Ghost Force am-9

by Patrick Robinson

  He instantly ordered all of his pilots back to the base at Mount Pleasant, and he instructed two warships to make all speed to the battle area where HMS Gloucester was still burning, and to assist with rescue operations and evacuation to Argentinian hospitals by air from Mount Pleasant as soon as possible.

  Sergeant Clifton's SAS team above the airfield was informed by the Royal Marines' commanding Brigadier on the beach at Lafonia that all was lost, and that they should surrender immediately. Fortunately this line had been established in the moments before the first rocket attack on the Apache helicopters.

  Not so the line to Captain Jarvis and his men, who had been working directly with the SAS ops room in the carrier, in readiness for their task as a gunnery guidance team when the ships' bombardment began.

  The fact was, no one knew quite where SAS Team One was located, especially the Argentinians, who were hopping mad about the destruction of their highly expensive stronghold on the top of Fanning Head, in particular about the cold-blooded killing of every one of their missile personnel who were serving on the heights.

  General Eduardo Kampf was extremely upset about the incident and had ordered an inquiry, informing the commander on the ground at Mount Pleasant he wanted a search conducted in the area. He added that he was certain a British Special Forces team had been involved, and his orders were simple: hunt them down and execute them.

  This had taken place in the twenty minutes before the surrender, and attack helicopters were in the air, on their way to Fanning Head, none of which was especially good news for Douglas Jarvis and his boys.

  They went to ground, as only a camouflaged SAS team can, swiftly becoming invisible in the sparse vegetation found on these bleak high hills of the Falkland Islands. But they saw the Argentine helicopters moving into the area, and kept their heads well down.

  The Air Brigade, which manned the Bell UH-1H attack helicopters landed on Fanning Head, were relatively shocked at what they found, the bodies of nineteen men, most of them half dressed, and the remnants of the missile systems and artillery pieces. So far as they could see, it was a classic predawn sneak attack by Special Forces, and they reported back to base those precise findings.

  When General Kampf heard what had happened he was even more furious, and told the commander at the Mount Pleasant base, "Treat the British with courtesy. Make maximum effort with the wounded and dying. Try to assist the ships if possible and prepare to receive prisoners of war.

  "The only exception to the regular guidance of the Geneva Convention is that Special Force, probably SAS, which sneaked up there and murdered some of our top missile men. Find them, and show no mercy. Because I do not regard them as prisoners of war. I regard them as thieves in the night, murderers. Whatever you deem necessary please carry out as you wish, in the utmost secrecy, of course."

  Again, none of this was especially good news for Douglas Jarvis and his boys.

  Trapped in the western foothills of Fanning Head, out of contact with their headquarters, they were forbidden to use a mobile phone, because it could so easily be traced. And now they had not the slightest idea what was happening, on the islands, at sea with the Battle Group, or on the landing beaches of Lafonia.

  Douglas had few options except to make his way furtively out of the Fanning Head area, and try to select a seaport with some kind of a fishing trawler and attempt a getaway. Trouble was, he'd have to take the crew with him, otherwise the boat would be missed and they might end up being strafed by the Argentine coast guard. Right now there was a lot of bad news for Douglas Jarvis and his boys.

  1130 (LOCAL), BUENOS AIRES

  The Argentinians lost no time in announcing their victory. Agence Argentina Presse released the government's statement to the world's media as it stood, no comments, no interviews, and no follow-up. It read simply:

  At 0930 this morning, Saturday, April 16, at the request of the Prime Minister of Great Britain, Argentina accepted the unconditional surrender of the British armed forces in the Battle for the Islas Malvinas.

  Argentina suffered relatively minor losses of just eight downed fighter-bombers, while Great Britain's losses were enormous. The heroic pilots of Argentina hit and sank a total of nine Royal Navy warships, including the flagship aircraft carrier the Ark Royal.

  Great Britain's entire force of fighter jets, the GR9s, were all destroyed. More than 1,250 Royal Navy personnel are believed dead, with many more injured. The gallant commanding officers of the Argentinian Navy are currently in the area of the sea battle, assisting the Royal Navy with the wounded.

  In the early hours of this morning, British forces, numbering almost 3,000, made a landing on the beaches of Lafonia. They brought with them attack helicopters, heavy-lift troop transport helicopters and missile installations. At 0945, after fierce fighting, this force surrendered to the armies of Argentina.

  A white flag of surrender still flies over those landing beaches and we are currently in talks with London as to the immediate future of the prisoners of war. We have been asked to be merciful, and your government will comply with this British request.

  A communiqué has been received from the British Prime Minister confirming that their former colony, described as the Falkland Islands, has now and shall be in future known as the Islas Malvinas and shall constitute a sovereign state of Argentina, under Argentine law, and Argentine administration. The national language shall henceforth be Spanish.

  All islanders who wish to remain after the change in national structure will be welcomed to do so, and the government of Argentina will work closely with the former administrators to ensure the most peaceful transfer of power.

  The important oil and gas fields, seized by the Argentine Army in February, shall remain the property of the Republic of Argentina, and there will be future announcements as to its administration.

  The statement was signed by the President of Argentina. And countersigned by Admiral Oscar Moreno, Commander in Chief (Fleet), and General Eduardo Kampf, Commander of Five Corps, which had secured the island and was deployed to face the British in the Battle for Mount Pleasant Airfield, had that been required.

  No statement ever flashed around the world faster. It has been said that King George III fell back in a chair and almost fainted when he heard of the loss of his American colonies six months after the surrender at Yorktown.

  Several dozen of the world's news editors very nearly did the same thing, out of sheer excitement, when news of the British surrender reached them about an hour and a half after it happened.

  There were several military experts in London, Washington, and Moscow who had long considered the outcome to be inevitable. But to other nations, especially journalists with their mostly superficial knowledge, the news came as a snowstorm might present itself to residents of Tahiti Beach.

  Shock. Horror. And Panic. Brits pounded by the Argentinians. The Third World Strikes Back. Headline writers hauled out their big guns and turned them to face the public. Then, in a hundred different versions, they let fly.

  BRITS BLASTED IN BATTLE FOR THE FALKLANDS

  — New York Post

  PAMPAS PILOTS PULVERIZE BRITS

  — Boston Herald

  GALLANT GAUCHOS SLAM THE ROYAL NAVY

  — Washington Times

  MASSACRE IN THE MALVINAS AS BRITS SURRENDER

  — Clarin Buenos Aires

  VIVA LAS MALVINAS — IT'S OFFICIAL!!

  — Buenos Aires Herald

  In Spain it was VIVA LAS MALVINAS. In France it was FRENCH JETS HELP ARGENTINA WIN THE FALKLANDS (never mind their European Union partners in London). Russia's Izvestya was subdued, SHORT NAVAL BATTLE FOR THE FALKLANDS ENDS IN ARGENTINE VICTORY. In Iran and Syria, the theme was BRITAIN'S LAST COLONY FALLS TO ARGENTINA. South China's Morning News announced, THE END OF THE EMPIRE — MALVINAS RETURN TO ARGENTINA.

  Great Britain's Prime Minister instructed the Ministry of Defense to break the news of the calamity in the South Atlantic to a stunned nation — a nation that
in the past 230 years had known setbacks in war, had withstood bombs and attack, suffered and retreated in the Crimea, Gallipoli, and Dunkirk; but never decisive, overwhelming defeat and unconditional surrender to a foreign enemy.

  Two hours after that news bulletin, the Premier himself broadcast to the people on all television and radio channels. Six spin doctors had worked ceaselessly in a bold but futile attempt to distance their man from the disaster.

  He made a rambling speech, referring to "unending courage," and "gallantry beyond the call," about meeting "an enemy that had secretly been preparing for several years." Let down by his Admirals and Generals, not kept fully informed by the Intelligence services, unaware of the limitations of the fleet. Blah, blah, blah.

  "No Prime Minister can make decisions when the information is not thorough…no one regrets this catastrophe more than I…no one could have foreseen these consequences…I do expect some very major military resignations." (Not his own, of course.) And…"I shall personally be taking charge of the evacuation back to Britain of our wounded, and also of the reparations that I have already insisted will be paid to families who have lost their loved ones."

  Right after that he recalled every Member of Parliament to Westminster to begin an emergency sitting at midnight.

  1200 (LOCAL), SAME DAY

  CHEVY CHASE, MARYLAND

  Admiral Morgan was not surprised at the outcome of the war, but he was slightly surprised at the speed with which it had been accomplished. He first heard the news shortly after eleven a.m. on Fox News, but the updated version of the bulletin at noon contained another surprise. According to the best naval sources available, it seemed the aircraft carrier Ark Royal had been sunk in less than fifteen minutes.

  This was extremely fast for a big ship hit by either bombs or missiles. There were few examples of the time taken for a major warship to sink finally beneath the waves after a hit by an Exocet. But certainly in 1982 it took Britain's HMS Sheffield three days, and in that same war the Atlantic Conveyor burned for twenty-four hours before she blew apart and sank. Both ships took an Exocet above the waterline.

  The Ark Royal, however, appeared to have gone down in a quarter of a hour. And her comms room had time to broadcast to the fleet she had been hit, three explosions reported. However, the flagship went off the air immediately, and another CO positioned within three miles reported fire broke out "at least six minutes after the ship began to list."

  "I'd be surprised," muttered Arnold, "if she was hit by bombs or missiles. That ship went down too damn quick, like she was holed below the waterline, or somehow had her back broken…or both. I'd guess the fires broke out in the engine room and then spread fast. Those damn carriers are full of fuel."

  He wandered outside, absentmindedly inspecting his daffodil beds. In his hand he carried a recent message from Jimmy Ramshawe informing him that the two Russian submarines, Gepard and Cougar, had been sighted in the Murmansk area in the past two or three days.

  "I wonder," he murmured, turning back toward the house, "whether our old friend, the elusive Mr. Viper, was in attendance when the Royal Navy carrier was sunk. I'd sure as hell like to ask Vitaly Rankov, but there's no point seeking the truth from a lying Soviet bastard, right?"

  Thoughtfully he answered his own question, "Right, no point at all," and continued walking back to the house, his mind once more in the dark cold depths of the South Atlantic, where he guessed Viper K-157 would now be running slowly north, away from the datum, her work done.

  No sooner was he back inside than the telephone rang in his study. He checked the call identity and recognized the private number of Lt. Commander Ramshawe.

  "Hi, Jimmy, told you it wouldn't take long."

  "You sure did. Two hours flat. Game, set, and match. Everyone back in the bloody pavilion."

  Arnie chuckled. "I got a few thoughts for you to work on. First, thanks for the information on the Gepard and the Cougar. That leaves Viper K-157, right? The only nuclear submarine that could possibly have been in the South Atlantic, right? And twice picked up on her way there — once by our guys in Ireland, and again by the Royal Navy CO east of the Falkland Islands coupla days ago, correct?"

  "That's what we have, Arnie. You hear anything more?"

  "Only from my own highly suspicious mind, kid. That aircraft carrier went down awful quick. Fifteen minutes. And eyewitnesses are saying the fires started about six minutes after she began to list.

  "The fires didn't sink her. What sank her was a damned big hole below the waterline. Nothing else puts a warship on the bottom that fast. And it must have been a very big hole…sounds to me like something broke her back. And there's only one thing coulda done that…a wire-guided torpedo from a submarine. And I'd guess she was hit by more than one."

  "We got a report of huge fires," said Jimmy. "Spread fast. Started below the island."

  "Fires don't sink warships," said Arnold. "They burn 'em. And if they burn 'em for long enough they'll probably reach the bomb and missile areas, which will blow the ship in half. But that usually takes hours and hours. This baby was on the bottom in fifteen minutes. That's not a fire, that's a hole."

  "So who fired the torpedo, Sherlock?"

  "I'd guess Comrade Moriartovich, sneaky little sonofabitchovich. Straight out of the tubes of the Akula-class hunter-killer Viper, which had been watching, for several days, waiting for that fog to clear…just lurking, silent and villainous. That's who."

  "I didn't realize you spoke fluent Russian," said Jimmy. "But I'm with you. That bastard just slammed a couple of big ones straight into the Royal Navy's Ark Royal."

  "Well, the Argentinians could not have done it, kid. They don't have a good enough submarine for that. But someone did, and someone did it for them. And if you want to know who, just watch to see who gets the biggest oil contract in the world in the next few months. The one less than a dozen miles from the airport on East Falkland."

  "Excuse me, sir. A matter of protocol. I believe they just became the Islas Malvinas."

  "But perhaps, young James, only temporarily."

  "How do you mean? The Brits have turned it up, right?"

  "Yes. But we are still left with a very clear situation. Those islands have been British since 1833, everyone who lives on them is British. They have been a legal protectorate of Great Britain for darn near two hundred years. Argentina has been griping and moaning about it for a long time, but Argentina has never owned the islands. Spain did, and the Brits threw 'em out a long time ago.

  "So what happens? Argentina suddenly decides to grab 'em, lands a military force, blows up the British defenses, kills a hundred troops and takes over. They kick out the legal oil companies, two of the biggest, most respected corporations on earth, both of whom have paid fortunes to be there, and then marches them out at gunpoint.

  "Then they effectively say, you want us out, come try it. At which point they blast and kill another thousand or more troops and accept a surrender. That worked fine in the nineteenth century. Doesn't work now. There's the UN and Christ knows whom else to answer to.

  "It would be as if Paul Bedford and I decided we'd very much like to own Monaco, went over there in a couple of warships, kicked Prince Whatsisname in the ass, and took his fucking principality. Accepting the surrender of that poncey Palace Guard that prances around in fancy dress. It'd probably take us about an hour and a half. And no one could do a thing about it.

  "But, Jimmy, you just can't pull that pre-nineteenth-century shit anymore. Not in the modern world. And I gotta talk to the President later this afternoon. And ExxonMobil are fucking furious. They want their goddamned oil and gas back, and I don't blame them. And they wanna know whether the God Almighty United States is going to just stand around while some fucking lunatic in a poncho rampages around all over their goddamned possessions.

  "And the President is not going to like it. And a thousand fucking disaffected sonsobitches are going to be asking him what he plans to do about it. And he's not going to know, a
nd frankly neither do I. That's why I'm going to talk to him later. But someone's sure as hell going to need to do something. We simply cannot condone it."

  Jimmy Ramshawe was very thoughtful, and there was a momentary silence between the senior world Intelligence maestro and one of the sharpest young minds in the National Security Agency.

  Eventually, it was Jimmy who spoke. "Arnie," he said, "I forgot to tell you why I called. You scanned through the Business Section in the Times today?"

  "Not yet."

  "There was an item there I thought was significant. One of the biggest international agricultural deals in recent years…"

  "If you tell me it's Argentina and Russia I'll probably stand on my head…"

  "Upside down, sir. You got it first time. Beef cattle. Millions of 'em."

  "You know what that is, Jimmy? That's the start of a new cooperation between those two countries. And it's going to end with oil and gas in the Falklands and South Georgia…if, that is, the Argentinians are permitted to get away with what they have done."

  "You decided what to advise the President yet?"

  "No. Because I want to hear what the British Ambassador has to say this afternoon. I've met him a couple of times, and he's coming in to the White House. Just the three of us. A lot will depend on what he says.

  "And then of course we've got the complication of the goddamned United Nations. They've got a meeting of the Security Council tonight. I think the Chairman's from someplace west of the Blue Nile…probably dressed in a bedspread…Mgumboo Nkurruption or someone…so that's gotta be real significant."

  Jimmy burst out laughing. Arnold Morgan's opinion of African dictators who lived liked pashas in impoverished countries, which collected millions of dollars of foreign aid every year — well, that opinion was on the withering side of discourteous.