Through the window in the door, Dick spotted the white snowflakes flashing past the dark backdrop of the Hinnoy heights, mere hills of three thousand feet — and now the Sea King was dropping prudently between the peaks of Hinnoy and Grytoya which loomed darkly against the night sky.
'Going in.'
The gutteral English came clearly through the intercom, and then there was the slight bump as she touched. The motors slowly unwound and the engines growled to a stop. The door was opened by the aircrew and then Dick was tumbling out and on to the hard snow. The senior pilot held out his hand.
'Thanks,' Dick said.' Thanks very much.'
'Okay… see you, soldier.' And the Dutch pilot grinned from within his bone dome as he unharnessed himself. Refuel and then he'd be off again into the night to find Oileus — but there'd be no beacon for him on the way back: STANAVFOR-LANT had re-established silence.
Stoddart sucked in his breath when the cold hit him. He slung on his gear, flipped up the collar of his jacket, pulled down his ear muffs, then stomped across to the Royal Marine who was doubling across the field to meet him.
He returned the driver's brisk salute, and then they lugged his gear into the back of the Land-Rover; they drove off beneath the brittle glare of the road lights heading for the Naval Headquarters at Ramsund.
The Commander, 42 Commando Brigade, was striding into the briefing room when at 1600 precisely, Ian Dixon, a buddy of Dick's, shovelled him into a seat at the back. ' When the OC's finished, I'll take you to Staffie,' he whispered. ' Everything's fixed, but you're not getting all you asked for.'
A blown-up map of Northern Norway was projected on to the wall behind the commander. Colonel Backhouse was a tough-looking character, but he spoke quietly, unemotionally, presenting the day's briefing to them as if this was just another exercise. He, too, had discarded his arctic gear, was beret-less and relaxed in his woolly pully.
'Evening, gentlemen. I'll be brief, because time's against those of you in 42's rearguard who have still to deploy tonight. Fortunately, we can't tell night from day, so you shouldn't be feeling the strain.' He faced them all, the tip of his pointer tapping the cleft in his chin. 'Before starting the main brief, I want to remind the more junior of you and the newcomers of the reason we're here.' He cleared his voice, spoke clearly, precisely, choosing his words:
'The objective of the Royal Marine Commandos is summed up in one word — deterrence. That's why we are deploying with full publicity, why we are broadcasting to the enemy that we are taking up our battle stations alongside our Norwegian friends; that's why we're taking no deceptive or security measures with our amphibious operations. Our job, gentlemen, is to buy time for the NATO politicians, so that they can make up their minds. We're here to show the Soviets that our side means business; if the shooting starts, we've failed in our primary objective. Until you deploy to your prepared positions, you can make as much song and dance about it as you like. No restrictions on radio, but don't clutter the air. And now to re-cap the enemy's objectives…' He cleared his throat and turned to the map, his pointer indicating each area as he referred to it.
'Tonight, gentlemen, some of you might be excused for feeling that, after so many years of arctic training, you may at last be called upon to use it. So what is the Soviet line-up at this moment while 45 Commando, in conjunction with the Norwegian Sixth Division and Brigade North, is taking up its advanced positions — and you, tonight and tomorrow, your own lines?' His pointer flicked to Murmansk.
'At 1000 this morning, the Russian strengths were as follows: The customary two motor rifle divisions totalling twenty-four thousand men on the border, in the Kola inlet; the Naval Infantry Regiment of seventeen hundred men, a complete package with its thirteen amphibious ships. Add to this total their 400 tactical aircraft and their logistic backing and we've counted somewhere around forty thousand men. Of course, they can also throw in their airborne forces from the Leningrad area.' He turned to regard the silent rows of officers before him.
'He may try to move his forces by road, but don't forget that he can't, any more than we can, shift more troops than the capacity of the two routes will allow: one division of twelve thousand down the E6; the other division across the Finnish Wedge. If he decides to go all out and violates Finnish neutrality, then, of course, we'll have plenty of warning. His first wave is bound to be his armour and motorized riflemen; the second, his back-up ammunition and logistics.' Several hands were raised — he grinned as he anticipated the inevitable questions:
'Yes, I know, gentlemen, he doesn't have to come by road…' He paused, flicked a scrap of paper from his pocket. ' I have news for you, a Flash Report: " Leningrad Fourteenth Motor Rifle Division confirmed 28 December rail junction Kandalaksha, probable deployment Kuolayarvi."' The commander's pointer jabbed at the focal frontier town where rail and road communications met, a quarter of the way down the Finnish-Russian border.
'You may or may not consider that this is a feint, gentlemen, to distract us from our main deployment in Finnmark and Troms; but they've also announced their Northern Fleet manoeuvres into the Barents Sea. Their main units sailed north from the Kola inlet less than an hour ago. Simultaneously, their ' Woodpecker' jamming procedures began, so all radio communications and radar systems are blotted out to the south of Mo-i-rana. Satellite surveillance continues but a white-out has been reported from Novaya Zemlya. These reactions are a deliberate escalation of tension.'
Dick could hear his neighbour's breathing; the silence in the room was complete.
'Gentlemen, we've been beaten to the gun by our enthusiastic Danish NATO friends: at 1600 yesterday, without consulting us, they declared internationally that, for their own protection, they had activated their controlled minefields to the boundaries of their offshore limits.
'The Soviets have reacted by coming to Full Alert on the Central front, announcing at the United Nations that they consider the Danish action, that of a NATO member, is one of aggression and of escalation. The Russian Kuolayarvi deployment can be considered as a reaction to NATO'S firm posture, I believe. But don't forget, gentlemen,' he added quietly, 'that our six-day warning period expires this evening. Our planners have not been far out.
'HQ is convinced that the enemy, as always, is interested in only the Troms region — anywhere below Narvik is unimportant to him. He needs to take out our installations in Finnmark, destroy our dominance of the Barents Sea.' The colonel glanced at a Norwegian Air Force colleague. ' Our Air Force chums are flying aggressive patrols off North Cape, but are being buzzed by Kola MIGS.' He turned to the officer sitting directly below him. ' Come on, Jake…. The brigade major will now give you your orders.' He sat down, taking the brigade major's chair when the second-in-command took over. The brigade major was a stocky man, bristling with self-confidence.
'Right.' He jabbed his pointer towards the left hand corner of the map. 'Because of STANAVFORLANT'S enemy report two days ago, the Norwegians have asked us to send a company of Royal Marines up to Jan Mayen Island… and as you'll see, this has meant sorting 42 out a bit.' He pinched his ginger moustache.' First, the political situation here:
'Our Norwegian friends are as angry as hell over the Americans' bleating that NATO should pull out from its northern flank because our position here is untenable. I'd be as angry, if I was in the Norwegians' predicament. But, as you all know, gentlemen, our friends mean to fight it out to the death, if the Russians invade.' He lowered his voice, then added: 'There's no need to add that 45 and 42 Commandos will stick by its allies.'