“I’m sure we will be learning more as we press further toward Russia. In other news…” Mason continued as she moved to another story. The broadcast was being run both on television and via the radio where broadcast stations were sited all along the German border. For the first time, Russians were able to hear one of their own agents tell of what their government had done. Bugayev had spoken of gullibility. Now they felt the shame for some of their own.
“Is everything ready?” asked Hammond.
“We roll in two hours,” said Dortmund. “Moynahan is at the front and has spoken to the Belarusian government. There’s no fear of those remaining Russian troops doing anything. Most asked to join their army. The planes from the United States are already on their way and will hold and refuel over Germany. Everything goes at once,” he said.
“What about the civilians?”
“They have been leaving the border areas for a week. Most homes are empty and we know where the soldiers are hiding. We will try and leave the homes alone, but if there are soldiers about, we may have no choice,” said Pol.
Hammond nodded and thought a moment, then looked at the assembled officers. “Once again we enter the breech, dear friends. Launch Operation Arctic Flames as scheduled,” he said.
Two hours later, a massive bombardment began along the Russian border with Belarus. Artillery and aircraft pounded a one hundred mile strip in the province of Smolensk. It wasn’t the kind of bombardment you saw in old war movies. This one hit preselected targets in a precise order to prevent any additional resupply and to take out all hard positions. At the same time, the Turkish Army continued northward past Volgograd and the American Marines struck out, crossing the Ukranian border into Russia. In the east, General Bryant was back aboard a train. Vladivostok had fallen and now he was heading west. Well over three million tons of ordnance was scheduled to be dropped on Russian lines before the drones went in. Then the bombardment would move further eastward on the way to Moscow.
Iowa eased into Naples and made her way to the large shipyard, Cantieri del Mediterraneo. The ship was in need of some repairs to two of her shafts. The long high speed chase in the Black Sea had been rough on some of the old parts and two shaft bearings and a thrust bearing needed attention. Three months at sea took its toll on the crew as well. They were looking forward to some liberty in Naples. People lined the shoreline to watch the great ship come in. Italy had a winning stake in this one and they were savoring the pride they felt. Women waved and the children pointed in awe. Then the ship’s band began to play and all along the waterfront people began dancing and cheering. This was the American ship they had heard about. To have it in Naples was a thrill. It almost guaranteed everyone would have a great time that night.
Jeffers watched from a position on the bow. Boats and his crew were there ready to handle the lines and there wasn’t much for him to do, but it beat sitting in his office. Looking out over the city it seemed to be almost a living thing. He could imagine what it might be like ashore, but tonight he didn’t feel like going out on the town. He had been having a rough time sleeping since that day on the America when he watched his friend die. In his dreams, Jeffers saw Evan leave to run back into the flames on the ship to pick someone up and drag him to safety. There was an explosion and Jeffers would jerk awake in his bed. Evan always had a smile on his face, and he always went back in. For some reason Jeffers couldn’t get that image out of his mind. He had talked to Doc Dickerson about it, but there wasn’t much Doc could do but let him talk it through and then prescribe some anti-depressants, which Jeffers refused. Luckily, the dreams didn’t affect his work. Things were going well.
Jeffers looked back toward the bridge. Below the ship’s ribbons, was a large panel displaying all of Iowa’s achievements. Jeffers had remembered how ships used to paint symbols on the side to indicate the numbers of planes shot down and ships sunk. His people had recreated the same thing, except this one spanned a period of nearly ninety years and four different commissions. It clearly showed Japanese planes and ships, but Jeffers included all the shore bombardments from the Pacific to the Black Sea. At the end were two broken ships in Russian colors along with a couple of aircraft. The entire display was thirty feet long. It would be interesting to see people’s reactions.
Later that evening after a walk around the deck, where he could hear the music and excitement in the city, Jeffers turned in. In the darkened cabin his thoughts once again turned to Evan. As he sat in his bed, he looked over and saw the dim outline of Evan’s guitar. He wasn’t too sure now that he could take it back to his family. Thinking of Evan was becoming too difficult. But he had promised. He was deep in thought when a fragrant smell came through his cabin. He finally recognized it as the smell of fresh cut roses. He smiled. Who would be bringing roses onboard the ship, he thought. The fragrance hung in the air and suddenly Jeffers felt very sleepy. His eyes fluttered closed as his mind drifted to other things. Jeffers fell into a deep sleep which would remain with him the rest of the night.
The sun began to rise on what would be a clear, sunny day. Red Square was surprisingly empty for a Monday morning. Policemen waved through some of the few government cars still on the street and people began filling the huge square. At first the police didn’t think much about it, but the people didn’t seem to be going anywhere. There were more of them too. Many began to congregate in the center of the square and just talk among themselves. Children were with their parents and in some instances, people greeted each other warmly. By 8 a.m. people seemed to be pouring from almost every side street. Like the others, the gathered with the crowd in the center of the square.
A few of the police tried to talk to some of the crowd, but they were ignored. As the mass grew, the police began to panic. Calls were sent out for help, but for some reason, none came. Instead, the officers were told to do nothing but help if needed. Not understanding this change, they simply moved back and let the crowd grow.
By 9 a.m., there were 200,000 people in Red Square with more filing in. Yet the crowd was quiet. There was talking, but no shouts and no aggressive behavior. It was as if people were on a holiday.
At 10 a.m., the square was full. Almost on que, someone began singing the old hymn “Oh Lord, Save Thy People.” It was a favorite, which had been used by Petyr Ilyich Tchaikovsky to start his 1812 Overture. At first it was only a few people, then the sound grew until over 300,000 voices lifted it into the air. Work in the city stopped as the hymn was sung and more people looked down from office windows and from other buildings.
At the end of the hymn came another sound. Nearly one hundred Russian Orthodox monks, dressed in black robes, began singing the old chant, “Let my Prayer Arise.” They began filing out of a smaller street into the square. The people moved to each side, giving the monks room. Many of the monks swung incense burners, filling the air with the smells and smoke. Others carried holy icons or crosses. Soon the people in the crowd began singing along. Once again, the old hymns filled the air on Red Square.
Suddenly there was a shout as people saw Patriarch Gregory dressed in his finest gold robes step into the square. As he walked, he offered blessings to the crowd. Many fell to their knees as he passed and the crowd became overcome in happiness at seeing their Patriarch safe and sound.
In the center of the square someone set up a portable loudspeaker system and hooked it to a battery. The trail of monks and the Patriarch made their way there singing hymns and gesturing to the people. The speakers were set high on a pole. There was a small box set up beside it. The Patriarch stepped up and looked over the crowd and he held up his hands for silence.