Sic Semper Tyrannis (51 page)

"That's good, Teddy.  Hold on tight.  Now hold onto your sister, too.  I'm counting on you, little man."

Through his tears, the faintest hint of a smile spread on the toddler's face.  Erik turned to his wife.  "You ready?"

Another explosion, this one much closer, lit up the inside of the cabin.  Erik could see debris and flaming chunks of wood land on the ground outside the cabin.  The chaotic sounds of battle continued to grow louder.  The radio on Stepanovich’s belt broke squelch and urgent Russian voices began talking over each other.  Erik turned to leave but a figure with a rifle appeared in the doorway.

"
There
you are!" exclaimed Sewell in relief.

Erik's heart skipped a beat, but a smile spread across his face.  "Get out of the way!  I got the VIPs, we gotta get out of here!"

"Okay—" the local hunter's eyes adjusted to the darkness and he took in the limp form of Mark.  "Jesus!  Hurry up and follow me.  I know shortcut—we’ll sneak off into the woods and head out to the rendezvous point"

"Where's… Where's Ted?" gasped Susan.

"No time!" Sewell said.  He turned and glanced down the path toward the rest of the prison camp.  "Shit!  Here they come.  You gotta go
now
—go, go, go!”   He pulled Erik through the door and pushed him toward the forest.  The women and children began to exit and Sewell raised his rifle and fired toward the Russians as they ran.   Erik saw a group of prisoners race up behind the guards but they were too far away to help.

Erik paused just long enough for Brin and Susan to catch up.  "Go!  Straight ahead into the bushes!  I'm right behind you!"

Bits of dirt exploded at their feet as the Russians fired.   The children screamed.

"Kids, run for the trees!  Go, as fast as you can!”  Erik yelled.  Teddy didn't need any other encouragement.  He let go of Erik's pants and bolted for the bushes, closely followed by his older sister.

Erik turned back to make sure that Brin and Susan got safely past him.  He heard a cry of pain and saw Sewell drop to the ground clutching his stomach.  Four Russians still advanced.  Erik saw one reach for something in a hip pouch.  The group of prisoners tackled the guards and for a moment the threat disappeared.

Sewell staggered to his feet.  A red stain smeared his left hip.  "Just got nicked,” he said at Erik’s concerned look.  “Go—" he said.  He waved Erik away.

Eric made for the forest.  Mark’s legs and arms slapped against Erik’s side with each step.  He clenched his jaw and focused on Brin at the edge of safety as she urged him forward.

The kids stood just inside the treeline as Brin and Susan caught up with them.  Erik was only a few steps behind when he saw it.  A small round object hit the ground between Erik and the women.  Time slowed down.  Erik pushed off his left leg as he watched the grenade roll to a stop not two feet from where Brin Susan and the kids cowered at the edge of the forest.

"Grenade!  Get—" but he knew he was too late.  Erik half-expected a bright flash of light and searing pain as the grenade exploded, shredding him, his wife, Ted's wife, and Ted's children in one bloody instant.  The fight to save the kids, to save the women—it would have been all be for nothing…ended by the lucky throw of a dying Russian soldier.

Erik continued to thrust forward, frustrated by the way everything seemed to have slowed down.  It was like trying to run in a dream.  The harder you pushed, the slower you ran.  His eyes shifted up and saw Susan's mouth open as she yelled something.  He saw Susan shove Brin aside, directly into her children.  As Brin and the kids disappeared into the bushes, Erik's gaze rested on Susan.  She locked eyes with him for a moment and gave the briefest of smiles as she fell forward, her eyes open and arms outstretched.   She landed directly on top of the grenade.

"NO!
"  Erik roared.

The grenade detonated and Susan's body disappeared in a cloud of smoke and noise.  Erik skidded to a stop, caught off balance by the noise and fell over backwards.  Before he could even get to his feet, Sewell grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him to his feet.  He left a bloody handprint on Erik’s shirt.

"Go,
go!
  There ain’t nothing can be done for her now!  The Russians are counterattacking—it’s over!  Everybody’s runnin’ for the hills!" Sewell shoved Eric roughly forward.

Erik’s last look at what was left of Susan's crumpled, lifeless body as he staggered into the bushes was one that would stay with him for the rest of his days.

CHAPTER 34

Into Harm's Way

DOUG MITCHEM, CAPTAIN OF the Aegis guided-missile cruiser
Anzio,
struggled to see through the thick smoke that obscured his vision inside the CIC.  His ship was wounded, but still in the fight.  Torpedoes had sunk the destroyers
Reese
and
Madison
just aft of
Anzio's
transom.  Missiles fell out of the sky from the Russian planes and had pummeled the carrier strike group. 
Anzio
had retaliated in kind and launched her full complement of cruise missiles into southern Manhattan in an attempt to take out the radar weapon that had disabled
Roosevelt’s
fighters.

Word had come in over the patched communications link to
Roosevelt
that they had succeeded—the American fighters, now free to operate over Manhattan, began to dispatch their Russian counterparts.  The tide had turned and the carrier strike group moved in for the kill.

That was when the Russians subs had struck.  Out of nowhere. 
Anzio's
skipper had been caught completely off guard—there had not been a single sonic signature for 300 nautical miles.  It was an impossibility that he didn't have time to fathom. 
Anzio’s
LAMPS helo had been destroyed when a wounded SU-33 had crashed into his aft flight deck.  As the helicopter exploded into a ball of fire, the ability to track down and kill the Russian subs went up in smoke.

There were a couple additional LAMPS that took off from
Roosevelt
in an effort to put some pressure on the Russians subs, but Mitchem figured it would be too little, too late to save
Anzio
.  He checked the status of his ship’s weapon systems.  Every cruise missile bay was empty.  All antiaircraft missiles had been fired.  He’d ordered target acquisitions for the few anti-ship missiles left and the 20mm Phalanx CIWS gun pods were still online.   That was it. 
Anzio
was almost completely empty.

They began to take shells from the surviving Russian cruisers.  Explosions and plumes of white spray popped all around them as Mitchem tried to navigate
Anzio
in a zigzag pattern to avoid fire.  It was a losing proposition and he knew it, but his options were few.

He figured the only consolation was the fact that
Anzio
was still between the Russians and
Roosevelt
.  His primary mission was to defend the carrier at all costs and that was something he could still do.  For a few more minutes, at least.

Another shell hit the reinforced hull of the bow.  An explosion of smoke and sparks blossomed at the front of the ship.  He felt
Anzio
shudder.

"Impact, portside bow!" reported the damage control officer of the watch.  Mitchem turned and looked at the young man's face.  He didn't look like he was much older than 20 and there was a smear of blood streaked on the side of his head from a gash to his scalp.  The young sailor wiped the sweat out of his eyes and put a hand to his ear, listening to his headset as it squawked with the inter-ships comms.  He turned to face the Captain.  "Sir!  Damage control reports that the anchor chains have been severed—"

An explosion somewhere aft rocked the ship.  Mitchem felt the sickening sensation of the deck starting to tilt.  He closed his eyes. 
Anzio
was dying.

"She's listing!" called out the ship’s XO.

Mitchem gritted his teeth and glanced at the shattered tactical display screen.  He cursed as the ship shuddered violently and the movement nearly brought him to his knees.  He stood up with some effort and limped his way toward the bridge.

"Captain on the bridge!" someone called out as he burst onto
Anzio’s
bridge.  The scene through the smoke outside was right out of a World War II documentary.  Planes screamed through the sky, chased by missiles.  Explosions dotted the air as antiaircraft guns from both sides lit up the gray sky.  What was left of the Russian fleet in the distance belched smoke and fire as American Tomahawks rained down on them. 

Out the shattered port windows, Mitchem could see the dying carcasses of
Reese
and
Madison
as they began to sink.  The bow of
Reese
jutted up into the air at an obscene 40° angle.  The bulbous sonar dome designed to stay just underneath the water at the tip of the ship glistened rust red in the dim afternoon light.  He could see men and women jumping off the doomed ships into the cold Atlantic.

"Torpedo in the water!" called out a voice from behind him.

Mitchem had seen enough.  He grabbed the nearest mic as it swayed drunkenly in the air and brought it to his lips.  "This is the Captain!  Abandon ship, abandon ship!  Repeat, abandon ship!  This is
not
a drill!  All nonessential personnel get to your assigned stations for evacuation!  Senior staff report to the bridge!"   He turned to the midshipmen at the helm.  "I'll take over from here, son."

"Captain has the helm, I stand relieved."

Mitchem smiled at the man's—boy’s really—insistence on keeping with formality.  He directed the young midshipmen to head toward the aft hatch and get to his assigned life raft.

His XO entered the bridge and used a filthy handkerchief to wipe sweat from his face.  "Captain?"

"What I'm about to do violates every rule in the book.  But the way I see it, we’re out of options.  We can either sit here and be ripped to shreds by those Russians—or we can do our job—protect
TR
at all costs.  I don't expect you to follow along with me, but—"

"I always thought the Captain going down with his ship all by his lonesome was a load of horseshit.  I’m staying.  She’s mine, too, sir."

Mitchem grinned.  "Glad to have you."  The rest of the command staff entered the bridge and without word took up stations monitoring the ships vitals.  Mitchem took a silent head count and nodded as his chief officers flashed him determined smiles.  None of them had decided to head to their assigned checkpoints. 

"Gentlemen, this is a volunteer mission.  If any of you decide you want to evacuate with the rest of the crew—" the ship shuddered again and tossed two of the officers to the deck.  "It will not be reflected upon your service record, nor will your bravery under fire be questioned."

No one moved. 

"What are your orders, sir?" asked the XO.

Mitchem turned his attention back to the shattered windows of the bridge.  He could smell the clean, salt-tinted air of the ocean as it wafted into the bridge.  The cloud of smoke parted and
Anzio
knifed through the smoky haze while listing to starboard.

"She's taking on water, starboard-aft, by the flight deck," said the chief engineer.

Mitchem set his jaw.  "That cruiser there dead ahead seems pretty cocky with those four-inch deck guns. 
Roosevelt's
been coming under fire.  We’ve got to
do
something."  He took a glance at his crew.  Nothing but grim determination faced him.  He nodded one final time.  "This is your last chance, people.”

"We’re with you, sir.  Hundred percent,” said the XO.

"All right then," said Mitchem.  "Signal
Roosevelt.
Anzio's
last transmission: Am engaging the enemy, heading into harm’s way."

"Signaling
Roosevelt
, aye," said the ship’s chief medical officer.

"Give me everything we've got."  He looked out the window as
Anzio’s
deck hummed at full throttle. 

“That cruiser’s turning.  She’s coming broadside…” warned the XO.

Mitchem glared at the Russian ship.  “Ramming speed!”

LIEUTENANT COMMANDER RIGGS LOOKED out over the port side of his F-35 as he circled over the naval battle.  He had dropped his ordinance and inflicted as much damage as he could to the Russian fleet.  But it was not without cost.  Of the 12 hawks in his squadron, only 4 had survived.

As he looped low over Manhattan, he could see American ground forces rolling through.  He’d heard from
Zeus
that they’d made contact with the 4th Infantry Division, currently attempting to wrest control of Manhattan from the Russians. 

Riggs saw the army had done an excellent job—the Russian presence was limited to the extreme southern tip of Manhattan.  But on his overflight, he saw many more Russians troops and vehicles flowing out of LaGuardia.  He knew that would be their next target, but he and the rest of his squadron would have to land in order refuel and reload their weapons.  And from what he could see,
Roosevelt
was in no condition to receive her fighters.

Just as he thought the battle was going to be over in a victory for the Americans, it looked like all hope would be lost. 
Zeus
relayed an urgent message that there were Russian subs behind the fleet now, launching torpedoes into the American line.  The Russians had already taken out half the escort fleet around
Roosevelt
.

He could tell by the way water foamed behind
Roosevelt’s
transom that Admiral Nella had ordered flank speed, headed deeper into the bay.  Riggs quickly guessed what the Admiral was thinking.  Get the ships as close to land as possible.

If they were going down, they’d better do it within swimming distance of shore.  There were thousands of lives at stake.  And he knew that the protection force was running low on ammo after their long hard-fought battle to get out of the Mediterranean Sea and the skirmishes in the middle of the Atlantic.

"
Hey!  Check out
Anzio
, 3 o'clock low
," called out Jonesy.  Riggs swiveled his head to starboard and gently nudged the joystick to roll his aircraft.  Below him, he could see smoke and fire as it billowed from the aft section of the guided-missile cruiser.  She looked to be at flank speed, running straight at what was left of the Russian fleet.  His gaze shifted to the enemy.  The Russian cruisers maneuvered and sought to hit
Anzio
with deck guns.  He could see the white spray erupt like geysers near the surface around
Anzio
as she advanced.  They were training their shots.

It won’t be long now…

"
Man overboard!  Man overboard!
” called out one of the Hawks.

"
I got people in the water—looks like they're abandoning
Anzio
,
" said Jonesy.

"
Zeus copies all,
" was the terse response from the E2-C Hawkeye, 150 miles away.

Riggs knew that was a bad sign.  If the only response to American sailors jumping off the side of a ship  currently on fire and making all speed toward the enemy line was "copy all"…that could only mean one of two things.

One, they were well aware back in the CIC on board
Roosevelt
of
Anzio's
condition and either approved, or could do nothing about the evacuation of the guided-missile cruiser.

Or two, things were going too poorly for the Americans for the command staff on
Roosevelt
to worry about the captain ordering his sailors to abandon ship. 
And if things are
that
bad
, Riggs thought darkly,
I need to find an airport.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flare erupt on the side of
Anzio
as one of the Russian ships scored a direct hit on the port side superstructure.  He fumed, wishing that he still had some ordinance remaining.

"Hammer Lead, Hawk Lead!" he called out.

After a moment the reply came back, "
Hawk lead—go ahead,
" replied Hammer’s XO.

"Any of you guys still packin’?   Looks like
Anzio
could sure use some help."

"Negative, Hawk Lead, we’re empty."

"Shit…" muttered Riggs.  There was little he could do from his position roughly 1500 feet above the battle.  The Hawks were out of ammo and orbited, waiting for a chance to land.

“Missile launch!"
called out Jonesy. 
“South-southwest—"

"It's gotta be one of ours," replied Riggs.  He watched in silent fascination as one, then two, then three Tomahawk missiles erupted from the surface of the water southwest of the fleet.  They shot into the air on plumes of fire and smoke and leveled off for flight.  The missiles arched over the American line, shot forward and embedded into the side of three of the remaining Russian cruisers.   The fireballs and resultant black smoke obscured the ships completely from view in seconds.

Riggs smiled at the whoops and yells of triumph coming over the radio.  He watched as one final cruise missile attempted to go after the last remaining Russian cruiser.  Four bright streaks of light erupted from the side of the Russian cruiser and anti-missile ordinance leapt in to the sky and destroyed the final cruise missile.