He swallowed hard, the thought bittersweet yet enticingly real. “Will do. I’ll stay safe. I’ll be home to you and the kids before you know it.”
“You’d better,” she said softly, heartfelt urgency underscoring her words. “We need you home.”
“I love you, Madz.”
“Love you more, Blackjack Six,” she teased gently. “Stay safe.”
As Alex ended the call, he took a deep breath, carrying her words like armor against the uncertain days ahead.
This had better stay an exercise… he ruminated to himself as he headed back to the barracks and the game of chess Bertil was bound to be waiting to play.
Captain Alex Mercer took a moment to stretch as the vehicles came to a halt. Today marked the eighth day since his advance party had arrived on Gotland. They were nearing the end of their familiarization tour, finalizing potential positions for equipment from the 1st Battalion, 59th Air Defense Artillery Regiment that was now steadily arriving. Major Zachary Holt, the battalion’s S3, had joined them the previous night, eager to scout precise locations for the launchers, radar stations, and supporting infrastructure.
The final area Mercer still needed to see lay along Gotland’s rugged eastern shore, where limestone cliffs plunged sharply into the Baltic, creating a natural barrier that had witnessed Viking longships, Hanseatic merchants, and invasion fleets alike throughout history. The strategic importance of this coastline was unmistakable, even in peacetime.
Captain Elin Boström, commander of the Gotland Regiment’s IRIS-T battery, had taken point for today’s visit. Mercer had found Captain Boström impressive from the moment they’d first met eight days prior, struck by how seamlessly she and Bertil combined sharp tactical knowledge with a deep appreciation of the island’s storied history, interspersed with casual wit and easy humor.
Today, Boström and Bertil had guided Mercer, Holt, and the rest of their small team to an overlook near Smöjen, several kilometers south of Kyllaj harbor. From this vantage point, the Baltic stretched out before them, glittering in the sunlight, with the hazy outline of Latvia faintly visible along the horizon.
Captain Boström gestured toward discreetly camouflaged equipment positioned nearby. “Right there is one of our IRIS-T radar installations,” she explained confidently. “It covers this entire sector, giving us excellent visibility toward the sea and early warning against threats coming from the direction of Latvia or mainland Russia. From here, we track every vessel and aircraft crossing into Swedish waters.”
“Impressive setup, Captain,” Sergeant First Class Holloway remarked, clearly intrigued. “What’s the radar’s operational range?”
Boström smiled warmly, appreciating Holloway’s genuine interest. “The Giraffe 1X radar we’re operating here can reliably detect air targets up to around seventy-five kilometers out,” she explained. “When it comes to smaller targets like FPVs, UAVs, and drones, its effective detection range narrows to between twenty and forty kilometers, with coverage extending up to about ten thousand meters — or around thirty-three thousand feet, for you Yanks,” she added with a playful wink.
Major Holt stepped forward, studying the position intently. “Captain, your IRIS-T battery and radar capability dovetail perfectly with what we’re setting up at Grönt Centrum. Once our Patriot battery is in place near Romakloster and the railway, your radar feed can directly augment our detection capabilities at lower altitudes. The Patriots will handle the higher and longer-range threats — ballistic and cruise missiles, fighter jets — while your IRIS-T provides intermediate coverage. Together, that’s a robust layered defense.”
“Exactly,” Boström confirmed enthusiastically. “Integrating your Patriot battery with our IRIS-T network is key to comprehensive airspace management. And with your Leonidas-III high-powered microwave systems in place, we’ll also neutralize drone swarms without firing a shot. I understand you plan to mount those on JLTVs and Strykers?”
“Precisely,” Holt nodded. “Bravo Company, 2-503rd Infantry, will operate eight Leonidas-III systems spread strategically around our critical assets — Patriot radars and launchers, HIMARS batteries, and our key command-and-control nodes. The HPM systems will be fully integrated through NATO’s Integrated Air and Missile Defence network, giving us an immediate, non-kinetic option against drone swarms and small UCAV threats.”
Mercer glanced out across the Baltic once more, the cool sea breeze tugging at his jacket collar. This spot near Smöjen, with its hidden radars and commanding views, underscored exactly why Gotland had long been a linchpin of Baltic defense strategies. The systems they were now positioning represented a decisive evolution in capability — a blend of high-tech equipment and skilled professionals committed to ensuring the island remained a formidable deterrent.
“All right,” Mercer said decisively, turning to Major Holt and Captain Boström. “This location is definitely a go. Let’s lock it in.”
Captain Alex Mercer and the small convoy departed the overlook near Smöjen, leaving behind the panoramic views and the concealed radar positions. They navigated narrow roads flanked by dense pine and juniper forests, heading north toward Fårösund, where the ferry connected Gotland to Fårö Island.
Arriving at the ferry terminal, Mercer noticed the expansive Baltic stretching out before them, dotted with islands and framed by stark, windswept shores. Captain Elin Boström guided them to a strategic viewpoint near the terminal, pointing toward the horizon.
“Here, and across on Faro, near Southern Sand, there are some campsites along the beach, and some roads that lead inland, connecting the beach to the rest of the island,” she explained, indicating a stretch of shoreline and how an enemy might come ashore. “If I was invading, I would come ashore here as it’s a prime location for amphibious landings and quick access to roads leading out of the beach area.”
Bertil unfolded a map of Faro and began to explain. “Captain Mercer, when you look at Faro, you have Southern Sand resort area in the south, and Norsta Aurer beach to the north. But only Southern Sand has immediate access to a road. It has fewer obstacles, mostly gravelly beaches — making this place ideal terrain if the opposition brings specialized landing craft.”
Mercer studied the landscape, already visualizing defensive positions. First Sergeant Tanner had his camera out again, methodically documenting angles and approaches. “I take it you guys have pre-registered artillery targets?” he asked, his voice clinical.
“Yes, of course, every hundred meters. In fact, we have pre-registered coordinates for every possible beach landing location onto Gotland and Faro. This makes it easy for artillery and air units to know where to bomb depending on what kind of information we are receiving,” Boström responded, pride evident in her confident tone. “This comes from decades of preparation. Each rock, every significant tree, everything has coordinates and firing solutions should the Russians and their friends try something.”
Just then, a chilly gust blew off the Baltic. Mercer could swear it felt like a tension in the air had just blown over them. It reminded him of a feeling, like something bad was about to happen. It was a premonition he’d felt during his time with the Rangers, when his company would provide security or overwatch for a Delta or SEAL before it went bad.
Mercer pushed the feeling aside, then turned directly to Boström. “What’s your professional assessment, Captain? If Gotland was assaulted by Russian VDV or Marines, how long could you hold out without reinforcements?”