D. M. Ulmer 01 - Silent Battleground (34 page)

Even though he sensed optimism by his military chiefs, President Dempsey chose to use caution.  They had known of the Soviet’s preparations for war, yet couldn’t stop them.  Could history be about to repeat itself?

The President’s staff got their jobs through owed favors for help given during his campaign for the White House; none experienced warriors but they carried tremendous political clout.  Several sat in Darrel Manning’s camp and believed the President should consider sending out peace feelers.  Only a major triumph of Allied arms would turn them around. 

The President wanted details on how this intelligence find might be converted into a meaningful victory. “Admiral Baines, give us your views on what should be done.”

“If the Soviets continue to carry out this plan, we get unbelievable tactical leverage.  We could sink enough assets to make them pull in their horns.  This will give us sea room to bring in supplies needed to take the offensive.  That’s what saved their bacon in the second war.  The Soviets know first hand of our vast manufacturing capabilities and they realize the only way to nullify this advantage is to isolate us from our needed raw materials.”

The President asked, “Can we expect the Soviets to maintain their schedule?  Seems to make their movements awfully predictable.”

Marty responded, “Mr. President, experience shows Soviet naval units to be more regimented than ours.  It’s likely a Communist Party mandate.  Anything but total compliance is construed as disloyal.  If they change anything we’ll know because we’ve broken their code.”

Pausing for a moment to absorb what Marty said, the President then asked, “What forces do we have to pull this off, Admiral?” 

Admiral Baines answered the question.  “Twenty to twenty-five attack submarines in the Pacific, 688s and 637s, both superior to the Northern Fleet units.  And we’ll bring some Atlantic Fleet boats to the party by sending them under the polar ice cap.”

“Do we have someone good enough to run the operation out there?

Smiling, Admiral Baines said, “We have the best, Mr. President.  Captain Eric Danis, Commander of Submarine Squadron Three.  USS
Denver
of his command recovered the crypto machine.”

He had twice unsuccessfully argued the case for Eric Danis at flag selection boards but retained his unshakeable faith in Danis’s ability as a solid combat commander.

Addressing his aide the President said, “Yes, the USS
Denver
,” then asked, “Aren’t they scheduled for something here at the White House soon?”

The aide responded, “Yes, sir.  A Medal of Honor presentation for her commanding officer, Captain Hal Bostwick.”

Marty winced.  “If I may suggest, Mr. President, the Soviets don’t suspect anything. 
Denver
is the source of this find.  It might not be a good idea to focus attention on her just now.”

Baines said, “Good point, Mr. President, let’s hang that Medal of Honor on someone else this time around.  I know Captain Bostwick, and I’ll make it up to him.”

The President concluded, “Very well then, gentlemen.  It appears our work is cut out for us, so let’s get to it.” 

Eric Danis entered the communications center housed in a small building erected nearby his yacht-headquarters.  He responded to a summons from Gerry Carter who maintained his usual placid demeanor only with great difficulty.  “I think we’ve got a live one, Commodore.  Read this, sir, it’s an action message to COMSUBPAC and information to all Pacific Submarine Squadrons.”

TOP-SECRET (NOFORN) INTELLIGENCE REVEALS DETAILS OF MASSIVE SOVIET PACIFIC FLOTILLA SUBMARINE MOVEMENT TO SCREEN ENTRY OF NORTHERN FLEET UNITS SOUTHWARD THROUGH BERING STRAIT.  DETAILS OF MOVEMENT COVERED IN SEPARATE MESSAGE.  FOR COMSUBPAC, DISPATCH ALL AVAILABLE UNITS IMMEDIATELY.  INTERCEPT AND DESTROY ENEMY UNITS ENCOUNTERED.  COMMANDER SUBMARINE SQUADRON THREE DESIGNATED OFFICER IN TACTICAL COMMAND.  MORE TO FOLLOW.

Looking well satisfied, Danis said, “Guess we’re finally gonna mix it up a little.  Gerry, initiate a general recall.  I want Dave Zane in here pronto.  He’s gotta do what he has to do to get everyone out of here.  That’s four 688s.  We’ll need every damn one of ’em, regardless of condition.  Tell no one anything other than what they need to get their jobs done.  A leak can blow the whole operation.”

“The recall’s already out, Commodore.  I figured you’d want to talk to your skippers.  They’re on the way over here.”

“Good, Gerry.  Get young Maddock of
Denver
here too.  He’s our guru on Soviet tactics
and we need a dump on what he knows.”

Carter replied, “Yes, sir, and there’s a special item for you from the CNO.”

Eric opened the message and read:

PERSONAL ADM BAINES TO CAPTAIN DANIS.  CAN THINK OF NO ONE BETTER TO CARRY THIS BALL.  EVERYTHING DEPENDS ON YOUR SUCCESS.  GOOD HUNTING AND GOD SPEED.

Eric knew being closest to the combat area drove his selection as OTC but the expression of confidence from his old mentor pleased him.

Midnight oil burned throughout the
Pitstop
as his staff formulated plans and hastily buttoned up submarines for sea.  Jim Buchanan delegated Jack Olsen to complete details of the change of command.  They’d forego the customary ceremony and replace it with a simple handshake in the presence of the assembled crew. 

At dawn, four 688s stood ready for sea with fundamentals of their operation plans in hand.  They’d proceed toward the Aleutian chain and enter the Bering Sea between Unimak and Unalaska.  Next, they’d move off shore from Attu Island and form a line between there and the Soviet Komandorskiye Island.  From there, they would pick off any screening units of the Pacific Flotilla as they made their way into the Bering Sea.  Details would follow based on subsequent information received on Soviet movements.

One of Dave Zane’s crews spent the entire night installing an experimental laser communications device.  It would provide
Denver,
designated flagship from which Eric Danis would coordinate the attack, with a high security system for transmitting instructions to his task force.  Gerry Carter argued unsuccessfully that the operation could be best directed from ashore.

Danis replied, “Gerry, as a young submariner about to deploy on a special operation, our skipper fended off an abundance of useless advice by referring would be advisors to a speech given by Roman Consul, Lucius Aemilius Paulus in 164 BC.  Commissioned to fight the wars in Macedonia, inundated with many and conflicting directions, he addressed the Senate.  Bottom line, Paulus said he’d take advice only from those willing to go with him to Macedonia.

“I’m a warrior, Gerry, not a senator.  My direction will have more meaning if I’m out there sharing the dangers.  I’m going with my troops to Macedonia.” 

From this came the operation plan title, MACEDONIAN.

The time for good-byes came.  Eric Danis had two big hurdles, his first one, Dave Zane.

Dave cautioned, “Now damn it, Eric, you be careful out there.  Take it from somebody who knows.  It’s sure nice to sit around and do nothing but walk to the mailbox once a month for a retirement check.”

“You don’t think I’d be dumb enough to do something stupid, do you, Dave?”

“No.  I just figured I’d like to lower you down the hatch on the end of a mooring line at least one more time.”

Eric recalled the incident in Holy Loch and laughed.  “So, do you think we’re not too old to get that smashed, anymore?”

“Problem with us is neither of us are too old for anything.  And I don’t want to see that change.  God bless and go get ’em, Eric.”

They shook hands and Dave turned to walk away.

“Dave,” called Eric.

Dave stopped and turned; the two shared a serious expression.

“See ya, old buddy.”

After a silent nod to his old friend, Dave turned and walked off.

“Well, Babe,” Eric said to Eve, who had made her way to the
Pitstop
, “this has to be good-bye number three hundred and forty-two.”

“Three hundred forty-three and I like even numbers.”

He wanted to say more but couldn’t.  Fortunately the expression on his face told how much this dear wife and companion meant to him.  “I love you, Eve, sweetheart.”

“I love you, Eric.  Please come back to me.”

“I will, Eve.  Believe me, I will.”

They kissed and Eric boarded
Denver

Meanwhile on the dock, Brent held Bea tightly.

“I’m worried, Brent.  The feelings you told me about after sinking the enemy submarine … they’re hard to get out of my mind.  When I think of our afternoon, the
Russian Brent Maddock
fills my mind.  He’ll never return to his love.  Such simple things decide who comes home and who stays out there.”

“Don’t worry, Bea.  It doesn’t help anything.  Trust, hope and pray.  You know I’ll do everything I can to be sure
Denver
comes back and me with her.  I’ve never told you this, Bea.  I love you.”

“I feel the same way, Brent.  But I need assurance there’s a future with some guaranteed time in it for us, before I can say it.”

“I understand,” then he kissed her and walked the brow to
Denver.

Back at Fort Meade, Maryland, The Crypto Analysis Center bulged with personnel.  They quickly worked out a computer program that produced plain text from Soviet encrypted traffic upon receipt of each intercepted message.  American naval officers read messages ahead of the intended Soviet recipients.

Pete Ryan said, “I can’t believe how much these guys talk about what they’re going to do.  New traffic identifies every Red Pacific Flotilla Unit, where they are, the points they’ll pass through and when.

“Marty, look at this.  They’re forming a picket line a hundred miles seaward off the lower end of the Kamchatka Peninsula all the way to the Strait.  That’s right where they should be.  If they reach station before us, we’ve got a helluva tough row to hoe.”

“Right,” said Marty.  “They control the air around there too.  We can’t operate anyplace but underwater so I guess it’s the submariners.”

Pete asked, “Your buddy Carter out there with ’em?”

“No.  They had to leave somebody behind smart enough to keep the submariners’ repair facility from being blown away in the next storm.”

“How do you think we’ll do out there, Marty?”

Furrowing his brow, Marty replied, “Tough call.  The more dope we send, the better so let’s stay on top.”

“Well, we’ll pump it out as fast as the Reds pump it in.  Just hope our guys are swift enough to move through all that paper.”

President Andrew Dempsey looked at his watch.  Senator Darrel Manning had left the President waiting at least twenty minutes for their appointment.  Normally the President’s secretary cancelled late shows after five minutes, but this time the senator had him over a barrel.  Public sentiment grew steadily against the war and Congress realigned itself accordingly.  Manning led the war issue charge and now had enough votes to override a veto and force the President’s hand. 

The President adamantly opposed surrender despite popular opinion to the contrary.  He believed it the wrong decision and needed time to turn the public around to his view.  He hung everything on success of the impending undersea battle in the Bering Sea. 
All the American people need is a single bit of evidence that we can fight back,
Dempsey reasoned. 
Damn
,
I hope our submariners give them that.
  He believed of Manning,
The arrogant bastard’s ego is big as a house
but if I stroke it right, he’ll give me the time I need,
so Dempsey restricted his irritation to merely grinding his teeth.

Andrew Dempsey had defeated Manning by a mere thread in the last election.  A major plank of the Dempsey campaign asserted the job of President had grown too big for one man.  The voting public needed a greater voice in selecting those who would exercise much of the power so the President’s nominating committee identified prospective Cabinet appointees prior to the election.  Dempsey did not like the idea because it diminished his authority over Cabinet members. 

These concerns had come home to roost, for much of his Cabinet’s advice reflected Manning’s position.  The Secretary of State ran his Department autonomously and regarded the President as a figurehead to preside at formal state functions and ceremonies, the real business of the Executive Branch carried out by the Cabinet.  Senator Manning in his capacity as Chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee wielded tremendous influence over the Secretary of State.

At twenty-three past ten, Senator Manning entered the Oval Office and made no apologies for being tardy.  Tall, slender and in his late fifties, the senator cut a handsome figure.  Despite his hectic schedule, he reserved an hour each day for his squash game.  Reputed to be brutal on the court, he eliminated all opposition with ease.

As the two shook hands the senator opened with, “Good morning, Mr. President.  I trust you’re having a good day?”

“Good morning, Darrel,” replied the President then gestured for the senator to be seated.  “The term is your nickel
,
I believe.”

“Ah, yes, sir.  I did schedule the meeting as I recall.”

The President thought,
Damn, I wish I had
Manning’s diction.  It’s magnificent
. 
He can make small talk in the men’s room sound like a major political address.

“Did I get your agenda, Darrel?”

Ignoring the barb, Manning said, “Mr. President, I’m anxious over the progress of this war.  All the signals are dismal as you well know.”

“We don’t have a lot of good news, Darrel, but we’ve been at this thing for less than three months.  Five months passed in World War II before the first win at the Midway.  Up until then, the Japanese kicked our asses all over the Pacific.”

Not approving the use of coarse language, Darrel Manning ignored the analogy.  “I see no comparison at all, sir.  Today the problem is simply one of supply and demand.  Our demand for resources continues to rise and by far exceeds our supply, much worse our ability to re-supply.  Further, we have no capability to change that.  We live with the results of building our forces upon fifty years of bickering among our service chiefs, rather than filling the needs of a major power.”