Chapter 33
"This is Bernie Shaw reporting from the deck of the U.S.S. America." The familiar face and voice was on the television in my cabin. Captain O'Shane was allowing the crew to see the live satellite broadcast each night in order to try to keep morale up. At this moment in time, every bit of morale was important. Behind Bernie I could see two surviving F-18's being moved onto the ship's forward catapult for the morning CAP flight.
"It's one week into what is being called Operation Desert Fury and the crew of the America remain as determined as the people of its namesake to achieve victory." Mr. Shaw continued reporting. "On the first day of this conflict with the nations of Iran and Iraq, the U.S. Navy suffered drastic losses of a cruiser, two destroyers, and two frigates with almost eight hundred crewmembers killed in action. Since then, air battles have raged over the Straits of Hormuz with reports of nearly thirty U.S. aircraft being shot down and over two hundred and fifty enemy aircraft also being downed."
What Bernie didn't say, and couldn't because he didn't know, was that before
she had been sunk with the England, the O'Bannon had fired all
of her Tomahawks, striking heavy blows that had so far delayed the Iraqi ground
attack into Kuwait. Enraged that his strike at the American cruiser had failed
to achieve its goals, Saddam Hussein had sent thirty-six more aircraft after
the ships in waves of twelve planes. The England had literally emptied
her magazines shooting down the planes, and their precious Exocet missiles before
they got within firing range. After the last plane had been shot down, the England
had three SAM rounds left, and the O'Bannon had four Sea Sparrows in
her eight-round launcher. The two ships had turned into the wind while O'Bannon
launched twenty-six Tomahawks in twenty-six seconds, and then ran for the relative
safety of Bahrain. Unfortunately it had been right into the path of an Iranian
destroyer.
The Iranian destroyer had been purchased from the United States under the rule of the Shah, before the 1979 Revolution, and was a relic built just after World War II. It had been upgraded with radar and French cruise missiles that it used to sink the O'Bannon. It had then closed on the now-defenseless England and sank her with guns and torpedoes. The England, like all Leahy-class cruisers lacked a main gun mount. With her missiles expended all she had for defense against surface ships had been her eight canisters of Harpoon missiles, and those had been damaged by a near-miss from an Exocet, rendering them incapable of being fired.
"For three days, the America and her planes have struggled to re-open the Persian Gulf but have not yet achieved that goal." Bernie Shaw was still talking as I thought over that awful first day. His assessment was partially correct. The carrier had gone against nearly three hundred Iranian aircraft on that first day. About half had made it back to their bases, but they'd taken all but eight F-14 Tomcats with them, and nine of the less-capable F-18 Hornets. Two A-6 Intruder attack planes had been lost as well, and one E-2C Hawkeye airborne warning and control aircraft. It had been worth every plane though, because the best of Iran's air force was now fish food, and the flight of Intruders had sunk half of the new ships being sailed under Iran's flag by Soviet crews, every major missile-carrying boat actually a part of Iran's navy, and most of their mine-layers as well.
The mine field they established on the second day had subsequently been about twenty percent of the size it would have been, and more than enough for the helicopters modified for minesweeping operations that were almost here. Pelilieu was still a week out, but her modified CH-53 helicopters had been transferred to the Eisenhower, and the nuclear-powered carrier had taken off at maximum speed with only her nuclear-powered cruisers as escort. Fortunately, she had nearly every nuclear-powered cruiser in the Pacific Fleet with her, including Long Beach, Bainbridge, Arkansas, California, and Mississippi.
Of those ships, Long Beach was the most useful. She carried two of the Mk. 10 launchers like England had possessed, except they were both forward-mounted and she had 120 SM2-ER with the newest tactical upgrades instead of 80 older missiles. Those allowed her to control up to 16 missiles at 16 targets simultaneously. She also carried eight Tomahawks in armored box launchers as well as two five-inch gun mounts. When the fleet moved into the Gulf, Admiral Langsworth had already made plans to transfer his flag to that ship. Like the carriers, the Long Beach had been built with the idea of being a flagship, so it had its own bridge for the Admiral, and most importantly the combat information center, and communications gear needed for him to control the fleet.
The other nuclear cruisers were all a mixed bag of capabilities. The Bainbridge was essentially a Leahy-class cruiser with nuclear propulsion, the Mississippi and Arkansas had the Mk. 26 missile launcher like the Aegis cruiser Yorktown, but not the Aegis radar and computer system. That meant each of them could put four missiles into the air (two from each launcher) every six seconds but could only control up to sixteen of them, each ship also only had about sixty of them, and each missile only had a range of about fifty miles instead of over one-hundred twenty miles. Like the Long Beach though, they each carried eight Tomahawks and also had the benefit of not needing fuel. If they got cut off in the Persian Gulf, they could survive on no fuel as long as their weapons and food held out.
California was a cruiser in name only. She possessed two of the Mk. 13 SAM systems like the Perry-class frigates. They fired a single SM-1 every eight seconds from a single rail, and each missile had a maximum range of only thirty miles. Worse, the ship could only control four of them at any time. At least she carried eight more Tomahawks and had two five-inch gun mounts as well as eight Harpoon anti-ship missile canisters.
Eisenhower, with her fresh planes, fresh pilots and crew, and her nuclear-powered escorts was now less than fifty miles to the southeast of our position. America had pulled back towards Jaziraat al Masirah in Oman for refuel and re-supply with a replenishment group. Nearly two-thirds of her ordinance for planes had been expended, and all of her fuel bunkers had been nearly empty. Now America had her fuel (both jet fuel and ship fuel) stocked just above the half-way point, and her ammunition supplies were similarly stocked. They were nowhere near the levels at the beginning of the conflict, but enough for the planned engagements. When the action was over, if the America survived, the ship would head back to Diego Garcia and wait for more aircraft before either heading home or redeploying for the combat zone. Eisenhower and her aircraft would be taking over operations in the area as we went against the Iraqis.
"…so far." Bernie Shaw finished a sentence while I'd been musing about the future plans for the war and I'd lost track of his report. "The declared neutrality and subsequent denial of airspace by Jordan has reportedly caused much consternation in the White House and the Pentagon. Even more serious have been the declared neutrality of Egypt and their denial of passage for two carriers from the Mediterranean fleet."
Alexei Shevrenadze was really taking a page or two from future Tom Clancy books, I reflected as Bernie Shaw continued talking about the problems of getting more carriers or their aircraft into the region. On the first day of the conflict, when Egypt and Jordan had announced their refusal to allow passage of our air or naval forces, the remaining Pacific Fleet carriers had been directed to steam to the Indian Ocean at best speeds. Hours later, China had begun operations that closely resembled a possible invasion of Taiwan, which meant Enterprise and Kitty Hawk were reassigned to protect our ally, Taiwan. Ranger and Carl Vinson were still on the way, but they were leaving from Alameda and San Diego, and would be two months getting here. The Nimitz was steaming from the Straits of Gibraltar with nuclear-powered escorts South Carolina and Texas. She'd be here in two weeks, but we couldn't wait that long.
There were thousands of soldiers in Kuwait right now, without their tanks, jeeps, and helicopters, all of which were sitting in ships sailing forty miles behind the America.
"Jones." I said as the growler phone went off, demanding my attention.
"Get down to CIC." Lt. Commander Bowers's now-familiar voice ordered and I got up quickly, pausing only to lock away the classified materials in the safe and to shut my porthole. It was three hours until sunset, but there was no telling if I'd be back in time. When I got there, CIC was bustling with activity, and nearly every face looked as tired as I felt.
"Jones, have we heard anything at all about the Soviets getting into the game?" Admiral Langsworth demanded as I came to stand near his chair at the master plotting table.
"No, sir, every indication is that they are satisfied with the Iraq and Iran progress." I said slowly and carefully. "Oil prices are up to nearly thirty-six dollars a barrel and all oil traffic in and out of the gulf has been stopped completely."
"Well, the S-3 aircraft assigned to our northern edge has gotten a whiff of a sub on a passive sonobouy and is trying to triangulate the position." Captain Carlson, the Admiral's Chief of Staff said sourly. I had to agree with his negative attitude. All of the Los Angeles attack boats assigned to protect us were on the southerly axis and western axis, where there was deeper water instead of shallow water like that between us and the land to the north.
"How far out?" I asked and liked the answer even less.
"Twenty-three miles." Captain Carlson said. That was within missile range and nearly within torpedo range for the SET-65 Wake Homing torpedo.
"Sir, just because they seem satisfied with the progress at stalling us, I wouldn't risk the carrier." I said carefully. "A couple of SET-65 torpedoes into the America now could cause us major problems."
"I'm well aware of that Mr. Jones." Admiral Langsworth said testily. "What I need right now is good information to help me decide if we prosecute to sink or get her to surface."
"If we get an SH-3 over there and have her bang on the hull with her active sonar, she'll either surface or we'll have cause to sink her." I said slowly and realized that was the general consensus.
"Then we're all agreed?" Admiral Langsworth asked, getting a round of nods. He really didn't need me for my opinion on this, he was just being very cautious. Firing on a Soviet vessel could very well start a direct war with the Soviet Union; something his orders said was to be avoided if possible. If they were going to start this, they had to start it directly, not by having us shoot at them.
Thirty minutes later, the submarine had escaped further detection and we were moving out of range of the initial contact. If it wasn't a nuclear-powered boat, it would be unable to keep up with our twenty-knot rate of advance. If it was nuclear-powered, the Los Angeles-class sub trailing us would find it and either sink it or force it to surface.
Several hours later, with the sun setting behind the ship, the America was filled with the roar of jets taking off. For an hour and a half, the sound filled every part of the carrier, especially the combat information center where I stood near Admiral Langsworth. When every operational aircraft on board had been launched, they headed west and slightly north towards the Straits of Hormuz. It would be dark by the time we arrived, and that was why we were launching now.
Unlike the majority of American forces, Iranian forces did not have the equipment to fight effectively at night. The detachment of jamming aircraft behind the leading Tomcats would make sure what radar capability they did have wouldn't function at peak efficiency. Less than a fourth of their surviving fighters were night-capable aircraft, and would make easy targets for the Tomcats and their long-range Phoenix missiles. The following wave of F-18's equipped with medium-range Sparrow missiles would make short work of any survivors and hopefully keep our forces from having any casualties. Then the A-6 Intruders would swoop in on the ground installations and would take care of ground-based radars that had already been heavily damaged by previous raids.
An hour later, after the planes from the America had withdrawn and the Iranians were poking their heads up from the recent attacks, the fresh planes from the Eisenhower would sweep in and press home more attacks. They would be followed by Tomahawk cruise missiles from the Chancellorsville, an AEGIS cruiser in our battle group, the nuclear-powered cruisers with the Eisenhower, and two VLS-equipped submarines in the area. The cruise missiles would strike targets that hadn't been hit by the planes.
"Tarawa reports everything is ready for their mission." Captain Carlson said quietly after he was handed a piece of paper. Admiral Langsworth just nodded in silence. The Tarawa had received the modified CH-53 helicopters for minesweeping the Straits and was now preparing them for operation. Right now, she was accelerating to her maximum speed of twenty-four knots, and heading past the America towards the Straits. She was taking the Aegis cruiser Vincennes, the Leahy-class cruiser Harry Yarnell, the Kidd-class destroyer Scott, and two Perry-class frigates with her. The America and Eisenhower were now steaming towards each other and when they met up, all the nuclear cruisers protecting Eisenhower would turn to flank speed, over forty-knots for all of them, and catch up with the Tarawa to join her protective force.
When they did catch up, the Yarnell and Scott would turn back and re-join the escorts protecting the two full-sized carriers. Until they did, both carriers would only be lightly protected, and that was the biggest risk of the whole plan. Two cruisers, one of them Aegis-equipped, the other of the Belknap class (Which was the same hull as the Leahy class but with only one SAM launcher and half the number of missiles. Instead of the aft missile launcher it carried a five-inch main gun mount), two Spruance-class destroyers, four Perry-class frigates, and three Knox-class frigates would remain behind to protect the two carriers. Captain Bradshaw's equipment convoy was now accelerating to their maximum sustained speed of twenty knots and would follow one hundred miles behind the Tarawa and hopefully all the way into Kuwait before Iraq regrouped enough for their attack.
In my original life, the United States had gone to war with Iraq twice. The first time we had used five aircraft carriers plus hundreds of ground-based aircraft to lead the attack on that nation. That was an effective force of over seven hundred aircraft attacking Iraq. Here, now, we had less than three hundred combined aircraft in theater and faced not just Iraq but Iran as well. Long-range B-52's in this year weren't equipped yet to carry long-range cruise missiles, and the B-1's were all tasked for nuclear deterrence. That left the F-111 Aardvark for land-based bombing roles and none was in theater or could be flown into theater because of Egypt and Jordan's declaration of neutrality and refusal of fly-over permission.
The good news was that the battleship Missouri had just cleared the Malacca Straits at the eastern edge of the Indian Ocean. Within two weeks she would be able to enter the Gulf region and turn her big guns on any troop advancement within twenty miles of water. She also carried a lot of Tomahawks that would hit deeper targets in either Iran or Iraq. The bad news was that it would take two whole weeks, and she only had two Perry-class frigates and a single nuclear cruiser, the Truxtun (the nuclear-powered variant of the Belknap-class cruiser), escorting her.
"Mr. Jones, there are priority messages arriving for your attention." An enlisted man informed me shortly after the Eisenhower began launching her planes. A quick nod from Admiral Langsworth told me to go, and I headed up to the ship's radio room. Some messages were too secret even to take to my quarters, and when I began reading them in a secure compartment within the radio communications section, I understood why. It was forbidden to even take notes of these documents, and they would be destroyed as soon as I left. The pictures that came in a few minutes later were less-classified and I would take them with me to the Admiral when I was done reading. The reason for the uber-classification was that they revealed sources and methods that, if they became public, would cause near-mass panic among all the governments of the world.
No one would like the idea that a plane sitting four hundred miles off the coast could pick up the type of stuff I was reading. Even in 2004, such ideas were widely believed to be rumor. They weren't perfect though, as the use of cell and satellite phones by al-Quaeda and Hussein's security forces would prove eventually. Still, those technologies weren't in widespread use yet, so the methods these planes could catch were still widely used, and the data from them was dangerous.
When I was done, I carefully separated the files into two piles, one for immediate destruction and the other to take with me. A radioman with a security clearance almost as high as mine checked my take-out pile to make sure none was marked as being for destruction. Then I watched him destroy the other pile before we both signed off on the destruct card and I was free to head back to the Admiral and ruin his day.
"What have you got, Jones?" He asked me as soon as I re-entered the CIC and made my way to his chair. A single look from me sent his Chief of Staff and other officers for a little walk out of earshot. It wasn't often a lowly Lieutenant J.G. could send away senior officers, but when it came to intelligence, I could.
"You're not going to like it, sir." I said as warning and he just frowned. "The Iraqis have managed to repair their command and control systems thanks to some Soviet engineers that were flown in two days ago. We didn't know about them until a few hours ago. That means they'll be ready to move south within four days. More bad news, the entire Iraqi navy is showing heat blooms which means they're getting ready to get underway. We're also seeing several Iranian divisions lining up on the piers, which means the troops ships they have are going to be moving. We have nothing in the gulf that can stop them, and air power up there right now is strictly air-to-air. We have some smart and dumb bombs, but they'll need them for the ground troops and tanks that will likely move across the border. The Kuwaitis have some dumb bombs as do the Saudis, but getting through the air defenses and the SAMS on their escorts won't be easy. Washington intel says they'll sail in three days with time of arrival in Kuwait as being around four days."
"Meanwhile, the Kuwaitis and Saudis only have eight patrol boats, and of those, only four are armed with anti-ship missiles." Admiral Langsworth said with a sour tone. "Fuck! We have to break through tonight."
"Yes, sir, we do." I agreed with him.
"There's no way we can project the airpower that far north." The Admiral said as his eyes unfocused while he thought hard. He was right. The America was low on fuel and bombs, while the Eisenhower was still relatively full. That just wasn't enough to project air power that far north. They'd have to fight almost the entire way, and more than likely they'd be shredded to pieces by the time they returned. We couldn't afford to lose that many aircraft.
"Sir, we don't need the airpower." I said gently, remembering that book that hadn't been written yet and several scenarios played on computers in another life. "What we need is a surface task force that can handle close-range air attacks since most of their cruise-missile equipped planes are already destroyed. It'll need to have the firepower that can handle the combined fleets since the Iranians have moved their frigates and corvettes up north. F-15's and -16's from Saudi and Kuwait can help with the air battle, but we have to get those equipment ships to Kuwait. At maximum speed, they might be able to reach Kuwait by the fourth day and start unloading. Kuwaiti and Saudi forces can hold the line for the day or two that it will take to bring the equipment online."
"The U.S. navy does not send surface ships into harms way without air superiority already established." Admiral Langsworth said with a huff, but he was thinking about my proposal. "What exactly have you come up with?"
"Sir, as soon as our first strike returns, we load up the F-18's and Intruders with bombs and hit the shipyards, docks, and air bases in southern Iran." I said as I pulled out the appropriate satellite photos. "We have to get the tasking done before they get back, and the pilots are going to be tired, but if they can hit these air bases and surface-to-surface missile emplacements hard enough, the Eisenhower can maintain F-14 patrols and keep their fighters away from the Tarawa and her choppers. The Tarawa clears a path through the mines big enough for a single-file line of ships to get through. They'll all have to be SAM ships escorting the cargo ships. Saudi-based fighters then cover them through the central part of the gulf. The cargo ships move to hug the coast with frigates escorting them while the bigger ships move into the north and duke it out with the fighters and ships up there. Once the path is clear, the equipment ships and frigates move up into Kuwait harbor and unload."
"We're going to lose ships." Admiral Langsworth said slowly and I had to nod.
"At least one or two cruisers will likely be lost, but if we're lucky none of the cargo ships." I agreed with some reluctance. "There's going to be a heavy toll on the fighter forces from Saudi Arabia as well. More than likely they'll throw every plane that can hold a bomb at the surface group. Plus, every conventional ship that goes in there is going to end up low on fuel and have to pull back to Bahrain for refueling after five or six days of steaming at combat speeds. There's enough fuel there to keep four or five of them operating for several weeks and local refineries can produce the quality of fuel needed to keep them going. Keeping them armed is another story altogether and we'll have to work on that hard. The C-5's can fly up from Diego Garcia and carry enough to re-arm them partially, but it will take lots of flights. The big problem is that if we stop the advance into Kuwait, I believe we'll see the Soviets getting involved directly. That may close the Straits again and leave whatever ships we get up there stranded for a while with only limited re-supply."
"But without the equipment the thousands of soldiers in Kuwait are hostages waiting to be taken." Langsworth said and I nodded. Operation Desert Storm had been a success after six months of preparation, with hundreds of cargo ships and thousands upon thousands of cargo planes delivering everything needed. We didn't have any of that and only if we were lucky would Kuwait City hold against the Iraqi attack. It was important to have that city though, both militarily and psychologically. It was certainly worth a few hundred sailors and a few cruisers. "What ships do you have in mind?"
"Sir, I think most of them should be the majority of the nuclear cruisers, but not all of them and only a few conventional ships." I said slowly. "Yorktown must go, but that should be the only Aegis cruiser. There's not enough of them in the fleet to just throw them away. The Kidd-class destroy Chandler should be sent as well. That's two ships with the Mk. 26 missile system, one of them Aegis. Long Beach is an absolute must. She's got the SM-2 ER with the upgrade, and she has one hundred and twenty of them in her magazine. That means she'll last longer without re-supply than any other ship. Bainbridge would be good for many of the same reasons even though her SM-2's aren't the upgraded version. She still has eighty of them. Mississippi and Arkansas both have the Mk. 26 system and can hold their own in the medium-range category. There won't be time to reload any of the cruisers' Tomahawk launchers so those two ships will bring eight anti-ship versions of the missile into the combat zone while Long Beach only brings two."
"Her other two are nuclear land-attack which means Long Beach will also be nuclear deterrent for the area, able to hit Baghdad or Tehran with a nuke." Langsworth added and I nodded. If Hussein tried to use chemical weapons, he'd get a nuclear-tipped Tomahawk up his ass, and it would likely come from the USS Long Beach.
"Round it out with four Perry-class frigates and that adds four more SAM ships for closer-in support." I finished and waited in the silence that followed.
"We should send in California as well." Langsworth said. "She's got two nuclear tomahawks and two more anti-ship tomahawks. All the cruisers and the destroyer have eight Harpoon medium range anti-ship missiles as well. That's forty-eight Harpoons to sink their surface ships with, plus sixteen more Harpoons from the frigates and we've got an effective force to deal with these numbers of ships you've got without needing air support to take them out. The twelve Tomahawks can be kept in reserve to hit any ship not taken out by the Harpoons. Okay, get the staff going over the plan and develop a target list for second round of strikes. We're going to use up most of the armament on the America doing this, but it has to be done. I'll get on the phone with Washington and get it cleared with them. Any suggestions on who should command the force?"
"Sir, part of me wants to say Captain Bradshaw of the Yorktown." I said immediately and he nodded, but I had to be totally honest. "I should ask though, is J.C. Pollock commanding the Long Beach yet?"
"He took command eight months ago." Admiral Langsworth informed me and I let out a long sigh.
"Sir, I heard some stories about that man." I explained carefully. "The stories I heard came from a friend I had the time before who served on his ship. If even half of what I heard back then was true, the man is the one we need to pull this mission off. He thinks the right way."
"I'll also get him cleared for knowing about you." Admiral Langsworth said and I stared at him in some confusion. He smiled at me, a smile that sent shivers up and down my spine. "Son, I think you're right, Captain Pollock is the man we need, and he needs your way of thinking, and he needs to know why he should listen to you when I send you to his ship. Get your bags packed as soon as you've got my staff working on targeting lists. The Long Beach is within helo range and you'll be heading out there as soon as we get approval."
"Sir, I'm supposed to be providing you with…" I started to protest but he cut me off.
"David, how many of your computer games did you play with just this type of scenario in mind?" He asked me and I sighed.
"Dozens." I admitted and he patted my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me.
"Son, the reason you were sent to me was because some very important people wanted you where you could give good advice to those who need it the most." Langsworth told me in a very fatherly tone. "If you're really needed back here, it's easy enough to get you flown to Bahrain by helicopter and then back to here from there. The reasons that sent you to me here are even more valid where this Task Group is going to go, and I want you there and I want the commander of that group to listen to you the way I do. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Admiral." I said quickly and he nodded before heading off. I'd opened my mouth and landed myself in hot water again. I wasn't a fool, and I knew that this group stood a good chance of meeting disaster if even one mistake was made by any crewmember of any of the ships. It really was that risky. When the Admiral came back twenty minutes later, he had a grim expression.
"Task Force Hail Mary is a go." He said simply and I had to smile at the name that had been assigned the group of ships. "Mr. Jones, get your bags packed. Your helicopter leaves in forty minutes for the Long Beach. I'll be flying with you to personally brief Captain Pollock on his orders. Take whatever materials you need with you to support operations. Long Beach has full flag facilities and received some updated equipment with the replenishment this morning. It will be installed by his crew within a day."
"Yes, sir." I said quickly and left the compartment. After ten minutes the planning that had been going on became far more detailed than I was qualified to give good advice on, and so I'd become a silent observer, learning as I listened to the more experienced officers discuss different targets and priorities.
I ended up having to go to the ship's store and buy both a bag and a locking briefcase. What the hell a ship's store was doing with a locking briefcase, I had no idea. Then again, there were plenty of officers on this ship and it wasn't an inconceivable idea one or two might need a new briefcase by the end of a six-month deployment. Petty Officer Lowney appeared just as I was finishing the packing.
"I hear you're being sent to another ship, sir." Lowney said with a slight pout as I opened the door after his knock.
"Yeah, I may be back, maybe not." I said quickly, moving back to the couch where a bag lay open and put the last two shirts in there after neatly folding them.
"I'm supposed to get the key for the locks before you leave, and I brought Nicholson to help you with your bags." Lowney said gently. "We're going to miss having you around."
"Thanks." I said with a little surprise and turned to face him as I closed up the last bag. I was surprised by the really thoughtful look on his face.
"You know, I was really surprised by getting to know you." He said with that thoughtful expression on his face. "I thought you'd act gay in some way, but except for the picture of your boyfriend, and the occasional glance at a cute guy on the ship, I'd have never known at all."
"Lowney, with all the boys you have tramping in and out of your supply closet you ought to know not every gay man fills the stereotype." I said as softly as I could.
"But I do." He replied with a downcast expression.
"Dude, there ain't no big deal with that." I said with a shrug. "Sure, considering the environment you're end, it might not be too smart to prance around the way you do sometimes, but if that's how you are, I'm not going to put you down for it."
"So you don't think I'm a flaming queen?" Lowney asked and I laughed.
"No, you are a flaming queen, bud." I told him with laughter. "It's just that there isn't anything wrong with being a flaming queen if you want. Like I said, in this type of environment, it might not be very smart, but I don't think there's anything wrong with it at all. It'd be kind of hypocritical of me to do so."
"Oh." Lowney said before holding out his hand. I was surprised by how firm of a grip he gave me. "Good luck, Lt. Jones."
"Good luck to you as well, Petty Officer." I said as firmly as his handshake had been. He called out into the passageway and one of his messcrankers came in to take the bags. I kept the briefcase that was full of classified material though. Messcranking was something I'd never had to do since I wasn't on a big ship the first time around, and after what I'd seen the last week or so, I was very glad for that. Every new crewmember on a ship had to do this when they first got onboard, if they were below the rank of E-4. They spent three months acting as waiters, servers, or cleaners in the officer's mess, the chief's mess, or the crew's mess. Certainly those assigned to the officer's mess had it easier than the others, but they still worked their asses off doing grunt work.
Just off the flight deck, we were met by two air crewmen who handed me a life vest and helmet. The Admiral was already in his gear and I put mine on very quickly under the supervision of the crewmen. Then they took my bags and I joined them and the Admiral in a sprint over the flight deck to the waiting helicopter. I didn't really listen to the 'if we crash' lecture, instead focused on the view outside the open side hatch of the helicopter. It was dark now, and the carrier's island superstructure was a black hole against the dark night.
At this very moment, several hundred fighters were engaging each other and ground targets a few hundred miles to the west and north. The air battle was now in the hands of the air group commanders and the Admiral would have been doing nothing but watching on his screens as the local commanders issued their orders. As the helicopter's rotors began spinning, the helmet I was wearing started crackling with transmissions over the battle frequencies.
Admiral Langsworth was keeping in touch with the battle and if a general retreat
was necessary, he could order it from here.
The helicopter moved through the pitch-black night like a noisy ghost while Admiral Langsworth and I listened to the transmissions from the air battle. The Iranians were getting help with radar from a Soviet IL-76 Ilyushin orbiting a hundred and thirty miles inland. It went down while we crossed the dark waters heading towards the Long Beach which was even now breaking from her escort position on the Eisenhower and moving to form up with the Mississippi, Arkansas, Bainbridge, and California. The carrier they had been protecting was now steaming towards the America at flank speed and would meet up with her and her escorts for protection along with the remaining nuclear cruiser protecting her. The Soviet radar plane had been shot down by an F-14 with a single Phoenix missile left. The American pilot had gone to afterburner, headed inland for forty miles and fired the missile from just under maximum range. The Il-76 had tried to turn and outrun it, but it moved too fast. An Iranian SA-11 SAM battery got the F-14 before it could move back to safety over water where we now held air superiority.
The Long Beach was a shadow against the water as we came in close to her. She'd turned on her running lights for the helicopter landing, a wise precaution since the ship was so much narrower than a carrier. I knew she was seven hundred and twenty one feet long, but she was narrower than most regular cruisers as well. That made her a fast ship, capable of well over forty knots, and able to sustain that speed for hours on end thanks to her nuclear reactors. She'd been the first nuclear powered surface warship in the U.S. fleet, and was a proud queen on the waters. Her forward superstructure, a large box that somewhat resembled a carrier's, had once housed the first-ever phased array radar, but that had been removed in the early 1980's. At over 180 feet high, the superstructure meant she was also the only cruiser in the fleet from which her captain could look down on a carrier's flight deck.
The landing lights appeared on the fantail of the ship and the helicopter began its approach, receiving instructions from the ship controller. To me it looked like we weren't going to make it, and I closed my eyes until I felt the thump of us hitting the deck instead of the water. Admiral Langsworth and the crewmember at the ASW station of the helicopter were smiling at my moment of cowardice. I just shrugged in response while the cruiser's crewmembers chocked the wheels and tied down the helicopter. It would be staying until the Admiral finished his talk with the ship's captain.
"Welcome aboard the Long Beach." An officer said, meeting us as we came from the helicopter. "The captain is waiting for you in his in-port cabin."
"Thank you commander, lead the way." Admiral Langsworth said, and I followed the two men to a hatch on the starboard side of the smaller aft superstructure. He led us down three flights of ladders and then forward along the starboard passageway that led through most of the ship. Just forward of what must have been the crew's mess, he led us up through five more flights of ladders and into what was obviously Officer Country. A marine guarded the door that led to the captain's cabin and I was told to wait outside by the Admiral.
I was out there for more than fifteen minutes while the Admiral talked to the captain and the other officer who I assumed was the Executive Officer. I was surprised to see a door open in front of me and even more surprised that it led to a small kitchen. Standing in the door was a Second Class Petty Officer in salt and peppers, with the designation of Mess Specialist on his rank insignia. He was about six feet tall, somewhat fleshy but not fat, and had a bushy brown mustache as well as hair that could only be described as bushy despite a navy regulation haircut. The way he studied me told me all I needed to know.
Was every cook for Senior Officers in the Navy gay?
"You must be the VIP that's coming aboard." The strange Petty Officer said. "I also recognize your face from television. Aren't you a little young for this?"
"Appearances can be deceiving, as you are quite well aware." I countered with a small shrug. He smiled broadly at that and held out his hand.
"Peter Vanrantahorn." He said and I tried to repeat the mouthful of name correctly while shaking his hand. He laughed softly and repeated it twice until I got it right.
"David Jones." I said with a smile once I'd gotten his name right.
"I take it why you're here isn't something I should ask or comment about?" Vanrantahorn asked softly and I nodded in response. "Well, fine, I can live with that. The Captain's assigned you to the Chief of Staff quarters in Flag Country until we get an actual Flag Officer onboard. It's got a real double-bed, not that fold-down crap and is pretty spacious."
"Sounds good." I said carefully and he nodded. There was no attempt at making a pass or innuendo about the roomy 'bed', just a statement about the room I'd been assigned.
"The cabin is one deck above this one and there'll be a marine guard stationed outside as well." Vanrantahorn continued. "The guard will be posted there twenty-four hours a day and will have orders to keep anyone not authorized out of your cabin. I've been told whoever cleans your cabin has to have a security clearance and right now the only one messcranking was assigned to the enlisted galley. We're switching him with one of the wardroom guys that have been doing shit since he got here. If you want, I can show you around the ship later, or Stouffer can do it when he gets reassigned."
"Thanks, Petty Officer." I said with genuine appreciation. The ship looked easier to maneuver in than the carrier had been, but having a crewmember who knew it well give a tour was always a good thing. "I'm not sure when I'll have a chance for the tour, but I'll take you up on that."
"Jones, get in here." Admiral Langsworth said from the door to the Captain's cabin and I just nodded to the Petty Officer before following him inside. The cabin was huge, running the entire width of the forward superstructure, just about forty feet shy of being the entire width of the ship. The main section was a dining room/conference room with a large table that could seat at least twelve, and had several couches lining the bulkheads. A closed counter separated the kitchen and would provide a way to pass food and plates into the room, and a side-door led to that space as well. Langsworth led me over to one of the couches where I followed his lead in taking a seat across from the Captain and his executive officer.
"Please tell me that this is a big joke." Captain J.C. Pollock said as I sat down next to Admiral Langsworth. The Captain was a tall man; even sitting he gave off a presence that was almost palpable. He had dark hair in a fringe that reminded me of Patrick Stewart, but was stockier. He wasn't quite fat, since a lot of his weight was muscle mass, but he was definitely a big man. The executive officer, Commander J.C. Hendrickson was a thinner man with salt and pepper hair. Yes, both of them had the same first initials, and I knew the ship's Weapons Officer was a Commander J.C. Babbitt. That made three senior officers on this flagship cruiser all with the same first initials.
"Sometimes sir, I think the joke is being played on me." I said with a shrug. "Imagine being thirty-six and suddenly waking up in your twelve year-old body and having your mom and dad tell you when it's time to go to bed."
"Now that would be torture." Commander Hendrickson said with a bark of laughter while the Captain smirked.
"I have to agree." He said after a moment had passed. "Okay, so as I understand it, everything going on now isn't the future you remember."
"It's not exactly the past I remembered, sir." I said carefully. "It has diverged significantly in several ways, partly because of me but mostly because of the Soviet version of me. What we're seeing now is their attempt to change the future of the Soviet Union, the future where that country ceased to exist. They found out changing the future is a lot harder than they expected. It's a lesson I learned myself, although in a personal way, not a way that kills hundreds of innocents."
"Your mother and sister's death are what you're referring too." Commander Hendrickson said in a tone that said it was more than just a guess.
"Yes, sir, they are definitely a part of that, as are some other things about my personal life that are drastically different." I said cautiously. I didn't want to bring up 'gay' around these men when I needed them to listen to what I might have to say in the near future.
"Your boyfriend is another?" Commander Hendrickson said and I shifted slightly in my seat while Admiral Langsworth just listened in silence.
"Yes, Commander, he was definitely the first lesson I learned about the effects of time travel." I said with a slight smile. Just mentioning Brian was likely to bring a bittersweet smile to my face. I missed him a lot. "Brian and I weren't even really friends in my first lifetime. One little change in how I reacted to him bumping into me - reacting like the adult I became instead of the kid I was then - changed the dynamics of our relationship tremendously. He also taught me that while I might have the memories of an adult, being a kid again meant that in many ways, I really was a kid again. It took a lot of my self-control to not just give in to a lot of the… pressures kids go through. In many ways, I think it was an even better lesson in discipline for me. My mother and sister originally lived until 1999 and 2003 respectively. Now they didn't even live past the 1980's."
"So the future can be changed, and the Soviet Union could end up still existing." Captain Pollock said seriously and I had to nod slowly.
"That is a possibility, sir, but what they are finding out is that some things about the past, or for us now, the future, are very hard to change." I explained. "In my original life, my sister was sexually molested by my father and that event wrecked our family, and caused my sister problems all through her life. It led her to choosing a poor husband, a man who eventually murdered her and their kids when she tried to leave him. I changed that though, I stopped my father from molesting my sister, but I believe you know several of the events that have happened in my personal life since then. My sister and mother are now dead a lot earlier. I am estranged, most likely permanently, from my father, and instead of being in Gunner's Mate "A" school, I'm here in this room with you two and the Admiral."
"The Admiral's explained the basics of this plan you came up with." Captain Pollock's voice was serious now, and he leaned forward, hands clasped together with his elbows on his knees. "I want to hear how you came up with the plan, where you got the ideas from, and how you think this ship and the others assigned will work together to pull this mission off."
"I will take my leave of you gentlemen now." Admiral Langsworth said as he rose. We each stood and shook his hand and he showed himself out. As soon as he was gone, the Captain and Commander sat again and the captain motioned for me to answer his question.
"Do you really think we can do this?" He asked when I finished and I shrugged. He let out a sigh and then nodded his head at his own question. "Well, regardless of if you think we can really do this, we're going to have to try. Your assignment here is as a flag intelligence officer, but we have no flag officer on board. What do you think, John?"
"Lt. Riingen just isn't working out in Operations." Commander Hendrickson said. "Mr. Jones, have you served in Operations before?"
"Most of my experience has been in that area." I said sheepishly.
"Fine, we'll move Mr. Riingen back to his old deck division and put Mr. Jones in as Division Officer of OS-1 division." The Captain said firmly.
"Fine, then." Commander Hendrickson said. "I'll make the changes to the duty roster and make the entry in the ship's log. Mr. Jones, there will be a marine outside by now to escort you to your quarters. Get yourself situated while we get things arranged. I'll also get you a chemical mask and fire gear for while you're on board. I take it you went through boot camp damage control training during your… what do you call it… original life?"
"That or my first time around, sir." I answered with a smile. "I also went through the advanced damage control course once at Treasure Island while our boats were on enforced stand down."
"Good, then you know the basics if we get hit." Commander Hendrickson said. "I don't want you frying in a fire if we catch on fire from a missile hit."
"Your concern is appreciated." I said wryly and he laughed.
"I'm looking after my own ass here." Commander Hendrickson said. "The Admiral told us it wasn't worth surviving if you didn't, and that came from the President himself."
"Sometimes he's a little overprotective." I said with a shrug and that got them both to laugh a little.
"Well, once we have you in proper gear, I understand radio needs you up there for something or another." Captain Pollock stated and I nodded.
"They have some special equipment that was brought over during the unrep." I explained carefully. "You'll really like what the stuff can do I'm sure. It prints out satellite photos direct from Langley with mark-ups from their analysts and a lot of other neat little gimmicks. Your guys will need my card key and codes to sync up with the satellite system and get it operating and I'll need to review security procedures with your Radio officer and whoever he'll have operating the equipment."
"Okay, that will be your first stop when you've gotten your protective equipment." Captain Pollock said carefully. "Then I want you to join me in CIC. Do you think you can find the mess decks?"
"The crew mess?" I asked for clarification and both men nodded. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I can find that no problem."
"Good, the ladders down to CIC are in the middle-forward section of the mess decks and another ladder is at the aft-port entrance there." Captain Pollock said quickly as he stood. I followed him by rising to my feet. "You'll need the cipher to enter. It's currently 3-4-2-3."
"Got it." I said confidently while repeating the number over and over in my head.
"Good, see you in a few minutes." Commander Hendrickson said in an obvious dismissal.
To be honest, as I made my way up to the large stateroom that was my home here on this ship, I was extremely nervous. The only way I could think of to calm down was to write Brian a letter. I had no idea if he'd ever get it, but at least writing it helped.
As with all my stories, E provides immeasurable input, grammar checking, and all those other lovely editing thingies that make the story so much better!
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