He looked back to the left side of his screen, where the six remaining cruise missiles were now reduced to two, but were merging with dots that David knew were his own ships. "Four more missiles down," he heard the report. But each person in the room was watching, horrified as one of their own ships disappeared from the screen. The voice continued for a moment, then broke, "Harold Holt hit amidships… she's broken in half… after section sinking rapidly."
But the second hit was even worse from the Admiral's viewpoint. He knew from the early part of the battle which spot on his screen represented Virginia, and that one of the missiles had merged with her dot also. "What is the report from Virginia?"
"Nothing, sir. We have no communication with her."
A click from the speaker on Nimitz' bridge drew their attention to Frank Welles's voice. "Terrific explosion over the horizon to the west, Admiral. Something besides a missile."
"That's the Virginia, Frank. Can you see anything? We know she's been hit,"
Silence, for just a moment, even though the speaker button was depressed. They could hear the exclamations in the background. "Oh, my God." It was Welles's voice again. "There was a second explosion in the same location, sir.…" He paused for a second, likely using his binoculars. "There can't be anything else left!"
Where there had been a dot on his screen representing the nuclear-powered cruiser, there was now nothing. Six hundred feet and eleven thousand tons of guided missile cruiser, with 450 men aboard, had seemingly disappeared. One of his few Aegis-equipped ships had gone as if by magic. The voice brought his mind back to the present: "Mitscher reports Virginia has exploded, sir. They say the missile probably hit the aft magazine and the forward one went off almost immediately after… sir, they say nothing's left… no survivors." The speaker's voice was incredulous.
"Submarine contact to the southwest, sir!" He saw immediately on his screen that two of Kupinsky's subs had pulled closer together, possibly for an attack on the escorts. They had to get through them before they could get to Nimitz, and that was why he had sent some of the frigates off in that direction.
The board in front of him told the story to the north as missiles that had been fired by the Rigas either blinked out or continued on toward their targets. These were not as big or as fast or as sophisticated as the cruise missiles, but they could do enough damage to any ship. As he watched, a number of the Rigas disappeared from the screen, victims of Wainwright's coordinated firing with its small northern force. And some of the missiles that had been fired at the ships were now merging with their targets.
"Wainwright reports John Paul Jones, Preble, Radford and Knox have all been hit, sir."
"How serious?"
"No report yet, sir."
David could see another Riga wink out on the screen. The new Mongoose missile system was proving effective. Like many of their other weapons, it had never been tested in battle, but much of its development had been based on the Riga fighter, a jet that Kupinsky had originated to complement the new VTOL carriers he had created for the Soviet Navy. He wanted a jet that could fire low-level missiles, difficult to track on radar. Sam Carter had known for quite a while that the Riga would have to be developed. The.Russians had no long-range threat from their Kiev-class carriers until a VTOL jet could be built that could land and take off on the smaller decks, carry enough fuel to prove itself as a long-range fighter, and still have a weapon system that would make it worthwhile for air/surface attack, in addition to protecting itself in the air. Carter had simply made that aircraft a priority-one project for the C.I.A., and he had developed a missile to counter it as the basics of the Riga were made known to him in bits and pieces. The Mongoose was up to expectations.
"Wainwright reports three Rigas still in the air but turning to the east. She's breaking off attack to assist in fighting fires on John Paul Jones. Heavy damage to the other three ships, but none are in danger of sinking."
"Okay, Bill." He turned to his operations officer. "Send a couple of those Tomcats after them."
"No problem, sir. We already have the target information relayed to them and they're in the last approach phase now. Our only difficulty is that there's three of them, each on different courses and — at different altitudes, and only two of ours. I think you're going to have to settle for one of them getting back to the barn.", "Shit!" He looked at the screen, then back at Dailey. "How many Rigas in that flight?"
"An even dozen, sir. Give Wainwright's ships credit, Admiral. They got nine of them. The Mongoose tears a plane apart when it's hit. And, please remember, they were countering a missile attack at the same time, Admiral. It was no turkey shoot, but that's almost half Lenin's complement of fighters. They're going to have to borrow the air group from Minsk before they get any closer."
"You're right, Bill. I know. Perhaps I should be sending another flight out now to try to finish off Lenin while she's weak."
"Let's wait out the first strike, sir. They should be on target shortly. And Lenin still carries Forgers for close-in air protection."
Another voice broke in. "Tomcats have fired on the remaining Rigas, sir." David looked up at the screen, but found it was taking him a moment to reorient. He saw the two dots representing his own aircraft, and three for the Rigas, but there appeared to be missiles fired from both groups. At about the same time that two of the Russian planes were obviously hit, one of the Tomcats disappeared from the screen. As if in answer to his next question, he heard, "Pilot in the water. Josephus Daniels has helos out for recovery."
"Bill, I'd like to get a feedback from War Games as soon as possible on their tactics. As far as I can see, their naval air just doesn't have enough experience, but then we're not so hot in defending ourselves against their damn missiles."
"Yes, sir." Dailey bent forward slightly and picked up a sound-powered phone, speaking briefly for a moment. He waited. His eyebrows knit together. He spoke briefly and replaced the instrument in its cradle. "Problems with computer relay, Admiral. Computer officer is checking it out again, but our equipment seems okay. He says the only other problem could be in their equipment at Johns Hopkins, but they have backup. Unless something's happened to the satellite relay." He raised his eyebrows in question.
"Call him back, Bill. Tell him not to worry about his computers, if they check out. And you might tell him it's probably not Hopkins either."
Admiral Alexander Kupinsky leaned forward, cradling his chin in his hands and resting his elbows on the deck railing of the signal bridge, one level above the pilothouse. He surveyed the maze of radars, missile launchers, and antiaircraft guns before him. Lenin was as well equipped to fight off an attack as a cruiser, with her array of surface-to-air, surface-to-surface, and antisubmarine missiles. She also carried torpedoes and rockets in case of close-in attack, but her main armament was still her aircraft. Built as his flagship, she now carried 24 long-range Riga fighters, 12 short-range Forger fighters, and 25 Kamov helicopters, and she still maneuvered like a destroyer. Kupinsky had literally designed her himself, or rather he had designed the first of her class, the Kiev. There had been more than enough time.