It was a roundabout method of talking to the CBG’s bosses Stateside.
Tombstone was reminded of the story of Marines during the invasion of Grenada in 1983 who’d lost radio communications with the rest of their unit a few miles away and had used a credit card to place a telephone call to Camp Lejeune, South Carolina, which in turn relayed their fire-support request to the appropriate units in the field. The tale was possibly apocryphal but had enough of the ring of truth about it to make him suspect that it was at least based on a true story.
The faster they could get Tarrant and the others medevaced back to the Saipan, the better. They’d been able to stop the bleeding and to give him saline ? what medical personnel would refer to as a BVE, or blood-volume expander ? to help make up for the lost blood, but he needed more blood, and even if they’d had access to Russian blood supplies, Tombstone knew he’d be happier trusting Tarrant’s life, through cross-matches and donor blood, to Navy doctors and corpsmen who weren’t forced by necessity to recycle their disposable equipment.
“How is your admiral?” Pamela asked him, as they waited for the communications patch to go through.
“Stable. We need to get him to some decent medical facilities, though.”
“There’s a pretty good hospital here in Yalta, I hear.”
Tombstone made a face. “If we have to. But they’re crowded. Besides, ‘pretty good’ in Russia, with all of the shortages and problems they have here, isn’t even in the same league with Navy medicine.”
She sighed. “Matt, you have such complete and unbounded confidence in the Navy.”
He shrugged. “I suppose I do. It’s a confidence based on… what?
fifteen, eighteen years of experience.” He nodded toward a small group of naval personnel, including Joyce and Natalie Kardesh. Sykes was there, and Lieutenant j.g. Vanyek, looking vulnerable and scared. They were sitting on the grass talking together. “They’re good people,” he said. “Whatever you think of the organization as a whole, it’s composed of good people who know their jobs and do them.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, ‘why?’”
It was her turn to shrug. “Matt, you must know they’re abandoning you here.”
“I don’t know any such thing.”
“Come on. Step out from behind the uniform and take a whiff of the real world. Do you seriously think they’re going to risk a three-and-some-odd-billion-dollar nuclear aircraft carrier to rescue thirty-some men and women? At a risk of a hundred million per sailor? I don’t think so. You and I both know how Washington works. They’re not going to lift a finger to get you out unless they can make political capital on it, and I can tell you from personal observation that the tone back in the States right now is for us to stay the hell out of the Russian war.”
“The public usually supports military personnel in the field,” Tombstone said stubbornly. “They wouldn’t like it if Washington left us stuck out here.”
“Really?” She cocked her head. “Remember a little picnic in a place called Vietnam? They ? the people who put you here, I mean ? they don’t care. And as for John Q. Public, well, I think Norway and that battle up in northern Russia frightened a lot of people, let them see how terrible, how destructive and deadly modern warfare really is.”
“Mr. Magruder?” Tombstone turned to face one of Pamela’s ACN technicians. “Yeah, Ted?”
“We have your line. A guy named, uh, Coyote is waiting to talk to you.”
“All right! Thanks!”
He nearly sprinted to the mobile communications van, which was now ringed by determined-looking U.S. Marines. When he took a headset from another ACN tech and held it to his ear, he could hear a faint hiss of static, but the line was unusually clear. “It’s encrypted, sir,” a Navy radioman sitting at the console said. “You can talk in the clear.”
“Thanks.” He pressed the transmit key on his mike. “Coyote, Coyote, this is Tombstone. Do you copy?”
“Loud and clear, Stoney,” Coyote’s voice came back. “I gather you guys had to go around Robin Hood’s barn to get this comm hook up.”
“That’s affirmative, and I don’t know how often we’ll be able to do it, or for how long. Direct, tight-beam satellite feeds are hard to trace or jam, but there are some ugly customers hereabouts who might like to try.”
“Roger that.”
“Any ideas about getting us out of here?”
“We’re working on it, Stoney. Air superiority is a problem right now.”
“Understood.”
“So is Washington. We’ve not had any clear direction as to what we’re supposed to do. I can tell you right now that if it was up to the people here on the Jeff, they’d declare war on Russia right this minute, for knocking out the bridge, stranding you guys, taking a shot at one of our planes, wounding the admiral… and probably for conduct unbecoming, as well. But the five-sided squirrel cage is being slow just now.”
“What’s happening with the chain of command?”
“Okay. Captain Brandt, as Tarrant’s flag captain, just got a brevet promotion to admiral. Confirmed through Naples about fifteen minutes ago. He’s taking over the entire battle group, but he’ll be under the command of Admiral Collins, who’s senior.”
“Right.” Rear Admiral Frederick Collins was the commanding officer of MEU-25, together with Marine Colonel Winston Howell, who commanded the MEU’s ground troops. From what he’d heard, Howell was a firebrand who’d won the Congressional Medal of Honor in Vietnam, while Collins was a more cautious, conservative type.
“Commander Hadley’s got the ship, though he’s pretty junior, too. I’ve been confirmed as CAG. Sorry, Stoney, but you’re out of a job. At least until we work out a way to get you guys out of there.”
“No problem, Coyote. I think I’ll have my hands full here.”
“Right. We’re on full alert, of course, and flying full coverage patrols. Lots of intercepts, too. The Russkis are testing us… or maybe trying to use up our JP-5. We’ll keep flying as long as we can, though.”
“We’re going to need to work on getting the shore party back to the ship,” Tombstone told him. “The admiral needs medical help, better medical help than they can give him here, and we have some other wounded as well. We also have a large number of civilians. They might be allowed to leave from the Simferopol Airport, but I’m not holding my breath.”
“I wouldn’t, Stoney. Last we heard here, monitoring Russian radio, the military was shutting down all commercial flights, ‘for the duration of the present emergency.’”
“Did they say what the emergency was?”
“No. They’re managing to say it’s Ukrainians and foreign mercenaries both, without releasing anything definite. Oh, and Boychenko has been branded a traitor. Our old friend Dmitriev is in charge of the Black Sea Fleet, and he’s declared himself the legitimate military governor. No response yet from Krasilnikov’s people. At least, none we’ve heard.”
“Okay. I think we’re going to have to assume that we’re stuck here for a while, though I want you to keep working on a way of getting the wounded off. Maybe at night, by submarine.”
“We’ll look into it.”
The crump and rumble of heavy gunfire ? field artillery, possibly ? sounded closer and louder, lending a new sense of urgency to the conversation.
“Okay, Coyote. I don’t have much time. The way I see it, either Washington comes to our rescue, or we’re going to be left on our own out here while they argue about it.”
“Is this a multiple-choice test? How many guesses do I get?”
“We have to start planning for what happens if they hang us out to dry.”
“Agreed.”
“Okay, here are some possibilities.
Together, they began discussing options.
“Attention on deck!”
Coyote and the other staff officers standing around the large chart table snapped to attention at the call of the sailor standing guard outside the compartment door. Captain ? no, Coyote reminded himself ? Admiral Brandt walked in, followed by several of his staff aides, looking grim.
The assembly had been called earlier that afternoon and included not only Jefferson’s department heads, but
