Defcon One (1989) (9 page)

Okay, let me

Depth charges! Booker interrupted the captain.

Rudder amidship. Take her to four hundred feet, Mcconnell barked, noticing the navigator flinch.

The Tennessee plunged ahead as every crew member grabbed for a handhold.

KAMOV-27 #ONE

The pilot of Akhromeyev One, Mladshiy Leytenant Nicholas V. Chernoff, was growing weary from his fourteen-hour duty day. One more hot-refueling and back to this endless circling, he thought to himself, and then a new pilot will take over.

Chernoff could see Akhromeyev Two on the helo-pad, refueling once again.He could imagine the reaction his friend would have to the box lunches issued to the crews. Chernoff and his crewmen had thrown their soggy boxes out the window and watched them plummet into the ocean.

This ASW duty was terrible, he reflected to himself as he glanced at the water.

Suddenly, Chernoff thought his mind was playing tricks on him. Was that his box lunch on the ocean surface? Couldn't be, it was moving.

Chernoff concentrated on the spot. A periscope!

His friend really had seen the American submarine.

Observers, the sub is showing a periscope again! Chernoff informed his crew as he pushed over into an attack on the American submarine.

He armed his number one depth charge pack and roared low over the Tennessee, dropping the charge 100 meters forward and slightly left of the approaching sub.

The submarine appeared to be diving and Chernoff noticed two strange, almost frothy trails leading away from the American sub. Chernoff pulled up in a steep turn and looked down. His depth charge passed five meters off the port side of the menacing sub.

What do you make of that? Chernoff asked his forward observer.

What, sir? the ryadovoy airman, three days into his first assignment, replied as Chernoff recognized the sign of a torpedo launch.

His spine grew cold as he traced the two trails of frothy water to the Akhromeyev.

BASTARDS! Chernoff yelled, the crew oblivious as to the cause of his rage.

Captain Surovcik! The submarine has fired two torpedoes at the Akhromeyev,' the pilot shouted into his microphone.

What? the stunned master replied. Report again. Report in, On<;!

The American has fired two torpedoes at you ... your ship.

Captain, the pilot radioed breathlessly.

The Akhromeyev did not respond. The ship's master had raced from the bridge to the closest lifeboat.

Chernoff armed all five remaining depth charges and rolled into another attack on the American submarine. He salvoed all packs on his first pass and pulled up steeply, racing for the Akhromeyev.

Chernoff noticed something move in his periphery and glanced to his right. The shocking sight of the onrushing air-to-air missile would be the last picture in Chernoff's young mind. The Kamov exploded into a fireball, raining debris over one square mile of ocean.

THE TOMCATS Hutchinson pulled hard on the stick, shooting skyward as he rolled the F-14 inverted for a better view of the falling Kamov.

He had no doubt the Russian helo was attacking the Tennessee. A split-second decision, no time for error or second-guessing.

Homeplate, Mad Dog One, Hutchinson radioed the Constellation.

Mad Dog, Homeplate, go, the voice of CIC answered.

We're over the ... GODDAMN! The ship just exploded, Hutchinson reported, thinking quickly that it couldn't have been his ordnance. He had fired only one missile. Must have been the sub.

What ship exploded? CIC responded instantly, not comprehending the report.

The Russian. The ASW! Hutchinson sucked in 100 percent oxygen. It blew up in my face.

Mad Dog, you were not authorized to initiate an

The ship exploded again! Wait, Hutchinson paused, calling his wingman.

Two, get down here.

Rog, Hutch, Powell replied, staring at the shock wave spreading across the water. Unbelievable.

Homeplate, Mad Dog One DID NOT, I repeat, DID NOT, fire on the ship.

Hutchinson, breathing rapidly, gulped more cool oxygen..I have a tally on the Tennessee. They're surfacing.

What is the condition of the Soviet vessel? CIC asked in a surprised voice.

It's dead in the water, listing badly, Mad Dog One replied.

The stern is slowly sliding under ... They're definitely going down.

Chapter
Four.

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Mister President, the situation is extremely serious. We are unanimous in our recommendation. Admiral Chambers looked at the floor, then up to the chief of staff, who nodded in agreement.

Chambers continued, aware of the increasing tension in the Oval Office.

It is imperative that you declare a Defense Condition-three alert.

Immediately, sir.

The president of the United States started to speak, then fell silent.

He turned and stared out his window overlooking the manicured lawn, his mind refusing to accept the recent invasion of his tranquil surroundings.

The tall, athletic leader, educated in the Ivy League, was a cautious man. The president, by nature, didn't overreact to pressure situations.His close friends and advisers knew, however, that he could be tough and relentless if forced into a difficult position.

Mister President, these gentlemen are correct, sir. They are the experts. The situation is explosive. We haven't been this close to war in decades, the chief of staff. Grant Wilkinson, paused, glancing at the service chiefs and the secretary of defense.

I propose, Mister President, that you initiate DEFCON-Three and return the call to Zhilinkhov without delay.

The president, his back to his advisors, remained quiet a full minute before turning his swivel chair around and addressing the group.

This is a radical step you are proposing. I'm not certain the incidents that have occurred thus far warrant such measures.

The president looked Chambers squarely in the face and continued.

Admiral, would you have me jeopardize our latest advances in arms control, our relations with the Kremlin, over these isolated incidents?

Mister President, our pleasant relationship with the Kremlin died in the aircraft wreckage at Moscow's Sheremetyevo Airport, along with the former general secretary.

Chambers knew he had to press the issue. Furthermore, sir, these incidents are not isolated or random. They are, quite clearly, premeditated.

The president looked at Wilkinson. The tall, prematurely white-haired chief of staff was his closest aide and longtime friend. Where do we stand. Grant?

Sir, the Soviets are pressing us to the wall. We have satellite confirmation of massive tank movements in Europe. The NATO partners are screaming for our response.

Wilkinson opened his briefing folder, running his eyes down the page, and continued. Squadrons of Russian bombers and fighters have been deployed to staging fields. Many sorties have already been flown over allied territory and our battle groups.

Sir, Zhilinkhov is a different breed of animal. He is the quintessence of Soviet ideological fanaticism, and, he has a nucleus of adherents supporting him. The past Russian leaders pale in comparison.

Wilkinson paused, while the president opened his briefing folder and skimmed the first and second pages. He looked at Chambers, a question in his mind.

This reliable information. Admiral?

Yes sir, Chambers replied, opening his folder. Our underwater detectors have verified six Russian subs off the East Coast, plus three more off the coast of Florida. The subs you have already been briefed on.

The president pushed his bifocals to a comfortable position before speaking.

What's the straight scoop on this Tennessee fracas? Not waiting for an answer, the president continued.

Zhilinkhov was livid, almost incoherent. That's why, gentlemen, I don't want to overreact to all of this. I'd like to let everyone calm down before we proceed to discuss these matters with Zhilinkhov or anyone else.

The president looked at Chambers, then glanced at Wilkinson, who remained quiet while the admiral replied.

' First, Mister President, the Tennessee was fired upon, depth-charged, by the Russians. That is a fact. Captain Mcconnell, the Tennessee's skipper, tried to evade the Soviet ASW ship and her helicopters, but the water was too shallow to go deep.' Chambers stopped as the president indicated a question.

Were they in international waters at the time of this incident, by accepted maritime definition? The president waited for a response.

Yes sir. Barely. It could be argued extensively, but they were in international waters. No question.

Okay. Continue, Admiral.

Mcconnell tried to send a signal to the Constellation and got depth-charged again, so he followed the only rational decision available to him. Sir, I endorse his actions. Mcconnell acted to protect his crew and the submarine placed under his command.

He deserves a medal and a pat on the back. Mister President.

The president, looking somber, placed his elbows on the table, hands forming a peak, and thought a moment.

What's the Tennessee's condition. Admiral?

Minor damage. One of the helo drivers salvoed his depth charges on the Tennessee before the Tomcat splashed him. Just some bent fittings and a few puckered asses a few very frightened submariners, sir.

Chambers waited for the president to speak, aware of the silence surrounding them.

Zhilinkhov insists we are trying to start a war. Running over one of their subs and attacking a ship. Hell, sinking the goddamn ship! The president paused, calming before continuing.

We all know the score, but on the surface... The president looked at Chambers. On the surface, it would appear as if he is correct.

Wilkinson signaled for a coffee service to be sent in, then spoke to the president.

Sir, if we don't stand up, don't go into an alert status, they are going to continue to push until we make a mistake.

They're the ones who have broken the rules we've been playing by for the past thirty years. I recommend you initiate DEFCON-Three, then talk with Zhilinkhov. We've got to play hardball with this guy. We don't know what his real game is.

Wilkinson paused, studying the president, then continued.

Sir, Zhilinkhov is one tough bastard, The chief of staff looked directly into the president's eyes, sensing he had been successful in making his point. The room remained silent as a steward brought in the silver coffee service and quietly departed.

Okay, Admiral, the president said, looking toward Chambers.

Go to DEFCON-Three and brief me in three hours.

Yes, sir. Mister President, Chambers replied as he and the other service chiefs, quiet to this point, rose from their chairs and filed out of the office, leaving their coffee untouched.

The five men huddled in the anteroom adjoining the Oval Office, then quickly dispersed to oversee their assigned duties.

The stakes were rising in the nuclear cat-and-mouse game.

MOSCOW The general secretary placed the secure phone receiver down, turning slowly to face his four Politburo coconspirators and the minister of defense.

Zhilinkhov's grin spread across his face. The American has no idea, comrades.

The men exchanged pleased looks as the general secretary poured vodka in fresh glasses and pressed the service staff button.

Dimitri Moiseyevich Karpov, standing quietly in the hallway outside the general secretary's quarters, had been listening to the conversation.

The kitchen staff director hesitated an appropriate amount of time before responding to the service buzzer.

Zhilinkhov loosened his tie, then unbuttoned his collar.

They have implemented an alert-three status, their first step in preparation for war. We will continue to push them further, to defense condition two. If we can successfully continue to probe the American defense posture, including their alert-two status, we will enjoy the psychological advantage when we withdraw.

Zhilinkhov fell silent as Dimitri entered the room to fill his request.

Dimitri Moiseyevich, we will be served in my quarters this evening.

Have something special prepared for dessert. For now, send in the piroshki.

Yes, Comrade General Secretary. I will prepare your meal personally.

The piroshki will be no longer than five minutes.

Dimitri exited quietly and the vivacious conversation continued.

I am concerned, Dichenkovko said, about the loss of our antisubmarine ship. We cannot make any further mistakes.

Dichenkovko looked into Porfir'yev's eyes, then back to the general secretary. The defense minister cast his gaze toward the floor.

' We cannot afford to underestimate the Americans, Dichenkovko continued. We have the future of the Motherland at stake.

Zhilinkhov scowled. General Bogdonoff has ordered Fleet Admiral Vosoghiyan to submit a full report within twenty-four hours. I will not tolerate any more mistakes ... by anyone.