Treason, page 15
A report echoed from the Bridge box—a carry-on-suitcase-sized communication device plugged into the cockpit. “Bridge, Nav. Passing the one-hundred-fathom curve outbound.”
Wells acknowledged the report, then glanced at the Bridge display unit, as did Skogstad, checking Maryland’s progress toward the dive point.
“Shift the watch below decks,” Skogstad ordered. “Prepare to dive.”
* * *
A few minutes later, after shifting the watch below decks and securing the Bridge, USS Maryland submerged, settling out at a keel depth of eighty feet.
Skogstad turned to Kaufmann. “It’s your turn now.”
Commander Skogstad escorted Kaufmann and the SSP engineer, along with Lyman, the admiral, and the commodore, into the Missile Compartment. Awaiting them beside tube Twenty-one were the submarine’s Weapons Officer—Lieutenant Tom Martin—and two missile technicians: a chief and a petty officer first class.
Everyone had been briefed and the process was straightforward, but the crowded gathering made Kauffman nervous. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and opened his backpack, extracting a laptop computer, which he turned on, and a connector with a male USB head on one end and two alligator clips on the other.
Kaufmann plugged the USB end into his computer, then pointed to a thick black cable attached to the side of the missile tube. “I need you to disconnect the cable.”
He waited as a Byzantine series of orders and repeat-backs ensued between the Weapons Officer, chief, and petty officer, and the cable was disconnected.
Knowing this procedure would need to be done to hundreds of missiles by personnel without Kaufmann’s background, he’d designed the system to be user-friendly. He had, in fact, built an app for it, which could be loaded onto any personal computer. Additionally, although the connector Kaufmann was using today was crude, they could also design one that plugged into the missile tube connector instead of using alligator clips, simplifying the process even further.
Without a predesigned cap to ensure the computer was connected to the proper missile tube pins, he referred to a schematic that Lieutenant Martin provided. After examining the drawing, Kaufmann connected the alligator clips to two pins, which the SSP engineer verified, giving Kaufmann permission to proceed.
It was about as simple as it got. Energize the navigation card and activate the Russian algorithm, which would then burn the chip out. Kaufmann moved the cursor on his computer over the app, then tapped it.
Data scrolled down his computer screen: the navigation card energized, the Russian algorithm activated, and the chip sent a navigation update to flight control, which the missile disregarded in its current state. The chip should have then burned out, which the app verified by sending an identical command to activate the Russian algorithm. The navigation card ignored it.
Success.
Kaufmann disconnected the alligator clips from the missile tube. “You should be good to go now. The Russians won’t be able to mess with this missile.”
The Weapons Officer ordered the umbilical reattached to the tube and for the chief to run diagnostics on the missile. Commander Skogstad led the group back to Control, where they were joined a short time later by the Weapons Officer, who addressed the submarine’s Captain.
“Sir, we’ve verified the missile in tube Twenty-one is operational.”
“Very well,” Skogstad replied. He signaled another officer in Control, who approached with a message clipboard. As Skogstad reviewed the prewritten message, Kaufmann glanced at the contents, which reported Kaufmann’s procedure had been implemented, the missile verified operational, and USS Maryland was ready to launch.
Skogstad signed the message, then ordered, “Transmit.”
The message was quickly transmitted, then Skogstad ordered the Officer of the Deck, “Increase depth to two hundred feet and deploy a communications buoy.”
Lieutenant Wells acknowledged and the submarine tilted downward. Not long thereafter, with Maryland steady at two hundred feet, one of the two communication buoys in the submarine’s superstructure was released; the doors opened and the tethered buoy floated upward, stopping a few feet below the surface.
A report emanated from the speakers, “Conn, Radio. In sync with the VLF broadcast.”
Activity in Control died down as the submarine crew settled into its routine.
“What now?” Kaufmann asked of Commander Skogstad.
“We wait,” he replied, “for the launch message.”
47
WASHINGTON, D.C.
In the Situation Room beneath the West Wing, the president joined four other men at the table: Kevin Hardison, SecDef Dunnavant, Chief of Naval Operations Admiral Rettman, and Vice Admiral Rhodes. Unlike recent meetings, which had been permeated by a dark, somber mood, there was optimism in the air. They were about to launch a Trident missile again, hoping this time for a successful outcome.
The president directed his first question to Vice Admiral Rhodes. “Are we ready?”
“Yes, sir,” Rhodes replied. “A replacement missile with inert warheads and instrumentation packages was loaded aboard USS Maryland this morning, and we’ve disabled the suspect microprocessor in the missile’s navigation circuit.”
To Dunnavant, the president asked, “Have arrangements been made with General Andropov?”
“Yes, sir. He’s been informed that we’ve inserted a software fix into all of our missiles—although that’s untrue at the moment—and that we’ll launch one this afternoon. The Russians are undoubtedly awaiting the launch. Andropov is also available for a videoconference at Russia’s Ministry of Defense headquarters.”
Dunnavant glanced at the video screen on the far wall, split into halves. One side displayed a dull gray ocean with small whitecaps cresting beneath a brisk wind. The other half of the screen was black.
“Let’s get Andropov on line,” the president said.
Dunnavant spoke into the speakerphone on the table, directing the IT staff to begin the videoconference. General Andropov appeared, sitting at a conference room table flanked by several military officers.
“General Andropov,” the president said, “I want to advise you that the United States has restored its full nuclear deterrence. There was a flaw in how you implemented your sabotage, and all three legs of our nuclear triad are again operational. In a few minutes, we’ll launch another Trident missile, and I challenge you to alter its flight path.”
Andropov displayed no emotion as he listened to the president. When he finished, Andropov replied, “We shall see.” The screen went dark.
“Well,” the president said, “he’s certainly a man of few words.”
He turned to Dunnavant. “Send the launch message.”
* * *
The president waited in the Situation Room as the order was transmitted from the Operations Center in the Pentagon’s National Military Command Center. Admiral Rhodes said it would take about fifteen minutes from the time the message was transmitted for Maryland to establish launch conditions, spin up the missile, and send it navigation and target coordinates. They watched the display on the far wall, waiting for the missile to emerge from the water.
The minutes ticked by, then a missile rose from the ocean, its first-stage engine igniting once it cleared the surface. It accelerated upward, leaving behind a trail of white smoke, then disappeared into a thick blanket of gray clouds. The video screen switched to a satellite feed, detecting the missile after it penetrated the clouds and continued its climb through the Earth’s atmosphere. The missile’s programmed aim point, a few thousand miles into the Atlantic Ocean, blinked red, and a data feed from the instrumented missile scrolled across the bottom of the display.
The tension built as the missile shifted to its second-stage engine, continuing on its programmed trajectory. It then transitioned to its third-stage engine burn. When the engine shut down, the missile remained on track. From there, the warheads would land at a location determined primarily by the missile’s ballistic trajectory, modified slightly by pulses from the third-stage engine.
No one spoke as the missile continued its descent, with the data feed reporting when each warhead was released from the main bus. There was a collective sigh of relief in the Situation Room when each warhead landed precisely as programmed.
The president turned to Dunnavant. “Begin moving all Army and Air Force assets required for the NATO offensive.”
48
MOSCOW, RUSSIA
General Andropov, sitting at his desk across from Generals Volodin and Glukov, slammed the briefcase shut. He wondered if the hastily assembled controller was somehow inferior to the ten units under the control of the Strategic Rocket Forces at their headquarters in Kuntsevo. It had functioned perfectly the first time, however, sapping the power from the American B-2 bombers and altering the Trident missile flight exactly as directed. But a few minutes ago, he’d entered the same commands and the Trident missile had ignored them. The American president hadn’t been bluffing; they had somehow neutralized the Zolotov option.
The Zolotov option should have sidelined America for at least a year. By then, with no harm done to the citizens of the occupied countries—merely the installation of pro-Russian governments—NATO’s appetite for war would wane. As long as the people prospered, this time under the existing capitalist markets instead of communism, why shed blood to put their politicians in power instead of Russia’s? Politicians as a whole were vile anyway, and the thought of sacrificing the lives of honorable soldiers to put the right politicians in power riled his stomach. But now that the United States was unrestrained, and with the sting of Russia’s invasions still fresh, NATO would likely resort to military force.
Andropov examined Colonel Generals Volodin and Glukov, commanders-in-chief of the Aerospace and Ground Forces, respectively. Both men sat stoically in their chairs, their expressions guarded. He knew what they were thinking; was there a way out of their predicament, from both a military and personal perspective?
“Your assessment, Generals?”
Alexei Volodin was the first to respond. “The restraints have been removed from the United States, and their president will no doubt press for NATO intervention as he did last time. When evaluating the path forward, we must minimize the possibility that NATO will resort to military force. If we stop now, holding Eastern Ukraine and only a sliver of Lithuania, leaving the Baltic States independent, NATO would have minimal incentive to wage war.”
“A few months ago,” Andropov replied, “I would have agreed with you. Our previous invasion of Ukraine and Lithuania served as an excellent test of NATO resolve. There are many members within the Alliance with no intestinal fortitude. But with the right leadership, they will commit. With Germany joining the United States and Britain this time, I believe NATO will resort to military force, even if we take nothing more.” Andropov asked Glukov, head of the Ground Forces, “Your thoughts?”
“I believe NATO will intercede militarily,” Glukov answered. “We must either withdraw or take the measures necessary to prevail if a conflict ensues.”
“What would those measures be?” Andropov asked.
“I need more defendable positions and the continued commitment of the Airborne and Spetsnaz troops. Where do we stand on those forces?”
“General Grachev has pledged his full support, so the Airborne brigades will remain committed. You need not worry about the Spetsnaz, including the GRU brigades. They will follow my orders, although most of the GRU Spetsnaz have been assigned to guard our critical infrastructure sites, so the American president cannot blackmail us like he did last time.” Andropov paused, reflecting on Glukov’s first point. “You said you need more defendable positions. Explain.”
Glukov answered, “We need to advance to the Vistula and Siret Rivers and the Carpathian Mountains.”
“You’re talking about part of Poland and Romania, plus all of Ukraine.”
Glukov nodded. “If we are convinced NATO will attack, we must fight the battle on more favorable terrain. The Vistula and Siret Rivers, combined with the Carpathian Mountains, form a natural defense across the entire continent. It would leave only two small sections on each end of the Carpathians without easily defendable terrain. NATO offensives in either area would be perilous, as they’d be subject to pincer counteroffensives from each side. Additionally, advancing to the Vistula River will free the forces in Kaliningrad Oblast to assist. Their anti-air assets are formidable.”
General Andropov repressed a smile. This had been his plan all along; advancing to the Vistula River in Poland and taking the rest of Ukraine and northeast Romania, establishing defendable buffer states between Russia and NATO. Glukov was an astute general and had likely suspected Andropov’s endgame.
Andropov met Glukov’s eyes briefly, then asked, “If we advance into Poland and Romania, are you certain you can hold what we take?”
Glukov turned to General Volodin. “If we can prevent NATO from obtaining air superiority, my men will hold.”
Volodin answered, “As long as my task is to prevent NATO air superiority and not achieve it ourselves, I can accomplish the task. We have adequate anti-air assets to take the sky away from NATO.”
General Andropov considered Glukov’s plan for a moment, pretending he’d been surprised by the aggressive proposal. Finally, he replied, “Advancing to the Vistula and Siret Rivers and Carpathian Mountains is wise from both a military and political perspective. It offers the best chance of prevailing if the matter devolves into a military conflict, and also provides us with a significant bargaining chip with NATO. If it appears it is in our best interest to withdraw, we may still achieve our primary objective: we’ll offer to return the regions of Poland and Romania in our control in return for a sliver of Lithuania and NATO’s guarantee not to intercede in Ukraine. Each side gets something they want.”
As long as he had a say, however, Russia would keep everything.
Andropov gave the order. “Advance to the Vistula and Siret Rivers and the Carpathian Mountains.”
49
KIEV, UKRAINE
Kiev, the capital of Ukraine, is the largest city in the country and seventh most populous in Europe. Although many Ukrainians view Russia favorably and one-eighth of the population believe Ukraine and Russia should unite into a single state, the inhabitants of Kiev are more pro-Western. The city was primary site of the Euromaidan protests, which railed against government corruption and advocated for closer ties to the European Union rather than Russia. The protests led to the 2014 Ukrainian revolution, during which President Viktor Yanukovych’s Russian-leaning administration was replaced with a pro-Western government.
In his temporary headquarters overlooking the Dnieper River, which cut through the center of Kiev, Lieutenant General Dmitry Sokolov, commander of Russia’s 4th Guards Tank Division, reviewed the map on his conference room table, scrutinizing his unit’s defensive positions along the river’s east bank. He found it odd that a tank division would be assigned to such a dense metropolitan area. Armor was ill-suited for urban warfare, as the Germans learned in World War II after sending panzer divisions into Stalingrad. However, there was no better symbol of Russian military might than 4th Guards Tank Division columns entering the Ukrainian capital.
In addition to stationing an armored division in a major metropolis, Sokolov also found it odd that none of the bridges across the river were being wired with explosives. If NATO or the United States attempted to liberate Ukraine by force, Russia would destroy the bridges. However, with fifteen intact bridges spanning the river in Kiev, there was no better place for 4th Guards Tank Division if a march farther west was ordered.
Sokolov’s adjutant knocked on the conference room door, then entered carrying a red folder. Sokolov read the message inside. His instinct had been correct; his division’s brief stay in Kiev had come to a close. They’d been ordered into southeast Poland, tasked with seizing the main transportation hub of Rzeszów. He read the message further. The entire 1st Guards Tank Army had been assigned to take and hold southeast Poland.
A quick glance at the map explained everything. The Vistula River ran south from the Baltic Sea almost to the Carpathian Mountains, with the two geographic features forming a natural defensive line across Europe. The area in the center, near Rzeszów, was open terrain. If NATO launched an offensive, it would likely occur there, which meant the 4th Guards Tank Division would meet its nemesis, America’s 1st Armored Division—Old Ironsides.
Sokolov looked forward to the challenge.
50
FORT BLISS, TEXAS
Major General Dutch Hostler, commanding officer of 1st Armored Division, stepped from his office, looking calmly around the hectic headquarters building. His staff was busy on the phones, typing rapidly on their computers, reviewing and signing paperwork, and entering and exiting the building at a brisk pace. He folded his arms and leaned against the doorway. They were polishing the cannonball. 1st Armored Division’s preparations to date were good enough, and additional efforts would have no impact on the outcome. Whether you fired a polished or unpolished cannonball made no difference.
However, Hostler took pride in his staff as they attended to the final details of their transport to Europe. All personnel had been recalled; the tanks, armored personnel carriers, artillery, and other vehicles had been fueled, and supplies had been containerized. Transport ships were already docked or en route to the five largest Texas ports, where 1st Armored Division would embark. All that remained was the final order, and Old Ironsides’ twenty thousand vehicles and supply containers would be on the move.
