Kirov (24 page)

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Authors: John Schettler

Tags: #Fiction, #Military, #War & Military, #Action & Adventure, #Science Fiction

BOOK: Kirov
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Admiral
Volsky nodded, agreeing with his old friend.” I had this same thought the first
moment we had to fire on that ship,” he said.

“Think
of it,” said Zolkin. “The British have no idea what they're dealing with.
There's almost a quality of innocence about them as I think this through. They
are like children, yet they are men, brave men, and they will fight to the
bitter end if we threaten their lifeline in the Atlantic.”

“We
are men as well,” said Karpov, “are we not? And this crew will fight, if we
lead them.”

“True,”
said Zolkin, “but you must carry fire in one hand and water in the other. Do
not be so quick to look for war here, Captain, it will find you all on its own.
After all, Mister Fedorov makes a good point. The whole world is at war. Then
we come along and you want to jump right into the borscht! One does not take a
samovar to Tula.”

Volsky
smiled at this. The city of Tula was renowned for making the finest samovars in
the world, and no one would ever bring one with them when visiting there. The
fires of war and conflict here were already well kindled. The flames of the
Second World War were only just beginning, but soon they would become a
conflagration that would consume most of the developed world.


Kirov
is a powerful fighting ship, to be sure,” said Zolkin, “but how long could she
stand against the combined armed might of the Western Allies we have just fired
on?”

“The
Doctor also makes a good point about this ship.” The Admiral pressed his thick
finger on the table. “Yes we have power, but all power has limits. We must hold
the reins tightly for a while and think this situation through carefully. And should
it come to that moment when we perceive that the ship may fall into the hands
of any other nation, then we must destroy her first. That will be a standing
order that every man here must agree and swear to before this begins. As to
that desert island you talk about, Dmitri, I hope it has lots of pretty
Polynesian girls!” He forced a smile, lightening the mood somewhat.

“But
before it comes to such a weighty decision, we will have much to think about.
Much to plan and consider. The Captain made an interesting point earlier when
he suggested that a prudent and measured application of force at just the right
place and time may be all that is necessary to make the world our country lives
in just a little better in our day if we should choose to do so. That said, it
is the British we must nudge, and perhaps the Americans. Most of the German
army is deep inside Russia now. Only our ten cruise missiles could range that
far, and then only if we were firing from the Baltic Sea. I do not think we
will go there. What impact would we have? It would be like throwing stones at
ants. We will not easily change the situation on the eastern front. And yes, we
don't fight for Stalin in any case. Who would fight for that man knowing what
we now know about him? But there will be a Russia after he is gone, and there
will be one seventy years from now, even if none of us may ever live to see her
again…”

They
stood in silence for some time, their eyes downcast, each man lost in his own inner
thoughts, thinking of home, thinking of girlfriends, wives, mothers, children
that they would never see again. How long could they last? How much pain would
they inflict before that awful moment when the final decision came to end it?
How many of them would live out this year, or the next? All of these thoughts
ran through their minds, a haunting chorus of unanswered questions and riddles
with no end.

They
all seemed to share that cup of
toska
together now, yet it was something
only Karpov would not drink. There was no one back home to miss him now. All he
left behind was his own closeted life, and the creaking system that had grown
up in Russia during the arduous second “great depression” of the early 21st
century. In some ways he felt adrift now, like a ship that had been moored at
harbor, rusting away, suddenly swept out to sea in a raging storm. All the
mooring lines were cut, their anchor lost, as they were lost now on a sea that seemed
all too familiar, although it was a world of complete unknowns.

While
the others felt the yearning nostalgic sadness of
toska
, Karpov’s
reaction was more one of anxiety. He had been creeping and climbing through
that old system back home for some time, and had come to know its every nook
and cranny. Like a mouse in a mansion, he knew where to find the bread crumbs
on the old kitchen floor, and where to find the cheese. All of that was gone
now, and it left him strangely afraid as his mind felt its way through the sea
of shadows that hid their immediate future from them. But there were
possibilities in those shadows, he knew, and opportunities.

To
calm that thrum of fear in his chest, the Captain was soon thinking of
something else, his mind occupied with the immediacy of their situation. The
British had a good look at them just now, and as much as he hated to admit it,
Fedorov had been correct. They will soon be marshalling their resources to hunt
for them. Karpov was already thinking what they might do about that when the
Admiral led them forward again with the same thought.

“On
the other hand,” said Volsky. “We are a naval fighting ship, and in this we
have the power to considerably affect the conduct of the war at sea in the
Atlantic if we choose to do so. But we must take things slowly, as the good
doctor says. Should we fight here? For either side? If we do, then what do we
propose to accomplish? We must give ourselves a little breathing room first,
and time to think on these things. We could stay up here, in the cold Arctic
sea. It is not much traveled, and we're fast enough to keep well ahead of
anything that tries to run us down.”

“But
there is not much room to maneuver here,” said Karpov, his mind sizing up their
predicament from a tactical perspective. “The temptation to return home to
Severomorsk will be very great, particularly when the winter comes in just a
few months. This will be a very cruel place to live and fight.”

“Then
we are faced with the prospect of breaking out into the Atlantic,” said the
Admiral. “If we do so, we must move south. Word is only now just reaching the
British Admiralty, as you suggest, Mister Fedorov. We are in a good position to
transit the Denmark Strait. I think it best that we run on through and out into
the Atlantic. With our knowledge of the history we can keep ahead of the enemy for
some time. I do not think we will suffer the fate of
Bismarck
, hunted
down and killed in just a few days time. Eventually we might work our way down
into the South Atlantic and around the Cape of Good Hope into the Indian Ocean.
Those waters are less traveled as well, and therefore less dangerous. Perhaps
we could look for one of those little islands Doctor Zolkin was talking about. We
have unlimited fuel in our nuclear reactors, but we must also keep our bellies
full, yes? There is food aboard for thirty days or more, but eventually we will
have to seek a landfall somewhere to replenish our stocks, and I do not think
we can sail into any port nearby, yes? But for now, one thing at a time, let us
get to the Denmark Strait and out into the North Atlantic. I'm tired of this
cold gray place.”

“You
propose we turn this ship into a simple convoy raider? Or worse, that we just
slink off to the Indian Ocean?” Karpov tapped his fingernail on the table as he
spoke, a habit he had when ready to argue a point.

“I
would not underestimate the impact of a convoy raider,” said Fedorov, “assuming
we did decide to oppose the British. The Germans had a few very successful
sorties. Not every ship suffered
Bismarck’s
fate. The
Admiral Scheer
sunk well over 100,000 tons before making it safely back to a friendly port.
Scharnhorst
and
Gneisenau
fought well together, and there were others like the
raider
Atlantis
and the armed commercial ship
Penguin
that made
remarkable sorties.”

“Yes,
and none of them mattered in the long run,” said Karpov. “We could cruise out
into the middle of the Atlantic and become little more than a rock in the
stream. They would simply divert convoys to the north and south of our
position. And even if we pursued them, we could sink sixty merchant ships before
our missile inventory would be expended, or even a hundred ships considering
our deck guns, and it would all have little real impact on the war. We do not
have a friendly port to go home to and replenish our ammunition. Every U-boat
the Germans put to sea had no effect in the end, and they sank considerably
more than a hundred ships, yes?”

“In
that you are correct, sir. The U-boats sank nearly 2800 ships, accounting for
about 70% of all allied ship losses in the war.”

“And
look what good it did them. No. If we want to have any real impact on events then
we must work to bring about a situation where the power we have will be feared
and respected by our enemies to a point where they may be willing to negotiate.”

“Negotiate?
What do you mean, Captain?” asked the Admiral. “Do you expect Great Britain and
the United States to surrender to this ship?”

Karpov
hesitated, as if unwilling to reveal the full dimension of his thinking, but he
continued. He glanced briefly at Orlov, but the Chief seemed lost in some inner
muse, listening, but eyes averted as he fiddled with a folded pocket knife.

“This
ship is not merely a tactical threat to the allied sea lanes. Our sea power
does not rely solely on our limited ship-to-ship missile inventory, or our
speed, or the fact that we can out think and out maneuver our enemies. We also
pose a
strategic
threat, and this is irrefutable. You spoke earlier
about certain weapons we possess, Admiral, weapons that we must not use, and
weapons that we must allow no other to use as well. But understand this, the
Americans, Germans, and Russians are even now in the early stages of their
programs that will eventually lead to the development of the atomic bomb. The
first detonation is only a few years away. If we use just a single warhead, and
demonstrate the power that we have, our words may then speak as loud as our
guns and missiles. And we do not have to destroy London or New York to make a
demonstration of this power. A deserted rock like Bear Island will do just fine
or, if you prefer a warmer clime, perhaps a deserted Caribbean island. The
British and Americans will be our most formidable foe if we move into the
Atlantic, and they are the ones we must persuade, to put it lightly.”

“I
agree with the Captain,” said Orlov, stirring from his reverie. “With all due
respect, Admiral, a demonstration such as he proposes would put fear into the
hearts of our enemies, and give them pause before they set loose their navy or even
think of hunting us down. For the moment we are an unknown, a ghost ship, and
we have not done much harm aside from frightening off an old destroyer. But if we
cruise out into the Atlantic, we will have a knife to the jugular of Britain's
lifeline.” He flicked open his pocket knife, illustrating his point. “We have
just given them a little shove on the shoulder, that is all, but if they push
back? Fedorov is correct, the British will defend those convoy routes, the
Royal Navy will fight, unless we convince them that to do so would be suicidal.
But how to accomplish this?”

The
Admiral thought deeply. “I believe I just might have a solution, gentlemen.
That book you lent me was very enlightening, Mister Fedorov. I did some reading
myself, and it seems to me there is an event of considerable significance
looming on the near horizon, assuming this
is
1941. And I think we are finally
coming to an agreement on that. A small notation caught my eye beginning August
9, 1941. On that day President Roosevelt and Churchill meet on board the
British battleship
Prince of Wales
and the heavy US cruiser
Augusta
in Argentia Bay, Newfoundland for the proclamation of the Atlantic Charter. If
I am not mistaken, this agreement forms the basis of what became known as the
United Nations in our day. Some believe it also underlies the foundation of NATO,
the two demons that continue to haunt us in our day, yes? This being the case,
we may find ourselves in the interesting position of being able to kill two
birds with one stone, and influence both the past as well as the present we
have come from.”

“Roosevelt
and Churchill?” said Karpov, his eyes brightening. “Do you realize what we
could do?”

“I
realize all too well what we could do, what this
ship
is capable of
doing if we chose to operate her aggressively,” said the Admiral. “But as you
yourself argued so ably, Captain, we must be judicious, careful, and plan it
well. And yes, words may speak as loud as our weapons in time. I will be
relying on each and every one of you in the days ahead. But now hear this,
gentlemen. My order concerning the use of nuclear weapons is this: There will
be no deployment or use except on my expressed order. Yet I will consider what
we have discussed here, and who knows,” he smiled. “Perhaps Mister Roosevelt
and Churchill would like a front row seat to the theater. We must consider this
situation carefully.”

 

 

Chapter
14

 

July
31, 1941

 

That
evening
the
Admiralty was abuzz with the electrifying news of the sighting of another large
German raider out near Jan Mayen. What could it be? Latest intelligence
indicated
Tirpitz
was laid up at Kiel for repairs, but the Fleet Air Arm
was immediately ordered to send two Beaufort fighter bombers to have another
look. In the meantime, First Sea Lord, Admiral Dudley Pound was taking no
chances. He was on the phone to Scapa Flow, using the long red line that had
stretched from London over the Scottish Highlands for decades, hopping buoys as
it finally left the land and reached out to the command Flagship of Fleet
Admiral Sir John Tovey aboard
King George V
.

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