Afterburn

CHAPTER 21

In silence, the men and women at the table watched the screen, where the hard, drawn-looking face of Vice-Admiral Dmitriev was looking back. He was sitting in a somewhat shabby-looking office, his hands carefully folded on the desk in front of him. He was speaking English ― very good English, with only a trace of an accent ― and he was speaking deliberately and with evident precision.

“Accordingly,” he was saying, “I am assuming command of the Crimean Military District. General Boychenko has been declared an enemy of the state and will be arrested as a traitor as soon as he can be found.

“American forces in the Black Sea area of operations, specifically the aircraft carrier Thomas Jefferson and the battle group with it, have been neutralized. This was necessary because they had already established contact with the traitor Boychenko and were intervening in Russian internal and security affairs.”

Admiral Thomas Magruder listened to the tape, like the others, with no outward show of emotions, but he felt a sharp pang of worry. His nephew, the last he’d heard, had gone ashore with a party of Navy and UN personnel to prepare the way for Admiral Tarrant to receive the surrender of the Crimea and, as far as he knew, they were still ashore, trapped by Dmitriev’s coup.

Within twenty-four hours of the attack on the Bosporus bridge, this tape had been delivered to the White House by the Russian embassy in Washington. The President had seen it. His advisory group was reviewing it, looking for answers to seemingly unanswerable questions.

“We wish to stress that we have not intentionally fired upon American ships,” Dmitriev’s image continued. “The tanker sunk during the attack on the Bosporus bridge was attacked by accident… much as happened to the American helicopter in Georgia a few days ago. We apologize for that incident. We have also just recently learned that one of your helicopters was destroyed on the ground near Yalta. Again, that was a case of mistaken identity. We regret these attacks and stress that they were accidents, the products of the well-known fog of water.

“At the same time, however, we must stress our resolve. These are dangerous times for our government, for the safety of our people, our land. We cannot allow foreign powers to hinder our great purpose or to intervene in our internal affairs.”

“Watch it,” Herb Waring said, speaking quickly as the figure on the screen paused to draw breath. “Here it comes.”

“But we do… have a proposition for you,” Dmitriev continued. “One that we hope you will be inclined to accept, Mr. President, as a means for both of us to resolve this unfortunate and unnecessary confrontation in which we find ourselves. Boychenko’s mistake, his treason, was in handing over sovereign Russian territory to foreigners, hoping that they would guarantee the Crimea’s security. This, you must understand, is no different a situation than if one of your generals turned, say, Florida over to Russian forces for safekeeping.

“But we can work together. We should work together, in the interests of world peace. In fact, we would welcome your help fighting against the Ukrainian invasion when it comes. There is an excellent possibility, Mr. President, that simply the presence of your carrier battle group in our waters, coupled with your declaration to stand by the rightful, popularly elected government of the Crimea, will be enough to discourage Ukrainian aggression.

“I would also remind you of the Ukrainian genocide already committed against Russian citizens in eastern Ukraine. If they are allowed to invade the Crimea, I can only expect that-“

“Shut that thing off,” Samantha Reed said. This was the third time they’d played the tape through, and by now they were beginning to know large parts of it by heart.

“The rest of it’s flag-waving and grandstanding,” Secretary of State Heideman said. “With a fair amount of heart-thumping thrown in gratis.”

“The guy’s insane,” Waring said, shaking his head. “The President would never go for something like this.”

“I don’t know,” Reed said thoughtfully. “We should at least consider the offer. Discuss it. It may be the only viable option we have.”

“Excuse me,” Admiral Scott said sharply, “but did I just hear that tin-plated neo-Communist dictator try to extort American military help? Those bastards just hijacked an entire carrier battle group and a Marine Expeditionary Unit and are holding them and something like thirty thousand of our men and women hostage! We do not make deals with terrorists!”

“Of course we do, Admiral,” Reed said testily. “We do it all the time.

We just cloak the reality behind negotiations and settlements and new breakthroughs in the peace process.”

“Good God, Madam Secretary-“

“Now hear me out!” Reed insisted. “This may not be the disaster the rest of you are making it out to be.”

“What?” Scott said. “Is this a new way you have of cutting back the Defense Department? Give our carriers to the Russians?”

“Admiral, I will remind you that you work for me! If you can’t accept that, if you can’t live with my standards, then you are welcome to tender your resignation.”

“No, ma’am,” Scott replied, his jaw stubbornly set. “You’re going to have to fire me, because right now it looks to me like I’m the only one looking out for the interests of our people over there.”

“Our people should be safe enough, Admiral,” Waring said. “Dmitriev’s not crazy enough to launch an attack on a carrier group, not as weak as his forces are right now. All our boys need to do is sit tight… maybe withdraw to a Turkish Black Sea port, and they’ll be fine.”

“Has anyone bothered to ask the Turks what they think of that?” Lloyd said quietly.

“They still refuse to admit our ships into their waters,” Heideman said glumly. “We have people talking to them. They’ll see reason, we think, but it might take time.”

“That’s not likely,” Scott said. “Damn it, they have a war on their hands now. Don’t you see? Russia just attacked Turkish territory. What… Roger? How many civilians died in that attack?”

“Last number I saw was eight hundred,” Lloyd replied. “That’ll go up, though. They’re still fishing bodies out of the Bosporus.”

“Well, why are the Turks mad at us?” Reed wanted to know. She spread her hands. “This puts us and the Turks in the same boat. Russia attacked both of us!”

“They, ah, may think that we provoked that attack, Madam Secretary,” Heideman said carefully. “They may be trying to distance themselves for that reason.”

Scott snorted rudely. “Ankara may also still want to salvage their relationship with the Russians.”

Lloyd nodded. “The admiral’s right. Remember, the Turks need the Russians to help control the Kurd arms-smuggling on their border. There are factions in the Turkish government that would accept a Russian apology for the ‘accident’ on the Bosporus in exchange for an air strike or two against Kurdish camps in Armenia.”

“So where do we stand, then?” Reed wanted to know. “You’re telling me there’s no way we can get through and resupply them?”

Scott looked at Magruder and nodded. Magruder pulled a sheaf of plastic binders from his briefcase and passed them out to the others at the table. “These, Madam Secretary,” he said, “are our estimates of the CBG’s capabilities. In short, we estimate that they can continue normal flight and patrol operations for ten days. If, however, they are forced to fight a major battle ― if Dmitriev launches an air strike against the Jefferson, for instance, and they have to beat it off ― that operational window drops to three days. Less if they use mass attacks continued over a period of time, which is traditional Russian strategy.”

“What if operations are rationed?” Waring asked. “You know, not flying any missions at all unless they’re absolutely necessary?”

“Mr. Waring, that ten-day estimate takes into account only ‘necessary operations.’ Minimal CAP ― that’s Combat Air Patrol ― with enough aircraft up at any given time both to give warning of an approaching hostile force and to be able to meet it in the air. Hawkeye and Prowler electronic surveillance flights. We have to have the E-2Cs up round the clock, or we’re sailing blind. Viking and helo ASW flights go off round the clock, too, covering the entire battle group from hostile subs. Anything less…” He stopped and shrugged. “We might as well hang out a sign. “For sale. Used aircraft carrier. You haul it away.’”

“What about hardware?” Waring asked. “Missiles, stuff like that?”

“One major engagement could expend nearly everything they have aboard, sir. But aviation fuel will be their major worry. Even at best, in peacetime with a slow ops schedule, a carrier’s JP-5 stores are only good for a couple of weeks.”

“And Dmitriev knows that,” Scott added. “I don’t believe for one second his claim that the attack on our UNREP tanker was an accident. The bastard was trying to sink her, partly to help block the channel, partly because he knew she represented an additional two weeks of flying time for our carrier planes.”

“How about food and water?” Heideman asked.

“That won’t be a major consideration, at least not for a while,” Magruder told him. “They make their own fresh water. They may run out of fresh fruit and stuff like that, but they can go for a good many months with onboard stores.”

“Look, the fact of the matter is we can’t give in to Dmitriev’s demands,” Scott said. “That’s extortion, pure and simple.”

“Well, what would you have us do?” Reed demanded. “We can’t go in and get them out. You say they can’t last for long without fuel and supplies. The Turks won’t let them into their ports. I see no alternative but to recommend that they cooperate with the Russians!”

“Madam Secretary,” Scott said. “Do I need to remind you that these people have attacked us? Sunk a civilian ship working under charter with our fleet? Blockaded that fleet? Strafed one of our helicopters assigned to UN duty? Fired on our aircraft? Threatened us with an attack against that fleet?”

“Then give me an alternative that I can present to the President!”

“Simple,” Scott said, folding his arms across his chest. “We send in the Marines. Secure the whole of the Dardanelles Straits, from the Aegean to the Black Sea. Send in Seabee units and SEALS to blast the wreckage out of the channel. We move another carrier ― the Eisenhower is already in the Med ― into the Aegean and fly support missions across Turkish territory, and to hell with what Ankara says. We can also fly aerial refueling missions off the Ike and extend the Jefferson’s onboard stores.

“Meanwhile, the Marines hold the channel open against possible repeat Russian attacks until the wreckage is removed and our ships and people are out of that death trap!”

“The Turkish government may take a dim view of our invading their territory,” Heideman said.

“Then they can provide access to our ships,” Scott said. “Also, we have MEU-25 already in the Black Sea, with the Guadalcanal and her escorts. They would be in an excellent position to grab the Black Sea end of the Bosporus and begin clearing operations. I would suggest bringing in MEU-21 for operations on the Aegean coast.”

“The Army should have a piece of this,” General Kirkpatrick, the Army Chief of Staff, said. “Ranger units to seize key airfields. The 101st to grab Istanbul and its approaches. This thing is doable.”

Reed looked at the general with distaste, then turned to Admiral Scott.

“Surely you gentlemen aren’t seriously suggesting we declare war on Turkey? The last I heard, they were on our side.”

“That seems to be debatable, Madam Secretary,” Scott told her, “at least in view of their refusal so far to allow us overflight privileges or access to our battle group. I believe an amphibious operation may be the only way to secure the safe extraction of our people.”

“The worst aspect,” Admiral Magruder pointed out, “is the length of the entire Dardanelles-Bosporus channel. It’s three hundred kilometers ― make that a hundred eighty miles ― from the Aegean end of the Hellespont to the Black Sea end of the Bosporus. Most of that is the Sea of Marmara, in between the two, but we’d still have several hundred miles of coastline to secure, a mammoth operation. And it’s not like we’d be facing some third-rate, minor country, either. We’ve counted on Turkey as NATO’s right flank for so long that we’ve equipped them pretty well. Worse, we’ve trained their people pretty well. An op of this scope would be no walkover.”

“You’re not suggesting that we give up, are you, Admiral?” Scott asked sharply. Magruder heard in that tone a bit of desperation; Scott needed support here and was afraid that Magruder was backing off.

“Certainly not. But there are other governments in the area that we could approach. If we could convince Greece and Bulgaria to go along with us on this, we might manage an air-mobile op against just the Black Sea end of the Bosporus. We could land north of Istanbul just long enough to clear the shipping channel.”

“We’d still have the problem of extracting our ships,” Scott said.

“But it would buy us time and open some new possibilities, I think.”

“There’s also,” Kirkpatrick said, “the option of striking directly at the problem. Hit the Russians, threaten them with an expanded war against a real enemy, not just Ukrainians or other Russians. Hit ‘em and hurt ‘em until they yell uncle and let our people go.”

“Difficult, General,” Scott said, “without a nearby base of operations.

Or are you suggesting we invade Russia from eastern Europe or the Baltic?”

“Unacceptable!” Reed said sharply. “Remember, the whole point of this exercise is to avoid becoming involved in a war over there. It would be easier and cheaper to go ahead and let the Russians have our damned ships!”

“Gentlemen,” Waring said, shaking his head. “I have to weigh in and say that I’m completely opposed to any operations against Turkey anywhere along those straits. There’s historical precedent not to try something like that, you know. Anybody here remember Gallipoli?”

“What’s that?” Reed asked him. “A city?”

“A battle, Madam Secretary,” Magruder said. “In World War I.”

“That,” Reed said with a lift of her chin, “was a bit before my time.”

Gallipoli had been one of the bloodier failures of the First World War, an attack by Great Britain against Germany’s Ottoman Turk allies in 1915. Brainchild of the British First Lord of the Admiralty, one Winston Churchill, the idea had been to land on the Gallipoli Peninsula at the Aegean mouth of the Hellespont and seize the straits, isolating Istanbul from the Asian portion of the Turkish-Ottoman Empire, knocking the Turks out of the war, and opening a new line of supplies to the embattled Russians. Simple in concept, the plan had been wrecked by hesitation and slow-moving commanders. After seizing a beachhead with few casualties against light opposition, the invasion force had failed to move inland off the narrow thrust of the peninsula; the Turks had closed them off, and there’d followed an extended battle by attrition.

Some 252,000 men had become casualties on the Allied side alone. Nearly as many Turks had been killed or wounded as well, and the entire operation had accomplished exactly nothing. The most skillfully handled part of the entire campaign had been the British evacuation of the beachhead at the end, early in 1916.

“Gallipoli failed,” Magruder said carefully, “because of a failure of nerve and of vision on the part of the people running it. It was a fine strategic concept, with a major screw-up in the execution.”

“If you ask me,” Gordon West, the White House Chief of Staff, said, “this whole thing has been one colossal screw-up. I know the President isn’t going to want to get into any major military operation until we know just what went wrong in there. This, this could have an incalculable impact on his image.”

Scott snorted loudly. “We’re not talking about public opinion polls here, Mr. West.”

“We are talking,” West said with a quiet, deadly earnestness, “about the President of the United States, and his perceived effectiveness as a world leader. I’d say that is at least as important as the safety of your precious aircraft carrier.”

“Perhaps, gentlemen,” Waring said, glancing back and forth nervously between the two men as though he feared they were about to come to blows, “and Madam Secretary, ah, perhaps it’s too soon yet to make any decision at all. I mean, a rash decision now could have unfortunate effects on all concerned, on the President, and on the Jefferson and her escorts. If we wait, the situation may resolve itself.”

“I might remind you all,” Admiral Scott added, “of the service motto of the British Special Air Service, the SAS. “Who dares, wins.” This isn’t a time for halfhearted measures, fixing the blame, or mealymouthed political shenanigans.”

Reed shook her head. “Mr. Waring, I cannot in good conscience recommend any act that will deepen our military involvement in that region.” She looked pointedly at Scott. “We will not send in the Marines and risk this, this incident escalating into a major war.”

Admiral Magruder looked up. “Madam Secretary, excuse me, but you’re suggesting we do nothing? What about our people?”

“There are times, Admiral, when political expediency must take precedence. For the good of the country.”

“You’re suggesting that we abandon them? Let them just, just hang out to dry?”

“There are wounded personnel ashore,” Admiral Scott added, his voice growing harder, angrier. “Including the commanding officer of that battle group. So far, the Russians have not even been willing to discuss allowing us to extract them. That’s a problem quite separate from the larger one of our battle group being trapped inside the Black Sea. Madam, we can’t simply turn our backs on them!”

She drummed her fingers briefly on the tabletop. “I will remind you, both of you, once again, Admiral Magruder, Admiral Scott, that I will happily accept your resignations if either or both of you cannot see things my way. I need team players here, not dissent. Not squabbling. My recommendation will be that we engage the Russians in a meaningful dialogue. Perhaps something can be negotiated. We should tell Dmitriev no right up front, but keep the door open for further bargaining. I think we can work something out, given time.

“We should also, Mr. Heideman, continue our talks with Ankara. If we can secure rights to berth our ships in one of their Black Sea ports, in Sinop, possibly, the entire problem goes away. Don’t you agree?”

“Oh, absolutely, Madam Secretary.”

“In any case,” Waring added, “we can extend those negotiations as long as is necessary. Long enough to see what the Russians do. Long enough for the President to garner support for military intervention, if necessary.”

“That raises an interesting possibility,” Gordon West said.

But Magruder leaned back in his chair and closed eyes and ears alike. He recognized the signs. This discussion was going to continue throughout the rest of the morning, possibly into the afternoon as well, but nothing would be decided, nothing accomplished. A wholehearted advocate of the necessity of separating military from government and keeping them separate, he nonetheless resented it, resented it deeply, when the civilian bureaucrats in charge regarded military men and women as expendable pawns. The same sort of thing had happened time after time in the past. The U.S. government had known there were still POWS in captivity in North Vietnam and Laos when the Paris peace accords had been signed, but in the name of political expediency and a crumbling presidency…

Sometimes Magruder, patriot that he was, felt deeply ashamed for his country.