one during which he was forced to serve under the orders of a foreign sovereign. It was also, I might add, a time when he was struggling against adverse politics as much as he was against any maritime enemy.

  “Now, here’s the gouge. Our initial orders call for MEU-25 to reembark its Marine forces and join this battle group. Together, we will take up a new position, designated Victor Station, one hundred miles south of Sevastopol. Technically, we are still responsible for the Georgian no-fly zone, but in practice we’re going to ignore it, at least until additional forces join us. The Marines will remain aboard ship as a mobile reserve until the UN decides where they may be best employed. One possibility now being discussed is a Marine amphibious landing north of Sevastopol. This landing would be aimed at securing the port facilities at Sevastopol, the large airport inland at Simferopol, and, incidentally, denying the Ukrainians a landing beach on the Crimea’s west coast. The idea is that if the Ukrainians know we’re already ashore, they’ll give up on their plans as a bad business.”

  Tarrant looked down at his notes on the podium. “At this time, there are still some details to be worked out with Boychenko and his people. A UN diplomatic mission is on its way to handle the final negotiations. Until those are completed, our role is mostly passive. We’re here to show Boychenko ― and the Ukrainians ― that the UN has a carrier battle group in its pocket to back up the surrender agreement when and if it is signed.” He spread his hands and gave the room a wintry smile. “What happens after that is anybody’s guess. When I know what our role is, I’ll let you in on it. Questions?”

  Hands went up. Tarrant acknowledged Captain Henry Dorset, the new CO of the Aegis cruiser Shiloh. “Sir, how are the Ukrainians going to react to this? I mean, if they really are claiming ownership of the Crimea, aren’t they going to be pretty damned pissed at the UN stepping in like this?”

  Tarrant didn’t answer, but Sykes, standing to the side with his arms folded, nodded. “It’ll certainly complicate the whole issue,” the intelligence officer said. “The best guess we can make is that Kiev will try putting political pressure on the UN as soon as the surrender goes through. Exactly how they’ll frame it… well, that could go a lot of different ways. They might try to press their claim directly, or they might come forward with an offer of taking the lion’s share of the peacekeeping burden themselves, possibly in the name of looking out for Ukrainian nationals.”

  “It all comes to the same thing in the end,” Tarrant added. “It’ll be critical that the surrender and the transition to UN control both go smoothly, because you can bet that if there’s any kind of trouble ― riots, or another neo-Soviet mutiny, or whatever ― the Kiev government will jump in with both feet. They could claim they’re moving into the Crimea simply to stabilize the region or to protect Ukrainian nationals.”

  “Do you think the UN will go along with their demands?” Dorset pressed.

  “That will depend on who the Special Envoy is, and what kind of instructions he has from the Secretary General,” Tarrant replied. “I’d say the odds are that the UN will want to keep the Crimea an internationally controlled zone, at least over the short haul. They have a vested interest in looking strong, well organized, and tough enough to make this whole thing work. But that’s just my read on it.”

  “A lot will depend on just how Ukraine applies pressure,” Sykes added.

  “It may amount to nothing more than saber-rattling, or they could try testing the UN’s resolve directly with an attack. None of us have crystal balls good enough to make any really solid predictions right now. Hell, Boychenko might not go through with the surrender after all, especially if Krasilnikov gets wind of it before everything’s in place.”

  “Krasilnikov doesn’t know?” someone asked.

  “We don’t think so,” Sykes said. “After all, the Reds have been funneling what troops and supplies they can into the Crimea for several weeks now, at least. That suggests they’d like to hang onto the place. One possible explanation for Boychenko’s move, incidentally, is that Krasilnikov told him to hold at all costs, or else. Now, Boychenko has a rep as a humanitarian commander. Always trying to get the best for his men, that sort of thing. Could be he looked at the Ukrainians getting ready to pounce and knew that he and his people didn’t stand a chance. By surrendering to us, all of his people get to go back to Russia and continue the fight there. Of course, he’ll probably claim amnesty and defect. He won’t be able to go back to Krasilnikov, that’s for sure. Not unless he’s eager to face a firing squad.”

  “How long will our people be on the ground there?” someone in the back of the room asked.

  “Don’t know,” Tarrant replied. “The Brits, who were originally slated to relieve our people in Georgia, are going straight into Sevastopol as soon as the surrender is signed. A battalion of the Black Watch, for starters. There are pledges for more troops from Britain, France, Canada, and Italy, but Washington didn’t send me any kind of timetable. The Marines will be on hand if the Special Envoy decides we need them, but I think everybody’s hoping they can go ahead with the relief mission in Georgia as soon as we’ve got the Crimea situation under control.” He glanced at his notes again. “You’ll all be getting your orders, such as they are, before you leave. Meanwhile, Commander Sykes and the rest of my staff will be glad to answer any other questions you might have.”

  Eventually, the questions ended and the meeting came to a close.

  Tombstone sat for a moment as the other officers stood and began filing out. Admiral Tarrant had left, but Commander Sykes remained at the podium.

  “What do you think, Stoney?” Coyote asked.

  “Damn. Hard to know what to think. Looks like Washington just dropped us into another war zone. I’m beginning to get the feeling that they want to get rid of us.”

  “Captain Magruder?” Sykes called. “Can I talk to you for a moment, sir?”

  “Catch you later, CAG,” Coyote said.

  “Yeah,” Tombstone turned as Sykes approached. “What can I do for you?”

  “Admiral Tarrant wanted me to ask if you wanted to go ashore with him.”

  Tombstone raised his eyebrows. “Ashore? What-“

  Sykes grinned at his evident confusion. “The admiral will be going into the Crimea to receive Boychenko’s surrender, of course. Yalta, to be specific. Wonderful symbolism there, you know. He’ll be sending me and some of his staff officers in ahead, to lay the groundwork, as it were
.”

  “Go on.”

  “He told me to ask if you’d like to ride along.”

  “Did he say why?” Tombstone was genuinely puzzled. Admirals generally didn’t ask captains if they wanted to do something or not. “I’m not much of a diplomat, Commander. And I have an air wing to run.”

  “Of course. And this is rather irregular, I admit. But, you see, Admiral Tarrant is concerned about the view the American press will be taking in regard to the Navy. There was the sinking of that Russian sub. Then the helicopter shoot-down. Now the press will be wondering just what we’re doing here, and if we can handle the job.”

  “I’d been wondering about that myself, actually.”

  “Aren’t we all? But the news people are going to be flocking around the admiral’s staff as soon as they hit the beach. Admiral Tarrant would like you to be his special liaison with the media, as it were.”

  Tombstone opened his mouth to give a sharp retort, then closed it again.

  Damn it, why the back-door approach? “if the admiral wants me to do this, why doesn’t he-“

  “Order you himself Of course. This is strictly a volunteer assignment, Captain. And very much off the record.”

  Tombstone shook his head. “Damn it, Commander. Maybe I’m dense or something today. But I don’t understand.”

  “There were two ACN personnel on that UN flight the other day, a reporter and his cameraman. He filed a story about the incident, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “American Cable News evidently decided to follow things up with one of their top people. Ever hear of a news anchor named Pamela Drake?”

  Tombstone’s mouth gaped open. Pamela!..

  “Anyway, the admiral seems to think you might have some influence with the woman. She’s coming here to-“

  “What? Pamela is coming here?”

  “To Sevastopol. Yes. With a crew. Admiral Tarrant thought you might be able to field her tough questions. Again, it’s volunteer only. But…”