Even as he thought that he remembered the bomb and imagined one going off right in the heart of his task group, rending his ships apart with unimaginable power. He had advised Admiral Nimitz to give the Russians fair warning: if they wanted to play that card, we could deal them the same death and destruction as well. Perhaps that would sober them up a bit and prevent the worst here.
Even as he thought that he knew what he would do in this Karpov’s shoes. He’s going to look out and see a wave of fire and steel coming at him, and he’ll do everything in his power to save his ship and crew…Everything…
* * *
It was into the darkness of a similar prison that Orlov found himself walking now, though he knew nothing of the horrific legacy of the detention camps in this region, nor did he care. He had learned that the commissar in charge was the man he had been hunting, which was the only reason he permitted these little men to take him on the long truck ride south to Baku in the first place. They would bring him right to the man he wanted, and then he would kill him. It was all very simple in his mind, though he did not expect what happened that night as the truck column slowed and the engines turned off one by one.
He had been listening to something, a familiar noise in the background behind the grumble of the trucks on the road. Now, in the relative silence when the trucks stopped, he heard a sound that shocked him alert, a steady, deep thumping. He immediately looked up, knowing the sound was coming from the skies above. The NKVD Sergeant in his truck was watching him closely, and when he saw Orlov looking up at the unseen sky beyond the tarp of the truck, he leaned out the back and scanned the grey shelf of low clouds overhead.
Then Orlov felt his inner service jacket vibrate quietly, a sensation only he could perceive, like a cell phone that had been set to quiet mode. In an instant he knew what had happened. Someone had paged his service jacket! Now the meaning of the sound overhead was starkly apparent to him. It was a helicopter! His heart beat faster with the realization. Kirov…somehow they had found him! They were searching for him, but how was it possible? He was deep in the interior of Central Asia at the edge of an inland sea. Could they have tracked him here by tuning in to his service jacket? That much seemed obvious, yet none of the KA-40s could possibly reach this distance unless the ship was in the Black Sea! He was astounded, but he knew what he was hearing.
When he last left the ship it was approaching Spain, bound for Gibraltar. Could they have reversed course to head east again and enter the Black Sea? Then he remembered the night he had drunk half a bottle of vodka and tapped out that message in Morse code to Nikolin. My God, he thought! They must have picked it up! They’re trying to find me!
Now he had to decide what to do about it.
He could activate his jacket from the collar pip and broadcast his exact location if he wished. Then again, he could also take it and throw it in the nearest fire. The more he considered his situation the more the idea of rejoining the ship and crew appealed to him. The track he was on now led to a sure and perilous cliff. This place was obviously a prison of sorts. He would certainly be searched, issued new prison clothing, and then he would be stuck here until he got close enough to Molla to choke the breath out of the man. After that he was a probably a dead man if he couldn’t find his way out of the place. He would at least have the satisfaction of killing Molla, but for that he would forfeit the life of privilege and power he imagined he might have in years to come.
Now, however, with Kirov in the mix again he might just have his cake and eat it too! Life aboard Kirov did not seem all that bad in such cold harsh light. All he would have to put up with is petty disciplinary measures for jumping ship and going AWOL. No one would know he killed the pilot of the KA-226.
Then he remembered that pulse pounding jump from the helo when he saw the S-300s coming up for him. They were trying to kill me! They did not want to take the risk of leaving me at large. That was surely Karpov. This must be Fedorov, he realized now. He’s the only one prissy enough to fuss and bother over his history. He was probably afraid I would do something here and spoil the show.
A sullen anger returned to him and, as he brooded over it, he was paying no attention to the Sergeant from his truck when the man yammered at him to get a move on and head for the prison entrance with the others.
“You hear me, you big oaf! Get moving!”
Orlov felt a hard shove on his shoulder and he turned, glaring at the Sergeant, vast and threatening. “Touch me again and I will kill you,” he said clearly, and the Sergeant’s bravado seemed to melt under Orlov’s menacing stare. Then Orlov turned and headed for the gate.
Let Fedorov try to find me in here, he thought. What will they do, land a helicopter in the courtyard and send in a few Marines? This place looks like a fortress. Troyak had a twenty man Marine contingent aboard, but they would not be nearly enough to get inside this prison and control it long enough to conduct a search, particularly since I won’t have my jacket for very much longer.
He thought about that, recalling Svetlana’s whispers in his earbuds, words that could make him the most powerful man alive in this pitiful situation. He would be the man who knew tomorrow. That knowledge would certainly make him rich. Yes, they will take the jacket, and it will likely go to the Commissar, given its unusual quality and workmanship. In fact, I’m counting on that. It will make the man very curious. It will get me very close. I will kill him, and then I will call Fedorov and see what we can do.
The sound of the helicopter receded now, high overhead, and he knew they had gained altitude to avoid being seen. They know where I am, he thought. Well enough. I have work to do here before they come for me, if they dare.
Part X
Fallen Angels
“New war provok'd; our better part remains
To work, in close design, by fraud or guile
What force effected not: that he no less
At length from us may find, who overcomes
By force hath overcome but half his foe...
Peace is despair'd,
For who can think submission?
War then, war
Open or understood, must be resolv'd.
― John Milton, Paradise Lost
Chapter 28
The American submarines dove to 150 feet and hovered silently in the deep, unaware that Kirov’s sophisticated sonar was still listening. A diesel-electric boat can be very quiet, but not by the standards of modern sonar systems, and the men that operated them. Tasarov had listened intently to the movement of the subs, giving Karpov easy course and speed guidelines to avoid contact. For his part, Karpov was no longer concerned about the undersea threat. Admiral Golovko was a superb ASW frigate on his starboard flank, and Orlan was steaming off the port quarter. Each had a helicopter in the air to keep a close watch on potential threats. He was confident that nothing would get close enough to cause any harm, particularly given the short range of torpedoes of this era.
Now his Fregat mind swept south, like a watchful radar, trying to ascertain what the Americans were up to. His KA-226 had them under surveillance, a little over 150 kilometers to the south, just beyond the surface range of the ship’s systems. The contacts were piling up and he was representing the situation on the optical Plexiglas screen, which was now cluttered with contact points. His battle in 2021 had been against a single US carrier and a handful of escorting ships. Now he was facing a real armada, upwards of 60 discrete contacts reported, and more massing to the south.
Rodenko seemed very edgy about it, watching the threat grow beyond the far horizon with obvious worry. The Captain’s demonstration had produced nothing more than silence from the enemy. Thus far the American fleet had not attempted to close, but Karpov had stubbornly remained in place, cruising in a wide circle as he sized up the situation.
The Captain could see Rodenko’s restrained concern, and he stepped to his side. “Well? What is it Rodenko? Why the long face?”
His new Starpom shrugged, and he spoke in a low voi
ce so the other bridge crew would not hear. “Steep odds this time, Captain. That’s a very big force out there.”
Karpov folded his arms, saying nothing for a time. Then he turned to Rodenko and confided in him. “I’ll admit this silence is somewhat unnerving. I would have expected at least some response to the message we sent.”
“I’m afraid we will have their response soon enough,” said Rodenko. “Those fleets will move on us soon. You can count on it.”
“You think they would dare attack us again after what I just showed them?”
“I do, sir. I think we have only stiffened their resolve. Why else would they refuse to answer our radio calls for negotiation?”
Karpov considered that. Then asked another question that Rodenko did not expect. “What would you do, Rodenko? How would you handle the situation if you were the Americans?”
Rodenko raised his eyebrows, surprised Karpov would solicit his opinion this way. “Well, sir. I think I would have no other option than a single massed attack, on a very wide front, widely dispersed. They know that if they attempt to concentrate we can inflict heavy damage, so they will have to disperse.
“And how would you react to such a tactic?”
“Get further east. Given the present position of their battlegroups to the south, I would want to be able to access the Pacific if necessary. The KA-226 is getting returns from the west as well, beyond Hokkaido in the Sea of Japan. I think we will soon learn there are forces moving up behind us there.”
“Access the Pacific?”
“To be on their right flank, sir. The disadvantage of a dispersed line formation is that we can maneuver to its flank, leaving the bulk of the line too far away to effectively close the range when we attempt to break through. We just can’t sit here and sail in circles. They have enough ships to form a pretty good net if they sweep north suddenly. Remaining in the center of the line like this is dangerous.”
“Yes, but they will regret trying to pull these fish in. We have three fast sharks here, Rodenko, with teeth sharp enough to bite through that net if they get so bold.”
“Agreed, sir, but if we move east we have other options. We retain the advantage of maneuver, and our speed and endurance come into play as well. We also move away from their forces to the southwest, thinning the odds somewhat. It’s a big ocean out there. If we have to fight, we can move, hit, move, like a skillful boxer.”
“And the Americans will try to get us on the ropes,” Karpov pointed to the Plexiglas screen now. “They will try to force us back on the Kuriles and into the Sea of Okhotsk.”
“I believe so, sir, at least if we stay here.”
They did not have time to continue the discussion. The KA-226 radar feeds were now indicating a significant change. “Sir, AEW One reports new movement from the Halsey Group, now steaming north at 25 knots.”
Rodenko gave Karpov a knowing look. “It’s begun. They are coming. I have little doubt we’ll see movement from the Sprague group within ten minutes as well.”
“Radar, how many discrete contacts on that new heading?”
“I’m reading eighteen surface contacts, extended on a wide front now, sir. Three contacts are leading that group some fifteen kilometers ahead.”
“Those will be radar pickets,” Karpov decided. “Begin jamming on all bandwidths we identified earlier. Isolate any new radar signals we can detect and begin jamming those as well.”
“Aye, sir.”
Rodenko had been correct. The American ships were advancing north, closing the range, and soon the ship began to get direct surface returns at extreme range, with additional contacts advancing on the left of the Halsey group. Ziggy Sprague was on the move as well.
“Yet the numbers we’re seeing in this maneuver do not represent the whole surface fleet to the south. Perhaps they are forming an advanced screen.” Karpov studied his Tactical board with the positions of every contact glowing softly. “They must be holding something back, at least a third of their force.”
“The carriers, sir,” Rodenko suggested. “They would not want to advance with those ships.”
“Yes, and they most likely left a screen of smaller destroyer class units with them. That means the ships we are seeing in this advance would be their heavier class units, perhaps accompanied by more destroyers and radar pickets. “
“They’re trying to get in close so they can then make a rush at us for a gun battle,” Rodenko pointed at the screen, gesturing with his finger.
“Of course, Mister Rodenko, they have no Moskit-IIs. And I believe the reason why their carriers have not launched yet is because they wish to try and coordinate the air attack with a surface engagement. If they can find us with their surface ships first, then those units can vector in their air groups.”
Rodenko nodded his agreement, and Karpov considered the situation, stroking his chin as he looked at the tactical board. They had been cruising at fifteen knots, and now the Captain turned to the comm station.
“Mister Nikolin. Signal the flotilla to assume a heading 90 degrees due east and increase to 30 knots. Orlan will lead, with Admiral Golovko off the starboard side.” The Captain looked at Rodenko, and winked at him. “Let’s get some breathing room.”
“Sir, aye,” said Rodenko, and he repeated the order to the helmsman.
Karpov was still thinking. The carriers must be the contacts hovering beyond their surface radar range. At the moment they were still the real threat in his mind. Old and slow as these aircraft were, a massed air strike by hundreds of planes could be very difficult to handle. But I still have S-400’s, he thought. I can hit them even as they launch as long as the KA-226 can remain aloft in an AEW role. They will have no idea we can fire at such range, and it could deliver a nasty shock as they form up over their carriers, and before they disperse as Rodenko suggests.
The light of battle was in his eyes now, and he knew it would not be long before it was kindled in the fiery tails of his missiles. They remain silent in the face of my demonstration of overwhelming power. Very well, two can play that game. Let us see how long it is before they are calling me on the radio.
He turned to Rodenko again, and saw he was watching him, a curious look on his face. “Mister Rodenko,” he said. “Bring the ship to battle stations and signal same to the fleet.”
“Battle stations. Aye, sir. Signaling now.” Then another thought occurred to him and he approached the Captain with a question. “Sir, what about those two radar pickets in close?”
Sprague’s group still had two ships very near the Russians. They had been shadowing at a range of fifteen kilometers for some time, yet had never attempted to come any closer.
“Time to lose our shadow,” said Karpov. “We’ll give our young Captain on Admiral Golovko a taste of battle. He could use the experience. Tell Ryakhin I want him to put one P-800 Oniks on each of those shadowing ships.”
Known as the Yakhont on the export markets, the missile was a fast supersonic sea skimmer much like the original Moskit. Karpov knew his order was provocative, another jab at the raging bull to the south, but he could not allow those ships to stay within visual range. He ordered Nikolin to warn them off and, when they saw no compliance, the signal to fire was sent over to Admiral Golovko.
The battle was finally joined.
* * *
Sprague was out on the weather deck watching the air crews spotting the Helldivers on the flight deck below. Movement at last, he thought. The word had come down from on high just minutes ago, and flashed to all fleet Task Groups in theater. The massive naval juggernaut was turning north; not just a few radar pickets this time, or a single strike wave off a few carriers. No, this time they were going in force to say hello to Uncle Joe up north and put the Russians in their place.
He had seen the massive detonation hours ago on the far horizon to the northeast. The evil looking mushroom cloud had loomed up in the distance, towering higher by the minute, and it took hours for the upper level winds to shear off its top an
d blow the colossal war cloud into a pallid smear over the sea. Whatever had caused it had been massive, an explosion far greater than anything he had ever seen in his life. He had heard the rumors of another event in the north Atlantic, though he was not there to see it firsthand. This war is going to end just like it started, he thought. We lost the Wasp in ’41, and then it was said some kind of massive bomb sent Mississippi and TF 16 to their doom. Now we lose the Wasp again, and look what’s on my horizon—another bomb.
There was a dull echo to it all, a hollow ring that spoke of impending doom. No matter, he thought. We’re going up to see about it. I’ve got the fast cruisers and destroyers out in front, four light cruisers with the eight destroyers in Desron 62. Halsey has even better ships in his front scrimmage line—five cruisers, three of them heavy, and Desron 50. Behind them come the real heavy hitters. I’m sending South Dakota and North Carolina, Halsey has Missouri and Iowa. Let any one of them get in range of these Russian ships and you can call it a day. All it will take is one battleship to get in close.
We’ve been through tough situations before. The Japanese threw four battleships led by Yamato at me off Samar, along with eight cruisers and eleven destroyers, and all I had was a hand full of destroyer escorts with 5 inch pop guns to protect the jeep carriers. But we held the enemy at bay, and licked them in the end. That’s exactly what we’ll do now, he thought. We’re going to ram an iron fist into the Russians and end this war once and for all.
He looked at his watch. They were ordered to spot strike groups and be ready for takeoff by 16:00 hours. He had been ready for the last ten minutes. With Wasp gone and casualties from the first sortie up north he was light on aircraft, but 180 of his original force of 260 planes were still crammed onto the decks of his three remaining carriers. Halsey had another 350. Let them have a look at over 500 planes darkening their skies when the order comes in. Even as he thought this he also knew the Brits were coming as well. Admiral Fraser was taking TF.37 around the north cape of Hokkaido, watching the far left flank in case the Russians had anything left in Vladivostok. He had four more carriers, 27 surface ships, including two more good battleships, and another 260 strike planes.
B00DSDUWIQ EBOK Page 24