by Unknown
The image shifted to the city on the Black Sea. “This is what we are watching at present.”
The men saw an American battleship entering Sevastopol harbor with two more battleships patrolling offshore. “Who is that?” asked Freeman.
Hammond smiled. “That’s my old ship, USS Iowa. They are going in to see if the Russians will surrender the city.” He pointed to a large group to the east. “Those are the Americans and the Turks.” He pointed to the northwest. “Those are the Italians and Spanish. The city is surrounded and we are hoping we can all stop here,” Hammond said. “If they fire on her, all bets are off.”
Sevastopol
The R-44 crew was freezing. With the electricity out throughout the country there was nothing to power the electric heaters on the ship. Men huddled around in heavy blankets and multiple layers of clothing. Very little maintenance was doing since there was no way to effectively work in the engine rooms or lower spaces. It was miserable. When the orders came to sortie against the American ship, the crew just looked up with cold, tired eyes. Even Captain Potemkin had given up trying to make sense of it. But he had a job to do, even if it meant killing his crew. Barking out orders, the crew finally went below to fire up the ship’s main engines.
Knowing there was only a few hundred gallons of fuel in the ship’s tanks, the crew climbed down into the ship’s engine rooms and stared at the huge diesel engines. A team went over to the diesel generator and with a few adjustments, it started and the lights came on throughout the ship. A few more switches and the ship’s heating systems came on. At least they would be warm when they met their deaths.
After priming the fuel and lubrication pumps, the engineering crew hit the starter on one of the main engines. Nothing happened. The engine turned over, but the cylinders did not fire. While several men began checking the engine over, the second engine was made ready. Once again, the engine would not start. Now men frantically began checking the fuel systems to make sure fuel was getting into the engine. The glow plugs were checked to see if they were working. Everything was looked into. After fifteen minutes the generator began spitting, lost revolutions and finally died. Once again, the lights went out throughout the ship. Working with flashlights, the men finally figured out what had happened. Water was in the fuel tanks. The last of the usable fuel had been used by the generator. Now there was no way to get underway. A tired, but happy crew settled back in their blankets. At least they knew they would remain alive.
Five trucks scurried through the streets of Sevastopol trying to get to the high ground above the harbor. There was already an old battery of guns there, but they hadn’t worked in ages. Instead, they were dragging Sprut anti-tank guns, a 4.9 inch weapon that had armor piercing rounds available. These were the last pieces of artillery the Army commander had. They had been salvaged from the battlefields several times and looked beat up, but they were available.
On the way up the hill, one of the drivers looked back to see smoke pouring from one of the wheels of his gun. He tried to slow to a stop, but as he applied the brakes, the wheel came off the gun, causing it to dig into the ground. This broke the pin on the tongue of the truck mounting and the gun flipped over the side of an embankment, striking a house and causing the wall to collapse on top of it.
Another driver was racing along a dirt road. The ruts and potholes had the entire gun carriage bouncing like a rubber ball. The pin holding the trailer to the truck was just a piece of steel the driver had salvaged when the original pin was lost. As the pounding intensified, it too snapped. The tongue of the gun carriage immediately dug into the ground. With the truck going nearly 50 miles per hour, it flipped the gun over landing with a bang on the gun itself. When the driver stopped to see what could be done, he found the gun and its mechanisms scattered across the road.
Three of the guns made it to the old gun emplacement. Men piled out of the trucks to plant the pads to stabilize the guns, then turned them toward the huge ship coming into the harbor. Ammunition was brought forward and they quickly found that one of the guns was a different variant from the others and used different ammunition. The other two were quickly loaded and on orders from the General in charge, prepared to fire on the ship.
The breeches were closed and the men stood back. The young officer in charge ordered the guns to fire. On the left gun, a sergeant pulled the lanyard only to see the firing mechanism spring off the gun and land on the ground. The securing mechanism had shattered. On the right gun the lanyard was pulled and nothing happened. It was reset and pulled again. Once again, nothing happened. Carefully, the breech was opened. There were no marks on the powder casing. Upon careful examination, the firing pin was bent and jammed in the breech.
The dejected gun crews could do little else than to watch as the ship came to a halt within range of their guns. There wasn’t another piece of artillery they could get. The tanks that had been assigned were still at the front.
At six different positions around the harbor, rocket launchers were aimed at the American battleship. In each case, the trigger was pulled and nothing happened. Two of the missiles were found to be duds. Another two missiles were later found to have broken leads to the firing squibs. One missile went off only after the operator had become disgusted that it seemingly didn’t work and had pointed it toward their own troops. It bounced off the road several times before striking a tree. The last missile caught fire in the tube. The operator threw it to the ground and watched it burn.
Inside the white fortress, one old piece of artillery remained usable. Ammunition had been found and the gun loaded. No one really wanted to be around the old piece when it went off, but one man finally volunteered to pull the lanyard. The old powder went off with a fizzle and they saw the projectile come out of the barrel and hit the ground thirty feet away. The officer in charge saw it was a hopeless effort. He ordered his men to put the ammunition away and watched as a small boat with a white flag left one of the piers and made its way toward the ship.
The Pentagon
The men made their way back to the small conference room and sat down. Most were too stunned to speak at first. What they had seen seemed surreal. It was well beyond description. Bill Kelso finally broke the silence.
“Mr. President, we cannot let this get out,” he said. “Now, for the first time I understand what you are going through and the things you must endure to keep things such as this a secret. Some would shout this achievement to the hills, but if you do, you have already lost the advantage. I can’t understand with so many people using it, how can it possibly be kept a secret,” he rambled along.
“Bill, we keep it a secret because almost all the people working with it understand the importance of keeping it so. To let people know about this would mean someone else finding a way around it. When that happens, people get killed, things are changed and we find ourselves in the middle of a war that we cannot win,” said Hammond. “I came here today because it is that important to me to keep Eyeball away from the general public. I don’t want to see young American and Allied lives wasted because someone who doesn’t understand decided they knew better than we do and this was something that everyone should know. You all know how everyone wants their moment of fame. Well, if they go to you and it goes public, we could well lose this war. We have worked very hard to use the technology we have to level the playing fields. In this case, it has tilted the field in our favor. Let’s not give that away,” he said.
“Can you share this thing about Harmon? That seems to be the center point of all this,” said Freeman.
“I’ll tell you what happened with me,” said the President. “Eyeball was up and operating just before the Russian attacks on our forces. Mister Harmon and others at the CIA saw the launches some ten minutes before they struck. Harmon made the decision not to warn us, but instead to call someone else, who also did not spread the warning. As a result, a few thousand of our people were killed who did not need to. If they had a warning, our ships would have had time to prepar
e and respond. But that did not happen. I found out a day later in a briefing. He actually told me that I could not tell him how to use the system, that only Congress had that authority. That is when I fired him and called the FBI to find out who was undermining both the Presidency and the security of the United States. I was later told of a special prosecutor and do not know anything more. I personally consider Harmon’s acts treason, but until we hear from the prosecutor, I will bide my time.”
“Now it makes sense,” said Dan Harley of NBC. “My primary source is on the staff of a member of the Senate Intelligence Committee. The senator is in the opposing party. I got another bite from a staffer of a congressman on the House Armed Services Committee, also in the opposing party,” he said. It was obvious he was getting angry. “Those sons of bitches were trying to use me to undermine this nation! They would give away our greatest asset just to satisfy their political aims. My god, what has all this come to?” he exclaimed.
“It’s not just you, Dan, it’s all of us. We can talk later to see if we are hearing from the same people. I think we can all agree this must stop. As Americans, we cannot let this get out. The question is what do we do about it?” Kelso said.
“Gentlemen, on my part, I would turn your information over to the FBI, but I understand your need to protect your sources,” said the President.
“No, it may be we have gone too far on that side. We must protect sources when we are trying to get to the bottom of a real problem, but we cannot let the media be used to destroy the nation we serve. We also cannot allow ourselves to become immersed in traitorous activities. Edward Snowdon hurt a few, but didn’t actually help anyone. In this case it would mean we would have the blood of our youth on our hands. I can’t let that happen. I think maybe the major media leaders need to meet and help solve this problem,” said Kelso. He turned to the President, “Mister President, I truly appreciate what you have done today. It has opened our eyes to a whole new world as far as how you and the government works and how much you depend on people like us. I know you probably will catch hell for sharing this with us, but I assure you on my part, I will never reveal Eyeball or anything else I have seen or talked about today. Thank you for sharing this confidence with us,” he said.
The other men in the room spoke up to pledge their secrecy and support. President O’Bannon thanked them, then turned to Hammond. “Roger, I appreciate you coming all the way here to be a part of this. Is there anything more you would like to say to these gentlemen?”
Hammond blushed slightly. “Only a couple of you have met me before. I appreciate your efforts to control when and how things get out about this war. My whole aim is to get it over with so we can all go home with the fewest casualties and some of the greatest stories our people can tell their grandkids. From what I understand, your people with our troops are doing a great job. After today, I feel much better working with you,” he said.
Kelso smiled, “Admiral, how are we really doing? Off the record, of course.” The others chuckled.
Hammond smiled at them. “Well, our troops should have the last Russians out of Poland by the end of the week. I fully expect the Ukraine to be next, but not before we take Vladivostok.”
“Vladivostok?” came the gasp of the men at the table. “We’ve advanced that far?” asked Freeman.
“Yes, we thought the incursion into eastern Russia might bring some of their troops east in response. It turns out not to be the case. As a result, our troops have now surrounded Vladivostok and all oil supplies from the east have been cut off. Once Vladivostok is taken we may move westward,” said Hammond.
“How far might we go?”
“As far as it takes.”
Sevastopol
General Markus Leftvorno was upset. He had expected to have his artillery, rockets and the Navy to attack the ship as she entered the harbor, but for some reason, nothing had worked. Now he was forced to meet with the Americans to discuss a surrender. The city’s mayor had insisted. Even his staff had felt that to continue the fight would mean a slaughter, both of his troops and the local population. Word from Moscow was to begin burning everything so that there would be nothing left for the Allies to benefit. No one he talked to went along with that notion. For all practical purposes, his career was over.
They had scraped together five gallons of fuel to get the general, his aide and the mayor to the ship. Mayor Anatoly Trodenko and Colonel Ivan Sovatich sat opposite from him in the back of the small boat. All were looking at the monstrous hulk of a ship sitting in front of them. The huge guns pointed skyward as they approached, but there was no doubt their crews had them already loaded and ready in case anything happened. Some sort of stairway had been lowered down the ship’s side for them. The boat made its way to it and a crewman hooked onto it to steady the boat as they got off and went up the side of the ship.
As they reached the top of the stairs, the general saw two lines of immaculately dressed sailors standing on either side of the top of the stairs. Immediately, a whistle was blown and the men saluted. Leftvorno returned the salute as he walked down the line. There to greet him was an officer in dress blues who welcomed them aboard and ushered them up a ladder to a spacious cabin. The cabin was well lit and warm. They were greeted there by a female wearing the uniform of a three star general and another officer.
“Welcome aboard USS Iowa,” said Richardson as she extended her hand. Leftvorno wasn’t sure of the protocol in such matters, but shook her hand anyway. She invited them to sit at the table. Tea was offered but turned down.
“General, I asked for this truce in the hope that we might save lives. As you know, the Allied armies have advanced to surround Sevastopol and now sit on its outskirts. Our fleet is sitting off your harbor. Throughout this campaign, you and your people have fought well and bravely. We do not wish to prolong the suffering of your troops or the civilian population. Although we are ready to enter the city by force, I am sure you know what outcome that will bring. I hope we might come to an agreement where the fighting ends and we can bring food, supplies and power back to this city,” Richardson said.
All the while, Jeffers translated her words. They noticed the glances between the men. The general looked slightly angry while the others more contrite.
“You are enemies of my country,” Leftvorno said in a huff. “We have enough men and supplies to drive you out of the Crimea. Already we are expecting reinforcements from Moscow.”
Richardson gave him a tired look. “General, we both know that is not the case. No supplies are on their way. Right now we estimate you have around five thousand people defending the city. We saw your artillery on the hill and the gun in the old fort. We also know you deployed some rockets. We know what remains of the fleet is sitting cold in their berths. The rest we destroyed at sea weeks ago. We have the survivors of those ships aboard one of our vessels even now. I am in command of over two hundred thousand troops, not to mention the fleet in the Black Sea. Do you really want us to come in here and tear everything apart? Sevastopol is a beautiful city. It would be such a shame to level it,” she said.
The mayor spoke up. “I do not wish this either. We must come to some sort of agreement, if nothing else to save my people,” he almost pleaded.
“Mayor Trodenko, nothing would please me more. But I must be assured that all fighting will cease. Once done, I have a container ship loaded with food and fuel to bring in and electrical generators to return the city’s power. I would much rather my troops help with that than using their weapons,” said Richardson.
“But we have our orders,” said Leftvorno.
“From a government thousands of miles away, which cannot give you the support to get the job done, much less provide for the citizens of this city,” said Richardson.
“I will not let you kill half my people in this insane determination to commit suicide,” Trodenko nearly shouted.
“Perhaps we might hear your terms,” the colonel said calmly. His remark seemed to anger Leftvorno, bu
t he kept quiet.
“I will offer you the same terms I offered the North Koreans when I entered Pyongyang,” said Richardson. “All fighting must cease. If you and your men desire to go home, I will provide food and fuel to get back to Russian territory. If you decide to stay, you will remain in your camps and we will provide food and fuel to stay warm. You will be held responsible for your people, but we will need to make sure they no longer take up arms against us. All weapons will be collected and placed in a safe place. If you desire, your people can work alongside ours to help bring food and supplies into the city. I know we are planning on having the sailors we return to you help us out. Once done, you can all sit out the remainder of the war here in safety and relative comfort,” she said.
“You do not send us to a camp?” asked the General.
“What would be the use? There is no place to go since I already offered to transport you back to your own lines. Wouldn’t it be better to keep your troops together and help out the people of Sevastopol?” she asked.
Jeffers turned and asked for permission to add something of his own. Richardson nodded.
“General, I would like to share something with you,” he said. “My mother and her family are from Russia. They are very proud of their heritage. My grandfather often related to our neighbors of the things Russians had accomplished over the years. They left Russia in the nineties when my mother met my father and they got married. I was raised feeling that pride they felt. Although they all eventually became American citizens, their feelings for Russia never changed. I have to ask myself, if my grandfather were still alive, what would make him proud here in Sevastopol? What can we do here that would make Russian citizens proud again? I am an American, so I cannot make that decision. With all that is happening right now, what would make my grandfather proud?” Jeffers concluded.
