Captain Rhodes sat back in his chair. The waiting game the Admiral was playing was testing his nerves. Already all eight of the ship’s boilers were on line and ready for anything that might come. All he needed now was to receive an order to strike. He glanced at his watch. It was 0500. Something would be happening very soon.
“Admiral, you wanted to be up by five,” said the watch officer.
A groggy Admiral Chris Hustvedt grunted out a ‘thank you,” before rubbing his eyes and putting his shirt back on. He had slept in his pants so that he could be up and ready in case anything had happened. Rubbing his chin he decided to go over his face with a razor first. He walked to his private head and switched his electric razor on running it over his face and getting the worst off before splashing some water on his face to clean up. He grabbed his cover and exited the cabin, going only a few yards to the entrance to flag plot. He was surprised at how rested he felt after only four hours of sleep. “Have they launched yet?” he asked the watch officer.
“Not yet, Admiral. They came within range an hour ago, so I guess they are just making sure,” the commander said.
Hustvedt nodded. “That’s what I’d do. They probably don’t trust their systems that well. Are the helos in place?”
“Yes, sir. They are on station sixty miles south of the formation waiting for the word.”
“Good. Now I guess it’s just a waiting game,” said Hustvedt as he reached for a coffee mug to pour himself a cup.
Lieutenant Commander Jeffers entered the room. He had gotten only two hours in the sack before he got the call. The bags under his eyes told the tale. Hustvedt looked over at him and handed over the mug of coffee. “You look like you could use this more than I could,” he said with a slight smile.
Jeffers took the mug. “I usually don’t drink much coffee, but today I feel like I could handle a gallon,” he said as he added some sugar and creamer. “I take it we’re still waiting.”
The watch officer nodded and everyone took a seat in front of the large screen display showing everything on the link. The night before had been busy. Over twenty airfields and other installations had been hit virtually ending any air attacks on the invasion forces. Richardson was already seventy miles inland and the Turks and paratroopers had begun advancing north to meet her. Once they joined up, all supplies would come through Turkey.
Hustvedt had been surprised at how swiftly things had gone. Intelligence had thought there were more troops in the south, but that had been wrong. After today, there might be nothing left around the Black Sea. But today would make the difference. They knew there would be a missile attack. Everyone was ready for it. He might get some criticism for letting it happen and not attacking with carrier aircraft, but he needed to take out the air bases first. Besides, he had plans for the Kirov and her battle group.
“Commence firing,” ordered Captain Suvorov. One by one, the missile hatches opened on the foredeck of the ship and with a surge of flame, the missiles climbed into the sky and tilted toward the American Fleet.
After all but two of the missiles had left their tubes the admiral turned to Suvorov. “Excellent, Captain. Have the other ships launched as well?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then take us home. I am sure we will be welcomed as heroes,” the admiral said. “Send to the patrol boats to continue ahead and launch when ready,” he ordered.
“Signal our escorts to come port to a course of 300. Order twenty five knots. Let’s go home,” he said to his crew with a smile.
Immediately the orders were relayed to a relieved crew and the ships turned together to head home. Only several small missile boats continued ahead.
Captain Rhodes was sitting in his chair on the bridge when the communications officer rushed in. “Captain, you need to read this,” he said.
A sheet of paper was thrust into Rhodes’ hands. The message was from Hustvedt. It had only three words, “Sink the Kirov.”
“My God,” he almost whispered as he re-read the message. He punched the bitch box. “Captain to Strike, where is the Kirov?” he nearly shouted.
“Captain, the Kirov bears 120 at a range of about seventy miles,” came the reply.
He hit a different button. “Sigs, Bridge, signal our escorts, immediate execute, turn starboard 120,” he ordered. “Let me know when they acknowledge.”
He hit a different button again. “Main Control, Bridge. Let me speak to the Chief Engineer.”
“Cheng here Captain.”
“Dan, I am going to ring up flank speed. I want everything the ship’s got. Take it to the limit and then add some. You got that?”
Down in Main Control, Captain Dan Kimberlain blinked. “All of it, Captain?”
“Yea, Dan. We’re going to take on the battlecruiser.”
A smile came to Kimberlain’s face. “Then you’ll have it all, Captain.”
“Thanks, Dan,” said Rhodes.
“Sir, the signal’s acknowledged,” came a report from one of the signalmen.
“Very well. Execute the signal. OOD, come right to 120. Order up flank speed with 999 for maneuvering combinations,” ordered Rhodes from his seat.
The men on the bridge began issuing orders as Rhodes called the signal bridge again. “Sigs, signal the others we are going to flank speed and to keep up as best they can.”
Down in Main Control, Captain Kimberlain picked up the announcing system mike. “Okay guys we are to put it all on the line. I want everything the old lady has. Take her to thirty three to start with,” he said calmly. He turned to the throttleman. “Open her up,” he said.
The men began turning the large throttle wheel and watched as the pressure gages showed an increase in pressure as the throttle allowed more steam to pass into the high pressure turbine and on to the low pressure turbine. The shafts immediately began to spin more rapidly as the 212,000 horsepower engines thrust the great ship forward.
On the fantail, the after lookout felt the deck begin to tremble as the four huge screws bit into the water and threw it back. The ship’s wake became a bright white, boiling foam as the ship picked up speed. Down in the messdecks, the noise almost drown out shouted conversations. People could feel the screws racing beneath them.
On the bridge, Rhodes picked up the microphone for the 1MC. “This is the Captain. We have our orders. Iowa is to sink the Kirov battlecruiser. We will be going to general quarters in fifteen minutes. From this point on, everyone should keep within the skin of the ship if at all possible. Keep safe but get the job done. Remember, this is what Iowa was built to do. Let’s show them what a real battleship is capable of. Good luck,” he said before placing the microphone back in its holder.
Almost as a natural reaction to the news, the crew went to their battle stations even before the alarm was sounded. Everyone checked their gear and laid out what was necessary to fight a pitched battle at sea. Ten decks above main deck, Master Chief Skelly opened the hatch into spot one to find his fire control crew already in position. He climbed into his seat and began lining up the circuits linking the director to the Ford Rangekeeper far below. “No radar this time, guys,” he said. “We’re gonna have to find the bad guys with our eyes.”
In Main Battery Plot the fire control team readied the Ford Rangekeeper for its job. Circuits were activated and a team of people began twisting the brass butterfly switches to accept a signal from the director and to send the computer generated signal to the three turrets. Spot One would be the first to see them. The enemy was nowhere near in range, but it didn’t matter. When they came in sight, everything would be ready.