She considered the question carefully, then turned to face the sea. “That depends of course on how large the force is that invades, but if I had to guess, with the size of our force and your own, seventy-two hours against a determined invader. Perhaps ninety-six if we trade space to buy time.” Boström then turned to face Mercer directly. “But that’s not the primary strategy, correct? You Americans aren’t planning for a delaying action, are you?”
Mercer met her gaze firmly. “No, ma’am. We’re here to win.”
“Good. Then let’s hope your Patriots and Leonidas-III systems are as effective as your confidence suggests,” she replied, offering a thin smile.
Major Holt, who had remained quiet through most of the tour, spoke up. “With your IRIS-T batteries integrated, Captain Boström, and our Patriots in position around Romakloster and the Grönt Centrum, I feel pretty confident about our systems creating a solid, overlapping coverage of Gotland that’ll extend several hundred kilometers in every direction. Should the Russians or Chinese decide to get froggy with waves of FPV drones or something like that, our Leonidas-III HPM units and Strykers will handle any drone swarms and loitering munitions. I think this gives us some good flexibility and depth in protecting critical targets against conventional and hybrid threats.”
Mercer nodded approvingly. “Agreed. Especially in light of what they discovered from that Chinese cargo vessel your Navy intercepted off the coast. But that also brings me back to something I was thinking about during our last stop, Boström,” he said as he looked at Bertil’s map again. He pointed to Karlsvärd Fortress, at the entrance of Slite harbor. “I know this is a historical military fort, and the last time it was used was in 2011, but I can’t get past how geographically well positioned this location is for protecting Slite.
“You pointed out how you have one of your Giraffe radars located near Slite, and we’ll likely place one of those Leonidas systems there with a HIMARS truck. But what if we placed a platoon of soldiers on Karlsvärd, armed with Javelin ATGMs and MANPADs? We could turn that little island into a decent fortified position, especially if we pair the platoon with a mortar section and heavy weapons squad,” Mercer explained.
Colonel Lindqvist seemed to agree. “It’s not a bad idea, Captain. It does come down to manpower. We just don’t have enough soldiers to man all the positions we should. I’d like to broach this topic with your battalion commander and my own leadership. I don’t particularly like the idea of having your battalion scattered across three different locations like this. It leaves you too thin in too many areas and not strong in any one particular spot. But that is a political question that is above my pay grade. For now, let’s finish the site survey and prep for the arrival of the rest of your equipment and people.”
The ride back toward Roma was subdued, each occupant absorbed by their thoughts. Upon arrival at the tactical operations center, they were met with an unexpected sight: a cluster of civilian cars bearing official Swedish government plates.
“Great, speaking of politics,” Colonel Lindqvist muttered with thinly veiled annoyance. “It would appear we have our Stockholm observers visiting today.”
Mercer chuckled at the familiar feeling. I guess the military perspective of politicians is universal, even here in Sweden…
As Mercer and Colonel Lindqvist exited the vehicle, one of the bureaucrats made his way toward them. He extended a hand toward Colonel Lindqvist. “Colonel, good to see you again.”
Lindqvist smiled pleasantly, shaking his hand. “Likewise, Deputy Minister. If you’ll allow me, this is Captain Alex Mercer. He’s the company commander for Bravo Company, Second Battalion, 503rd Airborne Infantry,” the colonel introduced.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain. I’m Deputy Defense Minister Eriksson,” the slender man said. He adjusted his rimless glasses. “Don’t mind us. We are just checking in, here to assess how the integration of your forces into the defense of Sweden is going.”
“Things are going well, Deputy Minister. The majority of the American forces begin to arrive in the coming days,” interjected Lindqvist diplomatically.
“Oh, that’s good to hear. Hopefully, some of the residents will understand their presence is just temporary. You would be surprised how some residents are already expressing concerns about their pending arrival,” Eriksson cautiously warned.
“It’s nothing personal against you or your men, Captain,” he said to Mercer. “It’s just that American forces tend to draw attention — sometimes unwanted attention, some argue.”
Mercer got the hint and interjected firmly but respectfully, “We understand, sir. We’re mindful of that, and that is why we are looking to maintain a minimal footprint. No unnecessary presence in civilian areas. Out of sight, out of mind.”
“Hmm, that’s good to hear. Public perception remains sensitive,” Eriksson pressed, looking directly at Mercer. “I appreciate the ‘out of sight, out of mind’ mentality, but perhaps some community engagement might reassure some skeptical locals? You know, show the human side of NATO operations if you will.”
Tanner coughed quietly, suppressing amusement at the thought of paratroopers conducting soft community outreach.
“Perhaps once the units and their equipment have fully arrived, we can consider how to do something like this,” Lindqvist replied, ending the discussion.
As the delegation departed, Bertil appeared silently beside Mercer, observing the civilian cars leave. “Politicians… they want safety without soldiers, security without weapons. An impossible balance.”
“Same everywhere, I guess,” Mercer laughed. “Don’t worry, Bertil. They’ll appreciate us quickly enough if things turn ugly.”
“If,” Bertil echoed solemnly. “A small word with large consequences.”
Mercer gathered his team later that evening inside Roma’s tactical operations center. Maps and laptops filled the tables, powered by strong Swedish coffee. First Sergeant Tanner briefed on the main body’s imminent arrival, detailing housing arrangements and logistics. Major Holt outlined Patriot battery positions near Gråtmon, with secondary sites identified to the north and east.
Before adjourning, Mercer revisited Eriksson’s point about community relations. Ideas circulated: language training cards, sports matches with locals, structured activity to minimize friction. Yet Mercer knew the best reassurance came from effective defense.
As his team dispersed for the night, Mercer paused, staring across Gotland’s landscape now fading into twilight. Stepping outside, he felt the Baltic breeze again, crisp and invigorating. Soon, NATO’s pledge to Gotland would be tangible, embodied by soldiers ready to hold the line. Only time would reveal if their preparations would be tested, but until then, readiness was their watchword.
The kettle clicked off just as the front door opened. Klara Hedevig didn’t move from the window. She watched the mist crawl across the rooftops of southern Visby, soft tendrils of dampness rolling inland from the sea.
“You left the lock undone again,” came her boyfriend’s voice, boots thudding as he entered. “One of these days, I’ll walk in and scare you half to death.”
Klara turned just enough to offer a faint smile. “Maybe that’s what I was hoping for.”
Lars snorted. “Well, if you want a scare, I’ve got news for you.” He shrugged off his field jacket, tossed it over the back of the chair, and ran a hand through damp, wind-mussed hair. “You remember how we were told it would just be one company of American paratroopers?”