“Yes, positively thrilling,” Charlie agreed as he looked at his new commando BDU. Again, his eyes widened with pure delight.
“Gentlemen, please, we are now officially behind schedule. You may prepare and dress aboard our transport.”
The six men looked around at the rising fog, confused as to their mentioned transportation. And again the British flight officer looked at his watch.
“Ah, listen. Here she comes.”
A whine pierced their ears. The old pier they stood upon shook and rattled, and even more ancient nails popped free of the grip they had at holding the old wood together. Suddenly, an earsplitting sound erupted from the sky, and they all felt the heavy downdraft as a large craft penetrated the remaining fog. The four jet engines easily evaporated the veil of fog closest to the wooden pier as the strange-looking aircraft started to settle.
“My God, I thought she was just a rumor,” Ryan said as he allowed the black Nomex suit to fall back into the open duffel.
“We hope the Russians have a similar way of thinking,” the Royal Navy officer said as he watched the fifty-five-foot airframe settle onto her extensive undercarriage. It looked like a larger version of the American-built Boeing V-22 Osprey VTOL, the vertical takeoff and landing system designed for the US Marine Corps. Instead of propellers, this version held four turbofan jet engines for each engine stanchion at the far edges of the tilt-wing craft. These started to wind down as the newest version of the amazing machine landed.
Jack looked at Ryan, who stood amazed. The aircraft was black and had a Royal Navy bull’s-eye emblazoned in even blacker paint along her fuselage. As she settled, a rear ramp slowly started to open.
“Gentlemen, this is your ride into the Atlantic,” Killeen said as he also examined the aircraft. “This is a joint venture between your Marine Corps and our Royal Marines. There are only four like it in the world — two here and two at Camp Pendleton in California. They are all still going through testing. This one is assigned to us. I give you the V-25 Night Owl. She’s capable of carrying seventy-five fully equipped commandos and introducing them into hostile theaters of war with stealth and speed. She is capable of supersonic flight with her swept-wing delta design. She is one amazing piece of equipment, I can assure you.”
The six men exchanged uneasy looks, and it was of course Jenks who had to voice the concern they were all feeling.
“Okay, that’s a good speech. Now, tell us how many copies have you lost in her testing phase.” Jenks stared at the officer and puffed on his cigar.
“Six.”
Jenks just nodded. “If my engineers had a success rate like that, we would have been out on our asses faster than—”
“Okay, Master Chief, we get it,” Jack said, eyeing Jason as if Jenks’s outburst was somehow his fault.
“Gentlemen, I assure you we will get you to your destination… alive.” Lieutenant Killeen smiled as he slapped the master chief on the shoulder, which elicited a scowl, and then gestured for them to board the amazing-looking aircraft. “Your magic carpet awaits.”
“I remember when the navy actually used ships. Wasn’t that a freakin’ novel time.”
They all smiled as Jenks turned and left for the boarding ramp.
“As much as I hate to agree with that foul little man, I myself have serious reservations about flying into a hurricane with that thing,” Henri said as he too followed Jenks.
Jack swallowed as the V-25 Night Owl started to spool her four wing-mounted engines up. Carl leaned into Collins.
“You okay?” he asked. “Did you bring your music?”
Collins shook his head.
“Well, I’m sure we can dig something up.”
Jack swallowed again as he watched Charlie, Ryan, and Jenks board the Night Owl. Everett took both duffel bags in hand and then gestured for Jack to go ahead.
The assault upon a ship that had become even more famous than the specter of the famous ghost ship the Flying Dutchman was under way.
Tildy’s circling winds were now over 155 miles per hour.
6
The mighty warship rolled heavily to port, knocking most of the crew on the battle bridge from their feet. A one-inch-thick window smashed inward as the green sea poured into the bridge. The large space of bridge was filled with the stench of vomit as men could no longer bear the attack on their inner ears and the motion sickness caused by the merciless rolling seas.
Captain Kreshenko regained his feet with the assistance of Second Captain Dishlakov.
“Seal that breach!” the XO shouted above the roar of the hurricane.
“Hang on!” someone shouted as another forty-foot wave cascaded over the immense deck of the battle cruiser.
Kreshenko cringed as he heard steel being sheared away from their uppermost mast. Electrical circuits shorted out all across the electronic suite of the battle bridge. Fires erupted as Kreshenko calmly replaced his hat.
“Captain, we are receiving a distress call from the Ustinov. They say they have lost their forward missile mounts and are taking on water in their engineering spaces.”
Kreshenko and Dishlakov ran to the aft windows and raised their binoculars to the north. At first they couldn’t see the missile cruiser, and their hearts simultaneously skipped a beat. Then they saw the smaller cruiser’s radio and electronic warfare mast rise above the crashing sea. Their momentary relief was stolen away as they watched an explosion erupt on the forward spaces of her deck. The fireball rose until the raging sea and high winds consumed it.
“She’s going to buckle, Captain!” Dishlakov shouted as more seawater rushed in through the damaged bridge window on their own battered warship.
“Helm, give me twenty degrees to port. We’ll circle slowly and assist as best we can. Have a rescue team ready to take on survivors if needed.”
“Aye.”
“Belay that order, please.”
Both officers turned as a man came through the port hatch, shaking water from his rain gear.
“Helm, bring her around,” Kreshenko again ordered.
“I said disregard that order,” Colonel Salkukoff said as he stripped the rubber parka from his body.
“We have a ship in trouble. Those are Russian sailors out there. We will assist.”
Salkukoff smiled and then nodded toward the Russian marines stationed on the battle bridge. With his nod, both guards pulled out their sidearms. One was leveled at the nineteen-year-old helmsman.
“Captain, it will be you who causes the death of your helmsman if he obeys that order. We are near to breaking through into the eye of the hurricane, so we shall remain on course. Do you understand?”
Before the glaring Kreshenko could respond, Peter the Great heeled hard over to the starboard side. This time it felt as though the giant battle cruiser could never recover. She was close to capsizing.
“Helm, turn her into the roll!” Kreshenko yelled over the din.
Another heavy wave crashed into the ship as the order was given. This time they all felt the pressure as Peter the Great was totally submerged for the briefest of moments before she rose back from the killing seas and took a large imaginary breath of life.
“Captain, we have a distress call from the Ustinov. She has buckled along her centerline mass. She has hull plate separation. They are requesting assistance.”
Dishlakov looked from the two marines holding their weapons on the captain and the helmsman toward the barbarian who was ordering their ship to turn their backs on a sister vessel in distress.