Captain Popov reached the bottom of his cup of Joe, and moved back to action, signaling for his executive officer to join him at the map table while they discussed the plan of attack.
“To review, once we get in range of our cruise missiles, we are going to be the first to fire. Then as the NATO anti-submarine forces move towards us, our two Akula submarines will close in on the convoy and attack with their torpedoes.”
Mikhail, the XO, nodded.
Popov continued, “I want you to send a message to the Akulas. Tell them to position themselves in this area here.” He pointed to a spot on the map, roughly 140 miles from the mouth of the New York Harbor.
“Ay, Sir,” Mikhail responded.
The captain went on, “Our last intelligence report, which is only two hours old, said a group of fifteen freighters left Baltimore Harbor yesterday, and a group of six US Navy ships left Norfolk about the same time. Both groups are headed to New York, most likely to link up with this other group of twelve freighters and four additional naval ships. Altogether, that makes 27 freighters being guarded by ten navy ships. Of the ten naval ships, three of them are actually Marine amphibious assault ships, so they will not pose a serious threat to us.”
“The Akulas should be ready to commence their attack as soon as they hear our cruise missiles launch. If they have a clear shot, they should target the Marine amphibious troop ships first. If not, then they should take out the largest freighters that they can-those will most likely be the roll-on, roll-off ships that would be carrying the heavy armor units.” Captain Popov paused for a moment to allow his XO to catch up; he had been writing notes down, and he was getting a little behind.
Pointing to another position roughly 150 miles off the coast of Nova Scotia, Popov resumed his explanation. “When everyone has carried out their attacks, we will rendezvous at this location here. Then we will regroup and determine what Moscow wants us to do next,” he said with a smile.
Mikhail’s mouth also curled up to one side, mischievously. “Sounds good, Sir. I’ll get these instructions written up and sent off within the next two hours.”
Prior to the conflict, the Russian Navy had equipped their submarines with a new buoy communication system. At certain times on different days, the subs would raise the buoy to just below the surface and send or receive a set of messages. The buoy would stay just below the surface, sending several small antennas above the water for no more than sixty seconds, just long enough to send and receive a burst message and then dip back below the waves. The time window was coming up soon.
“Good,” Popov responded. “We need to get moving if we are going to be in position to attack the convoy when it leaves for Europe tomorrow. We are set to make contact in less than 24 hours.”
Retirement Cancelled
Captain Patrick Gilbert had just taken over as the Commodore of the first major NATO supply convoy to leave the US for Europe; they had just finished assembling outside of New York Harbor, and would make the transatlantic journey shortly. Captain Gilbert had been nearing retirement when the situation in Europe turned sour. He was less than eighty days away from retirement when he received a call from the Chief of Naval Operations office, informing him that his retirement had just been rescinded, and he was to take over as Commodore of NATO Convoy Group Alpha. He was to take Command of the USS Churchill; a guided missile destroyer that had just completed a series of repairs at Norfolk to act as the command ship for the convoy.
Upon receiving his orders, he hopped in his Ford F-150 and drove down to the pier where his new ship was docked. He was greeted by the executive officer and the outgoing Captain, a Commander Richard Owens, who was being assigned to a staff position. It was an impromptu change of command as there was a lot to get done and not a lot of time to get it all accomplished. They had fifteen hours to get everything sorted before they needed to be on their way to New York to link up with the convoy. Captain Gilbert would have a total of six guided missile destroyers as part of his squadron to defend the convoy. They really needed about ten to do the job effectively, but the rest of the available ships had already been detailed off to the carriers that were putting to sea. With the loss of one carrier in the Black Sea, the Navy wasn’t taking any chances with the Russian submarines and had beefed up the carrier strike group’s compliment. He would have to make do with what he had.
Captain Gilbert lifted his mug to his mouth and took a long drink of the freshly brewed coffee that the steward had just brought to the bridge. After nearly 30 years in the Navy, Pat had become a bit of a java snob, and had developed the uncanny ability to balance the hot liquid in his cup no matter how rough the water got. Prior to the ship leaving port, he had brought his personal stash (40lbs.) of Calle San Juan Costa Rica coffee beans aboard, telling the stewards this was the only coffee he wanted brought to the bridge when he was on duty. The rest of the officers and enlisted personnel that worked on the bridge began to become fans as well of the sweet-toned Costa Rican java, which had a rich spicy floral note. It sure beat the garbage the Navy issued.
Lieutenant Commander (LCDR) Tiffany Brewster walked out on the bridge wing, and joined the captain as he drank his coffee. In the distance, she could see the coast of Delaware as they moved to where the convoy was forming up. Tiffany had joined the Navy because she wanted to follow in her grandfather’s footsteps, who had been an officer in the Navy during World War II. As a child, she used to listen to him tell her stories of what it was like during the war, riding a destroyer as they provided convoy duty in the Atlantic; his tales of hunting German U-boats had been scary but also exciting.
When she was old enough, she applied and was accepted to the Naval Academy at Annapolis. It had taken years of effort and a lot of career planning, but she had finally made executive officer of the Churchill, a guided missile destroyer. Her goal was to get a command of her own when she was eligible for her next promotion in two years. When she heard the Churchill was going to be commanded by a senior captain, she got excited; this was an opportunity for her to shine and prove she was ready for a command of her own. A senior captain could hopefully, help influence the selection board in her favor when the time came. She did not know a lot about Captain Gilbert, other than the fact that he was months away from retirement when he had been ordered to take command, but he had a solid reputation in the destroyer world as a very capable captain and mentor.
“You think the Russians are going to try and attack the convoy?” she asked the Captain, hoping to get a sense of what he was thinking.
Pat took another sip from his coffee, savoring the flavor as his ship crested another wave before plowing its way down the small trough. He turned and looked at his XO. She was young, but from what he had read from her personnel file and reviews, she was sharp and very capable. “If I were the Russians… I certainly would. The bigger question is, are we ready and capable of being able to stop them if they try?”
She pondered this question for a minute before responding, not sure if this was some sort of test. “I think it’s going to be challenging for us to guard 27 freighters and three Marine Amphibs with six escorts. I know we are supposed to have P-8 Poseidon support for the duration of the trip, but that’s a lot of ocean for us to have to cover.”