Men of War (2013) (47 page)

“Aye
sir, spot for strike, sir, Maces and Snakes leading off.”

Strike
Fighter Squadron 27, the Royal Maces, were still flying F/A 18E Super Hornets,
but the plane was more than capable with new avionics and added stealth
features over the years, even though it was schedule for replacement by the
F-35s. The squadron had been flying since 1967, with A-7 Corsairs over the
skies of Vietnam. They fought all through the 1970s in Nam, provided top cover
for the Iran hostage rescue attempt in 1980, then received their first
Hornets
in 1991 in time for the first Gulf War. Twenty years ago they were in action
over Afghanistan after 9/11and the Second Gulf War. One thing the US Navy had
was experience, with more raw combat hours logged than every other navy on
earth combined.

As
Tanner was thinking the situation over Ensign Bogue suddenly had another
surprised look on his face. “Sir, I have a radio message hail from the
Russians. Right in the clear!”

“What
is this a phone call from Moscow?”

“No
sir. It’s that Surface Action Group up north. I’ve got their CO on the line. Their
Comm Officer is translating to English.”

Tanner
raised his eyebrows. “Well I’ll be damned.”

Chapter 36

Nikolin
translated as best he could. “Good morning, Captain. How can I assist you?” He
was conveying the American Captain’s words, and looked at Karpov, waiting for
his response.”

“Tell
him we have one of those interesting situations here that we seem to have been
rehearsing for the last eighty years. I just want to be sure he’s memorized his
lines.” Nikolin translated, smiling.

“Oh,
we know our part well enough, Captain. Just can’t figure why you’re out here
spoiling the show.”

Nikolin
was very good, and the conversation moved seamlessly on, though it seemed to
Rodenko and the other members of the Bridge crew that Karpov was having his
talk with Nikolin himself, and some of the things that came out of his mouth as
he translated what the Americans said made them laugh. The Captain had a smile
himself, realizing that there would be a little dance of words at the outset
and he jousted verbally with his counterpart in the American battlegroup to the
south.

“Of
course,” said Karpov. “You are all too fond of thinking you are the hero on
stage. But I have a surprise for you, Captain. A phantom has come to the opera
this morning, and I’m standing on its bridge.” A little chest thumping was
always par for the course in these exchanges. Karpov expected it from the
Americans, so he thought he would get the first missile on its way at the
outset.

Nikolin
listened, his eyes bright under his headphone set. “Is that so?” he translated.
“You and those four old
Udaloy’s
you’re towing? You
dragging them out for some more target practice? Going to try and pull another
disappearing act like you did in the Atlantic?”

“Did
you miss us?” Karpov smiled, ignoring the insults, as did most of the bridge
crew. “We hurried back as soon as we could get here. Thanks for the escort
home. I hope the officers aboard
Key West
enjoyed their cigars.”

More
laughter, but Nikolin was listening intently now. He looked at Karpov, thumbing
his microphone off to whisper a message. “He sounds more serious now, sir. I
think he’s getting down to business.” A moment later he translated.

 “Look,
Captain. I’m standing on over a hundred thousand tons of might and muscle out
here, and have a look east. We’ve got more for you, stage right. This is the
United States Navy speaking now, and I am its duly authorized ambassador at the
moment. So get the message: You and your fleet can sail around all you want up
there in the Sea of Okhotsk. Go on up and pay a visit to Kamchatka. I hear the
weather is nice up there this time of year. But you come out here on the deep
blue and it’s my watch, understand?”

Karpov
expected this. The Americans had patrolled the deep water oceans, particularly
here in the Pacific, since their decisive victory in WWII. He thought it ironic
that
Kirov
had been instrumental in winnowing down the odds for the
American carriers when they faced the superior forces of Yamamoto’s fleet, just
weeks ago in his own mind, though now it was old history to this new adversary
he faced.

“Yes,
you Americans are the world’s policeman, I forgot. Well I’m afraid the rest of
the world was never quite comfortable with that arrangement, Captain Tanner.
Your policy was too often one where might made right, but you are not the only
nation with determined men in ships of war. On the sea the boldest steer, and
I’m one of them. So is this ship. I don’t need an invitation to sail these
waters. The Red Banner Pacific Fleet goes where it pleases.”

“That
so? Is that what you call it these days? Where are you headed, Captain? You
figure to weigh in with the Chinese in this scrap over Taiwan?”

“Have
you heard of SinoPac, Mister Tanner? You know very well that we are compelled
by agreements and alliances signed by the Russian nation.”

“As
are we, Mister Karpov.” The American had used his name for the first time. “The
United States has pledged itself in defense of the sovereign nations of both
Japan and Taiwan. But we won’t sort that business out here, will we?”

“I
suppose not,” said Karpov. “We’re just here to let you know the Chinese won’t
be in this alone. You ought to think carefully about your next move, Captain.
Very carefully.”

“Damn
if that doesn’t sound threatening…” Nikolin paused. “He’s being sarcastic,
sir,” he whispered, then continued translating. “Look, Karpov. We can’t sort
out the diplomacy. I leave that to the  men in suits and just follow
orders. It’s ours to determine what happens in the water between your ship and
mine. You Russkies used to love to bump gunwales with us in your day, but that
time has passed. Your ships have been rusting away in your harbors for the last
twenty years.”

“That’s
a pretty old lady you’re riding, Captain. Same goes for your buddy out east on
the
Nimitz
. Commissioned in 1975, was she?”

Nikolin
paused, then said: “Oldies but goodies, and we’ve sang quite a few tunes in our
day. Fact is we’ve been out here since you were a babe in arms, Captain. That
says it all. We know what we’re about. I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen anything
in the way of a serious fight, but I have. I’ve beat on Iraqi’s and Iranians
and Afghans too. I’ve been the government’s muscle out here for a good long
while. Rustle my feathers and I can fill the sky with fire and brimstone. This
is the Fifth Carrier Strike group, and I lean heavily on the word strike. Do
you get my message now, sir?”

“Loud
and clear, Captain. Well let me say this to you. You have an expression about
the dilemma of being caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. Yes? Well
you have already laid claim to the latter…. I’m the former. I don’t have
feathers, just nice thick scales, a pointy tail, and two red horns. I am not a
man you wish to trifle with here, and advise you not to underestimate the
capabilities of the  Russian Navy.”

“That
so? Well I guess your target practice last month has got you all hot and
bothered. Look, Karpov, enough of these word games. I’ll give it to you right
in the clear. I’m standing off the coast of Japan for one reason—I was ordered
here by the United States government—and nobody else is going to darken my
shadow. You stay up north with your babushkas and I have no quarrel with you.
Point your bow south and cross 43 degrees and I have to figure you’ve got bad
manners after hearing this, and bad intentions to go with them. Do that and
I’ll darken your skies and ruin your morning. Are we understood?”

Karpov
didn’t like that, but he thought for a moment before he answered. “Something
tells me the skies will be darkening soon in any case, Captain, and not only
here. You and I may have something to do with that if we want to continue on
like this. You have your orders; I have mine. You’re here to keep an eye on me.
I’m here to keep an eye on you. It’s that simple. We’ve been at it for eighty
years, and this is no different. But things do tend to get a little out of hand
when this much metal puts to sea. So let me be equally frank with you. If I see
anything even vaguely resembling a strike package within 200 nautical miles of
my position and heading my way I’ll have to interpret that as an attack. Are we
clear on that, Captain? Do you get
my
message? You want to fly around
and chase a few seagulls, that’s your business. Head my way and we’ll have our
next conversation with missiles. I wanted to have this little chat to see if we
could avoid that. Any thoughts before you go back to your morning coffee?”

Nikolin
waited. “He’s thinking, sir….” There was a long pause on the channel before he
began translating again. “I think we understand one another, Captain Karpov.
You just remember those 43 degrees. Yes, I’ll chase a few gulls down here. It’s
a favorite pastime for a carrier Captain. But I hear the birds up north are
pretty sparse.”

It
was a subtle way of telling Karpov the Americans had no intention of pressing
the issue. Both sides were clearly ‘showing the flag’ and the muscle behind it,
but neither Captain wanted this to go any further than it had to.

“Haven’t
seen so much as a seagull this morning,” Karpov replied. “And I have also heard
the waters south of 43 degrees are a still polluted by that old reactor at
Fukujima
. Yes, Captain Tanner. I think we do understand one
another. I suppose we can only hope that our respective governments can come to
a similar understanding. Enjoy your coffee. Karpov out.”

Captain
Tanner scratched his head, a bemused look on his face. Karpov had quietly
stated his intention to say above the 43rd parallel and pose no threat unless
his fleet was approached to within 200 nautical miles. His carrier aircraft
would have to get inside that to launch their
Harpoons
. With their Block
II AGM-84Ls they could fire at 150 nautical miles.

The
Russkies still like to hang tough, but it had been a long time since they could
walk their talk. This battlecruiser out there was a capable ship, no doubt
about that, but it didn’t have much company. I’ve got 5th and 8th Carrier
Strike Groups out here armed to the teeth with nearly 200 aircraft and this guy
thinks he can still thumb his nose at me? The devil incarnate, is he? My ass.
He had read the file on this Karpov, and he didn’t see much that impressed him
at all. The man had probably never fired a missile in anger at a real target in
his miserable life. Who in hell did he think he was laying down law to the
United States Navy?

Tanner
had a mind to get up north and call this man’s bluff, and send those rust
buckets he called the Red Banner Pacific Fleet home to Vladivostok and
Kamchatka where they belonged. Yet his better judgment intervened and told him
their ‘understanding’ would be much preferred to a battle at sea here. He
didn’t have to sit on that thought too long, for ten minutes after his little
radio parley with the Russians he had a priority one Flash Z message in hand,
and was looking at the confirmation code being handed him by his XO. A Flash Z
message was reserved for the most urgent operational combat messages, trumping
all other traffic on the wire and to be taken as an immediate and first
priority order.

“FLASH
-FLASH –FLASH,” he started to read aloud, then kept the rest. Holy mother!
Someone’s got a hair up his ass on this one. He was just ordered to find and
sink the battlecruiser
Kirov
, at any and all costs, and to do so
immediately.

He
was going to have to renege on the little gentlemen’s agreement he had just
negotiated with this Russian Captain up north. Now the sudden change of orders
that put him here instead of the East China Sea and the hasty advance of the
Nimitz
group to the west suddenly made sense. The suits back in DC must be drinking
some real strange cool-aid, he thought. Apparently they wanted the Russians to
know the US meant business and was willing to put the best they had at the
bottom of the deep blue sea to make sure the message stuck. But what didn’t add
up was why this ship?

He
looked at his XO. “Flash Z on this one, Skip. Better tell the Air Boss to
double up on those strike packages. I want the Maces and Snakes ready to dance
in thirty.”

“Aye,
sir.” Skip Patterson had a troubled look on his face. “You figure it was that
ASAT hit, sir?”

“Could
be, but Intel indicates the Chinese were behind that. PACOM says they launched
three
Red Arrows
and also fired lasers early this morning. They took
down two GPS navigation satellites and a couple of our Intel birds over their
territory. I suppose they’ll claim the space above China is theirs too, but
that’s where it stands.  Somebody starts scratching your eyes out and you
damn well do something about it. We’ll probably hit them with our new
Skybolts
today to even the score, but this is quite
an escalation if they’re pissed off about the satellites. DC wants to drop a
hammer on someone. But why the battlecruiser? Going after the Russians is just
going to get butt ugly, and real fast. And why
Kirov
as opposed to some
snot nosed Russky sub out there that gets a little too nosey? We’ll have to
take on that whole Surface Action Group now.”

“It’s
the best they have, sir. Put
Kirov
down under and the Russians can
pretty much go home and leave us with the football.”

“What
about the
Admiral Kuznetsov?”

“We
can handle him, sir. Suppose we give the Russians a two for one special this
morning.”

Tanner
looked at his coffee cup, knowing it was stone cold by now. “There’s a lot of
dead metal on the bottom of this ocean,” he said, a forlorn tone in his voice
now. I guess Davey Jones has room in his locker for a little more. Let’s just
hope old that we aren’t included.”