“Then they can provide access to our ships,” Scott said. “Also, we have MEU-25 already in the Black Sea, with the Guadalcanal and her escorts. They would be in an excellent position to grab the Black Sea end of the Bosporus and begin clearing operations. I would suggest bringing in MEU-21 for operations on the Aegean coast.”
“The Army should have a piece of this,” General Kirkpatrick, the Army Chief of Staff, said. “Ranger units to seize key airfields. The 101st to grab Istanbul and its approaches. This thing is doable.”
Reed looked at the general with distaste, then turned to Admiral Scott.
“Surely you gentlemen aren’t seriously suggesting we declare war on Turkey? The last I heard, they were on our side.”
“That seems to be debatable, Madam Secretary,” Scott told her, “at least in view of their refusal so far to allow us overflight privileges or access to our battle group. I believe an amphibious operation may be the only way to secure the safe extraction of our people.”
“The worst aspect,” Admiral Magruder pointed out, “is the length of the entire Dardanelles-Bosporus channel. It’s three hundred kilometers ― make that a hundred eighty miles ― from the Aegean end of the Hellespont to the Black Sea end of the Bosporus. Most of that is the Sea of Marmara, in between the two, but we’d still have several hundred miles of coastline to secure, a mammoth operation. And it’s not like we’d be facing some third-rate, minor country, either. We’ve counted on Turkey as NATO’s right flank for so long that we’ve equipped them pretty well. Worse, we’ve trained their people pretty well. An op of this scope would be no walkover.”
“You’re not suggesting that we give up, are you, Admiral?” Scott asked sharply. Magruder heard in that tone a bit of desperation; Scott needed support here and was afraid that Magruder was backing off.
“Certainly not. But there are other governments in the area that we could approach. If we could convince Greece and Bulgaria to go along with us on this, we might manage an air-mobile op against just the Black Sea end of the Bosporus. We could land north of Istanbul just long enough to clear the shipping channel.”
“We’d still have the problem of extracting our ships,” Scott said.
“But it would buy us time and open some new possibilities, I think.”
“There’s also,” Kirkpatrick said, “the option of striking directly at the problem. Hit the Russians, threaten them with an expanded war against a real enemy, not just Ukrainians or other Russians. Hit ‘em and hurt ‘em until they yell uncle and let our people go.”
“Difficult, General,” Scott said, “without a nearby base of operations.
Or are you suggesting we invade Russia from eastern Europe or the Baltic?”
“Unacceptable!” Reed said sharply. “Remember, the whole point of this exercise is to avoid becoming involved in a war over there. It would be easier and cheaper to go ahead and let the Russians have our damned ships!”
“Gentlemen,” Waring said, shaking his head. “I have to weigh in and say that I’m completely opposed to any operations against Turkey anywhere along those straits. There’s historical precedent not to try something like that, you know. Anybody here remember Gallipoli?”
“What’s that?” Reed asked him. “A city?”
“A battle, Madam Secretary,” Magruder said. “In World War I.”
“That,” Reed said with a lift of her chin, “was a bit before my time.”
Gallipoli had been one of the bloodier failures of the First World War, an attack by Great Britain against Germany’s Ottoman Turk allies in 1915. Brainchild of the British First Lord of the Admiralty, one Winston Churchill, the idea had been to land on the Gallipoli Peninsula at the Aegean mouth of the Hellespont and seize the straits, isolating Istanbul from the Asian portion of the Turkish-Ottoman Empire, knocking the Turks out of the war, and opening a new line of supplies to the embattled Russians. Simple in concept, the plan had been wrecked by hesitation and slow-moving commanders. After seizing a beachhead with few casualties against light opposition, the invasion force had failed to move inland off the narrow thrust of the peninsula; the Turks had closed them off, and there’d followed an extended battle by attrition.
Some 252,000 men had become casualties on the Allied side alone. Nearly as many Turks had been killed or wounded as well, and the entire operation had accomplished exactly nothing. The most skillfully handled part of the entire campaign had been the British evacuation of the beachhead at the end, early in 1916.
“Gallipoli failed,” Magruder said carefully, “because of a failure of nerve and of vision on the part of the people running it. It was a fine strategic concept, with a major screw-up in the execution.”
“If you ask me,” Gordon West, the White House Chief of Staff, said, “this whole thing has been one colossal screw-up. I know the President isn’t going to want to get into any major military operation until we know just what went wrong in there. This, this could have an incalculable impact on his image.”
Scott snorted loudly. “We’re not talking about public opinion polls here, Mr. West.”
“We are talking,” West said with a quiet, deadly earnestness, “about the President of the United States, and his perceived effectiveness as a world leader. I’d say that is at least as important as the safety of your precious aircraft carrier.”
“Perhaps, gentlemen,” Waring said, glancing back and forth nervously between the two men as though he feared they were about to come to blows, “and Madam Secretary, ah, perhaps it’s too soon yet to make any decision at all. I mean, a rash decision now could have unfortunate effects on all concerned, on the President, and on the Jefferson and her escorts. If we wait, the situation may resolve itself.”
“I might remind you all,” Admiral Scott added, “of the service motto of the British Special Air Service, the SAS. “Who dares, wins.” This isn’t a time for halfhearted measures, fixing the blame, or mealymouthed political shenanigans.”
Reed shook her head. “Mr. Waring, I cannot in good conscience recommend any act that will deepen our military involvement in that region.” She looked pointedly at Scott. “We will not send in the Marines and risk this, this incident escalating into a major war.”
Admiral Magruder looked up. “Madam Secretary, excuse me, but you’re suggesting we do nothing? What about our people?”
“There are times, Admiral, when political expediency must take precedence. For the good of the country.”
“You’re suggesting that we abandon them? Let them just, just hang out to dry?”
“There are wounded personnel ashore,” Admiral Scott added, his voice growing harder, angrier. “Including the commanding officer of that battle group. So far, the Russians have not even been willing to discuss allowing us to extract them. That’s a problem quite separate from the larger one of our battle group being trapped inside the Black Sea. Madam, we can’t simply turn our backs on them!”
She drummed her fingers briefly on the tabletop. “I will remind you, both of you, once again, Admiral Magruder, Admiral Scott, that I will happily accept your resignations if either or both of you cannot see things my way. I need team players here, not dissent. Not squabbling. My recommendation will be that we engage the Russians in a meaningful dialogue. Perhaps something can be negotiated. We should tell Dmitriev no right up front, but keep the door open for further bargaining. I think we can work something out, given time.
“We should also, Mr. Heideman, continue our talks with Ankara. If we can secure rights to berth our ships in one of their Black Sea ports, in Sinop, possibly, the entire problem goes away. Don’t you agree?”
“Oh, absolutely, Madam Secretary.”