by Unknown
The President looked over at him. “You already have a plan?”
Hammond gave a slight chuckle. “You know I didn’t write that plan. One of my officers did.”
Black looked puzzled. “Just one officer? I thought you had a staff working on it.”
Hammond shook his head. “No, I challenged a young man to come up with something as an exercise. Little did I know he would produce the kind of document you read. I have shared it around a little and so far, everyone likes it.”
“Who the hell wrote it then?” Black asked.
Hammond grinned, “My Flag Lieutenant, Lieutenant Rod Jeffers.”
The President grinned. “You have a copy of this thing? I want to read it.”
American Airlines Flight 1204
It had been a routine flight. The takeoff from JFK International had been normal, and the people in the cabin were dozing in their seats on the flight from New York to Heathrow in London. The pilot kept his eyes on the dials and gages, but the plane was on autopilot and everything was smooth. Suddenly there was a crackle on the frequency of 121.5 MHz, the International Air Distress frequency. “Civilian airliner on my right, this is Russian Naval fighter. You are requested to turn around and return to your departure point. If you continue on your course, you will force us to shoot you down. Do you understand, over.”
The pilot sat forward in his seat and looked over at the copilot. Both had a questioning look on their face. He then turned and looked out the cockpit window. There, on the left side of the airliner were the flashing lights illuminating a fighter jet aircraft. “He must be joking,” the pilot said.
“Civilian airliner on my right, this is Russian Navy fighter. I say again, you are requested to turn around and return to your departure point. If you continue on your course, you will force us to shoot you down. Do you understand, over,” said the voice again.
The pilot picked up the microphone. “Russian fighter, this is American Airlines flight 1204 bound for Heathrow. You haven’t the authority to force us back, over.”
“American Airlines, the government of Russia is now at war with the United States and the European nations. We will allow no further flights. Either you turn around or I will consider you hostile and will shoot you down. You have one minute to comply,” came the reply.
The pilot watched as the jet pulled back and then took up a position toward the rear of the aircraft. Looking around, two more planes had joined him. The pilot looked at his copilot. “He means it. We are not yet at the point of no return. I think we should turn back,” he said.
“I agree,” said the copilot.
“Russian fighter, we will comply,” the pilot said in the radio. “I am turning left.”
The Boeing 747 banked to the left and turned back toward New York.
In the Russian fighter, Viktor Yuelov let out a slow breath. Shooting down an airliner was not something he wanted to do. This had been the first intercept. There were five more behind them that he would have to confront. He hoped they would be just as cooperative.
The White House
“Sir, we have reports of airliners being turned back to the United States by Russian fighters about half way to Great Britain,” said a young Marine.
“Mid-ocean? How could they get fighters that far out?” questioned General Foote of the Air Force.
“They had their carriers underway,” said the CNO. “It may be they are setting up a line of ships and daring anyone to cross it.”
“Damn it! Is there not any way to stop this? We are about to bleed to death here,” the President expounded. “I need to get hold of this situation so that we can do something constructive.”
“We can,” said Hammond. “I would recommend we do what that threat summary of ours said we might do. Get word to our submarines to commence unrestricted submarine warfare against the Russians. Ship or sub, if it gets within range, sink it,” he said with authority.
“Do we have enough to do the job?” the president asked.
“Mister President, we currently have thirty seven of our submarines at sea. They can get things started. I am ordering our SEALS and our Mine Countermeasures units to clear all the channels. Within two days I should have enough to at least take care of that line in the sand, as you call it. Then everything that floats will get loaded and ready. That way, once we do get some things going, it can be at short notice,” the CNO said confidently.
“I have already ordered our reserve units activated,” said the Army Chief of Staff. “Once I get them trained and set up, we can move anywhere you need as long as I have transport.”
“Same here,” said Foote. “We’ll be ready. We just need to know where to go.”
The Marine Commandant chuckled. “You already know the answer from the Corps,” he grinned. Black gave him a wink.
“What shall we do about our carriers?” asked the President.
“That’s a big problem,” said the CNO. “I’m going to need to talk to some people about that. Some damage might be easier to fix than others. I need more info.”
“We have more than you think,” said Hammond at the other end of the table.
“How’s that? You planning on bringing back some older equipment again?” asked the Chief of Staff.
“Not this time. We have all these LHAs and LHDs with flat decks. True, they can’t hold all the same aircraft as a carrier, but load them full of F-35 Lightnings and they can sure mess up somebody’s day,” he said.
The CNO nodded. “He’s right. They can act as fighters and carry munitions. The Lightnings can operate anywhere a Harrier could. Those ships could do the trick.”
“How many planes could we get aboard,” Hammond asked.
“Probably around fifty if we do it right,” the CNO said. He turned back to the President. “With your okay, I’ll start that process too,” he said.
“Make it so,” the President said. He looked around the room. “Gentlemen, we have a lot to find out in a short period of time. Let’s get all our facts and figures together and meet for a working lunch. In the meantime, you have approval to do what we talked about. Admiral, get those submarines active and clear the harbors for the rest of the fleet. The rest of you get ready. We need to start something on short notice.”
“Mister President, as the Supreme Commander, I have a request,” said Hammond sitting up in his seat. The rest of the room got quiet. “Sir, I want to implement at least a little part of the plan General Black referred to. I need to get cruise missiles lined up to do what you, yourself recommended. I want to take down the infrastructure of Russia. I want to target their oil and electricity industry to put as many people as I can in the cold and dark. It may not blunt their attacks, but it will sure as hell get their attention.”
The President looked at Hammond and smiled. “Who am I to refuse the Supreme Allied Commander in Europe?”
USS Texas
Like every submarine commander in the fleet, when the ELF receiver went off, they almost jumped. It took over a minute, but now Captain Jacobs was staring at the message. So it finally happened, he thought to himself. Oh well, so much the better. Texas had already sunk one submarine, what would a few more be? He reached for the microphone for the general announcing system.
“All hands, this is the Captain. Well, it happened. It looks like World War Three has begun. The President has ordered unrestricted submarine warfare on all Russian targets. As of now, we go to port and starboard watches. I want fish in the tubes at all times, and I don’t want a single bit of noise to leave this ship. USS Texas is at war. So let’s forget any troubles we may have had. Now we are going to take the fight to our enemies. That is our only purpose. We will set the watch in ten minutes,” he said as he placed the microphone back in its cradle.
He turned to the bitch box. “Sonar, you have all the allied sounds?” he asked.
“Aye, Captain. We were updated before we left port, as usual. We’ll be able to tell friend from foe,” the Chief replied.
�
��Good. Let’s just hope our allies will be able to do the same. Now where is the closest Russian?”
“Poss sub bearing 057 at a range of about fifty miles. But Captain, we are hearing several of them. They may be waiting for the carrier,” the Chief said.
“I’m coming in,” Jacobs said. He rounded the corner and entered the cramped sonar space. There was not much room with all the electronic equipment, but there was already an intensity you could cut with a knife. He made his way to a small chart table. The Chief was already hovered over it. “Show me,” Jacobs said.
Chief Cooper pointed to a line of five contacts. They appeared to be waiting along the direct course of the task group. “Not good, Captain,” Cooper said.
Jacobs scratched his head. “Yea, not good. Get their position to the OOD. I’m going to go to periscope depth and send a flash satellite message to the carrier. If they change course and these guys do too, then we know what’s up and we’ll go after them. Maybe we can set a few of those helos out there to work them over a bit too. If they think the helicopters are all we have, then we can sneak in and rip ‘em a new one. Set it up quick, Chief,” Jacobs ordered.
Within ten minutes, USS Texas came to periscope depth and raised its satellite antenna. The message went out in less than a second. A reply came just a minute later and the carrier task group turned to the left. In sonar, Cooper watched as the line began to move in concert with the task group. The sonar operators began hearing increased engine noises from the direction of the contacts. Now they knew where the enemy was. To Jacobs, that was just too damn bad.
Frankfurt, Germany
“Okay, everybody up. Hit the floor, we are in a shooting war and need to be three hundred miles from here by tomorrow morning. Everybody up!” Master Sergeant Ricks screamed as he flung open the door to the barracks-style temporary accommodations and flipped on the overhead lights. Most of the men in the room simply moaned until Ricks repeated his order. Then they slowly began to respond.
“What do you mean war, Sergeant Major?” asked one of the men.
Ricks scowled at the man. “I mean just that. The Russkies just invaded Poland a few minutes ago. They are crashing across the border even as you take your sweet time. So, it looks like we just made it in time.” Ricks turned to the rest. “Now everybody pack your stuff and be outside ready to roll in ten minutes. I have busses waiting,” he yelled.
Ricks turned and walked outside the barracks in time to see the first of the school busses pull up in front of the door. This was the last of the group he had to get up. Some of the earlier ones were even now stumbling out of their barracks into the early morning light. More busses rolled in. These would be the transportation to the train station where a train was being loaded out with all the gear they had brought over. That train would take them to Poland, if the Russians hadn’t gone through it first.
Ricks took in a deep breath of air. There had been a change in plans. At first he had been told he would be staying home, then orders had come down to send him along so that he could see how things worked first-hand, then take back the lessons for training down the road. He had been surprised that Su Lynn had not strongly objected. She mentioned how his buddy, Paul Huffham, had told her what to expect, and she had resigned herself to it. She and the boys had gone with him to the airport. They had all been waiving when the plane taxied away. The worst part for Ricks was the knowledge that Su Lynn was pregnant again. The idea that she might have the baby alone didn’t make him feel any better. His sons, the twins, were excited. Yes, they were sorry to see him leave for a long time, but they knew Daddy always brought neat things back whenever he left. They were fine now and growing up to be very good young men.
Ricks’ thoughts were interrupted by a car pulling up. A Lieutenant Colonel jumped out and came over. Both men saluted.
“You must be Master Sergeant Ricks. I’m Sanders, your new CO,” he said extending his hand. “Sorry we didn’t have the time to say hello before all this, but looks like we’re going to have to do this on the fly. Is everybody ready?” he asked.
“Yes, sir, the busses are almost all here and the people should be out in about five minutes. I understand the equipment is already on the way,” Ricks said while shaking the Colonel’s hand.
“Yep. Didn’t even take it out of those shipping containers. They’re being put on rail cars on the same train. We’re going to a place called Lodz. We’re to set up and be ready by 0300 day after tomorrow. By the look at the Russian advance, they may be within striking distance by then. We’ll get briefed on the train after we leave. You all set?” the Colonel asked.
“Yes, sir. I pack light. You going with us?”
The Colonel grinned. “Yes, we all go together. Once we get rolling, come on up and we’ll get better acquainted. A friend of ours, Colonel Peterson, told me to just point and say go. But I kind of like to go along. If nothing else, I’ll be able to tell if he was lying to me about you,” the Colonel joked.
Ricks’ face broke into a wide grin. “I do like an officer who doesn’t mind getting dirty with the troops. I’ll get these guys to the station as quick as I can,” he said as he saluted.
The Colonel returned the salute as he turned back toward the car. “I’ll see you on the train,” he said as he shut the door. The car pulled off and headed away.
Ricks turned and watched as the sergeants got all the people in line. Then with a grunt, they began loading the busses. This was going to be a long day. He just hoped that Lodz was still in Polish hands when they got there.
Warsaw, Poland
“Are all our assets in place?” asked Hammond via the satellite link. The room was filled with military men in a variety of uniforms.
“They are,” said General Pol. “Everything kicks off when they cross beyond Radom. The exact time will be up to you. When do you think you can get here?” he asked.
On the screen Hammond threw up his hands. “I’m doing my best. You know about the air blockade. I am told that they are going to put me on a special aircraft in about two hours. If I don’t make it, you’ll need to jump off when you see fit. There’s something else we are going to add to the event. There will be a coordinated missile attack from some of our units and I am hoping that a few plane loads of men and equipment made it to Frankfurt. If so, I am trying to get them set up to add a little more to the equation. But no matter what, initiate Plan Alpha and try to stop this advance. Any ideas yet on troop and tank numbers?”
General Dortmund walked up beside Pol. He was carrying some papers in his hand. “It appears there have been ten divisions on men and tanks so far. They are crossing almost unopposed. As per the plan, we are using artillery to slow them down and inflict what casualties we can, but their air force is eating us up. The initial air battle was a stalemate. They lost over thirty aircraft and we lost about the same. So the air over Poland is not secure,” Dortmund said.
Hammond nodded. “It’s like we suspected. My friends, we are going to lose a lot of ground before we can stop this. Then it’s going to take time to gain it back. We have a long, hard job to do.” He glanced at someone off camera and nodded. “Gentlemen, my plane is ready. With luck, I’ll see you in a little over two hours. Maybe then we’ll have some more answers,” he said before the signal was terminated.
Pol looked over at Dortmund. “Did he say two hours?”
Dortmund nodded and grinned. “Yes, and if I know the Americans, you better have a car waiting. He will be on time.”
Krakow, Poland
The air raid sirens hadn’t been used in a decade. But when the radar screens showed flights of planes coming over the border and toward Krakow, the operators turned the switch and hoped for the best. Amazingly enough, the wail of the sirens began echoing through the city. The young people had no idea what it meant, but the older ones knew very well and began urging everyone into the subways and basements. Within ten minutes the Russian aircraft were bombing targets around the city. The air force base was turned into a pyre.
Every aircraft on the ground had been hit and the runways were useless. Hangers and other buildings were burning fiercely. Fortunately, nearly every available aircraft had time to get into the air. The resulting air confrontation had netted a few more Russian planes down with the loss of four fighters. The rest of the serviceable aircraft had now retreated back into Germany.
In the cellar of their building, The Kursovs and Polskis sat under the small bare bulbs that dimly lit the cellar. They could feel the bombs exploding just five miles away through their feet and legs more than by sound. A few had gone off closer, causing dust to settle down on them from the floor above. No one spoke much.
Petyr sat beside Freda in a corner on some old sacks of salt. He held her hand. Each successive explosion caused her to squeeze his hand tightly. Looking around the room, Petyr could tell everyone was frightened. Petyr’s father sat with his head down, staring at the floor, while Mr. Polski was keeping his eyes on the people in the room and smiling when they made eye contact. That reassuring smile helped a lot. He especially smiled when he looked at Petyr and Freda.
After one closer explosion, Freda looked up at Petyr. “Do you think it will end soon?” she asked.
“I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait and see,” he said as he placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight.
More explosions followed, getting closer to where they were. Suddenly a huge bang occurred, throwing everyone from their seats and onto the floor. Dust rained down, filling the air in the small space. Petyr had instinctively thrown himself over Freda to protect her from whatever might come. After a few minutes the explosions stopped and the ground quit shaking.
“Is everyone alright?” asked Mr. Polski.
