Magruder felt his stomach knot. Matt … “No hits, no casualties that we know of yet,” the President continued.
“But once the storm breaks, it’s going to be bad. I’ve … I’ve requested the presence of the Indian ambassador. He’ll be here in another fifteen minutes. Maybe we can still work something out … a disengagement, a cease-fire. But …” He left the rest unsaid, and Magruder nodded his understanding. If Indian warplanes were already airborne, the chances of recalling them were slight.
The President leaned forward, his hands clasped on his desk. “Matt, this is the crunch. The reason I brought you here. I need your help.”
Magruder couldn’t tell if the President was referring to his summons to the office now, or the whole purpose of his transfer from the Pentagon.
Perhaps he meant both. “I’ll help anyway I can, Mr. President.”
“We still have one chance, you know.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Disengage. Break off and run for it.” The President held up one hand as Magruder’s face showed his surprise. “No, don’t say it, Tom. Wait until I’m through. The whole question is whether our claim to those waters ten thousand miles from this desk is worth the lives of several thousand of our boys.”
Magruder tried to smile, and failed. “Mr. President, it’s a little late to reconsider now, isn’t it?”
“Admiral, the man who sits at this desk thinks of carrier battle groups as a tool. A way to reach out and influence other parts of the world, other leaders. Okay, threaten, if you prefer. But in international politics, a threat is generally a lot more effective than a plea. It’s the way the damned system works.”
“Granted. You used us a time or two, remember? At Wonsan? In Thailand?”
“That’s why I called you, Tom. Your battle group is really up against it this time. When I sent you into Korea, we both knew you’d be outnumbered, but it was a quick, sharp action. Get the Marines in, get our people, get them out. And the Koreans didn’t have much to threaten your ships with beyond some outdated strike aircraft armed with free-fall bombs.”
“Those were dangerous enough, sir.”
“It was also a controlled response. If the North Koreans pushed too hard, well, we still had the U.S. air units stationed in South Korea and in Japan. We could keep things at a relatively low level, without escalating.”
It certainly hadn’t seemed that way at the time, Magruder remembered.
They’d been worried about the Soviets, worried about Korean reinforcements. And at the end, the Korcoms had launched a desperate attack on the invasion fleet with a number of low-level bombers.
Sometimes, he thought, politicians could have remarkably selective memories. “Yes, sir.”
“This time, it’s totally different. Jefferson and the other ships with her, they’re all we have in the region. All. And the Indians have just called our bluff. My bluff.”
“Nimitz and the Ike will be in the region within another few days.”
“By which time it will all be over. No, I’m beginning to wonder if our best bet might not be to pull back. I feel sure that if I told Ambassador Nadkarni that we were disengaging, breaking off and heading back for Diego Garcia, well … I doubt that New Delhi wants to be perceived as aggressors. It’d be in their best interests to turn back and let us sail away, a bloodless, diplomatic victory.”
“Not quite bloodless, Mr. President,” Magruder reminded him. “There’s the crew of that Indian sub that went down a couple of days ago.”
“True. But if an Indian air strike hits our ships, that will be just the beginning. Maybe now is the time to stop the killing.” The President rose suddenly from his chair. He turned and faced the tinted window, looking out past the Rose Garden toward the up-thrust spike of the Washington Monument. “The point is, I could stop it. Now.”
“But at what cost, Mr. President?”
He chuckled. “It would be political suicide, that’s for damn sure.” The President reached up and pressed his hands over his eyes. “After Grenada … Panama … the Persian Gulf … Wonsan? If I back down in front of the world and some nut starts tossing nukes over there … But I think I’m beyond caring about that anymore.”
“I wasn’t talking about the next election, sir. I think you know that.”
Magruder considered for a moment. “What’s happening with the Russians right now? The ones at Turban Station.”
“Some of their officers are aboard our Aegis cruiser now. There … there’s no word from the Russian carrier. Kremlin is southwest of the Jefferson, farther from the Indian mainland and not in the direct line of fire. I’ve been talking with the Commonwealth representative today.
Reading between the lines, I’d guess they’re still trying to guess which way to jump on this one.” He returned to his chair and slumped back into it.
“What do you think they’d do if we packed up and left? If we left the Indian Ocean to the Indians?”
“Lovely thought. My other military advisors don’t think they could handle the Indians alone. The Kremlin isn’t in the Jefferson’s league.”
“My guess, sir, is that they’d follow through with what they’re there to do. Continue the mission.”
“Which is …?”
“Two-fold, Mr. President. Extend Commonwealth power into the Indian Ocean, if for no better reason than to convince the world that they are still a world power. And, maybe more important, to try somehow to stop a nuclear holocaust near their borders.”
“Holocaust. Such a heavy word. Such an evocative word.”
“That’s still our mission, isn’t it, sir? To stop that holocaust?”
“Doesn’t make much sense if we don’t have a prayer of pulling it off in the first place, does it? I’m running the risk of plunging the United States of America into that same holocaust … beginning with nine thousand boys in CBG14.”
“There’s another reason we’re there, Mr. President.”
“What’s that?”
“Freedom of the seas. Our commitment to our allies in the region, to open sea lanes and right of free passage.”
“I wonder how valuable that really is.”
“It’s principle, Mr. President. How important is a principle? Like freedom?” He took a deep breath. “You know, sir, the Navy has faced this same sort of thing before. The Gulf of Sidra, 1986.”
“That was hardly the same as this.”
“I don’t see how it was that much different, Mr. President. Qaddafi decided the Gulf of Sidra was exclusively his, and he set out to prove it at the point of a gun … or at the point of some Su-27s and Nanuchka corvettes, if you prefer. The Navy challenged him on that, at the orders of one of your predecessors.
“The point was, it’s foolish to lay claim to waters that you can’t control. There was never any question that we could smash the Libyans.
They gave us the provocation by threatening our ships and aircraft. We responded. The Gulf of Sidra is considered to be international waters, case closed.”
The President gave a grim smile. “This is different. We could lose!”
“Could be. We could take the history lesson back farther if you like.
The Mayaguez. World War I and unrestricted U-boat attacks. The War of 1812. The Barbary Wars when Moorish pirates captured our ships and people and held them for ransom.”
“We won those too.”
“Yeah, but they weren’t foregone conclusions at the time. Hell, the odds against us in 1812 weren’t that much better than we’re facing now, and in the case of the Mayaguez, we lost more Marines killed than the number of merchant seamen we rescued. In each case, the only thing that pulled us through was the willpower to finish what we’d set out to do … or what others forced on us in the first place.”
“This thing goes beyond principle, Admiral. Or finishing what we started. A lot of reputations in this town are riding on the big carriers. You know that, don’t you?” When Magruder nodded cautiously, the President went on. “Critics of the nuclear carriers have been saying for years that a single missile could sink one, that they’re big, slow, vulnerable … and expensive. Can you imagine the uproar if Jefferson is sunk or disabled by an Indian attack?”
“And is that why you’d have them pull out, Mr. President?”
The President sighed. “No. Once, maybe. Not any longer.” He appeared to be studying his hands, clasped
