the rules of the game in the Cold War. This new post-Cold War era wasn’t anything like that. Now the Russians were playing for keeps, and none of the conventional wisdom of past confrontations seemed to apply.
In hindsight it was easy to see. Over a decade the new Russian leadership had seen first-hand that hesitation and half-measures were worse than useless. Hesitation had lost them Eastern Europe, had left the abortive coup of ‘91 in tatters before it ever got off the ground, and had condemned the federal government in Yugoslavia to a long, bitter civil war nobody could win. By contrast, a swift, decisive, ruthless strike had driven Iraq out of Kuwait, and the Russians watching that war from the sidelines had taken the lesson to heart. The fall of Yeltsin’s Commonwealth to the reactionaries of the new Union had been the result of the same kind of decisiveness. They had exploited the weaknesses of a disorganized government and a broken economy and brought back Communism where their clumsier Cold Warrior predecessors had failed before.
This had been the same kind of operation. The ambush set for the Tomcat squadron had been bad enough, but on top of that the Russians had dealt very effectively with Keflavik. Following up their initial missile strike, Soviet bombers had made a close-in bombing attack on the American base. Even though most of them had fallen prey to defending Eagles, SAMs, and Phoenix missiles, a few had made it all the way in. And those few had dropped enough five-hundred-pound BETAB retarded antirunway bombs, the Russian equivalent of America’s Durandal, to make the airstrips there totally useless for the foreseeable future.
The destruction of Keflavik and the loss of half of Viper Squadron together put Jefferson’s battle group in serious danger. The carrier and her consorts were sailing into hazardous waters, with each mile putting them closer to Russian land-based air forces that could overwhelm Jefferson’s defenses easily. The Americans would be hard- pressed to survive, much less do anything substantial in support of the embattled defenders. Under those circumstances, was it worth the risk to go on?
But the alternative was turning back, and if they did that the President might as well concede defeat. As long as Europe was staying neutral, Keflavik had been the only possible staging area for American forces flying into Norway. Without it, all support would have to be by sea, and by the time any of the ships preparing off the East Coast could make it to Bergen the fight for Norway would be over. A modern amphibious operation needed a close base of operations for any hope of success, and that was precisely what the United States would face if Bergen fell. Unless Bergen could hold out a few more weeks, the Soviets would soon be sitting pretty in a secure bastion.
Tarrant looked up as a pair of officers entered. One was young Lieutenant Craig, from his own staff. The other man he knew mostly from news reports and magazine stories, though he’d seen him among the CAG staff on the day of the briefing. Commander Magruder had a haunted look. He seemed older than Tarrant had thought, and didn’t look much like the reckless hero aviator depicted in the media.
“Magruder. Good.” Tarrant gestured for him to join him at the chart table. “Sorry to fetch you up here so soon after you touched down, but this is important.”
“I understand, sir,” Magruder replied slowly. Close up, the haunted look was even more noticeable. Tarrant couldn’t help but wonder if he was as capable as his reputation claimed.
“You know about Captain Stramaglia’s death by now, of course,” Tarrant went on, studying him carefully. “Losing him was a blow we couldn’t afford. He was a good man, and one of the best tacticians I’ve ever seen in action.”
“Yes, sir.” There was no spark of energy in his words or his eyes. It was as if he had died, not Stramaglia.
“You’re the next in line in the Air Wing, and you’ve got the experience to make a good CAG. I don’t envy you the job, though. It’s a killer under ordinary conditions, and what we’ve got is a situation that’s anything but ordinary.”
“Sir?”
That seemed to get a rise out of him. For a moment Tarrant couldn’t help but think that Magruder hadn’t expected the advancement. That was silly, of course. As Stramaglia’s deputy Magruder was the automatic replacement.
He put the thought out of his mind. Probably young Magruder was still a little bit dazed by everything that had happened. Viper Squadron … Gridley … Stramaglia. It was a lot to take in all at once.
“Your immediate concern is the defense of this ship,” Tarrant told him. “Viper Squadron’s at half strength, and that’s going to put a crimp in our CAP umbrella. Do what you have to, but make sure we’re covered. Next time the bombers could be headed our way.”
Magruder nodded slowly. “Yes, Admiral.”
“I also want ASW tightened. I don’t want another Gridley.” Magruder seemed about to say something, and Tarrant paused, but the new CAG didn’t speak after all. “The real problem, though, is bigger,” he went on after a moment. “After what’s happened this morning we need to husband our resources. I don’t know how we’re going to defend the carrier and still project any kind of substantial offensive power, but if we don’t come up with something pretty damned quick we might as well call off this whole cruise and go home. So we need some ideas, Magruder. Some way to hit those Russian bastards where it hurts and slow down the offensive against Bergen.”
“That’s a tall order, sir,” Magruder replied, still thoughtful but less distracted than before. “I don’t know if there’s anything we can do.”
“That’s not what I want to hear, mister,” Tarrant snapped. “Stramaglia would have come up with something. I expect you to do the same. Because if you don’t, Commander, this war is over.”
The new CAG stepped back, looking stricken. “I’ll … do what I can, Admiral,” he said.
Tarrant nodded. “That’s what I want. Get on it, Commander. Dismissed.”
Captain First Rank Glushko regarded his subordinate with distaste. “Well, Terekhov, it seems your victory was less than complete.”
Terekhov stared at a point on the bulkhead somewhere behind Glushko’s head. “My men did all they could, sir,” he said stiffly. “Had the Sukhois remained in the battle we could have destroyed the rest of their F-14 squadron and faced the reinforcements as well. But without the Sukhois …”
“You intend to put the blame on my decision to defend Soyuz then? Is that how your report will read?” He tried to keep from betraying his emotion, though he knew that Terekhov already understood how Glushko felt about him.
Terekhov didn’t answer.
“Listen to me, Captain,” Glushko went on, dropping his voice. “You think you can ruin me with an accusation like that. I, on the other hand, am in a position to ruin you as well. The operation was based on your plans, and the weakness of the defenses devoted to Soyuz was certainly a cause for legitimate concern. Even though the Americans did not attack, it was a possibility that had to be thought of, and your ambush, bold as it was, took no account of the possibility. So I may be censured for my part in this, but I can assure you that I will not crash alone. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” Terekhov replied. His tone was wary.
Glushko smiled. “On the other hand … our casualties were not light, but we inflicted much damage on the American fighters. And the bombers carried out their strike on the base in Iceland successfully. This morning’s events can be presented as a substantial victory … perhaps even a decisive one. But it would not look good for one of us to … spoil the image of success through recriminations. It is easy enough to look back on an event and speak of those things which might have been, Terekhov, but it is not always the wisest course.”
The younger officer shifted his gaze to Glushko’s face. “I do not intend to let you destroy me or the reputation of my men, Comrade Captain. If this is some attempt to keep me from defending myself …”
Glushko laughed. “You have a suspicious mind, Sergei Sergeivich. I am proposing that we stop working at cross-purposes. The Americans are our enemies, and to defeat them we should learn to work together, no?”
“If you say so, Comrade Captain,” Terekhov responded reluctantly. “But just what do you have in mind, beyond not making any accusations in our reports on the action?”
Leaning back in his chair, Glushko smiled broadly. He hadn’t been sure if Terekhov would be willing to sacrifice his self-righteous ideals for the benefits of practical politics, but it had certainly been worth trying. And it seemed the man wasn’t quite the idealist he appeared on the surface after all.
“We can be an effective team, Terekhov, if we try. Hard though it is to admit it, I recognize that you have a
