Chapter 32
By the second week of January, 1988, I was almost totally exhausted. For nearly four years I had been giving the government everything I knew about the future life I'd lived, and while I had thought all the changes over the years would have negated my value, my value was steadily increasing to the government. Alexei Shevrenadze was the reason for that increased value.
While his father was the Premier of the Soviet Union, it was Alexei who actually ran most of their foreign policy. His position was officially a member of the Politburo, the committee that held the true reigns of power for that country, but he was essentially his father's right hand man. It was Alexei who ran Soviet foreign policy, and he ran it from the perspective of a man who had seen the changes of a world without the Soviet Union in existence.
That outlook allowed him to make moves that were hard to counter without tipping our own hand in relation to other countries. Under his leadership, the Soviet Union traded more technology, and weaponry, with China and North Korea than they had originally. In the Middle East, he brokered the peace agreement between Iran and Iraq, and somehow managed to get the two enemies to actually work together. Over November, they'd even conducted combined arms drills between Iraq, Iran, and the Soviet Union.
The invasion of Panama had thrown several plans in South America off-track, but had done nothing to spread the steady influence of the Soviets in Africa. Egypt was firmly in their hands, as was South Africa. Apartheid had driven a wedge between the white government of South Africa and the United States, and the Soviet Union under Alexei's leadership wasted no time filling the gap with that country. India was another victory for them, with the world's largest democracy signing several treaties with the Soviet Union.
Since graduating last summer, I'd spent more time away from Brian than in his company, mostly working on intelligence files and learning various military lessons. I'd spent two weeks on vacation after graduation and then flown back east alone where I spent a full month at the Naval War College. While there, I'd participated in numerous naval combat simulations against regular Navy officers. For those simulations, I'd played the role of the Soviet Union and had proven myself quite capable at taking out American carriers and their escorts.
For another two weeks, I'd sailed on a Navy cruiser as part of a cadet-training contingent. Most of the other cadets were men I'd be taking classes with during the upcoming semester, and most of my time there had been spent learning how to be an officer on a ship. Brian had been waiting on the pier when we returned from the two week cruise and I'd spent three days alone with him in a Norfolk hotel room before returning to the Naval Academy for an early start on the school year.
During the fall semester, I'd had a time adjusting to not having him around all the time. It helped that my single room, unlike the regular quarters, contained a phone line. That phone was supposed to be for my continuing work analyzing intelligence and had a scrambling unit, but Brian could and did call every night. During the weekends, when I didn't have 'duty', he'd come down and we'd spend the weekend together. Even when I did have duty, he'd still come down and get a visitor's pass for the day, spending whatever time we could catching up on all the things we had missed in each other's life.
Christmas was supposed to be a vacation for both of us as we traveled back home together. Over the summer we'd decided that we were going to hold off on a commitment ceremony, or wedding, until after we had both completed our college degrees. That had also meant we'd held off going 'all the way', but with everything going on I don't think I could have stood finally going that last step and then having him leave in the morning. He felt the same way.
Christmas would have been relaxing, especially since we'd rented a hotel room for the week instead of staying with the family, but then we'd forgotten just how demanding family could be. Between trying to spend time with Tyatya and Dyadya, Mom and Dad B, Grandma, Aunt Bev, Dad, Nanny and Papa, and of course our friends Brandon, Trevor, and Sean, we ran ourselves ragged. The only relaxing thing about the whole 'holiday' thing was that we spent each and every night together until I had to fly back for a briefing at the Pentagon before heading back to school.
Now, in January of the New Year, it was almost time for our birthdays. We had plans for those, including a party in the East Wing of the White House. It was an election year, and Ronald Reagan could not run for a third term. George Bush was running, and while he and I had developed a professionally courteous relationship, he was not a fan. When he won the election, as he had the first time around, it was explicitly clear that I would not be invited to the White House for any birthday parties.
Surprisingly, that didn't bother me. I knew instinctively that no matter who was President, my duties would be much the same. It was just easier when I was a friend of, or at least really liked, the man in the White House. I knew that next weekend would be my last birthday party there, and that was fine with me.
Classes had just re-started at the Academy, and the first day back had been very hectic for me. I'd already been granted credits from courses I'd taken in another lifetime, but that still left a lot, most of it directly military-related, for me to learn. I wasn't stupid, and neither were my fellow cadets. Most knew something was 'up' with me, a lot of security and secrecy, Admirals or Generals stopping by to see me, and of course the private room with double locks and a Secret Service guard outside the door. The guard was there for the secret material more than my safety, but it was still a 'red flag' for those I was 'studying' with. Fortunately, most knew not to ask questions, and those that didn't learned awful quick.
None of that stopped me from being treated like any other cadet when it came to personal inspections, room inspections, physical training, or any other normal academy routine. Sure, when my room was inspected the inspecting officer was escorted by a Secret Service agent, but I was still docked points for a bed not made tight enough, or clothes out of place. Papers left out would have earned me a reprimand from both the Academy and the National Security Agency.
The second day of the Spring Semester began like any other, before dawn and with physical exercise. Since I'd been doing homework until 2200 (ten p.m.), and then working on some disturbing news from the Middle East until midnight, and then on the phone with Brian saying "I love you and I miss you" until two in the morning, I was exhausted but still finished the morning run just fine. Breakfast wasn't that bad, for cafeteria food, and I was wolfing it down while trying to maintain the expected decorum when a strange Secret Service agent entered the cafeteria. After speaking with one of the cadets and looking around the room, he made a beeline straight towards me.
"Uh oh, did Jones piss someone off?" Carlington, one of the senior cadets in my year-group muttered softly along with a little chortle. Several other cadets chuckled softly until the agent made it to my table.
"Mr. Jones, your presence is required immediately at the White House." The young agent, obviously new to the detail, said in a rush. If he'd been more experienced, he'd not have said as much as he was now. "There's a helicopter waiting at a nearby police station to take you there and I was told to tell you that you're to bring your overnight bag."
"What's your name, agent?" I asked with a sigh as the cadets around me all moved back from me slightly, most with wide eyes. Carlington had a very calculating look on his face though and I was reminded that his father was John Carlington, a senior administrator at the National Security Agency with whom I'd worked before.
"I'm Terrence Woodward, sir." The agent replied, still slightly out of breath.
"It's nice to meet you, agent." I said carefully with a nod of my head. "Now, why don't you go wait with the car out front. I'll be along in a few minutes."
"Sir, I was told we had to have you in the air within twenty minutes." Agent Woodward protested, but stopped when I held my hand up.
"Don't worry, we'll get there in time, but I'm not going until I finish my food." I said steadily. "It may be a while before I get to eat again and I'm going to make sure I at least leave on a full stomach."
"But…" Woodward started to protest but I cut him off sharply.
"Wait outside, agent." I ordered and he did obey, moving off hastily.
"Who the hell are you - James Bond?" Harris, another of my classmates asked under his breath. Most of the cadets in the large room had seen, if not heard the exchange.
"Gentlemen, I'd like to take this moment to remind you of last semester's course on national security and classified information." I said calmly, not bothering to address Harris's question. The real reason I'd sent the agent out and wasn't running to my room for my overnight bag was that at that moment my stomach was threatening to heave up everything I'd eaten. "What just happened falls under that classification and discussing it with members of the public would not do your careers any good."
"Um, Jones, if you're being summoned to the White House, shouldn't you be leaving now?" Carlington said calmly and I nodded at him, swallowing some water to calm my stomach down.
"You're right." I agreed with him standing as I spoke and taking a deep breath. "Do you mind keeping lecture notes for me until I get back?"
"No problem." Carlington said with a nod of his head towards the entranceway where another agent had appeared. I just nodded in return and made my way towards the doorway.
"I had Agent Holsworth get your bag from your room." Agent Johnson said. He was an agent I knew and I just nodded as he led the way out of the Academy building to where a car was waiting. I was wearing the standard khaki uniform of a cadet, so I put on my cap as we exited the building and almost jogged to the car.
The flight was shorter than normal because the pilot had the UH-60 helicopter going at top speed. That fact only told me the situation was indeed most serious. Nothing short of imminent war would have been good enough cause for a summons like this, and I wondered exactly what was happening. The last intelligence I'd seen gave me some clues, but it could be two or three different things and I wasn't sure exactly what I was going to be expected to do now. We didn't land at the White House, but rather the Pentagon, where a helicopter landing would be less noticeable to the press. A car took us to the White House and I was driven right up to the main entrance.
"Mr. Jones, right this way please." An Army Lieutenant Colonel said as I came through the main entrance and ran my access card through the scanner before going through the metal detector. It beeped as it usually did with something on my uniform, but the guards didn't even wince or have me stop.
"Situation Room?" I asked, trying to get some idea of what exactly was happening.
"No, Oval Office." The Colonel said and I nodded. That meant something big was up, but no shooting had started yet. That was good, and bad. While most of the staffers we passed on the way to that office had seen me before, they did double takes. Seeing me here, when I should be at the Naval Academy was slightly unusual.
"David, glad you could make it." The President said as I came in the room. I shook his hand and looked around. It was full of his senior foreign policy advisors, and senior uniformed members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. On the small coffee table in the middle of the room, there were coffee cups and satellite photos. With all the senior military officers present, I was very conscious of the fact that I was in uniform as well. "Would you like some coffee or a donut?"
"Coffee, please." I said with a smile as he led me to a couch where I sat between the National Security Advisor and the Commandant of the Marine Corps. A steward brought coffee, prepared just the way I liked it, and then he left. Once the only people in the room where his foreign affairs team and the Secret Service, the President sat down again and informed me of why I was here.
"David, I believe someone hear owes you an apology." The President said with a smile and Admiral Clayton looked slightly abashed.
"Then the move is going to be in the Middle East." I said quickly to cut the Admiral off from actually voicing anything like an apology. Senior officers may owe an apology to a cadet, but they shouldn't have to deliver it in a room full of their peers.
"Yes." The Secretary of Defense said, handing over several satellite photos and a file that contained an intelligence report from a HUMINT source. "What's more troubling is that this morning, the Iranian forces began conducting joint exercises in the air and at sea with Iraqi forces. Iraqi land forces have begun moving south and west. We project they'll be in a position to move on Kuwait in two weeks. Several Iraqi amphibious ships are moving to Iranian ports and the Iranian battalions that have been practicing along the Iraqi border are moving towards those ports."
"So they are going with the amphibious invasion option?" I asked with some surprise. I'd considered it a remote possibility, but not a strong one.
"We're not sure, but they're probably preparing for it in case, though." The Marine Commandant said sourly.
"What's most disturbing is the political announcements." The Secretary of State added with a shake of his head. "Iraq and Iran have announced this morning the signing of a new mutual defense treaty, and we're hearing rumblings that they are going to move on the Straits of Hormuz in a matter of weeks."
"So why am I here, sir?" I asked, turning to the President.
"David Jones, will you stand please?" The President said formally, also standing. Everyone else rose as well and I turned to face him with a look of dread flooding my face as he smiled gently. "Please raise your right hand and repeat after me."
"I, David Ray Jones, do solemnly swear to support and defend the Constitution of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic, to bear true faith and allegiance to the same, and to obey the lawful orders of those superiors appointed above me." I repeated his words after raising my hand. I'd taken a similar oath several years ago, but this one was as a full adult, and with the cadet uniform I was wearing meant something very specific.
"Welcome to the United States Navy, Mr. Jones." The President said as he shook my hand and I resisted the urge to shake my head in disbelief. The Naval Chief of Operations handed the President a small box and he took out two silver bars. My eyes went slightly wide. "It's a good thing you're already almost in uniform. As of this moment, you are hereby granted a commission in the United States Navy as a Lieutenant Junior Grade. Congratulations. These rank insignia belonged to Admiral Clayton, and he's offered to let you use them."
"Thank you, Mr. President, Admiral." I said to both men as the President carefully removed the cadet insignia on my uniform and replaced them with the silver bars. The Admiral just nodded in response.
"I'm sorry, David, but you're going to miss the birthday party." The President said with a shake of his head.
"He's not going to be too happy, sir." I tried to joke, but no one laughed.
"I'll send him a note apologizing." President Reagan said with a sad smile and I felt my stomach drop. "Admiral Langsworth is in command of the America battle group currently steaming in the Southern Indian Ocean. I believe you know him?"
"Yes sir, I kicked his butt in a computer simulation this summer." I said with a smile. I'd played a lot of Internet naval simulation games in my original life, and when I'd gone to the Naval War College last summer to participate in a new program they had installed on their computers (mostly to give them advice on how it matched what I remembered of the declassified version). In the previous life, I'd played against a number of actual naval officers from both the US and Russia on the Internet, and this time around had managed to wipe the floor with the current naval officers (mostly because they weren't use to how the computer operated). It was all part of the naval courses Admiral Clayton had snookered me into taking.
"Well, he needs to be briefed fully on the situation and our long-term goals." The Secretary of Defense said with a frown. "He also needs a high-security level intelligence officer who can brief him on what he needs to know. You have both the clearances for information beyond his level, the ability to determine what he does or does not need to know, and can brief him on the full picture."
"So I'm flying to the Indian Ocean." I stated with a sinking feeling. "What about explanations at the Academy, and how long will I be gone?"
"If this heats up like you projected last summer, explanations won't be necessary. In a worst-case scenario, many of your peers will be out in the fleet as well." The President said with a frown. "I've sent Don Rumsfeld to Baghdad to try talking that madman down, but we're not holding out hope. This morning I'm giving orders to begin mobilization of the 101st Airborne, the 3rd Armored, and two other divisions. We'll fly or ship them over as soon as possible to reinforce Kuwait. The Air Force is flying over more fighters, support crews and supplies right now to our allies in the region, and the Navy is sending the Eisenhower, Missouri, and Wisconsin along with their escorts. Admiral Langsworth will have tactical command under the Commander, Central Command in Florida. General Schwarzkopf will be going out to the new headquarters in Bahrain in the near future. The Enterprise, Kennedy, and Nimitz are going to be heading that way as soon as we can get them ready, to act as further support. You said during this 1991 war that we had five carriers in the area conducting flight operations, so we're going with a similar number now."
"Damn this is big." I said with a frown.
"Yes, it is, and it's going to be your job to keep Admiral Langsworth fully briefed for the next few weeks." The President ordered.
"We need to maintain an effective chain of command and Admiral Langsworth has both seniority and the skills for this." Admiral Clayton said from across the table. "If things heat up, he'll report to a senior commander here state-side, but he's going to have operational control of Naval forces in that theater for at least the next three months."
"If the situation is still tense after three months, we'll transfer you to whoever takes over." The President said and I blinked in surprise.
"You mean I'm over there for the duration?" I said softly and got a few laughs of sympathy.
"Until we find someone who can do a better job than you, yes." The President replied and I let my shoulders sag.
"It is a privilege to serve, Mr. President." I said dispirited and he smiled gently.
"I wish I could let you call and say goodbye to Brian." The President said gently and my stomach sank further. "I can't though, because your plane leaves Andrews in thirty-five minutes. You need to leave now in order to make it."
"I only have my overnight bag." I muttered and he just shook his head.
"I'm sure the ship's store on a carrier will have everything you need for the time being." The President said as he took me by the shoulder and led me out the door. "When Brian comes over later in the week, I'll explain things to him. He can pack you a bag of personal items and we'll send it with the next courier. All extremely sensitive intelligence for the command will be sent to you for distribution, and you'll also receive couriers for information too sensitive to be broadcast. You understand?"
"Yes Mr. President, I understand." I said as he shook my hand one last time. Then I was on my way out of the building and as expected there was a car waiting for me. On the seat next to me was the small duffel bag with a couple sets of uniforms. Tucked inside was also an envelope containing a short note from the President:
Dear David,
I wanted to apologize for the manner in which you are probably being ripped out of school. As I write this, I have just finished meeting with my senior advisors and sent for you to be brought here where we will effectively draft you into government service and send you out to sea. My advisors have their reasons for wanting this, as do I, and my wish is for you to understand what it is that I want personally from you in the coming days.
First, and most importantly, you are to give Admiral Langsworth all the advice and intelligence information you have at your disposal. Second, you are to be my eyes and ears in his command, and if you see something troubling, you are to report it to me directly. You know better than anyone else that the fate of the Soviet Union, and of the United States, is on the line here. If they succeed in shutting off the oil, or in limiting its flow, they will win a victory we cannot afford to give them. It will be up to the men of Admiral Langsworth's command to carry out his orders, and up to you to make sure he has what he needs to issue the right orders.
David, for reasons I need not repeat for you know them as well as I, history will not record your name in these affairs. Know this: I believe with every ounce of my being that the events of the next few weeks will either end the threat of a revitalized Soviet Union, and possibly its very existence, or it will doom us to many more years of that nation's existence. Do your best, David, and know that I, and many others here, have faith in you.
Sincerely,
Ronald Reagan
I debated on keeping the note or getting rid of it as the car headed out of Washington. Some more papers stuck out of the side pocket on the bag and I pulled them out to find my 'orders'. They'd be my travel papers for this trip, and when the car finally reached Andrews Air Force Base and was waved through the gate, I carefully folded them and put them in my khaki shirt pocket. The car pulled onto the tarmac and up to the ladder leading to a C-141 Starlifter that was already warming up its engines for take-off.
"You the VIP we're waiting for?" An air force crewman asked as he opened my door. I just nodded and he took the bag I had carried out with me before leading me up the stairs. With some chagrin on my part, I was led to the netted jump seats that passed for passenger seats on this flight and quickly buckled myself securely in place. Ten and a half hours in web seating instead of even a regular airline seat was not going to be fun at all.
The only good news was that I was the only passenger on this flight. Everything else was cargo in the plane, so the crewmember managed to keep me entertained most of the flight with a deck of cards. He had been hesitant to play against an officer, even a very junior one, but I'd eventually talked him into doing it. Even only playing with stakes of fifty cents, I still walked off the plane in Rota, Spain eighty dollars richer. The crewman was quite insistent on making big bets and had lived to regret that, this time.
I was tired, hungry, and wanted a shower as I hit the tarmac. Another Air Force crewmember scowled at me and demanded to know if I was Lieutenant Jones. When I nodded, he hustled me to a waiting jeep and we were off to another airplane nearby, this time a humongous C-5A Galaxy. We boarded the plane and I was shown to the passenger cabin on the upper deck and given a seat next to a Navy Captain. Mere seconds later, the pilot announced that we were now cleared for take-off and would be airborne in five minutes.
"Finally." The Captain breathed with irritation and gave me a sideways look. "We had to wait here for nearly forty minutes before some VIP from Washington boarded."
"Sorry." I said softly and he looked at me for several long minutes while the plane bounced towards the runway. After the roar of take-off he shifted in his seat and looked at me again.
"I recognize you from somewhere, Lieutenant, but I just can't place it, and can't see why a junior officer would be a VIP." He said as the plane climbed to its cruising altitude. At least this flight would be more comfortable, even if it was longer. We were headed to Diego Garcia, the flyspeck island in the Indian Ocean that belonged to the British and housed the largest US Naval base in the region. It served as a re-supply point for all ships and forces in the region, a forward airbase for bombers and patrol craft, and currently had a mobile repair dry-dock in route from the Philippines as well as two Roll-on/Roll-off ships and several other lesser cargo ships full of equipment for an armored division.
"Weren't you at the Naval War College, sir, under Admiral Cochrane's tactical scenario team?" I asked him and he nodded with a little surprise. Then his eyes widened with recognition.
"You're that hotshot kid who blasted us out of the water." He said upon recognition and then he smiled. "I was told you were still in the Academy. I'm Captain James Bradshaw, it's nice to meet you in person."
"I'm honored, Captain Bradshaw." I said with a smile as I took his hand. "I'm Lieutenant JG David Jones."
"Ah, now I recognize that name as well." Captain Bradshaw said with a wider smile as we shook hands. "Now I see why they were so secretive about who was running the Opfor (opposing force) during the simulation. I'll tell you what, I'd love to hear where you came up with the idea of the kilo-fake you used to get inside my formation during the Alaska-six exercise."
"I'd love to tell you if I could, Captain." I said with a smile. He just nodded at that and stayed silent while a female Air Force crewman asked us if we'd like any refreshments. Since it was a military flight, we both ordered coffee instead of alcohol, mine with cream and sugar.
"So, where are you headed out to Diego Garcia?" He asked me and I carefully considered my answer. I finally decided my destination wasn't really classified since there would be records of it, somewhere. The nearest other passengers were enlisted people on the other side of the plane cabin and wouldn't be able to overhear either.
"The America is my final destination, intelligence billet." I answered succinctly and he nodded.
"You'll be serving under Admiral Langsworth, then." Captain Bradshaw said with a nod of his salt and pepper hair. "He's a damn good officer. I'm not even going to ask what the hell you're doing in uniform and on your way to the fleet. Not if you can take those simulations and stand professional officers on their head."
"Gee, thanks for the compliment, sir." I stated wryly and he chuckled. "I'd like to ask what an officer whose been running simulations is doing heading out to Diego Garcia."
"What, you're in intelligence and you don't know already?" He said with a laugh and I smiled at his jibe.
"I left the White House in a rush and haven't had a chance for my files to catch up with me yet, sir." I said in a humorous tone, laying in a jab about the White House. "I caught a flight that was waiting for me at Andrews and as soon as it landed was whisked over here."
"Show off." He muttered, although he was still smiling. "I flew out two days ago and had to wait for a flight today."
"So you must not be heading out for anything important, Captain." I teased him. He was probably a very senior captain, considering his last billet he was probably bucking for his first star. In the old days, the Navy called the rank 'Commodore', but it was now called Rear Admiral (Lower Half), with two stars being Rear Admiral (Upper Half). The term Commodore was now reserved for Captains or Commanders, captains of their own ship, who are given command of a small squadron or group of ships on a specific mission.
"Depends on what you think is important, Lieutenant." Captain Bradshaw replied with a wicked smile and an emphasis on the rank. It seemed the man had a good sense of humor, something definitely in his favor as far as I was concerned. "Captain Harrington of the Yorktown came down with a perforated ulcer last week and was sent to shore. He's on the short list for his first star during the next round and was to take my billet when I get my star next month. I was going to take a nice quiet tour as COMCRUDESGRU Three after I got my star. Now I'm flying out to take over the Yorktown and function as Commodore of the squadron assigned to the Pre-positioning forces."
"Ah, you'll be riding herd on the USNS ships when they head north." I said with an understanding nod. "You'll have let's see, twelve cargo ships, all with no weapons and civilian crews, and maybe four to six escorts."
"Five escorts total." He said shortly, still smiling. "Yorktown, O'Brien, Chandler, Sims, and Hall are the escorts."
"So, one Aegis cruiser, one Spruance-class destroyer, a Kidd-class destroyer, and two Perry-class frigates total in your squadron." I said carefully and he nodded. "Well, you'll have one excellent SAM ship in Yorktown. Chandler can match her on everything except command, control, and radar capabilities. Chandler and O'Brien both have ASROC and excellent sonar suites with towed array. Hell, Yorktown's towed array and sonar are just as good as the two destroyers. Both frigates are good all-around ships. The Mk. 13 is good for medium-range SAM engagements, they don't have ASROC but do have a good sonar and towed-array system. Plus, unlike the Chandler and Yorktown, they carry the SH-60 helicopter instead of the Seasprite. That'll help with ASW work. Your biggest problem will be your speed of advance. When the call comes in, you'll have to move forward at a high speed, no less than eighteen knots. At that speed even the better sonobuoys of the SH-60's won't do you much good and the sonar suites on your ships will be negligible. You'll probably want to keep the Chandler and one of the frigates ahead of the group doing sprint-drifts."
"It's interesting that you're telling me when, not if we get called. So far, you've been saying a lot of what I've been thinking." Captain Bradshaw said with a nod, not disagreeing with any of my assessments. For the next four hours, over eight cups of coffee, a meal of barely edible microwave food, and two trips to the small lavatory, we talked about his planned strategy for the various threats he might face on a trip from Diego Garcia up to the Gulf.
When Captain Bradshaw grew tired, he went to sleep and I was left sitting there with nothing to do, not really ready for sleep myself. A quiet conversation with the Air Force crewwoman yielded a few sheets of paper. A quick check of my wallet proved I had the photo of the pose we'd taken for the commercial, on the Lincoln monument steps, the one with Brian behind me, his head on my shoulder and his hands around my waist. Next, I dug a pen out of my pocket and began to write a long letter to Brian. There wasn't much I could say, just how much I loved him and missed him already, and how I hope he wouldn't be too mad I missed his birthday. The last page of the letter I talked about the 'commitment' ceremony we'd been discussing, and shared some ideas on what would be nice to have at that.
I also told him I hated the term 'commitment ceremony' and as far as I was concerned, it was a marriage.
I seriously wanted more paper by the time I had used what paper I had, but I was getting tired at last and decided to let myself drift off to sleep. After closing it with the phrase 'All my love', I folded the letter and set it on the tray before leaning my chair back, turning off the light and going to sleep. Brian was now almost half the world away, but his picture was with me, on the tray table along with the letter I had just written. I'd have to mail it from Diego Garcia when we landed, if I had time.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The landing of the twin-prop plane on the carrier America left my head
shaking for several minutes. Fortunately, we were being taxied during that time
and I didn't have to stand. Flying while facing backwards wasn't that big of
a deal, but when a plane lands on a carrier, an arrestor wire grabs it and brings
it to a very fast, sudden stop. I'd been expecting to be jerked forwards during
that stop, and I had been, forward in relation to the plane, but back into my
rear-facing seat.
The only other time I'd been on a carrier was in my original life, and I'd come on board from a gangplank, not on a plane while the ship was at sea.
I had been at Diego Garcia for eight hours, most of which I spent in the base officer's lounge. Less than two hours before my flight, I had been summoned by an airman to a small room where a courier had handed me a packet of files that I had to sign for before receiving, but only after showing the man my identification. The packet had left Washington nine hours after me, and arrived by traveling in the opposite direction, but had still caught up to me before I'd left for the carrier. They had also given me a lot of needed information that made me feel more prepared as I debarked the cargo plane and was met in the hangar by an officer in his late twenties wearing khakis and with gold oak clusters on his collar.
"Lieutenant Jones?" The Lieutenant Commander asked as I moved towards him.
"Commander Bowers?" I countered with a grin and a nod.
"Welcome aboard the America." He said firmly, shaking my hand before guiding me towards a hatch along a nearby bulkhead. The hangar was busy and I was glad he was with me, or I'd have felt extremely awkward in the massive cavern. Intellectually, I knew it was smaller than its equivalent on the larger Nimitz-class carriers, but from here it was hard to believe any ship could be bigger. We were in light seas, which on the old swift boat would have meant decent rocking, here it felt almost like dry land.
Within a few twisting turns through passageways and climbing a few ladders, I was lost within the massive bowels of the ship. Lt. Commander Bowers moved confidently and I followed him, carrying the briefing packet but nothing else. Finally, he opened a hatch and led me inside a room lit very dimly by blue bulbs along the ceiling. This was the Flag Officer's Combat Information Center.
It wasn't that different from the Combat Information Center from which the Captain would direct the fighting from the ship, but I knew differences existed. First of all, this CIC didn't have the extensive communications to the interior of the ship that the Captain's did. Instead, this one had wider fleet communications capabilities. Most of the men in here weren't busy directing aircraft like in the other, but were monitoring different fleet units and keeping them updated on the Status Board for the Admiral, who was sitting in a chair near the center of the room.
"Admiral Langsworth, I've brought Lt. Jones as ordered." Lt. Commander Bowers said as we reached the side of the chair. Langsworth was a tall man, his once-blond hair thinning over the top of his head. He also had the barest hint of a paunch in his sharp khakis and scowled at me after the introduction.
"David, I won't pretend that I'm not surprised to see you here, but I am surprised the President actually sent you out." Admiral Bowers said to me after examining me for a minute. "You look like shit."
"It's been a long flight, sir." I said with a shrug. My uniform was wrinkled; the hint of two day's growth was on my face. At least my hair was cut so short it wasn't mussed up from the helmet I'd worn on the last flight.
"I'd normally let you get some sleep and freshen up, but there are some messages here that came in and we can't see them until you sign for them." Langsworth said sourly, motioning for an enlisted man to come forward. He had a clipboard with several papers on it, covered by a 'Top Secret: Eyes Only' form. I signed the receipt for them and tore them off of the clipboard, reading through them quickly.
"Those idiots! You needed to see these an hour ago, sir." I said sourly and handed them over to the Admiral. He scowled at them as well, and I knew why. HUMINT resources in Egypt had reported that country was planning on closing the Suez Canal, by force, within the next week. Any American ships transiting through there would be subject to an attack, although nothing had been said yet through official channels. Since it was HUMINT and could point back to an agent high in the Egyptian ranks, it was something they would distribute as narrowly as possible, which was why I'd had to sign for it and it had come over the most secure communications system we had.
"This is not good news." Langsworth said as he handed them back to me, and he looked at me for another minute. "Your orders have you posted to my staff as an intelligence officer. I want you to work closely with Bowers, he's good and he'll help you fit into the role. You know you didn't have to show me the actual documents, a simple summary would have sufficed."
"I wanted you to see the actual information, and then hear what I'd tell you about it, sir." I explained carefully. "That way, in the future you'll have an idea of what I base my summaries, opinions, and analysis on."
"Not necessary, Mr. Jones." Langsworth said with a wave of his hand. "I've been reading stuff you've written for the last year and I've gotten my butt kicked by you in that new simulator. You're good, and I for one am glad to see you in uniform."
"Sir…" I started to say something, not exactly sure what, but he cut me off.
"It's 0940 local time, Mr. Jones." The Admiral said sternly. "I'll have one of the enlisted men take you to your quarters. I've put you in the sole single cabin left in Flag Country, and had a secure deadbolt installed. Here's the key, it's the only one so don't lose it while you're here. This way, you can work in your quarters if you have to for some reason. I'll have my cook fix you a light breakfast and have him deliver it to your quarters. Meet me in my flag cabin for lunch at 1200. We'll go over things at lunch with the rest of my staff and the ship's captain."
"Aye, aye sir." I said automatically taking the key. A junior enlisted man was waiting nearby and escorted me from the CIC. It was only a few passageways and one level down to reach the cabin and I was pretty sure I'd be able find my way back on my own.
"This is your cabin, sir." The enlisted man said as we reached a door that had a new deadbolt actually welded into the door. "The Chief of Staff's cabin is the next one down the passageway, and the Admiral's cabin is just around the corner and to the left. Your cabin has its own head and shower, and there's another one back down and to the left if something happens to yours."
"Thank you, Petty Officer Reynolds." I said to the guy and he nodded, turning to leave but turning back as I continued speaking. "Are you ship's crew or on the Admiral's staff?"
"I'm on the Admiral's staff, but temporary from my regular station on the ship." The guy said with a smile. He was probably about a year older than me and looked like he might be a good guy to have a friend, except for one thing: I was an officer and he was enlisted. "I'm one of the Operations Specialists transferred to him from the ship's crew. It's nice because we get to eat from the Admirals' mess instead of the slop they cook down in the regular galley."
"So you'll know where the ship's store and stuff like that are located?" I asked him and he nodded vigorously while I dug out my wallet and some money. "Good, I need a shower kit, some razors, shaving cream, and some deodorant. Do you think you could go down and get me that stuff?"
"I'd be happy to, sir." He said enthusiastically. "Captain O'Shane told me to make sure you had what you needed this morning."
"Good, here's forty dollars." I said as I handed him the money. "I really don't care what brand the stuff is, just nothing too scented on the soap side and I do prefer gel over cream for shaving."
"No problem, sir. The ship's store will be open by the time I get there." He said as he took the money. "I'll be back in about twenty minutes."
"Okay, I'll hold off on the shower until then." I said firmly. "Um, also, how are the cleaning of the quarters and laundry handled?"
"Oh, there's some boots that are messcranking who clean the cabins and take your laundry down." He said with a smile. "Just put your dirty clothes into the bags you'll find in your closet. There's supposed to be one for dry cleaning if you have anything that needs that kind of treatment as well. They'll take it down on laundry days and bring them back ironed and folded or on hangars when they're done. They also clean the cabin daily, but since your cabin is supposed to be a secure area, I don't know what Lowney - that's the admiral's cook who is in charge of them - will do about that."
"Thanks, Reynolds." I said by way of dismissal and he trotted off down the corridor while I fumbled with the door. The top lock wasn't done yet and I found my bag sitting on the armchair just inside. The cabin wasn't huge, but neither was it small. On the far bulkhead was a couch that I knew folded down into a bed, while next to the door was a desk bolted to the floor. It was pretty empty and I opened the middle drawer, sighing with relief as I saw it stocked with pens, pencils, rulers, and other pieces of equipment I'd need for different files I might review. To the right was a small closet with room enough for everything I had with me, and then some. Next to it was a small dresser and I vowed to buy a small frame in the ship's store in order to put the picture of Brian and I on top of the dresser. The head, or bathroom, was very cramped, but I could fit in the shower and wouldn't have to pad down the hallway in nothing but a towel. After my quick tour, I went back into the main cabin and picked up my bag, pulling the clothes out of that and setting my briefing folder on the desk. That was when I noticed the small safe with instructions stuck to the door on how to create a new combination for the safe. I put the clothes back down, set the new combo, tested it and then put the briefing packet back in there. That was when a knock on the door stopped me from unpacking the rest of my small duffel bag.
"Come in." I called out when the knock repeated itself. I was taken slightly aback by the person who… sauntered inside. He was five-eight at most, almost painfully thin, and wore lip-liner, and if I was not mistaken a bit of foundation base as well. He was dressed in dark navy uniform pants and a white uniform top with the first-class petty officer's emblem on his sleeve. I knew the uniform was what the Navy called "salt and peppers" and was worn by wardroom staff who served officers meals and cleaned their cabins, so this was probably the Admiral's cook, and was definitely the most effeminate man I'd ever met in a uniform.
"How do you do, Lt. Jones?" The young man practically purred as he took two steps in and daintily shook my hand. "I'm Petty Officer Lowney, Admiral Langsworth's personal chef and in charge of his wardroom staff. Welcome aboard."
"Thanks, Petty Officer Lowney." I said warily as he eyed me up and down.
"I must say I was quite surprised to see your name and to actually find it is you here, well I just don't know what to say." The guy practically rambled. "I had no idea you were an officer already! It blew me out of my socks and I know it'll blow…"
"No one else away." I said firmly, catching his eyes that had been down at my crotch level and holding them with a very firm gaze. "My very presence here is classified, Petty Officer, and the person who breathes a word of it will find themselves in Ft. Leavenworth faster than they can say 'holy shit'. That doesn't matter if you're in uniform or not, you breath a word of this, you'll be in a lot of trouble."
"I understand." He said testily. "I was just commenting that having someone who was so involved in the last elections and whose supposed to be at the Naval Academy come here on the ship is a big surprise."
"I'm sure it was, but don't let that get you carried away." I warned him. "Now, what can I do for you?"
"I think it's more like what I can do for you, sir." Lowney said in a tone I recognized all too well and his eyes traveled up and down my body for a moment.
"Can the crap, Lowney." I said firmly. "If you saw the commercials last year, you saw my boyfriend, and we're committed to each other. I don't fool around on him and he doesn't fool around on me. Do you have any business to discuss or was this just a social call?"
"Well, sor-r-ry." He drawled out with a pout. "I was just trying to be friendly."
"It's appreciated." I said, trying to calm him down a bit. Pissing off the Admiral's cook was the last thing I needed. "I've just been in the air for the last two days and I'm a bit testy."
"You're forgiven, sir." He said with a smile that almost made my skin crawl. I calmed down though when it reminded me of one guy I'd visited back in '82 who had died of AIDS. The guy had been just as campy, and was a real sweetheart once you got to know him. "I was wondering if you'd like a Denver omelet real quick here."
"Sure, that would be good." I said and he nodded.
"It'll be down in about ten minutes." He said before disappearing back into the passageway. I shut the door after him and finished taking the clothes out of the duffel bag and hung them up. They were wrinkled from being stuffed in there, but otherwise passable. I noticed some doors in the bulkhead to the right of the desk and opened them up to find a small television inside. There were also two black phone handsets in the wall above the desk, but no dialing pads. That meant they were direct lines, probably to the Flag CIC or somewhere. Another phone sat on the right side of the desk that connected me to the ship's regular phone system. Another knock on the closed door dragged my attention away from examining the view outside the porthole above the couch/bed. I'd just finished lowering it to find sheets already on the bed, and a single blanket and pillow there as well.
"Come in." I said, remembering being told once that no enlisted man enters an officer's quarters without actually being invited, unless it was to wake said officer and a knock didn't work.
"Here's your omelet, sir." Lowny said with a smile as he brought in a tray holding the mentioned food, some silverware and a napkin. "The phone on the right is a line directly into the mess, the one on the left goes to CIC. Just pick up the one on the right and call when you want someone to pick up the tray. If you need a meal just for you, you can call as well and we'll whip something up. I brought some coffee with cream and sugar as well since I don't know how you like it."
"Thanks, I like cream and sugar." I said, moving to make my coffee the way I liked the beverage. Lowney watched me do that, I'm sure memorizing how much cream and sugar I put into it. He moved over to the closet and looked at the uniforms I'd hung up there.
"Oh, these will not do." He said disapprovingly. "I'll take these down to the laundry room and have them press a set right up for you. They'll be back in twenty minutes, tops, and the rest will be back tomorrow. I hope you have more on the way. Laundry is every Wednesday. Put the dirty clothes in the green bag and they'll come back on Thursday. If you have dry cleaning, use the red bag."
"Got it, and there should be more clothes coming in a few days." I said after biting into the omelet. "This is good."
"Thanks." Lowney said with a smile. "I've assigned Porter to your stateroom for cleaning. He's got a Top Secret clearance since he works in Radio normally. He just started his messcranking tour so he'll be here for two months and three more weeks. He's supposed to clean every morning at around 0930 hours."
"Fine. I'll have everything locked up by then if I'm not in here." I said. "If I'm here, he can clean around me. If for some reason the top bolt is locked, tell him to come back the next day and not worry about it for that day."
"Got it." Lowney said with a nod. "Your porthole has to be closed about a half-hour before sunset for 'darken ship'. Do you want to have Porter come in and do that each night?"
"No, I'll just close it before I leave the cabin each day." I said firmly.
"Okay, but be sure it's closed." Lowney said just as firmly. "It's my ass if there's any portholes open after 'darken ship' and the last guy who had that happen ended up one rank lower and on half-pay for two months."
"I'll remember, but have Porter check it anyway." I said with a small sigh. "If the top lock is locked, I'll make sure it's my ass on the line, not yours."
"And you said you were faithful, sir." Lowney teased and I actually laughed. The food was good, and doing a lot to help me relax. That was when Reynolds returned from the shopping trip with several bags. He edged past Lowney and set them on the desk, along with my change. I tried to get him to keep it before he headed back to CIC but he refused steadfastly while Lowney looked on with amusement. "Well, if there's nothing else, I have to get lunch started. You don't have any allergies do you?"
"No, but I'm not a huge cheese fan." I said quickly. "A little is fine, but heavy amounts of it make my stomach roil."
"How's the cheese in the omelet?" He asked me.
"Perfect." I admitted and he nodded.
"Then that tells me what you consider a good amount, so you shouldn't have any problem except on pizza night." Lowney said and I laughed again.
"I make an exception for pizza." I said and he joined me in laughing before he left, shutting the door behind him. Just before I got in the shower, there was another knock on the door and another enlisted man arrived with a huge stack of dispatches for me. I had to sign fifteen forms for them, and when he left, I did lock the top lock while taking my shower.
After shaving and showering, I dried off and dressed in a new pair of underwear and a t-shirt. Lowney would have some pressed uniforms back any time now and I'd dress in them. While I waited, I looked through the dispatches and quickly lost myself in the massive changes that had happened while I'd been on my way here. Things were progressing in the Gulf just like I'd predicted. The President had ordered the forward positioning ships in Diego Garcia underway just after Captain Bradshaw had arrived on that island. No wonder I hadn't seen him since we disembarked the plane.
A Soviet surface group and several submarines were transiting the Suez Canal and heading for their base in Yemen, and that was a definite cause for worry. If they got directly involved, the two Oscar class subs, an Alfa, and a Victor II would cause tremendous problems for any American ship in the area. Backfire and Badger long-range bombers were seen operating at an increased tempo from three bases that could reach the Indian Ocean, also posing a serious air threat to the battle group, and there were reports of joint exercises with Iranian fighter patrols that meant they'd probably use Iranian air space to get through to the gulf. That was some good news, since if they flew over India, it meant that country was going to get involved and that would have made the Indian Ocean almost too hot for any two or three carriers, much less the one here now.
Eisenhower was delayed in Subic Bay, Philippines. It was waiting on some modifications to the CH-53 helicopters based on the Pelilieu. Last month, I'd made a startled comment about how the CH-53 minesweeping variant wasn't properly equipped already and that had set in motion some rapid modifications to change them slightly so they matched the effective design I remembered from the early 1990's. Since Pelilieu had the most of that type and was heading this way, she'd been chosen for the refit, being performed at the largest US Navy base in a foreign country. The modifications would be finished in two days and the helicopter carrier would sail with the big carrier at that time, their combined battle groups providing increased protection for both ships, but delaying their entrance to the potential battle zone. Still, if we had to fight our way into the Gulf, there would be mines at the entrance and we'd need the Pelilieu and her helicopters to back up the two minesweepers based in the UAE.
When Lowney returned after a while with my freshly pressed clothes, his appraising glance at me in underwear made me blush slightly. Fortunately for him he didn't say anything or even whistle, but his glance told me what he was thinking. I got dressed as soon as he left and went back to work, reading the estimates on Iraqi troop strength along the Kuwait border and projected American troops strength over the next three weeks as we shipped more and more people there.
The key would be the equipment ships coming north right now. They had to get through to Kuwait, which meant running a gauntlet of Iranian and Iraqi aircraft. The whole scenario reminded me of a Tom Clancy novel, except he'd left out several weapons in our erstwhile 'enemy' arsenal. Mines were the biggest threat, something he'd totally ignored. It took me a moment to remember that book wouldn't have been published yet, at least not for another few years.
The growler phone made its growling noise and I jumped slightly, pulled out of my thoughts by the sound. I picked it up before it had a chance to make the sound again and put it to my ear. "Jones speaking."
"Jones, this is Bowers." The voice said on the other side of the line. "It's nearly time for lunch, and I thought I'd call to remind you."
"Thanks, sir." I said with some appreciation. I hadn't even noticed the time. I'd have to get an alarm clock for the cabin. "I'll be right there."
"See you there." The Lt. Commander said cheerfully. I stood up, stretched a bit and put the files into the safe. When I got to the Admiral's cabin, he was entering with several members of his staff, and the man who had to be the ship's captain from the eagles on his collar and the command-at-sea pin on his right chest. Bowers appeared at my side and led me to a seat next to his, about three down from the Admiral on the left side.
"Mr. Jones, I take it you are pretty much caught up now?" The Admiral asked me as the group of men sat down and several enlisted men in their salt and pepper uniforms began serving sandwiches around the table.
"Yes, sir, I've finished most of the reading." I said as the enlisted men left the room, shutting the door behind them.
"Good." The admiral said before taking a bite of his food. Mine was a roast beef sandwich and while I was not really hungry, I ate anyway. It was important to get my body adjusted to the time zone we were in, and eating was one of the ways to do that.
"So, what's new from the intelligence end?" Captain O'Shane asked and I examined him for a moment before answering. All the men in the room were Lt. Commander or above, and had clearances for a lot of the information I had.
"Sir, the likelihood of a shooting war starting soon is growing with each hour." I said firmly. "I would guess we'll see actual movements in those directions over the next few days as the Iranians get ready to mine the Straits and shut off civilian traffic through the Gulf. We have a cruiser, two destroyers and four frigates in that region assisting local naval forces and we have some aircraft coming online, but without the materiel and equipment on the supply convoys we have, they won't do much good. I'm going to stake my money on them moving before we can get enough equipment or supplies into place to be real effective. Iraq will have enough divisions in place to crush Kuwait and our forces already there within two weeks. About seven days from now, the first of the equipment convoys will reach the northern Indian Ocean, so that's when we'll see them close off the Straits."
"Just how sure of that are you?" Admiral Langsworth asked.
"Sir, very certain." I said firmly. "As soon as they start that, they'll have those mine-layers under heavy air and surface protection to keep us from interfering."
"This ship will be in position to launch our aircraft into that zone within two days." Captain O'Shane said with certainty. "What's the sub threat?"
"Right now, it's minimal, sir." I said with certainty. "The problem will be if we get into a shooting match with the Iranians and they lose big time. If that happens, we can expect the Russians to send their subs and aircraft in to even the odds a bit."
"Isn't that suicide for them?" Bowers asked from next to me. "I mean, if we start shooting directly with the Russians, it could escalate into World War Three."
"Commander, we're looking at World War Three already." I said firmly. "The Soviets are extremely on edge right now, and for reasons I can't go into, they have to close the Gulf to us. They'd prefer to do it with proxies, through Iran and Iraq, but they won't hesitate to intervene directly. I'm pretty sure they'll play it smart, making no move in Europe, the Atlantic, or the Pacific, just keep the conflict regionalized here. If they do that, we will have a hard time justifying attacking any of their targets in those regions."
"So that's a political assessment." Langsworth said firmly and I nodded.
"Yes, sir, it is a political assessment." I said with certainty. "I'm also absolutely confident it's accurate based on information I cannot divulge."
"It's the same information the President is being given?" Captain O'Shane asked and I nodded.
"Very well, let's discuss our options based on this information." Admiral Langsworth said with a sigh. "We will need a plan to take out those mine-layers and defend the Gulf region until support arrives. Bowers, Harden, McCale, I want you to work with Captain O'Shane and the CAG to develop a strategy. Mr. Jones, you will assist them."
"Yes, Admiral." I said in unison with several other men around the table.
I met with his staff until 2230 hours that night going over plans for various scenarios. It was an interesting time for me, being involved in the high-level planning and discussion that went on there. By the time I returned to my cabin and sat down at the desk, I was beyond exhausted. I still managed to write a short, one-page letter to Brian that I would mail in the morning. First and always, he was in my thoughts and I apologized yet again for leaving without saying goodbye, even though I really had not been given a choice.
The next morning, a radioman arrived with several more packets of radioed updates that I had to sign for. I joined the regular wardroom for breakfast and felt the eyes of dozens of officers follow me as I ordered a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast from an enlisted man. I sat next to two members of the Admiral's staff I knew from yesterday and we talked lightly about the plans for the day. The carrier's battle group was steaming north at a steady twenty knots, conducting only basic flight operations for the E-2C Hawkeye radar picket planes, two pairs of F-14 tomcats for escort, and anti-sub aircraft of both fixed-wing and rotor-wing aircraft.
After breakfast, I went back to my cabin and reviewed my updates before joining the Admiral and his staff in his CIC for dissemination of new information. Then, it was time to get with the same staff members and go over more battle planning. I found myself playing the role of Opfor (opposing force), and shot holes in many of their ideas, as well as getting my ass whipped a few times. Lunch was with the Admiral where we went over the day's work sessions. A delivery plane had arrived, bringing more reports that were too sensitive for radio transmission. I spent another hour going over them, and then debriefed the Admiral in private. That evening, I actually had some free time and went to the ship's store to stock up on various items, including an alarm clock. Another delivery plane that night had another courier onboard who brought a bag full of clothes for me, and a letter from Brian. He was polite enough to inform me that he'd been authorized to carry any personal mail back with him. He was returning to Washington, and would get there before any mail I sent from the fleet.
Before I wrote another letter, I opened the one from Brian.
Dear Davey,
Happy Birthday to me. I bet you've already sent me a letter wishing me a happy birthday and probably apologizing over and over again, so I'm going to tell you this once. Don't apologize in any letter after you receive this one. You told me one time that life sucks, and sometimes we just have to roll with the punches. Guess what? This is one of those times.
It sucks not having you here with me at night. I fucking hate it, and my stomach gets roiled every time I think of you being in harm's way. The evening after you left, I got summoned to the White House where I was told the basics of what was going on with you. I'm not ashamed to say I was a little pissed and gave the President a piece of my mind about not letting you call me before leaving, much less visiting. Nancy tore into him as well, so he did let me pack another bag for you. This one should be better than whatever junk they gave you. It also has an 8x10 photo of us, the one you like with us on the Lincoln Memorial steps. I've also included a few others that are a little more spicy, you might remember them from a year ago when you let me talk you into taking them.
I want you to remember what's waiting for you at home.
If nothing else, this little event will confirm for me that we are NOT going into the military, or any government service that requires us to be separated. I know you've been told they'll never let you go, and in some ways they are probably right. But, after this, I think there won't ever be another situation that requires us to be separated like this again.
Yes, I'm that confident in things working out right. You are with good people, skilled and capable of taking care of themselves and you. Not only that, but you are damn good and where you need to be, as much as I hate to admit that.
Harry's going bonkers with all the mess that's going on. The President announced the call-up of the reserves and, with your disappearance, is now absolutely convinced you're a spy of some sort. There's been no attempt to downplay the severity of this crisis, and the nation appears to be very, very jittery.
CNN has reporters all over and I think I get what you were talking about with your idea that instant news coverage will change how we view wars. Satellites aren't anywhere near as good as they'll be in a few years, but what we have now is already letting people see everything going on over there, or at least a lot of what's going on. It's disturbing thinking you're out there, but at the same time it's also reassuring.
I don't have much time to write this, although I've been assured there will be more chances to get letters to you faster. I've also been told it will be reviewed for security purposes so I decided to not wear out whoever else reads this with paragraphs talking about your body and what I want to do with it when you get back.
I love you with all my heart and eagerly wait for you to come back,
Brian.
His letter had me in tears, and I wrote a two-page response before climbing into bed, clutching the picture frame he'd mentioned to my chest along with his letter. It wasn't nearly as good, but he'd managed to soak the bag in some of his cologne, giving me his smell to think of while I went to sleep. Tomorrow would be another day, and as another plane took off with a roar and thunk from the catapult, I drifted off to sleep with thoughts of my lover first and foremost.
Two more days passed in pretty much the same routine. Only one courier arrived in those two days, but what he brought was important. Information from a HUMINT source inside Iran's military structure pointed to activity beginning within days.
The carrier's battle group had stopped for about twelve hours so the escorts could re-fuel and re-provision. Then we'd headed north again, with a twenty-knot speed of advance. That meant we were covering nearly five hundred miles a day, and burning millions of gallons of fuel. When we reached the coast of Oman, we paused for a final topping off of the tanks before setting a course for the Straits of Hormuz, the entrance to the Persian Gulf.
The carrier would not be entering the Gulf, but would sit at the mouth of the entrance, using its planes and battle group to create a 'bubble' of protection for the oil tankers and other ships plying the waters there. Her aircraft could reach up through most of the Gulf region without refueling and the two replenishment groups that were hovering around Oman with their escorts could easily reach us. Captain Bradshaw's group of equipment ships and escorts were now two days out, and everyone was on edge as we reached our 'alpha' point.
"Admiral, we're getting CRITIC from England." A junior officer called out in CIC, interrupting my conversation with the Admiral about last reported troop strength near the Kuwait border. The US had almost six thousand people there now, but they only had light arms and mobile anti-tank or shoulder-fired SAM weapons. The rest of their equipment was on Captain Bradshaw's fleet, waiting for him to get here. England was a Leahy-class cruiser currently patrolling the northern Gulf near Kuwait. She and her escorts of O'Bannon and Collins were the three ships in the gulf keeping an eye on Kuwait's harbor and airspace. England had eighty SM-2 surface-to-air missiles and could hit a plane at one hundred-twenty miles out. O'Bannon was the first Spruance-class destroyer to be equipped with the Mk. 41 Vertical Launch System instead of a Mk. 16 ASROC launcher. That meant she had 41 missile cells, currently filled with twenty-six land attack Tomahawks and another fourteen anti-ship Tomahawks. The Collins was an older Knox-class frigate, with limited use. She had two Harpoons in her Mk. 16 ASROC launcher (ASROC was an anti-sub weapon useless in the Gulf). The frigate also had a five-inch gun forward that would be excellent if they were attacked by gunboats, and a close-in weapons system that would destroy one or two incoming missiles that got within a mile of the frigate.
"What's going on?" Admiral Langsworth demanded of the officer who listened over his headset before answering.
"About five minutes ago they picked up a flight of aircraft coming south from Iraq." The officer said quickly. "The six aircraft had no transponders and refused inquiries. When the fighters went feet wet, they dropped to wave-height and disappeared from the ship's radar. England and her escorts are at battle stations."
"Can we get her NTDS link?" Langsworth demanded. NTDS was the Navy Tactical Data System and allowed ships to 'share' their radar and other sensors data with nearby ships. The officer shook his head. Soon the data would be transmitted over satellite, allowing anyone who had the right encryption and right gear to 'watch' from anywhere in the world. Right now, it wasn't possible. "Very well, put the transmission on speakers."
"…contacts reacquired." A very stressed male voice was saying as the transmission was switched to the speakers. "Range four-zero miles, altitude four-three feet, speed approximately five hundred knots and inbound. Captain is not giving order to fire, but has tracking radars locking on. O'Bannon and Collins are moving to intercept positions."
The cruiser's captain was a good one, I saw instantly. There were six aircraft inbound, each probably carrying two missiles, and the England had four radar directors with four missiles on the rails of her 1950's era Mk. 10 missile launchers. It took forty-five seconds to reload the launchers, and she couldn't shoot down all six planes. What she could do was to shake them by making the planes think they were being fired on. Forty miles distance was just outside of Exocet range, which meant the fighters would be firing at any second, long before the England's missiles would destroy them. That gave England a chance to shoot down a few of the missiles, at least two rounds of her own SAM and the O'Bannon had eight Sea Sparrow short-range SAM on board, plus two five-inch guns to add to the fight. Collins with her five-inch gun would help create a 'wall' of shrapnel for the incoming missiles to transverse, hopefully knocking a few out.
"Vampire! Vampire! Vampire!" The same voice called out and everyone in the CIC flinched at those words. They were the term used for inbound missile. "We have twelve vampires inbound! SAMS are away! Ship is accelerating and preparing to launch decoys and chaff. CIWS is armed and ready. Hit, hit, splash two vampires, second round is away, distance is now ten miles.
"O'Bannon is firing Sea Sparrow. Splash three, four, five vampires. Collins and O'Bannon are firing guns, Collins is hit, say again, Collins has been hit! Our CIWS is firing! Oh god, we're still here, repeat, no damage. O'Bannon reports one vampire got close enough to pepper her superstructure when it exploded from CIWS hits. Minor damage and injuries are being reported. Collins is on fire, O'Bannon moving to assist while England takes up picket station. Captain O'Donnell requests further orders from Admiral Langsworth."
My hands were shaking as Admiral Langworth picked up a phone connected to the radio circuit and began issuing orders. The deck of the America shook as more planes took off, and I stared down at the plot table showing the position of forces in the gulf region. It was suddenly so much more real, not just games anymore. Sure, I'd been in combat before, on a small patrol boat, not in a fleet group. In the small boat it had been bullets and speed, combat little different than World War II or Vietnam.
This though, this was the first major engagement between modern warships and
aircraft since the dawn of the missile age. Six planes, with twelve missiles,
had attacked a group consisting of a cruiser, destroyer, and a frigate. All
six planes got away safe, and the frigate was taking heavy damage from two missiles
that had been aimed at the cruiser.
The frigate had done her job though, and put herself between the missiles and the cruiser, and as I listened to the Admiral, I realized at least sixty crewmen had paid with their lives. The ship was going to have to be scuttled. Everything classified on her was being destroyed right now while the O'Bannon and England lowered boats to take off the surviving crew from the damaged ship. Scuttling charges were being set now, and would be detonated by the captain of that little ship after he left.
"If any plane or ship approaches within range of your missiles, you are
authorized to fire in self-defense." Admiral Langsworth directed the captain
of the England. I was busy wondering if this was the first shots of World
War Three when another CRITIC report came in, this time from the Adams-class
destroyer Lawrence.
"…we have sixteen inbounds!" The male voice from the Lawrence was filled with dread as he was switched onto the speaker. I felt the dread too, because with their shorter range and slower rate of fire, the Lawrence's systems could not hope to destroy them all. The Rathburne had eight missiles, but only one director, which meant she could only engage one target at a time, and with missiles closing at over six hundred miles per hour, that meant certain death for both ships. The Lawrence's transmission went dead fourteen seconds later and we knew both ships were likely lost, as were most of their crews.
"Get Bahrain on the radio." Admiral Langsworth ordered. There was a rear-admiral lower half stationed there at the permanent base in that country. "Have him get the Bahrainian navy to check for survivors. Hayworth, get on the horn with Washington and let them know what's happened. I'm pulling England another hundred miles off the coast of Iraq to give them more time to detect and engage incoming aircraft. Also, get the battle group at battle stations and prepare for air action."
A radioman came into the CIC as Langsworth was speaking. He headed right for me and handed over a clipboard with two receipts for me to sign. I did so quickly and read through the dispatches. The first was an intelligence report, hours old, on Iranian deployments from their port, and a report that the US envoy to Iraq was now being held hostage until the United States withdrew all forces from the Gulf region. Iran had announced a maritime exclusion zone, and announced their intentions to board any ship entering or leaving the Gulf. Any Americans or other westerners would be imprisoned and ships belonging to such countries would be seized. The other message was from the White House and directed to Admiral Langsworth. He nodded when I handed both to him, and the last message's single sentence was burned into my memory.
You are hereby authorized to conduct unrestricted warfare against all military naval and air forces of Iraq and Iran, ground emplacements that directly threaten maritime transit, and civilian forces being used to support enemy's military operations.
It had begun.
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