The quiet of the basement was deafening. Only the sound of distant bombs broke it. Mrs. Kursov broke the silence. “You sign it or I will,” she said in disgust.
Kursov was shaken to his core. His sins had indeed come back to haunt him and his family. Too late did he realize what he had caused. Now his own son hated him. That had to be fixed. He slowly pulled out a pen and signed the form. He handed it to his son, standing before him. Petyr turned and walked to Mr. Polski. “Mr. Polski, when this is all over, I want to marry your daughter. I don’t know how long it will take, but once I have brought honor to our name, I want to share my life with her,” he said firmly.
Mr. Polski smiled and indicated for Petyr to sit beside him. “Petyr, you are not responsible for what your father did. I know you are a good and honorable young man. I will be proud to have you in the family,” he said in a low voice, placing his arm around the boy’s shoulders. He noticed they were shaking slightly and he began to realize what it was taking from the boy. “Don’t be so hard on your father. Remember, he grew up in a different system at a different time. Your roots are here in Poland, but his are still in Russia. That can do a lot to a man,” he said.
Petyr looked at him. “I can’t right now. It is eating away at me from the inside. I don’t hate my father, but right now, I can’t respect him anymore,” he said sadly.
Polski nodded. “I understand that. Over time, things tend to heal. I believe your father will do the right things. We just need to give him the chance. Now go to Freda. I believe you have frightened her with your decision,” he said.
The realization changed the look on Petyr’s face. He quickly got up and went to the far corner of the room where they usually sat. Polski watched as he sat down and pulled her to his shoulder.
Across the basement Mrs. Kursov quietly scolded her husband. “I cannot believe you could do such a thing. Don’t you remember why we left Russia? We wanted a better life and we found it. Now you are trying to drag Poland back into the dark ages. I don’t blame Petyr. Did you see the look of shame on his face? Now look at Sasha. You see how he turns away? Even Camille has moved over to where Petyr and Freda are seated. I cannot believe you could do this to our family,” she said. The tears in her eyes could be seen in the dim light.
“There is nothing to say,” said Anton to his wife. He turned away.
“Yes, there is nothing you could ever say,” she said. Mrs. Kursov got up and walked over to talk to Sasha.
Anton Kursov had never felt so alone, or ashamed.
“Sir, Admiral Hammond is on the secure satellite phone,” an aide told the CNO.
Admiral Johnson reached behind the desk and picked up the receiver. “What’s up. Roger?” he asked pleasantly.
“Perry, how the hell am I expected to win a war if we keep losing carriers,” Hammond asked sharply.
Admiral Johnson had expected this to come. “Hang on, Roger, I’m as pissed about this as you are. Lineman went rogue on me and thought he would be the next Halsey. We’re lucky the Kennedy didn’t sink. I plan on sending Tim Reardon a case of Scotch for all the good work his people did building her. The carrier and her escorts are on their way back even now. The bad part is they lost the Texas. One of the LAMPS pilots got a little too enthusiastic and dropped a weapon on her. We haven’t heard from her since.”
“Damn!” came the reply from the other end of the line. “This has to stop, Perry. These guys have to knock off the peacetime ‘anything goes’ attitude and realize we cannot waste assets. I’m telling my unit commanders the very same thing. We just can’t afford it anymore,” Hammond said.
“I agree. Lineman and a few others we are hearing about are out. We’re replacing them with good operators who can get the job done. Let’s face it, Roger, we have to transition to a war footing almost overnight. There are going to be some rough spots,” Johnson asked. “I know you were counting on the Kennedy, but I sent Mike Shransky back to Newport News. He says Reardon has a plan to maybe get the Lincoln back on line. I don’t know the details yet, but Mike said he would come and brief me. I’ll keep you informed. Now, how are things over there?”
“It’s a little rough,” said Hammond. “I have a French commander who thinks he’s in charge and the Italians and Spanish are still getting things ready. In the meantime, I am fighting a war and so far, we are just holding our own. As you can imagine, it’s a little tense around here.”
Johnson chuckled. “Better you than me. On a positive note, Chris is almost ready. Next week he will go down to Norfolk. They will leave the week after Christmas. Lousy timing, but can’t be helped,” he said.
“At least you have some good news. I’ve got Russia cold and dark like the Boss wanted. If we follow the plan, things should get interesting quickly. By the way, how is Rod Jeffers doing?” Hammond asked.
“Busier than a one armed paper hanger. Roger, the kid is brilliant. He’s also showing some amazing leadership abilities. I just got word the Senate passed the list. He may hear by tonight,” Johnson said with a smile.
“I may give him a call. Just remember I promised him we would make sure he stayed in his pipeline. He needs his department head tour and schools,” Hammond reminded him.
“After this, we may not need to send him to so much. He’s making a good name for himself. But I’m with you. He needs to hit all the right spots. He’s going to be an admiral someday,” the CNO proclaimed.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’ll be happy to get this phase of the operation going. Once we win the war, we can take care of Jeffers. Now if I can get the French on my side, things might look a little better,” said Hammond.
“Good luck with that. Want me to let the Boss know what’s up?”
“Wouldn’t hurt. He played his ‘you can’t do anything to me’ card when we talked today. At the same time, when you see Lineman, give him a kick in the ass for me,” said Hammond.
“Will do. Now get back to fighting your war. I have some people to dog on my end,” Johnson said.
“Take care Perry,” said Hammond ending the conversation.
“What the hell are you putting on my ship?” Captain Gene Donner asked. The plain gray sheets were rough around the edges and looked like something thrown together. USS America was the first of only two special LHAs built for the navy. As an amphibious assault ship, she was different from the other LHAs simply because she didn’t have a well deck. Instead, she had room for a hangar deck and additional aviation stores. As a result, she could carry up to twenty of the F-35 Lightnings. Preparations were already being made to increase that number along with some MV-22 Ospreys. The technicians from the Naval Sea Systems Command were swarming all over the ship providing additional modifications to prepare her for war. Captain Donner didn’t like change. It had taken him a year to get used to the ship and her characteristics. These new things would have to be learned quickly. They would get underway within the next thirty days and steam into a war zone. This latest installation had him cranky.
This was just the third of over thirty ships Bill Small would have to install this modification to. He didn’t have time to debate his mission. “The latest and greatest, Captain,” he said as cheerfully as he could. “The manual is only twenty pages thick so it’s easy to learn. Basically, when you throw the switch, it will make your ship invisible to enemy radars. Unfortunately, at the same time it will silence your own communications except for satellite. With this thing on, there’s not a missile that can attack you,” he said.