Once again, the group seemed to blend perfectly and the song seemed to lift the spirits of everyone around them.
It went on for about an hour before the guys reluctantly called it an evening. Jeffers bid everyone a good night and made his way to his stateroom. He knew already he would have a great night’s sleep.
There were five primary Russian spy satellites in orbit that had worried planners. At 0330 Eastern Time Zone five Brilliant Pebbles satellites turned on their lasing systems. The Russian satellite was focused on the eastern United States. There was another mid-Atlantic, just as there were three over the Pacific. The target was over five hundred miles away, but that wasn’t a deterrent. Lasers had problems only when in the atmosphere. In space, there was nothing to propagate the beam. Upon signal from the ground, five lasers shot across space to hit their targets.
At first, there didn’t seem to be anything happening. The temperatures inside the satellite casings rose steadily to well over 1,000 degrees. The circuit boards began to melt. At the Russian cosmodrome where the satellites were monitored, technicians were amazed when all five of their satellites shut down at once. There was no warning and no indication of a malfunction. Checks were made to insure that the satellites were still in orbit. Tracking stations confirmed that they were. The stations also confirmed that there was no satellite within a hundred miles of the units.
Something had just happened. Satellites that far apart didn’t shut down all at once. They contacted the Russian Space Agency to make sure the sun hadn’t sent out a solar flair. The one major concern was that for the first time, there was no live intelligence being gathered on the United States and across the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans.
They began pulling away from the pier early in the morning. Captain Doug Rhodes watched the evolution from the port bridge wing. One thing about the Iowa class, there wasn’t a way to see aft from the bridge because of the superstructure, so he relied on the pilot and his phone talkers to get him the information. It made no difference. The tugs pulled the 58,000 ton vessel from the pier before the ship’s engines began backing the ship into the channel. The tugs began pushing against the starboard bow while additional tugs pushed against the port stern. It took a while. That big a ship didn’t move easily. Once pointed toward the sea, the ship’s engines began pushing ahead.
Rhodes remembered the first time he had been aboard in the 80s. He had been a humble boatswain’s mate at that time. He had marveled at how big the ship was and how powerful she looked. That feeling hadn’t changed. Now he was the ship’s commanding officer. Something about the grand ship still made him feel reassured that she would get them through anything.
Sailors often say each ship has her own personality. Rhodes knew this one did. He felt it the moment he stepped aboard. It was a welcoming feeling; a feeling that made you feel warm and confident. Despite the fact the ship was nearing 90 years old, she still had the look of a warrior. She could still scare people to death and her guns could still be lethal to an enemy.
He looked up at the towers above him. Despite the darker gray Maxwell plates that had been installed, she looked rock solid. There were radars and antennas everywhere, just not moving. The emission controls clearly dictated that no ship give off any electromagnetic energy. Iowa could do that all day and still fire her weapons. The optics in the directors were some of the best in the world, despite their age. Because of that, the gun directors rotated back and forth providing bearing information to the navigator. He could hear the talkers relaying bearings to points the team had selected to make sure the ship stayed in the channel. The navigator reported they were in the center of channel, just as they should be. It was all normal, except that they were going to war. The ships from Norfolk would join up with ships from Mayport and other places, eventually even with the British and German Navies. It promised to be one of the largest fleets since the Second World War.
Glancing down on the decks below the bridge, he saw familiar sights. Boats Patnaude was still there in his helmet and ever present coffee cup. A number of other faces were the same. Many had been aboard with him in the 80s. Even Father Danner was still there. He had retired years before with at least nine rows of ribbons on his chest, including several “Vs” for valor, the first was awarded in Beirut with the Marines and the latest in Afghanistan. Danner didn’t mind going into the heat of anything as long as he could serve his people. Even now he was aboard going in harm’s way. True, the 80s crew was getting older and fewer could make the trip this time, but they were still there giving help to train a new generation about a battleship and its operation.
Two patrol aircraft crossed overhead. The overcast made them stand out in the sky. Earlier several anti-submarine patrol planes had made their way to sea. Both felt reassuring. The last thing Rhodes wanted was to get hit by a torpedo. Giving a sigh, he reentered the bridge and climbed into his seat on the right corner. The heaters on the bridge were working overtime trying to keep the bridge crew warm. Unfortunately, the cold winter breeze seemed to cut through Rhodes’ coat. Until they were at sea and the doors closed, the bridge would be pretty miserable.
The Iowa passed through the last set of buoys and the pilot walked up. “Captain, she’s all yours. I wish you the best of luck,” the pilot said.
“Thanks, Captain. We’ll see you when we return,” Rhodes said with a firm handshake. “Messenger, escort the pilot to the quarterdeck.”
The two left the bridge and everyone waited until they had seen the pilot safely aboard one of the tugs. With a toot of its whistle, it moved away.
“Officer of the Deck, secure from sea and anchor detail. What is the course to our assigned position?” Rhodes asked.
“083, Captain. At ten knots, we should get there within twenty minutes.”
“Make it so,” Rhodes ordered.
The wheel was turned and the ship slowly came left to its new course. Rhodes heard the metal door open and close behind him. Commander Sampson, his XO, walked up beside him.
“Well, we’re finally on the way. Everything is secure aft. I’m not sure about this ten knot restriction, but at least we won’t be burning fuel like crazy. The North Carolina is right behind us on schedule. Looks like the Wisconsin is next after that. It’s going to take forever to get the formation set,” he said.
“Yea, but I like the Admiral’s thoughts. Leave ‘em guessing. If we’re lucky, they won’t know we’re underway until we enter the Black Sea. Did you make sure all the electronics were turned off?” Rhodes asked.
“Every piece. I also put out the word to make sure everybody turned off their cell phone and put them away. We are now one hell of a big hole in the ocean,” said the XO.
“Good. I may go down to Strike and watch this thing come together,” said Rhodes coming up from his seat.
Sampson grunted. “Wish I knew where the information on the link came from. Nobody is radiating, but we have a detailed display. It’s witchcraft, I tell you,” he said with a grin.
“Yes, XO, and we are about to become a couple of wizards,” Rhodes said as he walked aft and entered the watertight door.
It wasn’t the job that bothered Petyr, it was the constant moving. It was rare that he got a full eight hours of sleep. After only one night in the Czech Republic, they suddenly found that there was little to do. The Russian defenses had almost evaporated. Then word came down to pick the best operators in the unit and ship them up to Zabierzow, just a few miles from Krakow. Petyr had been the first one selected.