“All stations manned and ready,” the XO said.
“Very well. Fire control, what’s your status?”
“Manned and ready, Captain. The computer is functioning normally and we have solutions entered. We can commence fire when ready,” said the chief.
“Open the missile hatches.”
Outside the ship, the first missile hatch opened. The ship was submerged and only the protective coverings were keeping the seawater out.
“Missile door open. Request batteries released,” said the operations officer.
The Captain looked around and nodded. “Very well. Batteries released.”
On the fire control console, a crewman flipped a protective cover and pressed the button. The first of nearly 150 Tomahawk cruise missiles erupted out of its cell and rushed to the surface. Once hitting air, the rocket motor fired, pressing the missile quickly to its flying speed. The wings and tail extended and the turbojet engine ignited, powering the missile along at over 550 miles per hour. There were no nuclear missiles aboard. Instead, all were land attack variants. This morning, they would leave the ship and head toward a variety of targets, mostly at near their maximum range. The targets included several dams, electric generation facilities, some major switching yards and the main refineries located in the Urals.
The missiles hugged the surface of the sea, only 100 feet up. Over land, they would increase their altitude to 500 feet. Each could maneuver independently to avoid obstacles. Their built in GPS systems and radar guidance would guarantee hitting within ten feet of their target.
As the last missile left its tube, Captain Frye ordered his ship as deep as she could go. They would be going back to Holy Locke, where additional missiles were waiting. Only one silo had missiles. Those were to be used as needed against ships.
Michigan was not alone. There were three additional SSGNs launching, along with launches from the Royal Navy. In all, there were over 800 cruise missiles on their way to targets well inside Russia.
General Moynahan was waiting. First Armored and the First Cav were straining to get moving. They had been moved into heavy tree cover two days before, just to be ready. Everything had been done to conceal their position from prying eyes. It must have worked, because in the airstrikes the previous day, none had come near their units. The move had been lightning fast. When they reached Brest, they had been loaded onto trains and transported across Germany and into Poland by night. Hidden under tents and inside large hangars at an airport, the men had been told to check their gear and rest during the day. That night they had been moved again to their current position. They had expected some rest, but the Russian attack had come quicker than expected. Now they all waited for the word to move.
The phone started everyone in the operations tent. It was answered, then the officer handed the receiver to Moynahan. “Moynahan,” he announced.
“Chuck, Roger Hammond. Your guys ready?” he asked.
“Just waiting for you to say go, boss. Everyone is fully briefed and all communications are well established. Once you say go, everything moves out. My artillery has its positions assigned and they will get there first and start their operations, followed by the tanks and infantry. My air units will pop up once we hit the line,” he reported. “Just like old times,” he added with a smile.
“General, the trap is sprung. You know the plan. Hit ‘em hard,” Hammond said.
“Aye, aye, sir,” said Moynahan. “We take off in less than five.”
“Good luck, Chuck,” Hammond said.
“We’ll take care of business, Roger.”
Moynahan hung up the phone and turned to his staff. “Get this show on the road. The Germans and Poles are waiting on us. Commence operations,” he ordered.
Outside the tent, tanks were started and began moving forward. Trucks were filled with troops and began moving out. They had one hour of night left, and they were going to use every minute of it.
***
Sergeant Mike Provo and his tank crew were seated in their Abrams tank waiting for the orders to move. The engine was off and only the Link 16 was up and running for the moment. The men had been in the tank for three hours. After checking the systems, the men had shut down and waited for something his lieutenant had called a special operation. He had no idea what it was, but if it would help them gain ground, he was all for it.
The alert appeared as a message on the link and Provo kicked his dozing crew back to life. Within seconds, the turbine was back online and all the systems switched on. A minute later and Provo found himself dashing through the trees and undergrowth toward the front. The link gave him an assignment of a tank just on the other side of a clearing showing up ahead. As the Abrams burst out of the tree cover like a charging horse, he could see a number of images on his scope. Not to mention what appeared to be hundreds of tanks making the same dash along a general line.
His thermal imager picked up his target. “Target, tank. Heat,” he almost screamed. The loader selected the round and shoved it into the breach of the cannon. “Ready!” shouted the loader.
The gun was already on its target and Provo pressed the trigger. The cannon roared and Provo watched as it struck its target with a bright explosion. Another target was assigned and Provo instantly saw it as well. The second shot took the turret off the second tank in a devastating roar. A third was assigned. “Train left, target tank, fifteen hundred,” Provo called out. Again the target was destroyed with the first round. What the hell is going on here, Provo wondered. Why aren’t they shooting back? Machine gun rounds began peppering the side of his tank. His gunner saw the source and began returning fire. It only took a few seconds.
By mid-morning Provo and his tank had advanced over five miles. He still had nearly half of his main gun ammunition, but they had completely run out of machine gun ammo. As he turned his tank back to refuel and reload, more tanks took his place. All together they had wiped out fifteen tanks, four armored vehicles and three personnel carriers, not to mention hundreds of troops who simply had no way to defend themselves. He could tell his people were getting tired of just killing. Without people shooting back, the tenseness just wasn’t there. The tanks he had encountered simply sat there. Maybe he would find out more when they got back.
President Borodin had enjoyed a good night’s sleep, only to have it interrupted by an aide who came rushing into his room.
“Sir, you have an urgent call from the Defense Ministry,” the man practically yelled.
Borodin sat up in his bed and reached over for his bedside phone. That was when he noticed that the lights weren’t coming on. What’s going on with the power?” he asked.
“It went off just a few minutes ago. We have someone working on getting the generator started. It should be back on momentarily,” the aide said.
Borodin grunted and returned to the phone. “Borodin,” he said into the receiver.
“Comrade President, this is General Aledrovy. The Americans have begun a widespread attack against our front line. I must report we have had to fall back to secondary positions temporarily. Our losses have been almost catastrophic,” the general said. You could tell in his voice he was very agitated.
Borodin became angry. “How can this be? We have ten divisions of front line troops there. Up until now we have met only weak resistance. What does the commander say?” he demanded.
“That is part of the problem. He has been killed in some sort of assault. The reports coming in say that the troops were attacked with pistol fire at close range before the American tanks came in. Our initial estimates say we have lost nearly six thousand troops from that alone, mostly our tank crews. Our tanks can’t move because their crews have been decimated. Now the Americans are coming through destroying everything. The deputy commander is getting things reorganized and we are sending up fresh troops and tanks. As soon as he can get things back together, we can get a better assessment,” said the general.