by Unknown
The wardroom was huge. Tables seemed to cover most of the floor except for a small area where several officers were watching television. Each table was topped with a fitted blue plastic cover adding at least some color to the bright white painted space. Metal side tables were attached periodically along the bulkhead near the wardroom galley. Someone had covered them with a fake wood vinyl coating that barely resembled anything natural. It was pretty sterile.
Making his way back to his stateroom, he entered a passageway and heard the distinct sound of a guitar playing. Stopping for a moment, he could hear the slow delicate melody of Vivaldi’s Guitar Concerto in D Major. A smile came to his face. This was not something the average sailor, or officer, would be playing. He had to meet this person.
Stopping at the door where the music was coming from, he knocked. The music stopped and the door opened.
“Rod!” cried the voice of the man standing in the doorway. Rod felt two hands grab his arms as the young man pulled him into a hug. “My God, where did you come from?”
Evan Chambers had been a fellow officer aboard the USS Kings Mountain. The two had become instant friends when they discovered their common passion for guitars and music. Although Evan had been in another department, they had spent many hours playing together in their off hours. To see him here brightened Jeffers’ day.
“You know, there is only one person I know who would be sitting alone playing Vivaldi. I had to see if it was you. I’m on the admiral’s staff. What are you doing aboard?” asked Jeffers.
“I’m a damage control assistant. I had been approved for department head school, but with the war, they decided to send me here,” Chambers said as he ushered Jeffers into his stateroom. The two sat down. It was then that Chambers noticed Jeffers’ rank insignia. “Wait a minute. When did you put these on?”
Jeffers grinned. “Got deep selected. I guess they really are hard up on officers. I just got aboard tonight,” he said, changing the subject.
“Well, I hope you brought your stuff. There are a few of us that get together and play every so often. You’d probably enjoy it,” Chambers said. He paused for a minute, then eyed Jeffers seriously. “You know, there is a rumor going around about some hotshot lieutenant up in the Pentagon that’s got all the admirals running around jumping through hoops. I hear he’s responsible for everything we’re doing these days. That wouldn’t be you, would it?” The fact that Rod Jeffers began turning a bright shade of red told him the whole story. Chambers’ face changed to one of astonishment. “My God it is you. Damn, Rod, I always knew you were smart, but all this?”
“Look, all I did was rough up a plan for Admiral Hammond. He said it was just a training thing, then all of a sudden it became this monster. I had no idea,” Jeffers said.
“Admiral Hammond. The Supreme Allied Commander in Europe?” Chambers sat back in his chair. “Holy shit.”
“He wasn’t the commander then. That came later. It’s been pretty hectic the last few months,” Jeffers said.
“I can imagine. So you’re getting underway with us. That should be interesting. At least we can entertain ourselves like we did on the Kings Mountain,” said Chambers.
“Yes, we can,” Jeffers said. He was interrupted when a call came over the general announcing system.
“Lieutenant Commander Jeffers, 417.”
Jeffers reached for the telephone in the bulkhead and dialed the number.
“Rod, you better pack a bag for a two day trip. You and I are going to Europe tomorrow morning at 0800 to do some briefings. Dress blues the whole time. I’ll need the finalized plan and that PowerPoint you did up. Place everything in a secure bag. Can you get everything ready?” asked Admiral Hustvedt.
“Yes, Admiral. I’ll get it ready. Do I need to arrange transportation?” asked Jeffers.
“No, it’s all set. Just meet me down on the pier at 0730. The plane is just over at the airfield. If you think of anything else we need to take, bring it along,” said Hustvedt.
“No problem, Admiral. I’ll see to it.”
“Good. See you in the morning,” the admiral said as he hung up the phone.
Jeffers turned to his friend and gave a shrug. “Duty calls. Got to go to Europe to give some sort of briefings. I need to get a few things together,” he said as he turned toward the door. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m awfully glad you’re here, Rod. Let’s get together when we can,” Chambers said to his friend.
Jeffers gave Chambers a wide grin. “You can count on it,” he said as he squeezed Chambers’ arm. As he made his way to the flag offices he realized that going to Europe might mean seeing Hammond again. That would make the next couple of hours spent getting things together would be well worth it.
Moscow
“I need the electricity back on!” demanded Borodin. “It has been two months and nothing appears to be happening. I have people freezing to death and you are giving me excuses!”
“What more can I do, Mister President? Every time I get a plant online, we get hit by one of their smart weapons. If it is not my generating plant, it is the distribution yards. There is not one hydroelectric plant online. The dams are gone, and those can’t be replaced for years. Even our nuclear sites were hit. I dare not try and put those back online for some time. I have gotten some coal plants back online, but the mines are down because we cannot supply power to them,” said Ivan Rosenco, head of Unified Energy Systems, Russia’s dominant energy producer.
“I don’t want to hear of problems, only solutions!” demanded Borodin.
Rosenco knew there was no arguing the point. Borodin was in a rage and not thinking about anything but getting something done. When he and the others had thought the war up, they had not counted on the American weapons to be this effective. He sat back in his ruffled suit and glared at Borodin. “It is obvious that whenever a grid comes up, the lights go on and we get targeted. In order to get around their smart weapons, we are operating what few plants I have without using lighting. No electricity can go to the homes because we won’t have any for industry. So you have a choice, power to keep the people warm or power to run the war. You can’t have both! Right now we are directing power only to essential industries so that war production can continue, but even that is becoming an issue. I just lost one plant even though we were in pitch darkness. So now we are distributing diesel generating units to cities so that we can get some minimal power back on. Our industrial plants have their own generation systems now when the power goes out. There is nothing more that can be done!” he nearly shouted.
Borodin pressed a button on his desk and an armed man entered the office. “It is a shame you are not competent enough to do your job. I consider you have harmed our nation and its people.” He turned to the man with the rifle. “Arrest this man and place him under heavy guard. Get him out of my sight!” he demanded.
Rosenco laughed. “Getting rid of me won’t do you any good. You need me to keep this system going. You will lead us to ruin!” he shouted as the guard poked the gun in his ribs and shoved him out the door.
Borodin watched them leave. Rosenco was only one man. He would find someone who could get the job done.
In the air over Slovakia
The flight of ten B-1 bombers skirted through the hills and valleys in Eastern Slovakia. The course had been planned out and set into the navigation systems, but Captain Jack Pruitt didn’t like being this close to the ground. This was all mountainous terrain and although the plane’s equipment was supposed to easily handle this, it almost always scared the crews to death. The target was the rail lines in a small town of Bzenica almost in the center of Slovakia. To Pruitt, the whole mission was a screwed up mess. There was no fighter cover, no real intelligence on the target and thrown together in the last minute to satisfy some idea that hitting a rail line in a far off town would end the war. The plane took a sickening lurch upward to skim over one of the myriad of mountains ahead. What came next was equally bad, the downward weig
htless phase as the aircraft dropped back down on the other side. He heard someone in the crew throw up violently behind him.
“Damn!” cried his co-pilot, Jim Springer beside him. “I told that son of a bitch not to eat a big lunch. You have to clean up any mess you make!” he announced.
Behind the two men, the bombardier-navigator lifted his head out of a bag. He looked dreadful as he grabbed a paper towel and wiped his face. “Screw you Springer,” he said with a shaky voice. Glancing at his gages he called out, “Twenty miles to target. We’ll be turning left soon.”
Within a few seconds the aircraft banked to the left sharply following a valley between the mountain peaks. Pruitt looked out of the cockpit to see that the other bombers had also made the turn. At least being the lead aircraft meant he didn’t have to worry about hitting one of the others.
“We follow the river below all the way in. You should be able to see the train tracks below us,” said the navigator.
“Why don’t we just drop the load here and be done with it,” said Springer.
“Patience, my boy. We mustn’t doubt the wisdom of our superiors,” said Pruitt sarcastically.
Now the plane’s movements were left and right as it glided through the valley between the mountain peaks. True to his word, Pruitt could see both the river and the train tracks running beside it. They passed several small villages along the way. There was also what looked like a major highway running along the same path. Maybe they could take out both at the same time, Pruitt thought.
Up ahead of the aircraft, Pruitt saw a sharp bend in the river. There was a small farming town several hundred yards from the tracks. As they got closer, he saw a train traveling at speed along the track coming towards them.
“Target in sight. Ten seconds to drop,” said the navigator.
Inside the bomb bay, the weapons were already targeted. Suddenly the doors opened and the bombs were ejected into the air under the aircraft. Each weapon located its assigned target and maneuvered to hit it.
On the ground, several farmers heard a rumbling from the large bomber’s engines as they came closer. They couldn’t see them yet, but knew something was coming. Suddenly one of the men shouted and pointed down the valley. They watched as the large planes zoomed forward along the valley, seemingly following the river. Since they were not coming directly toward them, the farmers remained in place, simply watching things unfold before them. There was another shout as one of the men noticed something falling from the planes. Several of the men later related that it seemed that each of the small dots they saw seemed to go in different directions. They watched as an entire stretch of earth along the river seemed to erupt before them, throwing the men off their feet as a deafening roar pierced the air. It was followed by the sound of screeching metal and a loud metallic crash.
Getting up from the ground, the men made their way to trucks and tractors so they could see what happened. Minutes later the road they were on abruptly ended. Looking out over what used to be a peaceful green valley, there was no longer any road or train for over a mile. At the head of the destruction, smoke rose from a train that had run off the tracks and piled up along the side of the destruction left by the bombers. The train had been traveling at high speed. It was evidenced by the way the cars had accordioned up into a huge pile of rubble. Most intriguing was the fact that piled high along the rubble were what looked like wooden tanks, now crushed, splintered and burning. It appeared only a few of the tanker cars in the train had fuel. That was now burning as well. The rest of the cars looked empty. The farmers shrugged their shoulders and made their way toward the train to see if there were any survivors.
After dropping their bombs, the B-1s pulled upwards and reversed course to begin heading home. As his plane turned, Pruitt looked back to see the destruction they had caused. He too noticed the train and now burning tanks. What the hell, he thought.
Langley, VA
“They are fake!” shouted a technician watching the results of the bombing run. The watch supervisor went over to look at the display. “See the way the tanks have broken up? These over here are burning. There’s one on its top. The bottom is hollow and unpainted,” the technician pointed out.
“Oh hell,” expounded the watch supervisor as he grabbed a phone and dialed a number. After two rings there was an answer. “Sir, those tank trains we were watching are fake. They’re carrying wooden dummies,” he said.
“I’ll be right in,” said the man on the other end of the line.
Two minutes later Grant Thompson walked into the watch center and stared down at the laser display. It only took a moment for him to see what had happened. “What would make them put fakes on this train?” he asked out loud.
“It only makes sense it’s a decoy for something,” said the supervisor.
Thompson’s eyes widened. “What other trains are on the tracks right now?” he asked.
“There’s a coal train headed up towards Trencin, an agriculture train headed east from Lucenec, a couple of slow freight trains headed north toward Lubotin. Another slow train headed toward Lipany. This isn’t counting the other faster trains we are watching coming in from Lviv,” the supervisor said.
“You’re sure the ones going up north are freight?”
“Yes. The shape of the cars themselves are telling us along with their slow movement. No tanks on those trains,” he said.
“How fast are they going?” asked Thompson.
“Only about forty five miles an hour,” the supervisor said. He made adjustments to the screen and the imaged changed to a slow moving train heading along a track deep in a mountain valley. The tops of each car had a roof with a walking platform in the center. There was actually a person walking along that platform going between the cars. The men watched the train for a moment.
“That’s a freight alright,” said Thompson. “Take a look all along the tracks and make sure they haven’t stashed some military equipment along the way. We need to find out what’s going on.”
“We’ll find them. May take us a couple of hours,” the supervisor assured him.
“Good. Better let the people know up the line what we found,” said Thompson. “At least the people in Vienna can sleep a little better tonight,” Thompson said.
Over the Atlantic
General Claire Richardson, Hustvedt and Jeffers had gone over the briefing three times since settling aboard the Gulfstream G650 in Norfolk. They only stopped when a crewman brought in a meal. Jeffers got up to move to another part of the plane but Richardson stopped him. “Where are you going?” she asked.
“I thought you and the Admiral would want to eat together,” he said shyly.
Richardson let out a laugh. “No, we’re all working on this thing. Have a seat with us and just talk,” she said as he sat back in his seat across from the two. It was obvious he was a little uncomfortable sitting with the high hitters. “We’ve been working together for a while now and I don’t really know a thing about you, Rod. Tell me a little about yourself,” she said cordially. Hustvedt nodded and sat back chewing on his sandwich.
Jeffers shrugged. “I’m from a small town in Tennessee. My family was farmers until my father started a steel manufacturing company. We make parts and specialized equipment. My brothers all went into the business, but I took a different turn and went to the Academy. I just wanted to go to sea,” he said.
“None of the others in your family ever thought about being in the military?” Richardson asked.
Jeffers shook his head. “No, but we had relatives who fought in all of the wars. I even had one relative who walked from Eastern Tennessee to fight in the Battle for Kings Mountain back in the Revolution. It kind of gave me a kick to be stationed aboard the Kings Mountain as my first ship. Since then I’ve decided to make this my career,” he said.
“You’re like a lot of young men and women coming in right now. It’s almost like they get this urge and act on it,” said Hustvedt between bites. “It hit me the same way,” he
offered.
“Me too,” said Richardson. “I started out when women were just getting into the military in a big way, so I knew I had a chance. My family was the same as yours. Most were into a family business. When I told my father I was going to be a Marine he thought I had lost my mind,” she chuckled. “But, he pinned my colonel eagles on my collars before he died. Something like that means a lot.”
“You know, I checked your record before you came onto my staff,” Hustvedt said to Jeffers. “I know Roger Hammond endorsed you, but I even talked a minute to Captain Davis. It seems like you leave a very positive impression with your superiors,” he said in encouragement. “Now what’s this I hear from Davis that you figured out the Venezuelan strategy before anyone else?”
Jeffers was blushing now. “It just seemed to make sense. When you put what happened into a time sequence along with the idea that someone wanted to accomplish a task, then it just made sense. I guess I was just the first one to get it,” he said meekly.
Richardson chuckled again. “When you figure everyone in Washington was running around with their head up their ass, what you came up with was remarkable to say the least,” she said with a smile. “Now tell me how you came up with this plan,” she said.
Jeffers thought for a minute. “Well, I needed a model, so I had them break out the original documents for Overlord. It turns out there are a lot of notes written in the margins. When all that was going on, Stalin was desperately trying to get the Allies to begin a second front so that it would take the pressure off his forces. The idea was to stretch the German military machine too thin. That way it would be much easier to make our advances. If you think about it, that’s what we have now, only the Russians are the aggressors. Look at the mass of the Eurasian continent. There’s a lot of land to fill. Because we are attacking on one front, they can throw everything at us and keep pushing on. So we pull the same thing that was done in 1944. We stretch them out over several fronts so they can’t concentrate forces. We also look at their assets. By attacking where we do, we are cutting off major sources of oil and natural gas. Just like with Hitler, we strangle them until they can’t do much. I was also guided by what Admiral Hammond said. He said we had to use the advanced technologies we have to make a difference in people and materials. He was right. That’s what has kept the Russians at bay so far. I’m not sure that will last forever, but while it does, we use it to our advantage. Once I came to those conclusions, I just replicated the planning of Overlord as it applied to us and added things that came to mind. You gotta remember I was doing this as a project for Admiral Hammond, not for some Allied advance. I just let my ideas fly and wrote it all down. I might have been too scared to come up with all this if it really meant men and women going in harm’s way,” he said.
