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  Chapter 11

  It was some time before anyone spoke, and Doctor Zolkin took a keen interest in the reactions of every man present. Karpov was still sulking, but behind that storm front in his mind he was already thinking, planning, looking far ahead at some distant outcome. Orlov seemed torn between anger, confusion and irritation over the matter. The junior officers, Rodenko, Nikolin, Tasarov and Samsonov fidgeted uncomfortably, waiting. Fedorov seemed energetically alive, his mind also forward looking as to possible consequences. It was clear he had more to say, though he politely waited for the response of the senior officers first. The Admiral was leaning back in his chair, his hands folded on the table as he regarded the others, his glance often on Karpov. It was he who broke the silence first.

  “Who is our enemy here?” asked the Admiral. “In 1941 Great Britain and the Soviet Union were allies, perhaps strange bedfellows, but allies nonetheless. It has been said that the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Perhaps so. The West delivered more than half of the trucks Soviet armies would use in this war, and considerable amounts of raw materials, aircraft, and other supplies. We are here, right astride the convoy route to Murmansk that became so contested in the months and years ahead. We could smash what remains of the German surface fleet in a heartbeat, and completely neutralize the air threat to these convoys as well.”

  Karpov cleared his throat. “I still find this whole discussion ridiculous,” he began, “but for the sake of argument consider this…Germany loses the war, even without any assistance to the allies we might render. Now…we all know the world that emerged after that, the long cold war, the fall of the Berlin Wall and so called ‘iron curtain,’ the collapse of the Soviet Union, and the ever more encroaching influence of the Unites States and NATO in the world’s key energy sectors. They pay us lip service at the UN, but we all know here that Russia has been consistently disrespected, marginalized, and viewed with suspicion and veiled hostility ever since the war ended. The only thing that enables us to compete on the world stage in any way is our considerable nuclear arsenal and the resources we have, particularly oil, metals and timber. Yet they deal with us because they must. Let us not fool ourselves here. Look at what the Americans have done in the Middle East!”

  “You are suggesting our real enemy is the West,” said Volsky, “and I suppose it is a strong argument.”

  “Of course,” said Karpov. “Germany was our enemy for four years. NATO had been our nemesis ever since. The Soviet Union was going to eventually defeat Germany, with or without Western assistance. It was only a matter of time.”

  “What does our resident historian think?” The Admiral invited Fedorov to speak.

  “Well, sir, the Captain makes a good point. Of approximately 330 German divisions, about 270 were facing us on the eastern front at any given time. The rest were garrisons in France, Italy, the Low Countries and Norway, and these postings were largely to rebuild and reconstitute divisions we destroyed as the war progressed, at least until the landings at Normandy. The Allied strategic bombing campaign had considerable impact, however. It should not be underestimated. And they single handedly contained the Kriegsmarine and Italian Navy as well, controlling the Mediterranean, North Africa, and knocking Italy out of the war. We could never have accomplished that. Our campaign would have been a long, grinding advance on Berlin, as it was historically. Yes, I believe we would have prevailed, but the war might drag on another several years, taking the lives of countless millions more without a second front in the west.”

  “True,” said Karpov. “But consider this. If we are clever, and act at the appropriate moment, we can bring about a post war environment that is much more favorable to the Soviet Union. The two sides were in a race to Berlin. We got there first, and received little thanks other than thirty years of American suspicion and enmity in the cold war. We could make certain that Russian troops get much farther, establishing a much stronger position in Europe, by simply acting to delay the allied advance. If Soviet troops are standing behind the Rhine before the British and Americans get there, then there will be no Berlin Wall, no divided Germany. NATO will not sit at our doorstep and the Warsaw Pact may replace that organization altogether. Germany is the heart of Europe, and there will be no ‘West Germany’ to collaborate with Britain and the US. That is all we really need to do-delay the Western powers advance with selective intervention. By this we could strongly affect the post-war environment. It will not be the Americans with their hand on the neck of the United Nations that reigns supreme- we will dominate that body. And NATO? We can see to it that it never even exists!” He planted his finger firmly on the table as he finished, then folded his arms.

  “I agree with the Captain,” said Orlov. “We need not aid the Germans in any way. To do so would be treasonous considering the hell they brought upon us in that war. My grandfather died at Stalingrad. But sticking a thorn or two in Roosevelt’s or Churchill’s bottom might prove interesting.”

  The doctor spoke next. “What would be the effect if it became known that this was a Russian ship? If we were to engage a British fleet, for example, how might this affect the relationship between Great Britain and the Soviet Union. It was the British who organized and guarded the Murmansk convoys. Suppose this aid is withdrawn?”

  “We can keep our identity secret,” suggested Orlov, “at least at the outset. They will most likely assume we are German, yes?”

  “If I may, sir,” said Fedorov. “Engage the Royal Navy and they will stop at nothing to sink this ship. They will use their entire fleet, all their air-sea assets, and soon, in a matter of just a few months time, they will also have the United States Navy to support them.”

  “They have nothing that can match us,” Orlov said derisively.

  “Oh? Do you have any idea what a 15 or 16 inch shell would do to this ship if we should be hit? Even an 8 inch shell could easily penetrate the forward deck and ignite the missile fuel and warheads there, and my guess is that this ship would literally be blown to pieces in that event. We are not invulnerable.”

  “But our advantage lies elsewhere,” said Karpov testily, annoyed to be arguing with a junior officer like Fedorov. “True, we have only armored certain segments of the ship, the citadels, the reactor cores. But we do not have to come anywhere near an enemy ship to deliver a barrage of precision guided firepower on the enemy. Our missiles can fire from a range of 250 kilometers or more! Our cannon can use rocket assisted munitions and range out to 50 kilometers if need be. We can stand off and destroy any fleet we encounter, and they will never even see us. The only equivalent weapon the enemy might deploy is a fleet of aircraft carriers, and we can find them with our helicopters first and sink them before they become a threat. Should any dare launch an air strike at us, our SAM defenses will be more than enough to protect us.”

  “What you say is true for a time,” said the Admiral. “It was fortunate that we replenished our primary missile inventory for the live fire exercise before we were able to complete our scheduled maneuvers. We find ourselves with reloads aboard for our Moskit-IIs. But yet there is a limit to what we can accomplish, yes? We now have forty Moskit-IIs in inventory instead of only twenty, and ten each for our other missiles. That means we have a gun with 60 rounds, and after they have been fired, all we have left are the 152mm cannon and a few torpedoes, twenty, to be exact. Certainly no ship in the world can match us now, yet we must be very judicious as to how we choose to actually use the weaponry we have.”

  “You are forgetting one other thing,” said Karpov, his face hard, eyes narrowed. “We have nuclear warheads aboard.”

  The tension in the room seemed to elevate at once. Zolkin shifted uncomfortably, looking at the Admiral, who covered his mouth, stroking the unshaved stubble of his graying beard. “There will be no use of nuclear weapons without my expressed approval,” he said flatly. “And at the moment I do not believe we need to consider this option.”

  “The enemy will have them in a matter of a few years,” said
Karpov. “And they will not hesitate to use them. This we have clearly seen.”

  “We will not engage anyone with nuclear weapons,” said the Admiral firmly. “Such a use would come into consideration only in the most extreme circumstances, and only after deep consideration of the effect this would have on future events. This may indeed be nothing more than a fanciful exercise of thought, gentlemen. But if we find these two ships approaching us are not modern day cruisers and destroyers in the Royal Navy inventory, then we will be faced with profound choices, decisions of greater weight than any commander in the field has ever faced in history. We must acquit ourselves well, gentlemen. For we, too, must all die one day.”

  “Yet we should consider every advantage possible,” said Karpov. “War is war. This one, of all wars, was fought with utter ruthlessness and single minded determination. Are we men? We are sworn to the defense of our nation.”

  “And we will defend her,” said the Admiral. “Yet we can do so without dropping a 15 kiloton warhead on London or New York. I remind you that neither Britain or the United States were enemies of the Soviet Union in 1941. We have other means-a limited inventory of conventional weapons to defend ourselves if attacked. And we also have our brains, along with the foreknowledge of every significant event in history from this day forward. With Mister Fedorov here, and his useful book, we have details that can give us a decisive edge in battle, at least for a time.”

  “What book?” Karpov looked at the Navigator. “What have you been reading now, Lieutenant?”

  “Sir, I have a volume of-”

  “Never mind that now,” the Admiral cut him off. “Gentlemen, I assembled you all here to discuss this matter, and hear your viewpoints, but I must now remind you that this is not a democracy, not for the moment. The chain of command will prevail as always, and my decision is final in every circumstance we may encounter. Is that clear?”

  Karpov’s jaw was set, but he did not directly challenge the Admiral. Orlov looked at him, but he, too, said nothing.

  “Now then,” said Volsky. “Mister Fedorov, I want you to plot an approach to these two ships that are presently advancing on our position. The evidence obtained at Jan Mayen speaks loudly, yet it appears we need more jam on the blini before we will savor it. We must determine what is real and what is not here, and we must do so at our earliest opportunity.”

  “If I may, Admiral,” said Fedorov. “We have other options as well. We could sail for Iceland and overfly Reykjavik as we did Jan Mayen. If this is a PSYOP, then NATO cannot hide an entire modern city from us, can they?”

  “Yes we could do this, but I believe our answer is close at hand. What was this ship you believe is approaching us?”

  “HMS Adventure, along with a destroyer. Adventure is a mine laying scout cruiser, not heavily armed, sir. She had four 4.7 inch guns, primarily used for anti aircraft defense, and other smaller caliber weapons. The 4.7s can range out to about 16,000 yards or so. The destroyer has the same, along with eight 21 inch torpedoes. Neither ship presents any long range threat. We would not even have to use a single missile if they sought to engage us. We could simply direct radar controlled gun fire well outside their range.”

  “Or we could send you to have a look in the KA-226. You can identify these ships by sight?”

  “I believe so, sir.”

  “No,” said Karpov. “I want tangible evidence, not simply this man’s assessment from a long range camera. I want to see these ships myself.”

  “Well you could fly with him, Mister Karpov. However, if this is an anti-aircraft cruiser, perhaps we should be cautious with our helicopters.”

  “If we wish to make a close approach with the ship,” said Fedorov, “then we could put men up on the highest mast and establish a watch there. You can see out twelve to fourteen miles from that height, and we’ll see them on radar long before that. With a good, high powered observation lens we can probably identify these ships at that range visually. In fact, we could even simply use the high powered cameras on the Tin Man watch decks. Even the Captain’s field glasses would do,” Fedorov finished. “And we would still be three or four miles beyond the range of their 4.7 inch guns.”

  “We can get closer than that,” said Karpov sourly. “If they dare attack us I will make short work of them.”

  “Very well,” said the Admiral. “Then this is exactly what we will do, and hopefully before this weather front makes observation impossible. But Captain, I will be on the bridge for this operation.” He eyed Karpov, noting the man’s reaction.

  “Gentlemen, let’s get moving. Anyone scheduled for relief get some sleep. I am well rested, and I will take the ship in, Mister Karpov. You may stand down and get some rest. Join me on the bridge in 6 hours. By that time we should be very near these ships. Mister Fedorov-plot me a good intercept course. I want to sail west of Jan Mayen.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Karpov sighed heavily, still convinced this was all a waste of time. Yet the first thing on his mind now was his stomach. He was hungry and wanted to get in a meal and a few hours sleep before he returned to the bridge. On the way to the officer’s mess he pulled Orlov aside and asked him what he thought of the situation.

  “It’s one fine v’zadnitse, Captain. How is it the Americans say this? Up shit creek without a paddle. It’s crazy. And the more I think on it the more I begin to feel crazy. Yet, after all this, it begins to paint that impossible picture.”

  “Don't be a fool, Orlov. Yes, I know the evidence seems convincing, but everything we have seen could have been part of a psychological operation staged by NATO, even the removal of the facilities on Jan Mayen, in spite of what the Doctor says.”

  “I'm not so sure about that, Vladimir. That's the one thing about all this that bothers me. I've been on that island too, and I'm telling you there was nothing there when we overflew it a few hours ago. You don't disassemble those buildings in a few hours time. What, do you think they've stored everything in some underground bunker to put them back together again after they've had their fun with us? This is very disturbing, Captain. I can dismiss the other things, even that airplane, but this business concerning the island is very perplexing.”

  Karpov said nothing for a time. He was also finding it difficult to dismiss the evidence they had uncovered by visiting the island. Yet something in him remained stubborn, holding on to the world they had come from, and unwilling to embrace the prospect that it was entirely gone now-possibly gone forever. He felt like a spider without a web, a mouse without a hole to hide in any longer. Even so, another part of his mind was creeping ahead, sifting through the possibilities. “Who do you think our real enemy is, Orlov?”

  “The British, the Germans, the Americans, they are all the same as far as I'm concerned. Aren’t they all in league together anyway? We have few friends in the world, Captain. Even the Chinese eye us with suspicion these days.”

  “But let's assume the impossible. If this were 1941, would you join the British in opposing Nazi Germany?”

  “I would find some way to stick it to them both,” said Orlov emphatically.

  Karpov thought about that for some time as they walked, and when they had reached the officer’s mess, he leaned close and gave Orlov a quiet order. “When we finish up here, Chief, I think it best we put some men to work and remove any obvious insignia on the ship. Pull down the ensigns as well. Just as a precaution.” He forced a weak smile.

  Orlov grinned. “You’ve been thinking about this from a few different angles, haven't you, Captain? Your point about securing a better position for us after the war was well taken. Yes, we have a very powerful ship here, but consider what the Admiral said… We have just sixty missiles on board, and we are lucky to have even that many. The reloads for the Moskit-IIs are stacked high in the crates below decks, so if we were to take a hit, we would go off like a firecracker. We must be careful in the early going, no matter whose ships are out there, no matter what year it is. The silence from Severomorsk is also ve
ry disturbing. I don't know which scenario frightens me the most. If things turn out to be the way you see them, and this isn’t World War II, then World War III might have started eight hours ago. Take your pick. It’s a nightmare in either case as far as I’m concerned.”

  “If that is so, then we are in the fight of our lives, Chief. Yet we have the means to defend ourselves adequately, and we can punch harder than any ship in the world.”

  As Orlov stood to leave, Karpov left him with one final thought. “Yes, we have limited ammunition, and we must be very prudent in the way we use it. But we have other means, and I am not so squeamish as the Admiral when it comes to using them.”

  At that, Orlov said nothing. He took his leave, out to make the rounds below decks and see that the scheduled maintenance checks had been finished.

  Karpov sat with his dinner for some time, though his appetite had vanished. He ate, reflexively, sopping up the gravy with some good black Russian rye bread, but his mind was wandering in distant fields. As usual, except for those times when Orlov was with him, he ate alone. None of the junior officers seemed to want to share his table, and when he was in the officer’s mess they often stilled their conversation as well, talking in hushed tones with one another as if they might disturb the Captain.

  Karpov was used to such reactions from the men under him. In one sense, he took it as a sign of respect, though deep down he knew they shunned him out of fear. One voice in his mind believed that was good. The men should have a healthy fear and respect for their senior officers, yes? But a deeper feeling that could only be described as loneliness whispered something else to him about it. He did not want to listen to that voice.

  Yet, by and large, he was alone in the world. Take him out of this small kollectiv on the ship and there was no one back home waiting for him. When the ship returned to Severomorsk, all the other crewmen would rush down the gangways and into the waiting arms of wives, children, parents, but not Karpov. His parents were long gone, and he had been too preoccupied with the machinations of his career to ever contemplate marriage. There was no secret photo tucked away in his wallet of a sweetheart left behind. Yes, he had rank and authority now, but even the lowly mishman, the warrant officers he would post to the watch, and the able seamen busy with menial tasks below decks had something, someone, where he was denied. It made their banal and pointless existence bearable, he thought. They were too easily contented by the fat cheeks of their devushkas and babushkas.