talent that the Rodina needs. A talent that I frankly lack. My skill is in … effective human interaction. But I have influence. Several of the political officers in the fleet are well disposed toward me, and that gives me a measure of power that your talent cannot alter. Work with me, Sergei Sergeivich, and together the two of us will go far. Soyuz and his air wing hold the keys to the success of this campaign, and with those keys we will unlock the door to power in the new Union.”
He smiled again, hoping Terekhov would accept it as a sincere expression of warmth. The younger officer would be a useful asset once he was put in harness, and Glushko intended to exploit that asset for all he was worth. They would defeat the Americans and finish the Norwegian campaign, and Glushko would attract the notice of the Kremlin.
As for Terekhov … well, ambitious young fighter pilots were always at risk. If Terekhov didn’t survive the campaign, there would be many solemn mourners at his funeral. But Captain First Rank Glushko would not be one of them.
Vladimir Nikolaivich Vorobyev studied the summary of Admiral Khenkin’s report with a smile of cold satisfaction. Thanks to the initiative of Soviet Naval Aviation, it seemed that the American carrier’s air wing had suffered a major defeat while entering the Norwegian Sea. Coupled with the success at Keflavik, that opened a window of opportunity in Norway. For the next few days Western intervention would be next to impossible. Now was the time to act.
Korotich!” he said, pressing a key on the intercom box on his crowded desk. “My office. Now.”
Colonel Boris Ilyavich Korotich was Vorobyev’s senior aide, an unimaginative but loyal officer who excelled at carrying out his master’s wishes. He appeared at the door promptly, wearing the characteristic frown that suggested he was afraid he had forgotten some crucial detail but at the same time refused to accept any suggestion that he had failed. Korotich set far harder standards for himself than any of his superiors. It was one reason he made such an efficient aide.
“Yes, Comrade General?”
“Korotich, what is the current situation in Norway? The Bergen offensive specifically.” Vorobyev knew it well enough, but he wanted to hear the words aloud. It helped him focus on the strategic problem to hear someone else present the data.
The aide’s frown deepened as he summoned the information from his excellent, orderly memory. “Very little progress so far, sir. The 45th is stalled in the mountains. A comparatively small force of partisans can delay the advance significantly.”
“And there has been no further progress in suppressing their SAM defenses?”
“The diversion of aerial resources to North Star has slowed the operation, sir. However, the most recent report indicates that the air base at Orland has been cleared and can be put back into operation. This will allow the deployment of additional tactical air support, which in turn should speed up the hunt for the enemy SAM emplacements.”
The Norwegians had been clever in their use of surface-to-air missiles. A nearly impenetrable curtain of SAM fire had derailed the air strikes that should have opened the way for the occupation of Bergen. Finding the SAM batteries was a job on the same order as the American “Scud hunts” during their war with Iraq. But with the Rodina’s full aerial resources brought to bear those defenses would soon be neutralized.
“I want the efforts redoubled, Korotich. Continual strikes into that area, until those SAMs are out of action. Even if you have to burn up half the planes in the theater doing it.”
“Yes, Comrade General.”
“I want the path cleared for an airborne landing near the coast in two days, Korotich. By this time Saturday I want a full regiment on the ground within the Norwegian defensive perimeter.” His finger stabbed at the map spread out on his desk, indicating the region where Soyuz aircraft had previously reported success in reducing Norwegian defenses. “Here … at Brekke.”
Korotich examined the map and nodded solemnly. “Da … Brekke. That will distract the RNA forces defending the line between the Sognefjorden and the road junction at Gol. A sound plan, Comrade General.”
“They will do more than distract, Boris Ilyavich. At the same time you relay those orders, you will also order all amphibious forces and naval infantry to assemble. Within twenty-four hours after Brekke is secured from the air, we will pour every man we can transport by sea into that position. They will be less than a hundred kilometers from Bergen, and squarely across the line of retreat for the Norwegians around the Sognefjord. That will produce the breakthrough we need.”
Korotich nodded again. “It will be difficult to assemble some of the forces, Comrade General, but I think the bulk of them can be en route in time.”
Vorobyev gave him a cold smile. “Tell any officer who does not think he can have his men moving in time that he will answer to me. In person … and in full.”
Now was the time to strike. Now, while the Americans were reeling from their defeat, the new Soviet Union would reclaim its proper place in the world. Norway would break, and the rest of Scandinavia after it. Then Europe would face the full weight of Russia’s military securely placed in a flanking position that rendered useless its traditional defensive lines in Germany.
All it would take was one final push, and the humiliations of a decade would vanish forever.
CHAPTER 20
“So what you’re telling me is that we can predict what they’re going to do, but we can’t do a hell of a lot about it.” Tombstone Magruder massaged his forehead with both hands. He had been awake most of the night going over every aspect of the military situation, but all he had to show for his work was a pile of file folders on his desk and a headache ten times worse than any he’d ever suffered from G-forces in a fighter cockpit.
“I can’t speak for what we can do, sir,” Lieutenant Commander Arthur Lee replied. “But yes, we’ll see what they’re up to. Satellite recon will be able to monitor the bastards, and I’m confident we can sort out any decoy operations.”
Since the fighting the day before, Jefferson had continued on course into the Norwegian Sea, but cautiously, carefully. ASW forces had flushed six more subs in that time, with two more confirmed kills and the others either knocked out or driven off. Magruder’s involvement in the submarine-hunting had been peripheral at best, but each reported contact had brought back thoughts of Gridley’s destruction. No number of successes could erase that first disastrous failure.
Through the night hours Commander Lee had been working with Aiken’s OZ division to analyze every scrap of available intelligence data. Satellite recon images had been tracking some major Russian activity overnight, and now Lee was prepared to make solid preparations concerning enemy activity in Scandinavia.
The most noticeable development was the increased naval activity along the coast. Photographs taken by an orbiting KEYHOLE spy satellite had tracked nearly fifty ships gathering near Trondheim. Some were clearly warships, centered around the powerful helicopter cruiser Kiev. But the majority had been identified as troop carriers, ranging from two Ivan Rogov-class LSDs to a mixed bag of smaller LSTs and several freighters plainly pressed from civilian into military service. Lee had cited numerous technical points to support his contention that they were fully loaded, and that suggested that they were beginning a new campaign now that they had neutralized Keflavik and given the Jefferson battle group a bloody nose.
The possibility gained credence when taken in conjunction with activity reported around Murmansk, where elite Soviet paratroopers had been kept in reserve practically since the start of the conflict. Now they seemed to be getting ready to move out. Lee couldn’t predict where they would strike, but it was his opinion that the Soviets at
