Silver Tower

CHAPTER 28

Govorov entered the Stavka conference chambers, accepting congratulations as he made his way to his place at the conference table. He gave a polite bow, then sat down, giving the other Stavka members their cue to follow. The Soviet general secretary remained standing, saying, after the room had quieted, "Welcome home, General Lieutenant Govorov. I'd like to ask you at this time to please step forward."

Govorov got up, walked to the front of the room beside the general secretary, and stood to attention. "Attention to orders," Minister of Defense Czilikov said in a properly ringing voice. The members of the Stavka got to their feet. Czilikov held up an ornately lettered document and read: "By order of the commander in chief of the military forces of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, Alesander Govorov is hereby promoted to the rank of Marshal Kommander, Soviet Space Defense Command, Troops of Air Defense, effective this date. The Politburo joins with the Kollegiya and the people of the Soviet Union in honoring the accomplishments of Comrade Marshal Alesander Govorov this day."

The general secretary moved forward, unclipped Govorov's gold and black three-star shoulder boards and replaced them with shoulder boards carrying one large five-pointed star underneath a gold four-blade propeller. Govorov saluted the general secretary and turned again to face the members of the Stavka.

Czilikov called out, "Present arms." Govorov and the members of the Stavka saluted the hammer and sickle over the general secretary's right shoulder, then saluted Govorov, who returned their salute. "Ready, front." The Stavka members returned to attention and were motioned back to their seats. When the group was settled it was all the general secretary could do to keep to himself the Politburo's wanting to award Govorov the Order of Lenin for his exploits in space the previous month, but he couldn't reveal it — at least publicly — because of Govorov's accidental destruction of the American space station rescue craft, mistaking it for a missile. It was damned unfair but there it was; he could just imagine the international press screaming about the Russian barbarians. True, it was against policy to shoot down a rescue craft, but it hadn't been intentional… Well, perhaps later, after things had calmed down…

The general secretary nodded to Czilikov, who now took the podium beside him. "I extend my personal congratulations to Marshal Govorov, to his staff, and to every member of his command. I also extend to him the condolences of a nation for the loss of his comrade and wingman, Colonel Ivan Voloshin, who will receive the Order of Lenin for his role in the attack on the American space station. His actions are worthy of praise in any world forum." Followed by a short, polite round of applause. A few astute people understood that this was also a way of honoring Govorov… once removed.

As for the new Soviet hero, so far he had managed to keep his own feelings in check — about shooting down the American escape craft, mistaking it for a new weapon. But the honors and celebrations of his so-called great exploits by the general secretary — reflecting, of course, on the general secretary — were beginning to get to him. Yes, he was proud of what he and his men had accomplished. He believed in their mission, had fought for it, in fact. But it wasn't so easy to shut out of his mind what those men in that helpless craft had suffered… Had death been instantaneous? Who knew? He had to hope so. If it had happened to him, he knew he would have wanted it swiftly. There was no special honor or nobility in suffering. That was for martyrs and sick would-be heroes. He hoped he was neither of these. Ever since it had happened — or rather, ever since he had found out what he had done — he had thought about a simpler time when air war was plane against plane… He had read avidly as a boy the accounts of wartime "dog fights," as they were called, between airmen in World War I and in World War II. He had always preferred that one-on-one confrontation, between fighting men who depended on their own skill and managed to have some respect for each other. The notion might be romantic — heaven forbid that he should reveal that side of his character except to his wife in bed — but he still secretly longed for that kind of combat… All right, he chided himself, enough of this. You are also a patriot, and it's undermining your usefulness to go about wringing your hands…

"Now to the situation in the Persian Gulf region and the status of Operation Feather, " the general secretary said, breaking through Govorov's thoughts.

Czilikov recognized his cue. "Yes sir, there is much to report. In the weeks since the destruction of the space station Armstrong, we have consolidated our forces in the region, strengthening not only the battlefield units in each tactical location but moving to unify the entire triple theater forces — the Persian Gulf flotilla, the Iraqi unified command in the west, and the Iran-Afghanistan command in the east. Complete unification is still weeks away. Our movement has been delayed by American naval troops in the southern Persian Gulf whose efforts have been helped by seagoing and aviation forces."

The general secretary cut in. "I am beginning to believe, Admiral Chercherovin, that our forces will never take control of the Persian Gulf. Your plan to attempt to move your flotilla southward to reinforce air strikes against Bandar-Abbas and the other southern Iran airfields seems to be stalled once again.

"Both sides are at an impasse, Sir," the admiral said. "The advantage is with the ground-based defenders. They can move air-to-air missile batteries into thee area faster than we can move carrier-based fighter-bombers to the Brezhnev."

"Supersonic low-altitude bombers from the Southern TVD have had success attacking Iranian forward enemy positions," Chief Marshal Rhomerdunov said. "Enemy advances to positions of tactical advantage have all been stopped or neutralized by small-scale Tu-26 bomber attacks. The Tupolev-26s are virtually invulnerable in the central mountains of Iran—"

"Yet the strikes are strategically useless," the general secretary said. "They are not offensive moves, they gain absolutely no ground nor do they advance the objectives of Operation Feather. They are mere reactions to American offensives. If this war of attrition goes on, sooner or later the side on the offensive will take control. That should be us. Must be. At present it clearly is not."

The general secretary turned to Czilikov. "The solution is obvious to me. Of the three tactical theaters of operation, the weakest is obviously the Persian Gulf flotilla. We have a limited number of vessels in the gulf with almost no hope of replenishment or reinforcement. We have only two sources of refueling these vessels, and we are under constant danger from attack by Iranian guerrillas on the Kharg Island and Abadan petroleum shipping ports. The carrier Brezhnev must use so much of its own resources for fleet self-protection that it is all but useless as a support vessel for other land-based strikes… Admiral Chercherovin, what can you say to this? Your efforts in securing the coastal ports in the initial phases of Feather were laudable, but now that big, expensive, vulnerable fleet stuck in the northern Persian Gulf is impotent. I just read a report that four Iranian madmen carrying bazookas in an inflatable rubber speedboat inflicted extensive damage on the cruiser Dzerzhinsky before being destroyed. Is that how the great Soviet navy is going to go down in defeat? By crazed Muslims in toy rafts?"

"No, Sir—"

"The time has come, gentlemen, to make another decision on the direction of this conflict. There has been considerable pressure from the West to withdraw from Iran. The economic embargoes against our country are beginning to be felt. We are drawing off valuable resources to maintain an uneasy stalemate that threatens to blow up in our faces, while imports of needed raw materials and food are being halted." He sat, slowly folded his hands, and let his eyes wander across the highly polished table surface. "Perhaps we should withdraw from the region…"

No reaction from any of the civilian or military members of the Stavka — except for Govorov. He put both palms down on the table as if to push himself up to his feet in anger.

The general secretary was looking directly at Govorov when he made his announcement, and a knowing smile creased his face. "Or perhaps I should dismiss all of you — except Marshaf Govorov, of course — and replace you with a military council that will show some leadership, some initiative, some damned backbone."

Czilikov's face turned crimson. The general secretary ignored it. "I pledged to this council once that I would not become the first general secretary of the Soviet Untion to retreat in the face of inferior forces and I will keep that promise. In fact, I will never retreat."

He stood and pointed a finger at Govorov while addressing the other Stavka members. "How can you sit here after we have just honored such a soldier as Marshal Govorov, a man who risked his life to give this nation the advantage we so badly needed and wanted, and then, with your silence, acquiesce in a plan for surrender and withdrawal?"

"What would you have us suggest, Sir?" Czilikov said. "A nuclear strike against the Nimitz carrier group? An atomic cruise-missile strike against Bandar-Abbas? Perhaps a flight of SS-20 missiles targeted against the American fleet? We can blow the United Arab Emirates off the map and create a whole new Strait of Hormuz…"

The general secretary seemed to ignore the outburst. "I want a plan for breaking this stalemate and accomplishing the goals of Operation Feather." He turned to Govorov. "Put yourself in the shoes of the minister of defense. What would you suggest?"

Govorov understood he was being wedged between the minister of defense and the general secretary. Some unfriendly space. Well, he'd made a career out of speaking his mind…

"I must agree with you, sir, it was important for our forces to halt their advances while the space station Armstrong was being neutralized. A stalemate-breaking offensive such as the one we were talking about could have triggered a larger response, perhaps even a theater nuclear response from the Americans. Now Armstrong Station is no longer a ducat. So I believe it is necessary to secure a strong foothold in the region, act quickly and decisively."

He paused for a breath and to have his head handed to him — and when he saw they were waiting for more substance and less speech, pressed on….

"I would suggest that two major operations begin as soon as possible. The first would be designed to break down the land-based emplacements of the American rapid deployment forces by overwhelming them, then attacking and occupying their positions; the second would be to command and hold the region from the Arabian Sea to the Strait of Hormuz and control the access to the gulf…"

The silence was a vacuum to be filled, though he couldn't be sure it was because of approval or the opposite…

"I also propose a cruise-missile attack on Bandar-Abbas and the forces along the Persian Gulf. This type of attack was successful on the Nimitz fleet in the past. The Americans must engage the cruise missiles with their surface-to-air and air-to-air assets. The attack should be followed immediately by heavy bomber attacks, progressively moving to lighter fighter-bomber attacks until the targets can be occupied by paratroopers. In two days, if the strike is swift and devastating enough, we should be able to reoccupy Bandar-Abbas."

Finally a reaction: a murmur of voices. Then Chief Marshal Yesimov of the airforce said, "It can be done. Our older Tupolev-95 turboprop bombers, which could not survive over the heavily defended coastal areas around Bandar-Abbas itself, can be armed with cruise missiles instead of gravity bombs. The bombers can launch their missiles from well inside occupied Iranian territory, far from the American surface-to-air missile emplacements. Each Tu-95 can carry four AS-6 missiles, which have twelve-hundred-kilogram high-explosive warheads."

"How many Tu-95s could be made available?" Czilikov asked.

Yesimov shrugged. "We can immediately send ten bombers to Tashkent, the largest available staging base in the region. Within a week I can dispatch our entire fleet of H-model bombers to Tashkent: forty planes, one hundred sixty cruise missiles."

"Forty Tu-95 bombers in Tashkent would also be immediately noticed," Chief Marshal Rhomerdunov, commander of the troops of Soviet air defense, noted, "However, Zhukovsky Military Airfield at Tashkent can easily conceal the initial ten Tu-95 bombers."

"I can have the bombers at Tashkent in less than a week," Yesimov said. "I will draft an operation plan for the bomber deployment right away."

The general secretary was visibly pleased. "Now you're beginning to sound like the men I thought I knew." He turned to Govorov. "What is your second operation?"

The space defense commander looked around the conference table. "The second operation is more crucial… It involves moving the Arkhangel battle group into the Gulf of Oman to oppose the American Nimitz battle group directly."

This time a loud murmur of voices, clearly not approving.

It's out of the question," Admiral Chercherovin said. The Arkhangel is not just an aircraft carrier. It is our newest and best. It is more than just a vessel. It is our future…"

Czilikov took over. "Marshal Govorov refers to the new class aircraft carrier in its final year of sea trials, sir. It is now on a shakedown patrol of the South China Sea, but has been based at Cam Ranh Bay Naval Base in Vietnam for the past month. The Arkhangel is the largest naval vessel ever built, much larger than the Nimitz. She carries eighty-five aircraft, all of them Sukhoi-27 air superiority and antimissile fighters. Even more, the Arkhangel comprises her own battle group. She uses two Kiev-class short-takeoff-and-landing aircraft carriers, the Kiev and Novorossiysk, to carry the battle group's land-and-ship attack aircraft and a number of antisubmarine warfare helicopters. All together, the Arkhangel battle group contains one hundred thirty combat aircraft and helicopters. "

Czilikov watched the general secretary's eyes as he listened to the description of the Arkhangel and her battle group. He stopped abruptly. "We cannot send the Arkhangel, sir. It is out of the question."

"Back that up, Czilikov."

"Sir, sending the Arkhangel battle group to the Persian Gulf area would be like… like the Americans landing a squadron of B-1 bombers in Berlin or London or Norway, or sailing the Nimitz into the Black Sea. It would be an overconcentration, and it would be a major escalation—"

"But the Americans have the Nimitz group in the Gulf of Oman," the general secretary broke in, "and that is a major force."

"But, sir, the Nimitz balances the Brezhnev carrier force," Czilikov said. "Besides, the Americans have always had a major carrier group in that area. They are, frankly, the only nation that can afford to maintain such a force to just cruise around thousands of kilometers from home."

"The Arkhangel would be as vulnerable as the Brezhnev is in the Persian Gulf," Chercherovin now added.

"With two carriers as escorts?" the general secretary asked. "If the world's largest carrier, protected by two other carriers and twenty surface combatants, is still vulnerable to attack in the open ocean we have no business building such vessels. No, I don't believe this Arkhangel force would be so vulnerable. This is no time for caution, Admiral. If we have the power, we should act. Immediately. I want this option explored. I want a briefing in three days, outlining all possible contingencies involved in moving the Arkhangel to the Gulf of Oman to oppose the Nimitz." He paused, reconsidered, obviously caught up in the spectacle of what they were likely to achieve, or were trying to achieve… "No, I want that report in forty-eight hours. And I want the Arkhangel group ready to sail one week after the plan is approved by the Politburo."

Admiral Chercherovin, still the voice of can't-do, said: "It is impossible to prepare an entire twenty-five-ship fleet for an extended deployment in—"

"Then put that in your report. But yours will not be the only opinions I rely on. You have a habit, Admiral, of telling me what is impossible. I am tired of military commanders telling me what is impossible."

The general secretary turned to Govorov, who had returned to his seat. He motioned at him. "Here is a young, innovative commander who does the impossible. You older officers would do well to take him as a model."

The general secretary glanced at Czilikov, who was usually expected to come to the aid of his senior Stavka officers at moments like this. This time he did not. Unlike the admiral, he knew when to shut up. He did, though, look at Govorov, as much as to say, "It's all yours, hero. And welcome to it…"