Arctic Wind

Chapter 10 Corrections

“We cannot afford to do as we have this first day. Our efforts appear uncoordinated and we are wasting both our time and resources simply because some of us either cannot or will not conform to our plans,” said Hammond to the assembled generals. “For example, our drones were able to open large holes in the enemy front lines, but some units were as much as two hours late moving in to take advantage of this. As a result, the Russians were able to reinforce their units and successfully counter our efforts. In two cases, the delay caused our air assets to attack our own units. This is unacceptable,” he said forcefully. “We have neither the personnel nor the material to waste them against our enemy. They have much more to expend than we do. That being said, the German and Polish forces have been able to close in behind the Russian lines. Our Predator drones are playing havoc all along the front and we have been able to consolidate our gains. We need to use these things to our advantage as long as we can.” He turned to the intelligence officer. “I understand they are sending in more units?”

Colonel Franks nodded his head. “Yes sir, there is another whole division making its way to the Polish border. They should arrive later this afternoon along this road here,” he said pointing to a highway in southeastern Poland.

“We won’t have the units to stop them,” said General Pol. “Our lines are pretty thin. The idea was to surround them and simply cut off their supplies. Taking on a division of tanks might jeopardize that mission,” he said.

“I agree, but what if we pulled back and just let them come through?” asked Hammond.

“This is insanity,” proclaimed General Eves LeMonde, leading the French forces. “Then what good have we done to push around them in the first place. You wish to talk about being wasteful,” he exclaimed.

“Actually, I am thinking about controlling the situation,” said Hammond calmly. “We pull back and let them through. All the way we pound them with our Predators, then close back in once they have passed. We still cut them off, but now there are more to feed and equip. If we can continue to cut out their supplies, pretty soon they will start getting pretty hungry,” he explained.

Dortmund nodded his head. “That makes sense. The more they pour in, they might be good for a few days, but it just means they run out of things faster. I like it,” he said with a wink. “They have concentrated their supply caravans down these major roads,” he said pointing to several highways on the map. “If they keep it up, it will be much easier to get our planes and drones in to stop them.”

General Pol pointed to some highlands along the route. “What if we drop in artillery along these hills? We could rake any convoy coming through and still be mobile enough to move them out of range if the Russians get wise. With our intelligence and satellites, we can surround any small forces sent in to take them out and cut them up. It would also serve to keep the Russians guessing and constantly having to react instead of concentrate their forces. It could work to our advantage,” he pointed out.

“Why don’t you and General Dortmund work this out and we’ll try and make it work. In the meantime, our drones will be operating all of tonight and every night. We must all be ready to press forward just before dawn to take advantage of it. That means the American, British and French forces all go at once. We made ten miles today. I want double that tomorrow if we can,” Hammond said. “Remember, we are all working together on this. The better we coordinate, the fewer we lose.”

After a few minutes the meeting came to a close. Everyone filed out of the room, but Hammond stopped LeMonde.

“General, can you help me understand why your forces were late this morning? If there are reasons, it will help me know our limitations,” Hammond said.

LeMonde shrugged. “I cannot put my forces in jeopardy until we are totally ready. I refuse to sacrifice my people for the sake of scheduling. I am responsible for my people,” he said.

“I understand, but you should realize that yes, they are your people, but these are all my people. Your delays cost lives in other areas. It slowed the advance. Then your pilots, who were also late, bombed British soldiers who had advanced beyond where you thought they were. I must insist that when we make these plans, they be carried out on time, otherwise, there will be more losses and more delays. You know we cannot afford these things,” said Hammond firmly. “I am relying on you to make this happen. If you can’t, let me know so we can make other arrangements,” he said. The insinuation was clear.

LeMonde looked him square in the eyes. “You do not have the authority to relieve me. That comes only from my head of government,” he said with a swagger.

“General, I do not wish to relieve anyone, however, either you become a member of this team or you don’t,” Hammond said calmly.

LeMonde shrugged. “It is for you to say,” he said. “I shall prepare my troops,” he said dismissively, then turned and left the room. He passed Sir Richard Thomas on the way out without even acknowledging he was there.

“You ready to shoot the bugger yet?” Thomas asked.

“He does have a way of making things difficult. I wish I knew why he was so defiant,” Hammond sighed.

“Part of it is he is one of their aristocrats. He thinks France is everything and we are nothing. It’s a part of the old European order. Even I thought people like him were long dead,” said Thomas. “But he is right. Only his government can remove him. I believe the next move will be to make a trip to Paris. I have met the President and he’s nothing like LeMonde. I have also been talking to LeMonde’s second in command, General Gagne. He’s as frustrated as we are. I mentioned to him that others might need to know. Gagne’s a loyal guy, but he doesn’t like incompetence. Let’s see what settles and go from there,” Thomas assured him.

Hammond let out a breath. “Well, tomorrow will tell,” he said as the two left the room.

Petyr came back late from school. The pharmacy had been stocked back up with what they could get, but with the windows boarded up and people running back and forth scared to death, there were few customers after the initial rush. The air raids had been reduced to twice a day, yet school had met and children told what to expect and do when the air raid alarms sounded. But that wasn’t why Petyr was late. He had made a stop on the way home. Just as he entered the store, the air raid alarm sounded again and everyone rushed to the basement. As the families huddled in the dark under the one dim light, Petyr handed his father a paper.

“What is this?” Mister Kursov asked.

“It is permission for me to enter the army at seventeen,” Petyr said calmly. He heard Anna gasp in the corner.

Kursov grunted and tried to hand it back. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

“I didn’t ask you, Father. I need you to sign it,” Petyr said firmly.

Kursov became angry. “You do not tell me. I will decide what happens in this family.”

Now Petyr became angry. “Just like you decided to become a traitor to our country?” he asked.

Anton Kursov stood up. “I am no traitor,” he nearly shouted.

“Oh no? Then why did I see you at that last demonstration? Freda and I were there and I saw you running in and out of the crowd doing the bidding of our tenant. I saw you carrying things into the crowd while your leader sat back and watched from a safe distance. You were responsible for people getting killed. It made me wonder how many other demonstrations you were a part of,” Petyr cried out.

“Petyr, what are you saying?” his mother asked.

He turned to face her. “I am saying father has been a part of this. Remember all those evenings he was away? Shortly afterward was a demonstration somewhere. I finally saw him!” Petyr exclaimed. He turned back to his father who looked stricken. “You always told me to be proud of our Russian heritage. But how can I be now. You forget, I was born here. I was raised here. My friends and family are here and I consider myself a Pole, and as a Pole, it is my duty to serve my country,” Petyr said proudly.

“You won’t do any such thing,” Kursov said.

“Oh yes I will. Up until now I was proud of my family. I was proud of my father. Now I am so ashamed I cannot face my friends anymore. I cannot tell Freda how much I love her because of all the shame that would come with that love. So I will do the only thing I can do. I will join the army and defend my country. Only then will I be able to hold my head up again,” he stammered. “Now sign it,” he demanded.

The quiet of the basement was deafening. Only the sound of distant bombs broke it. Mrs. Kursov broke the silence. “You sign it or I will,” she said in disgust.

Kursov was shaken to his core. His sins had indeed come back to haunt him and his family. Too late did he realize what he had caused. Now his own son hated him. That had to be fixed. He slowly pulled out a pen and signed the form. He handed it to his son, standing before him. Petyr turned and walked to Mr. Polski. “Mr. Polski, when this is all over, I want to marry your daughter. I don’t know how long it will take, but once I have brought honor to our name, I want to share my life with her,” he said firmly.

Mr. Polski smiled and indicated for Petyr to sit beside him. “Petyr, you are not responsible for what your father did. I know you are a good and honorable young man. I will be proud to have you in the family,” he said in a low voice, placing his arm around the boy’s shoulders. He noticed they were shaking slightly and he began to realize what it was taking from the boy. “Don’t be so hard on your father. Remember, he grew up in a different system at a different time. Your roots are here in Poland, but his are still in Russia. That can do a lot to a man,” he said.

Petyr looked at him. “I can’t right now. It is eating away at me from the inside. I don’t hate my father, but right now, I can’t respect him anymore,” he said sadly.

Polski nodded. “I understand that. Over time, things tend to heal. I believe your father will do the right things. We just need to give him the chance. Now go to Freda. I believe you have frightened her with your decision,” he said.

The realization changed the look on Petyr’s face. He quickly got up and went to the far corner of the room where they usually sat. Polski watched as he sat down and pulled her to his shoulder.

Across the basement Mrs. Kursov quietly scolded her husband. “I cannot believe you could do such a thing. Don’t you remember why we left Russia? We wanted a better life and we found it. Now you are trying to drag Poland back into the dark ages. I don’t blame Petyr. Did you see the look of shame on his face? Now look at Sasha. You see how he turns away? Even Camille has moved over to where Petyr and Freda are seated. I cannot believe you could do this to our family,” she said. The tears in her eyes could be seen in the dim light.

“There is nothing to say,” said Anton to his wife. He turned away.

“Yes, there is nothing you could ever say,” she said. Mrs. Kursov got up and walked over to talk to Sasha.

Anton Kursov had never felt so alone, or ashamed.

“Sir, Admiral Hammond is on the secure satellite phone,” an aide told the CNO.

Admiral Johnson reached behind the desk and picked up the receiver. “What’s up. Roger?” he asked pleasantly.

“Perry, how the hell am I expected to win a war if we keep losing carriers,” Hammond asked sharply.

Admiral Johnson had expected this to come. “Hang on, Roger, I’m as pissed about this as you are. Lineman went rogue on me and thought he would be the next Halsey. We’re lucky the Kennedy didn’t sink. I plan on sending Tim Reardon a case of Scotch for all the good work his people did building her. The carrier and her escorts are on their way back even now. The bad part is they lost the Texas. One of the LAMPS pilots got a little too enthusiastic and dropped a weapon on her. We haven’t heard from her since.”

“Damn!” came the reply from the other end of the line. “This has to stop, Perry. These guys have to knock off the peacetime ‘anything goes’ attitude and realize we cannot waste assets. I’m telling my unit commanders the very same thing. We just can’t afford it anymore,” Hammond said.

“I agree. Lineman and a few others we are hearing about are out. We’re replacing them with good operators who can get the job done. Let’s face it, Roger, we have to transition to a war footing almost overnight. There are going to be some rough spots,” Johnson asked. “I know you were counting on the Kennedy, but I sent Mike Shransky back to Newport News. He says Reardon has a plan to maybe get the Lincoln back on line. I don’t know the details yet, but Mike said he would come and brief me. I’ll keep you informed. Now, how are things over there?”

“It’s a little rough,” said Hammond. “I have a French commander who thinks he’s in charge and the Italians and Spanish are still getting things ready. In the meantime, I am fighting a war and so far, we are just holding our own. As you can imagine, it’s a little tense around here.”

Johnson chuckled. “Better you than me. On a positive note, Chris is almost ready. Next week he will go down to Norfolk. They will leave the week after Christmas. Lousy timing, but can’t be helped,” he said.

“At least you have some good news. I’ve got Russia cold and dark like the Boss wanted. If we follow the plan, things should get interesting quickly. By the way, how is Rod Jeffers doing?” Hammond asked.

“Busier than a one armed paper hanger. Roger, the kid is brilliant. He’s also showing some amazing leadership abilities. I just got word the Senate passed the list. He may hear by tonight,” Johnson said with a smile.

“I may give him a call. Just remember I promised him we would make sure he stayed in his pipeline. He needs his department head tour and schools,” Hammond reminded him.

“After this, we may not need to send him to so much. He’s making a good name for himself. But I’m with you. He needs to hit all the right spots. He’s going to be an admiral someday,” the CNO proclaimed.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’ll be happy to get this phase of the operation going. Once we win the war, we can take care of Jeffers. Now if I can get the French on my side, things might look a little better,” said Hammond.

“Good luck with that. Want me to let the Boss know what’s up?”

“Wouldn’t hurt. He played his ‘you can’t do anything to me’ card when we talked today. At the same time, when you see Lineman, give him a kick in the ass for me,” said Hammond.

“Will do. Now get back to fighting your war. I have some people to dog on my end,” Johnson said.

“Take care Perry,” said Hammond ending the conversation.

“What the hell are you putting on my ship?” Captain Gene Donner asked. The plain gray sheets were rough around the edges and looked like something thrown together. USS America was the first of only two special LHAs built for the navy. As an amphibious assault ship, she was different from the other LHAs simply because she didn’t have a well deck. Instead, she had room for a hangar deck and additional aviation stores. As a result, she could carry up to twenty of the F-35 Lightnings. Preparations were already being made to increase that number along with some MV-22 Ospreys. The technicians from the Naval Sea Systems Command were swarming all over the ship providing additional modifications to prepare her for war. Captain Donner didn’t like change. It had taken him a year to get used to the ship and her characteristics. These new things would have to be learned quickly. They would get underway within the next thirty days and steam into a war zone. This latest installation had him cranky.

This was just the third of over thirty ships Bill Small would have to install this modification to. He didn’t have time to debate his mission. “The latest and greatest, Captain,” he said as cheerfully as he could. “The manual is only twenty pages thick so it’s easy to learn. Basically, when you throw the switch, it will make your ship invisible to enemy radars. Unfortunately, at the same time it will silence your own communications except for satellite. With this thing on, there’s not a missile that can attack you,” he said.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. How much power does it use?” Donner asked.

“Absolutely none. It’s totally passive. I understand it has only come out this past month, but we are putting these things on every ship in the fleet,” said Smalls

“Well, maybe it will look better with a coat of paint,” said Donner, warming up to the idea.

“Oh no sir. You can’t paint it. You leave it exactly as it is when we leave it. Painting will negate its effectiveness. I know it doesn’t look like much, but those are the orders. Any painting will be classified as a SHIPALT. You can’t even tighten the bolts or take it down. Sorry, but that’s the word we got from on high. You’re getting one on the bow, one astern and two on each side. There will be one switch in CIC and another on the bridge to turn it on and off. The instructions will explain the rest,” Smalls said.

It was hard to imagine just a few plates would do what they said, but he actually had no choice. “It’s still damned ugly. It’s not even the right shade of gray,” Donner said.

Smalls chuckled. “They all say that. My understanding is that this is the way it comes out of the oven. I guess we’re just stuck with it,” he said.

Donner nodded. “How long will it take?”

“We’ll be done later today. I’ll test it before I leave,” Smalls said.

That surprised Donner. Test it? He just threw up his hands and gave in to the inevitable. He never understood the techno geeks at NAVSEA anyway.

Captain Doug Rhodes was up to his ears in paperwork just getting all the people aboard the ship. USS Iowa had recently been used as an emergency platform during the earthquakes and the systems were all up and ready to go. As before, when he commanded the ship during the kidnapping in Venezuela, the veterans had returned. They were bolstered by additional newer faces from when the ship had been in commission just six years before. Many were still there from the earthquake, but some of the vets were getting much older. It would be his duty to ask some of them not to make the trip. At the same time, ten busses of active duty crewmen had arrived to begin their duty aboard, along with another ten of reservists. The Administrative Officer was pulling his hair out.

Commander Russ Sampson was already getting drills set up to get the crewmembers acquainted with the ship and its operation. He had been aboard when the ship was in Korea — the second time. Placing veterans in each division had helped out. Like before, they helped make sure each crewman knew exactly how the ship ran. The publication “Battleship Standards” had already been reprinted and issued.

There was a knock at the cabin door and the Marine stuck his head in and announced the XO. Sampson came through the door. “Fueling will commence tomorrow morning at 0800. I got the Chief Engineer on it. We’ll take on about a million gallons,” he announced.

“Good. I understand we won’t need a weapons onload,” Rhodes said.

“No sir. We have a full complement of five inch and sixteen inch. The only thing we will take on is small arms and the .50 caliber. Seal Beach will bring that by truck. I have ordered the Phalanx to be loaded and brought up to a ready status. If they shoot at us again, we’ll be ready,” Sampson said. He held out a sheet of paper. “Did you see this?”

Rhodes scanned the sheet and his eyebrows flew up. “Transferring to Norfolk. Well, that’s interesting. I thought we would be staying on this coast.”

“I did too, but since we’re in a shooting war, you never can tell. I heard through the grapevine that something is brewing over there. Maybe they want us in on it,” Sampson said.

Rhodes glanced at the door to make sure it was closed. “I actually talked to a friend of mine in the Pentagon. There’s a special force being put together. You know who’s heading it up?”

“Who?”

“Chris Hustvedt.”

“From the Sea of Japan?”

“None other.”

“Oh hell! I want in on that one,” exclaimed Sampson.

“Oh yea. So we need to be ready as we can be. I also got a call from NAVSEA. They are coming out to install new equipment beginning tomorrow. Make sure we are set to help them out. SURFPAC wants us ready to get underway in fifteen days,” said Rhodes.

“Fifteen days! That’s pushing it, but if we can get in on this new thing it will be worth it. I’ll tell the wardroom to plan on some 12 hour days for a while. Duty sections will be at it all night. We’ll get underway on time, Captain,” said Sampson with a grin.

“We better. I’d hate to have to break in a new XO,” Rhodes grinned back.

“That’s why they pay me the big bucks. I’ll set up a stores onload two days before we get underway so we will be full up. You need anything?” asked Sampson.

Rhodes shook his head. “I’ll take care of all I need. Let me know when you have the fueling brief.”

“Will do, Captain. I need to get that set up. I’ll let you know if I hear anything more,” Sampson said getting out of his seat.

“I appreciate it,” said Rhodes as he watched the XO leave the cabin. He had actually heard more, but couldn’t share it yet. The plan was for Iowa to be in Norfolk for only three days to refuel, and provision. Then she would be underway to join one of the largest fleets ever assembled and head for the Mediterranean.

Lt. Rod Jeffers was bone tired. In the three weeks since the war began, he and Hustvedt’s staff had worked mercilessly trying to not only get the final plan complete, but to also assemble the assets to make it work. True, Jeffers couldn’t give those kinds of orders, but working with the staff, the fleet and air units were being brought together and the troops assembled to make it all work. Every day the message center buzzed with new requests for information and to detail orders.

The results were impressive. It involved three carriers, two LHAs, four LHDs, six LPDs, eight LSDs and twenty other transport ships, along with three battleships, four cruisers, fifteen destroyers, six frigates and several submarines. In all there were over 120 ships being assembled — and that was just in the Atlantic and from the American side. Another two carriers, an LHA, two LHDs, four LSDs, a battleship, six more cruisers, ten destroyers five frigates and other support ships were being assembled on the west coast. This would be a two ocean war. With the Kennedy being damaged, it had made the effort much more difficult. Everything was hinged on getting one of the carriers back online. Newport News was doing just that.

Jeffers sat back at his desk and read the latest message traffic that had come into the office just a few minutes before. It was 2010 hours — late in the evening, and he anticipated going home, maybe by 2200. There was a knock at his door. Jeffers looked up to see Vice Admiral Hustvedt standing there with a smile on his face.

“You look like shit,” said Hustvedt.

Jeffers’ face broke into a grin. “Only because I’m up to my ears in it,” he said as he stood.

Hustvedt motioned for him to sit down. He took a seat next to the desk. “Rod, you need to put all this down. For the last three weeks you have been getting home between ten and eleven at night and being back here by six. The Chief of Staff says you have put in the work of ten people. You can’t help me if you kill yourself,” he said.

“I’m okay, Admiral. I just want to make sure this all gets together right. We can’t afford to be left in the lurch once this thing starts,” said Jeffers.

“I know, but this is going very well — largely because of you. I signed the final plan today. Today is Wednesday. I want you to go home and not come back until Monday. Get a little Christmas time with your family,” Hustvedt said. Before Jeffers could object he raised his hand. “I know, there is still a lot to do, but the plan is sound. We need to move on. I do have others on the staff to get last minute things done, and even I have been known to get a few things done in my career. Rod, take a short break. When you get back we need to get ready to move to Norfolk. By Wednesday we will be aboard the America. In two weeks we will be underway. You have been my right hand man in all of this and I appreciate what you’ve done. You’re going to help me win this war. Then, once this is over, I am going to see to it that you get back to sea like a regular surface line officer. Who knows? Before this war is over, you may have a command of your own.”

Hustvedt reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small box. He stood up. Jeffers stood as well, thinking Hustvedt was about to leave. Instead, Hustvedt reached over to Jeffers and pulled off the lieutenant insignia attached on his working uniform. The box contained the insignia of a lieutenant commander. He placed the insignia on the young man’s collars.

“Rod, everyone from the top on down has been impressed with your work. I sent a special evaluation to the selection board last week. You’ve been deep selected. Now maybe you won’t have so much trouble getting things done,” Hustvedt said with a grin. “Rod, I can see why Roger placed so much faith in you. I’m proud to have you with me.” The look of surprise on Jeffers’ face was gratifying to Hustvedt.

“But I wasn’t due to be up for this for another two years,” Jeffers stammered.

Hustvedt let out a laugh. “Of all the young officers I have served with, you more than deserved it. Rod, just take it and keep going. I’ll see you on Monday,” the Admiral said shaking his hand. As he left the room, the phone on Jeffers’ desk rang. He picked up the receiver.

“Congratulations Rod! I hope when you get over here you can come by and see me,” said Hammond on the other end of the line.

“Admiral Hustvedt just put them on my collars. How did you know?”

“Hey, in my job, I’m supposed to know everything. Didn’t you know that?” joked Hammond.

“Maybe, but I bet you had something to do with this,” Jeffers said.

“Maybe, but it still wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t done your part. You are one hell of an officer, Rod. Keep up the good work,” said Hammond.

“Thanks Roger.”

“Don’t thank me. You deserve it. And when you get over this way, please come see me. It would be nice to sit back and talk a while.”

“Thanks. Thanks for everything,” said Jeffers.

“Take care of yourself, Rod,” said Hammond. There was sincere feeling behind the voice.

“You do the same. I’ll stop by.”

“Good. See you soon then.”

“Good bye Admiral, and thanks again,” said Jeffers.

Jeffers put the receiver down and thought a moment about what was happening. This wasn’t normal. He was just a regular guy trying to do his job. He placed the messages back on the duty officer’s desk and grabbed his coat. As he was about to leave the office and go home, the phone rang again. This time it was another new friend — someone much higher up in government.

The Élysée Palace was far grander than almost anything Hammond had ever seen. The residence of the President of the French Republic dated back to the early 1700s and had once been the residence of the mistress of King Louis XV. Since that time, it had housed Napoleon and several other aristocrats, finally becoming the presidential residence in the mid-1800s. Valuable paintings and tapestries adorned the walls and rich carpets covered the floors. The ceilings were covered in frescoes and enhanced with gold filigree. The furniture was of a classical design and seemed to glitter in the lights. The chandeliers took your breath away. Unfortunately these things could not be savored simply because of the grave issue Hammond was coming to speak about.

The escort stopped him at two huge gold encrusted doors while he knocked gently and entered the room, announcing the Supreme Allied Commander. Henri Bayard came from his desk in the elegantly appointed Salon Dore and took Hammond’s hand. “Welcome Admiral Hammond. It is good to see you once again,” Bayard said in English.

“Thank you for receiving me,” said Hammond in almost perfect French. Bayard escorted him into the office.

“I was not under the impression you spoke our language,” Bayard said in astonishment.

“I studied it in school when I was young and found I had a passion for it. In my Navy career I was able to visit France on several occasions. It helped me retain it as a second language,” said Hammond.

“Ahh. I understand. It sometimes makes it easier to understand a nation when you can speak the language. Shall we continue in French?” Bayard asked.

Hammond grinned. “If you would like. I will try to keep up. When you don’t use a language every day, it can be difficult,” he said.

Bayard laughed. “Yes, I have the same problem with English,” he said. “Actually, the more I hear of your ideas and your methods, the more I am impressed. I have been looking forward to speaking with you for some time. Yours is a job I would not wish to undertake,” he said. Motioning toward a chair he continued, “I understand you are having some difficulties with General LeMonde,” he said, getting right to the point as he sat down.

Hammond shifted in his seat. He hadn’t expected things to move this quickly. “Mister President, as you said, we have a very difficult task. There is no doubt General LeMonde is loyal and very talented. He works very hard each day to make sure his troops are well prepared and ready for battle. His dedication is totally for France and the French people. I, on the other hand, am trying to oversee the forces of over ten nations. You and the other allied leaders have asked me to bring this group into a cohesive fighting force to defeat a common enemy. To do that, I need everyone to pull together as one. I especially need the help of the French forces to do just that,” Hammond said. His French was slow, but intense.

“And you feel General LeMonde is not measuring up,” Bayard said. He didn’t wait for a reply. “You know that General LeMond is one of France’s most capable generals. We are not in the habit of recalling one of our leaders simply because someone does not agree with them,” he admonished, “however, there is more to this than you may realize. In the months prior to the outbreak of hostilities, General LeMonde was one of the members of my staff trying to seek reconciliation with the Russians. On behalf of our government, he accepted their explanations and their assurances that there was nothing to fear. He personally trusted them. As a matter of fact, so did I. As you know, France had maintained cordial relations with the Russians and Soviets since the war with Germany. We have even had socialist governments along the way,” Bayern lectured. “When the Russians began these hostilities, we both felt total betrayal. We had assumed the Russians would bluster and then back away. This was not the case. It was personally most embarrassing. I must shoulder some of the blame for this. General LeMonde took it as a personal slap. He does not like being proved wrong and sometimes can be somewhat — how do you say, stiff. I, on the other hand must be flexible. One cannot be a politician and not be so,” he chuckled.

“I was not aware of how personally involved you were in all this,” said Hammond, somewhat surprised at the revelation.

Bayard held up his hand. “I know. But now it seems there is more to his situation than mere chance,” he said with a sigh. Bayern leaned forward. “I have heard some things from the front. You are right in one aspect, LeMonde’s dedication to France is unquestionable, but as such, he often forgets that France does not necessarily have to be in charge. We chose you for a reason. Part of that is that we all know that placing someone from Europe in command would bring up old rivalries — some centuries old — which we do not need. His attitude is an example of that. Quite frankly, we wondered who might take the job until you came along. The fact that we are not speaking from England or the United States is a testament to your abilities to fight this war. As I see it, the Russians have not moved forward very much since you got here. For someone to take command and get things going that quickly is simply amazing.”

“I appreciate that, Mister President,” said Hammond humbly.

“You also do not need the extra burden of having to deal with people who seem to have difficulties understanding what you need. I recalled General LeMonde last night and placed another general in command of French forces,” said Bayard calmly as he reached to the desk and pressed a button.

“I hope the general is not disgraced by this,” said Hammond.

“No, he will have a job in our defense ministry which he has been wanting for a while. I have replaced him with someone you have worked with,” Bayard said as the door opened and someone entered the room.

Hammond immediately recognized General Gagne, LeMonde’s deputy, resplendent in his formal uniform. He stood and greeted him. “Paul, you are taking over?” he asked. The smile on Hammond’s face told Bayard all he needed to know.

“Yes, Roger. I will step up. You also should know that I am not like LeMonde. I fully understand what you are doing and will do my part,” Gagne said with a grin.

“Good. I can see things have improved already,” said Bayard. “Is there anything else France can do for the Supreme Commander?” he asked with a grin.

Hammond turned to Bayard. “No, Mister President. You have been most kind.”

“Nonsense. We are all in this war together. It should never be said that France was not a full participant. Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have another appointment,” Bayard said dismissing the men.

Both saluted and left the room. As they left, Gagne asked, “You speak French?”

It was Friday evening before Rod Jeffers felt the tension and stress slough off. Whether it was his Mom’s cooking or just getting out into the clean mountain air, he could feel his shoulders lifting and a smile returning to his face. There had been all the questions about what he was doing and where he might be going. Unfortunately, he couldn’t really tell them anything. He did say that he would probably be going to sea within the next month. That had upset his mother terribly. The naval losses had led the news reports for a while and the thought of her boy being on one of those ships was almost unbearable. It was his father who had calmed her and set things straight.

Now it was Saturday evening. Since Rod would be leaving the next day and wouldn’t be home for Christmas, the whole family came to share a meal and spend time together. It was almost like Christmas. There was a turkey, ham, squash casserole, rice and gravy, green beans, fresh roles and several other side dishes. A fire was in the fireplace. Not one of those gas log things, but a real wood burning fire. The rooms filled with warmth, laughter and good natured kidding.

After the meal, Rod and his brother Jason gathered the dishes and began cleaning them off and placing them in the dishwasher. It was a job he had grown up with and felt like he needed to do. They were about finished when they began to hear people tuning up instruments in the large family den. Rod got a big smile on his face and quickly placed the last dish in the machine and turned it on. He made his way to his room and pulled out a case, then making his way back down to the den. He was halfway there when he heard the group break out into the old gospel song, “In the Sweet Bye and Bye.”

They were all there. His Dad, Uncle Jennings and Uncle Wilfred were playing guitars. Grandma Ruby had brought out her autoharp. Cousin Caleb was picking his bass fiddle and Cousin Josh had his mandolin. Mom even brought out an old washboard she had kept from Great Grandma Hattie. She might be tone deaf, but she had a rhythm that you could set a watch to. Aunt Janice had even pulled out her old fiddle. The rest of the family was gathered around the room, some sitting on pillows and others in chairs brought in from the dining room. As the group played, the rest joined in with the singing. Rod was the last to sit down. He opened the case and pulled out his five string banjo. He had tuned it earlier and hopped right in with the rest.

It was something the family did every so often during the year. Yes, the Jeffers family was what people called ‘well to do,’ but none of them ever forgot where they had come from. The hills of Tennessee were imbedded deep in their souls and despite the college educations and acquired sophistication, this was where they felt at home. Song after song drifted from the house into the surrounding countryside. It was almost like a healing balm for everyone there — a natural part of home. In between each song the family members would show their approval, praising one family member or another and the talent they displayed.

A few songs in, Rod’s father quieted everyone. “Okay, hold on. Now tonight we wanted to get the family together because Rod, here, is getting ready to go be a part of this war. Our family has proudly served from the revolution up through this latest in Korea. Rod is the first one who is serving as an officer. Rod, the family is proud of you and we wanted to get together this one last time before you left. When you get back we’ll do it again to celebrate. So tonight is yours, son, what would you like to do?” he father asked.

Rod was blushing slightly. “I’m enjoying all of it. Grandma, what would you like to do tonight?” he asked.

Grandma Ruby broke into a wide grin. “Let me sing “Sunny Side” to you,” she said. Rod’s father gave her a wink. “Jennings, lead this off.”

Uncle Jennings began strumming the melody on his guitar and Grandma Ruby began strumming her autoharp. She sang the stanzas and the family joined in on the chorus.

Everyone sat back and let the music flow from them. Rod could tell that the song was Grandma’s way of telling him to be careful and stay upright. That alone touched him more than anything. When the song ended, Rod almost immediately broke into the “Foggy Mountain Breakdown.” He knew it was one of her favorites ever since he learned to play it. His fingers seemed to fly across the strings and the others were letting out whoops as he led the way. On occasion, he would nod to one of the others and they would pick it up, adding spice to the mix and exciting the others in the room. In the end, Rod took off with it again and wrapped it up. On the last note several of the family jumped out of their seats, calling out their approval.

“Boy, you sure do know how to pick that thing,” exclaimed his Uncle Wilfred.

“Best Christmas present we ever got him,” laughed his father. He turned to Janice. “Sister, you get better with that thing every day,” he shouted.

By now, everyone was talking and laughing. It only stopped when Janice started playing an old song called “Down Yonder.” After a few measures, the rest joined in. As before everyone seemed to have an instinct of when to take the lead and when to step back. Song after song filled the house with the sweet country sounds until finally Rod’s Mom announced that the cake and coffee were ready and everyone broke up. They all got their dessert and sat around in small groups around the room, talking quietly. Rod found himself beside Grandma Hattie.

“Do you know how long you will be away?” she asked in a cracking voice.

He shook his head. “No, Grandma, they may keep me busy for a while. You know this is going to be going on for some time. But I’ll get back,” he reassured her.

She took a breath. “Well, were you planning on getting married to that girl you were dating? Nancy was her name, wasn’t it?” Grandma asked.

Rod grinned at her. Grandma had a touch of Alzheimer’s and had forgotten that the two hadn’t been together for at least five years. “No, Grandma, she’s gone her separate ways. I’m still on the lookout, though. One of these days I’m going to find someone that meets my criteria. When that happens, I’ll bring her home to you,” he reassured her.

“Just make sure your standards aren’t too high. I’m not going to be around forever, you know.”

Rod chuckled. “Not so high. I just want someone that is as smart as I am so that we talk about things instead of just talking at each other. I need somebody to be able to accompany me on my banjo, and to do things with me instead of around me. Of course, I’d like her to be just as pretty as you were in your day,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Grandma Hattie laughed. “I’m still a good catch you little imp,” she said with a wink. “You just take your time. That girl will be out there waiting for you. And if she can’t cook, I’ll teach her everything I know,” she promised. She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m awful proud of you Roderick. Just come home when this is over,” she said softly.

Rod smiled at his grandmother and took her hands. “I promise, Grandma.”

The meeting had been hastily arranged away from the prying eyes of the media that seemed to be everywhere. Pope Gregory XVII welcomed Chancellor Vogel in his private chambers. As Vogel entered, he bowed and kissed the Pope’s ring before being offered a seat beside the Pontiff.

“Thank you for receiving me under these circumstances, Your Holiness,” said Vogel.

The Pope waived it off. “With all the troubles of the world at the present time, I hope the Church can be of service. What can we do to serve our brothers and sisters in Germany?” he asked.

“Actually, I am coming representing all of the Allied nations, Your Holiness,” Vogel said.

The Pope’s eyes opened wider. “Ahh, it must be important then,” he offered with a smile.

“We feel it is, Your Holiness. We are asking if you would speak with the Patriarch of Moscow and all Rus’ asking him to speak out against this war,” said Vogel.

The Pope smiled and sat back slightly. “Chancellor, you know the Church has adopted a policy where we cannot interfere in the affairs of government. We offer our opinions and hope people will listen, but we are here for the spiritual wellbeing of all God’s children,” he lectured.

The Chancellor nodded. “I understand, Your Holiness, however Germany, in particular, would urge you to do so. You see, when Hitler came to power, the church decided to turn a blind eye to his government. It didn’t interfere when such interference might have changed a great deal. Imagine if the Holy Church had spoken out against his government. Yes, some of our priests might have been imprisoned, but the people might have had second thoughts about his leadership long before he consolidated his power. The people of the church may have won out. It may have kept him from starting a war. Of course, this isn’t criticism of the Church, but it gives us an example of how the moral spirit, which is a part of the Church, was not awakened. We in Germany suffered because of it, and would wish others could avoid it. Your Holiness, you and the other church leaders are the great conscience of the people of the world. We are simply asking that our spiritual leaders exercise that conscience. Help the people think about what is being done and let their moral obligations to others lead them. We may be at war, but I believe people are basically good and that if we ask them to decide on right and wrong, they will chose the right. That is why I humbly ask you intercession,” Vogel pleaded.

The Pope’s face was a mask of concern. What Vogel said was correct. The Church had regretted its decisions regarding Germany when they might have helped. He was also correct about the spiritual mission of the church and what it teaches its people. Could something like this help? Would the Patriarch be willing to do this? He could use the same arguments with him. On the other hand, should he consider it at all? The troubled look on his face was evident to Vogel. “I see your points and I will take them into consideration. What you ask is difficult, but I can see why you ask and I know it is because you feel it may serve the better good.” He reached over and placed his hand on Vogel’s arm. “You have given me something to pray about,” he said with a smile.

“General Pusko, for the last weeks we have lost ground in Poland. Why is that?” asked President Borodin in front of the general staff.

Pusko knew this was coming and unfortunately, he had not been able to come up with an acceptable answer. “It is difficult to say, Mister President. The allied tactics are still befuddling to us. They seem to be able to attack our soldiers at night as we rest or try to perform maintenance duties. No one has been able to sleep for days unless we pull our men and equipment far behind the lines. Even then, the troops left to hold the front are attacked. We do not even know what is attacking us. Then in the early dawn, their tanks appear and take the lightly defended ground before we can send up the necessary reinforcements,” Pusko explained. Borodin could tell by his voice the man was frustrated.

“Continue,” Borodin ordered sternly.

“The night skies are also filled with their Predator drones. They sweep farther back into our positions and go after the supply trains. As you recall, we sent in another five divisions. They found the door open to them all the way to our lines, but then the supplies and replacements were stopped by both air and armor. We found ourselves almost surrounded. We send more in, then everything is cut off. Now we are concentrating on making sure the supply lines are well protected all the way. During the day, our fighters fill the skies, but at night, the Allies control everything. We send in fighters and our radars can’t see anything. Suddenly our fighters are blown from the sky. The Allied stealth technology is much more effective than we expected,” Pusko said. The other generals in the room were nodding their heads.

Borodin saw defeat in their eyes. He had to get control. “That is enough! You offer excuses, but we need answers. You say our men are attacked in the open. Then from here on, the tank crews live and sleep in their tanks. They can’t get shot through all that armor. Send the food and supplied in armored vehicles, anything you need, but our push forward must resume at once!” he demanded. “I believe we need to set the example. Order the commanding general back to Moskow. Place him under arrest for dereliction of duty. Then send in someone who can make things happen,” Borodin ordered.

Pusko blanched at the thought. It was like the stories of the purges under Marshal Stalin. “You realize that the man has only been in command for five days. All of the former commanders were killed.”

Borodin turned in a wrath. “Do not argue with me! Bring him here at once!” he shouted.

Pusko nodded. “It will be done,” he said.

“Good. What other measures need to be taken?” asked Borodin.

Pusko gave a sigh. “It also appears the Allies are able to see our troop movements. Our intelligence people have identified one of their newer spy satellites in a stationary orbit over Europe. If it is true that they have real-time image capability, they will be able to see everything we do.”

Borodin rubbed his chin. This was a real threat and would explain everything that had been going on. He looked at the others. “Perhaps we need to do something about that. Are you sure this is the only one up there?” he asked.

Pusko nodded. “There are others, but the other two are not giving off any electromagnetic signals. We assume they are relays for other satellites since no signals are being beamed back to earth. If the one spy satellite is removed, we get an advantage. Most of our satellites are not in orbit. We send them over twice a day and they return the images. The two we have to send photos in a stationary orbit send in their images three times a day. That is enough to know where they are,” Pusko reassured him.

“Then it is time we took our war to space,” said Borodin. “Destroy the spy satellite. Once that is done, take out the other two as well. Let them know we mean business.”

“It will violate the treaty,” reminded Pusko.

Borodin chuckled. “War is a violation of treaty, General. Send the satellite killers up.”

“We have a launch,” reported one of the operators at her console. “Single launch. Following the trajectory,” she announced.

After a few minutes she began to breathe a little easier. “It appears to be a satellite launch. It looks like to may come near our KH-14 over Europe,” she said.

The supervisor was now looking over her shoulder at her console. “I hate it when they launch things. You almost can’t be sure it’s not aimed for us,” he said. He saw her nod without taking her eyes off her instruments.

“I agree. But at least this one will stay in orbit for a while. It has a trajectory taking it within about 100 kilometers of the KH-14,” she said.

“Can’t expect them not to try and gather intelligence during a war. Unfortunately we signed a treaty keeping us from shooting those things down,” he mentioned.

The satellite began slowing and coming to the same altitude of the American spy satellite. Suddenly the Russian changed course and sped up. This time it was aimed directly at the large KH-14 over Europe.

“Get it out of the way!” screamed the supervisor. At one of the consoles an older man began issuing orders to the satellite. But it was too late. The Russian exploded not 100 meters from the KH-14 sending its shrapnel to shred the American to bits. The input from the KH-14 abruptly ended.

In a corner of the room a lone figure sat back in his seat. “Ladies and gentlemen it appears the Russians have taken the next step. I have already spoken to the President. If this happened, he authorized ‘Wet Blanket.’ Initiate the Star Wars system and fully protect our space assets,” he said.

One of the operators turned to his console and engaged an older start up code. It had begun in the Reagan Administration and had been updated periodically, but until now, no one had realized that the much touted ‘Star Wars’ system had actually been deployed. Within seconds, a code was sent to the satellites. Huge solar arrays began to open up to give the onboard weapons their power. In a little over fifteen minutes, a signal appeared on the operator’s screen. The system was up and running.

Thirty minutes later two more rockets lifted off from Yasny Cosmodrome. Their trajectories showed them headed toward the Eyeball satellites over Europe. The information was automatically passed to the Brilliant Pebbles satellite nearby. Its laser slewed toward the incoming targets. For the first time in nearly twenty years, the laser powered up. When within 1000 miles, it fired. The Russian intercept missile began glowing red hot. Its outer casing began flaking away until the inner workings were exposed, then they too began to melt away. The warhead didn’t detonate. Instead, the now inert projectile sped past Eyeball some 100 miles away and began its slow decay back to earth. The second missile was just three minutes behind the first. Once again, the laser fired. This time, the laser burned away the outer skin further back along the projectile. The vessel containing the warhead melted away as well. The laser detonated the explosives within, sending shrapnel out into space nowhere near the Americans, but striking a Korean communications satellite some five hundred miles away. With no other targets, Brilliant Pebbles reset itself to standby and waited as it had for over twenty years.

USS Lincoln sat in the middle of the bay like some beached whale. There were lights around the ship, but she was sitting at an unnatural angle and low in the water. From the day she had been sunk there had been barges and teams of people diving around the ship, but nothing had changed.

Late in the evening three weeks later a barge was towed into the bay. It looked like one of the oil exploration barges commonly seen in the Persian Gulf. There was a crane, some sort of gantry along one side and other structures. The tug eased the barge up against the side of the stricken carrier and tied it off. No one on shore even noticed as the lights suddenly came on aboard the barge and people seemed to appear all along its decks. The gantry eased out until it almost touched the side of the carrier. On the carrier men and women began coming out to see what was going on. The one thing they noticed was a small weathered sign along one of the steel bulkheads that read ‘Newport News Shipbuilding and Drydock Company.’ The other thing they noticed was a stack of steel plate neatly placed on her deck along with a long row of diving helmets.