by Unknown
When they reached the outside door, a crowd was gathering, wondering why a military vehicle was parked outside the cathedral. When the doors flew open there was an audible gasp from the crowd as they saw their Patriarch being manhandled toward a van. There was a trickle of blood coming from his mouth.
“They are arresting our Patriarch!” someone shouted. Now the crowd erupted, tearing down the barricades and rushing toward the van. More people in the square ran to their aid from seemingly everywhere. The driver’s door was pried open and the driver dragged from the vehicle. As the guards tried to open the van door to shove the Patriarch in, they were surrounded by the angry mob. They threw themselves at the guards. Overwhelmed by the numbers, the men were flung to the ground and beaten savagely before they could lift their weapons.
When they came to, the Patriarch was gone. The van was ripped apart and had been set ablaze. Their weapons were gone and even their radios were missing. One of the men tried to go into a local shop to call for help, but the shop owner yanked his own phone out of the wall and simply said, “It isn’t working.” The squad of men ended up walking back to their headquarters. After an extensive search of the area, the police were left with a dilemma – the Patriarch of Moscow and all Rus was missing.
Naples
Roberto Venusi pedaled his bicycle between the tightly packed buildings along the Naples streets. He needed to get to the Basilica San Franchesca di San Paolo where he had a small tourist shop. Last night had been quieter than other nights. For some reason, most of the sailors usually crawling around the city were not there. No matter, it had happened in the past when there was some sort of training or something going on aboard the American carrier. The Abraham Lincoln had become a fixture out in the middle of the bay sitting at a strange angle on the bottom. There had been barges next to the big ship for a couple of months, but even last night he could see the lights flickering around the ship. Many were making bets she would never leave where she was.
Rounding a corner, he turned his bicycle down the Via Partenope and rode along the waterfront. The sun was coming up and it looked as if it would be a beautiful day. He glanced out over the bay of Naples toward Vesuvius to see if there was any steam today. Suddenly he stopped the bike and stared toward the bay.
The American carrier was gone. Only the night before he had seen her out there, but now there was a flat sea. Straining his eyes, he looked out into the Mediterranean, but there was no sign of her. The Abraham Lincoln had vanished as if she were never there.
Berlin
Hammond sat at the head of the table surrounded by his entire general staff. The go or no-go day had arrived and it was time to make the ultimate decision. “Alright, it’s time for the final check. Air assets?”
“All assets are in place and awaiting the orders. All bases are closed and crews standing by. We have enough supplies to operate at one hundred percent for eight months on hand with more in the pipeline. We’re ready,” said General Ames. “I’ll add that it is none too soon. The Polish, German and French air forces have taken the brunt of all this. Once operations begin, they will regroup and take a short break before rejoining the Allied forces when they are rearmed,” he said.
“I agree. Naval forces?”
Sir Richard looked up from the papers in front of him. “Ready in all respects. The Lincoln will follow the rest of the landing force when they transit the Bosporus tonight. The French and the HMS Prince of Wales are in position in the Norwegian Sea for strikes at Murmansk. The Pacific forces are in place and ready, and Admiral Hustvedt and his landing forces are outside Istanbul waiting for the go signal. Our submarine forces are in place, as far as we will ever be able to tell, and ready for unrestricted warfare. Anything flying a Russian flag will be hit. Naval air forces are likewise ready. I wanted to let the Lincoln have a couple of days to train up, but the air commander will have none of it. Quite right too,” he said with a grin. “Amphibious forces are ready to begin the assault once in position.”
“Ground forces?”
General Moynahan tapped the table. “Ready. Airborne troops and their equipment are ready to go on schedule. Assault troops are aboard ship and from what I understand, eager to get off of them,” he said. There were chuckles across the table. Current forces are maintaining their efforts, but the additional assault forces are in place behind them. Once the time comes, everything goes at once.”
“What about the drones?”
“They will lead the way along with the Predators and other allied versions. I also have the nonlethal systems in place. Between the sounds, the heat generating units and dropping all that slick stuff, the Russians should be kept off guard for a while,” Moynahan said. I also checked on our opposite numbers. There’s only about a division of troops guarding the Turkish border. Between them and the Caucuses there’s not much of anything. Our airborne troops should be able to get in without difficulty.”
“Good. Going back to the air forces, have you been able to get all the timing coordinated so that everything hits at once?” asked Hammond.
“Yes, sir. The bombers will loiter if they need to so that we all come together. It’s a little tough for those coming from the United States, but we have it worked out,” said Ames.
“Good. Admiral Hayes, your people have done an amazing job at the Transportation Command. Are you going to be able to keep the resupply up?”
“I’ll say yes to anything except if they use nukes. Of course, if they do, everything will be thrown into a cocked hat,” said Hayes. “Even then, my people have the equipment to keep going for a while. It should be a good buffer if nothing else,” he said.
“One thing I want to make sure we are clear on. Get the word to our troops that I want no incidents of harming civilians during this operation. Take the time to mark your targets and only go for the troops. I also don’t want to hear of anything that might smack as a war crime. We will treat all civilians with dignity and helpfulness. That’s why I ordered all that new equipment and have the engineers following the ground troops. We will not be the bad guys in this. We are doing this because we have been forced to and our goal is to bring back the peace. For every city and town we liberate, I want electricity restored and food brought in. I want doctors to treat the civilians along with the troops. We help the civilians get through the rest of this winter then continue on. Yes, I know there may be a few who will oppose us, but we can deal with that in a humanitarian way. It’s hard to hurt people who are trying to help you. Does everyone understand that?” Hammond insisted.
Moynahan grinned. “Been pushing that through to the troops since they got here. I will personally get involved if something comes up. I can’t speak for the others, but the troops on the ground know the score.”
“It’s the same for all of us,” said Sir Richard. “That message you sent spelled out things loud and clear. I know that the equipment you ordered to accomplish this will be going in right after the initial landings. The food will be the same as our troops eat. I even recommended that we let the civilians see that they are eating the same as the troops. It should make a difference.”
“Good. Have the Maxwell Panels been installed on all the equipment?”
“Everything,” said Ames. “I even have a small one on top of the Humvees. We’ve had to re-think how we do business, but this should make us invisible to their radars, missiles, aircraft, anything they might try and shoot at us. The word is to leave the things on and don’t turn them off. I did a test of my own. You can’t even lock onto a Humvee with anything once those things are installed. We’re going to clean house,” he said enthusiastically.
“Maybe, but I’m not going to count on all this. If it all works, great. If not, we are going to have to fight longer and harder than we have before,” said Hammond. “You all have done an amazing job of getting things together while keeping the Russians at bay. But now it’s all on us. We have the people, material and the support we need to do the job, but now we actually have to do it.�
�� He turned to the meteorologist. “How does the weather look for all this?”
Colonel Jeffrey Standish scratched his chin. “Well, sir, considering it is the dead of winter and we are covering half the world, I would say the weather is pretty fair. On the day of departure the Black Sea area should be sunny with about a ten knot wind. Seas should be mildly choppy but not bad. Snow will be about a foot deep once ashore, which should not be an issue with our vehicles. In the Pacific, there will be overcast with a fifteen knot wind along the landing sites, but the waves shouldn’t be more than five or ten feet. The temperatures will be about minus five or so with a ferocious wind chill, but our troops have been provided with the gear they need to keep warm. Along the Polish frontier there will be clear skies with temps in the thirties. In all, the weather isn’t ideal, but given the season, it couldn’t get much better. Our only concern is in the Pacific where the weather can change at a moment’s notice, but the general outlook is favorable,” he said solemnly.
Hammond looked around the table. They had been working this out for three months and now the decision had to be made. “Gentlemen, now I feel like what Eisenhower felt just before D-Day. We have been planning and gathering for quite a while. We happy few are now truly a band of brothers. We know each other, we share all our confidences and we have sweat over the difficult tasks. We happy few must now make the ultimate decision. From what you are telling me, everything is in place, the scheduling is set and the weather is right to begin our push back into Russia. Our intelligence tells us that the Russian population is growing tired and weak from our efforts to shut down their power and food and blaming their own government for what has happened. Our radio broadcasts are keeping them informed of what has been happening and why. We have the technology we asked for to overwhelm our enemy. There is absolutely no reason not to launch Operation Arctic Wind and put the full force of our Allied forces against them. So, as the Commander of the Allied forces, I order you to go,” he said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a message. “But to begin this operation I asked for a special prayer. It is my hope you will join with me,” Hammond said solemnly. He began to read.
“Heavenly Father,
We come into this world with a purpose,
a purpose to leave the world better than we found it,
because life is God’s gift to us,
and what we make out of it is our gift back to God.
Scripture tells us
there is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for their brother.
That challenge is before us today.
We ask for the courage, dedication and strength to fulfill our destiny and purpose in this life, as we defend the rights of freedom and justice for all those in need.
So sail on shipmates,
for our course is true.
The voyage is short they say,
and have no fear of the rocks and reefs,
for God will guide our way.
In His name we pray,
Amen.”
Hammond didn’t read an additional phrase, “and thank God for the redheads,” which was a running joke between Father Danner and the crew of the Iowa. He knew the phrase was meant for him personally.
The men in the room all responded with their own “Amen,” and looked back at their Commander. “May God be with us in this task,” Hammond said.
The officers around the table got up and began making their way back to their staffs. The word went out within the hour and across half the globe, things began to move.
Langley, VA
The operator was carefully watching his monitor for activity on the Russian satellite. After a pause, a special code suddenly appeared on the screen. “I have the code,” he called out.
As planned, after the code was completed, a button was pressed and a digital signal began uploading to the Russian satellite.
“Is it working?” asked a supervisor.
Without looking up from the screen the operator nodded. “I blocked the signal from Moscow and we are inserting our own. Just a few more seconds.”
In all it took three minutes to upload the data. The Russian code was still being sent for a few seconds after that, but it didn’t matter. As the data ended, there was another pause and the operator allowed the final sequence to be added. The operator sat back in his chair. “Done,” he said with a smile.
“How do we know they bought it?” the supervisor asked.
“The first sequence was the alert code. It told the satellite to accept the data. We inserted our own data at that point. The final sequence was the coded instruction to distribute it to the units. For all intents and purposes, the satellite will verify that it all came from Russian headquarters,” he said matter-of-factly. “Now every unit will sign in to the satellite and download their weapons control changes, and that will happen starting right about now,” he said.
Almost on cue the monitor screen began receiving requests for upload. The satellite system immediately began sending the changes to each unit requesting the data. From that point on, it only took thirty minutes for the whole process to be complete.
The operator turned to the supervisor. “You can let the powers that be know that it worked like a champ,” he said.
The supervisor grinned. “Good, because the next step is going to give them fits.”
Baikonur Cosmodrome
“Sir, I have lost signal from another satellite. This one is a communications satellite number 1842.”
Colonel Michael Kerotin looked up from his station. “Is it a malfunction, or has it been attacked?” he asked.
“It looks like a malfunction. I am receiving a carrier signal, but nothing else.”
“How long has that one been up?”
“Since 1997, Colonel.”
“That’s a long time for a satellite. Switch to the backup,” he ordered.
Making some changes, the operator reported, “Communications returned, sir.”
“Good. I’ll report it up the line,” the Colonel said.
“I’ve lost a satellite too, Colonel,” shouted another operator.
“Weather satellite is down, sir,” called out another.
One by one, every satellite on the board began dropping offline. In a panic, Colonel Kerotin called headquarters to report that their entire space command was under attack.
Langley, VA
“That’s the last of them, sir.”
“Not bad. Now everyone be ready to respond if they start launching. Our job now is to make sure they can’t get anything into space,” said the Brilliant Pebbles supervisor.
Istanbul
As darkness fell, people on the shore watched as a monstrous force of ships began making their way silently past the city towards the Bosporus. The city was dark and the ships showed no lights, but in the dim moonlight there was no mistaking the power going by. Carriers, battleships, cruisers, destroyers, transports, all of them were heading north with a purpose. The Turks had shut down the radio and telephone systems for the transit so that it would be difficult to warn anyone of the approach. People stood on the waterfronts and simply watched silently, some praying for the young men and women going in harm’s way.
Aboard the ships, a message had told each to place a masthead light on the bow and to show only it and a stern light. Even those would not be turned on until they were within the narrow straits. The passage was only a little over 16 miles long, but in some cases, the waterway was only a third of a mile across. A series of pilot boats was placed along the way to call out a warning if a ship was going too near the shallows. No radars operated. The entire route was in darkness with only a sliver of moonlight.
One by one, the ships eased through the narrow channel. Sailors and soldiers alike came topside to watch the passage. No one spoke except in a whisper, lest someone on shore would hear them. As they passed under a bridge, the sailors on the larger ships could see people looking down at them. Most worried that one of them would alert t
he Russians and things would come to a crashing halt. No one wanted to get caught in the narrow channel when attacked.
Aboard the America, Admiral Hustvedt sat in a chair on one of the bridge wings. He wanted to see if something went wrong, since this was where he felt the most vulnerable. Captain Donner didn’t help. Hustvedt watched him pace back and forth across the bridge. He was wound up tighter than a clock and when he came out to the bridge wing, Hustvedt could see he was sweating. Despite the Captain, Hustvedt could see that the bridge was being efficiently run. Bearing lines were taken when they could and the navigation team was doing a good job keeping the ship in the center of the channel. He liked the fact that they didn’t totally rely on the dim stern light of the ship ahead to navigate.
Glancing behind them, Hustvedt could just make out the silhouette of his old ship, the North Carolina. He longed for the days when he was in command. Those old battleships gave such a sense of security, especially when you were aboard. He took a moment to remember the faces of his crew, the smiles when they had gotten a job done and the pride they shared in their ship. It wasn’t like this one. The crew here was good, but the comradery was missing. About the only time he saw crewmembers get together was when that bluegrass band played. Not like the North Carolina. That crew had taken pride in the ship’s age, how differently the ship worked and especially when they shot those guns. Even the fact the ship had no air conditioning hadn’t dampened their spirits. They prided themselves as being in the “real” navy. He chuckled at the thought.
After an hour of transiting the Bosporus, Hustvedt finally saw the channel open up into the Black sea. Donner came out onto the bridge wing again, sounding much relieved. “Sir, we are out of the channel. I’m turning to 050 and coming to flank speed,” he said.
