Depending upon what’s coming in from the west, I wouldn’t be surprised to see her miss land completely, and end up a greatly weakened front somewhere up here in the mid-Atlantic-ridge area.”
Kram sat forward with this revelation and once more expressed himself.
“But that’s smack dab in the middle of the QE2’s great circle route.”
“I realize that, sir,” replied the meteorologist. “But this is all speculation. And even if Marti were to make a beeline for the ridge, she’d have to develop into a major hurricane to keep from breaking up in the cold water up there.”
“If my mental calculations are correct,” interjected Doug Gilbert, “for the storm to affect this crossing, it would really have to haul ass big-time. Hell, it’s a good three thousand miles from the ridge, with an awful lot of water to cover in between.”
“Don’t forget that we have the Iwo Jima battle group cruising north of Bermuda as we speak,” reminded Kram. “Marti could sure spoil their day and negate their effectiveness as any kind of quick-response force.”
“The hell with the Iwo Jima and that group of Leatherneck fags that they’re carrying,” retorted Gilbert. “Me and my laddies are all the quick-response force that this mission is going to need. And with all due respect, Captain, Chief Murray here is still only a weatherman, and all of us have learned the hard way that when Dave predicts sunny and warm, you’d better bring the rubbers!”
This comment generated a roar of laughter, and Gilbert beckoned the meteorologist to be seated. As he did so, SEAL Team Two’s CO looked to his right and addressed the clean-shaven officer seated at Kram’s side.
“Lt. Comdr. Calhoun will be briefing us on the Folk’s operational orders.”
Dan Calhoun was the sub’s good-natured XO. A Naval Academy graduate, Calhoun was on the fast track to his own command, with his special interest being battle tactics and the history behind them. Like the majority of his crew mates, he was dressed in a dark blue poopy suit, with gold dolphins on his left chest, and the Polk’s flying eagle insignia opposite.
“Good evening, or should I say, good morning, gentlemen. I’ll try my best to keep this short and sweet, so please bear with me. As all of you know, the Polk has been tasked as a National Command Authority asset this patrol, and as such, we’re reporting straight to the CNO. A direct SATCOM link has been established between the Polk and the CNO’s op center in the Pentagon. We’re also keeping a radio link open with the Iwo Jima battle group, where Admiral Campbell is our NCA contact.
“I appreciate everyone’s efforts in getting the Polk ready for this mission. The QE2 left New York right on time, and we made our first contact with her approximately forty-five minutes ago. As planned, she’ll be continuing on an easterly heading until she crosses the continental shelf. At her current speed, that will take place sometime in the morning, when she’ll be making her first major course change to the northeast. This heading of 060 will convey them due south of Cape Sable, Nova Scotia, where the HMS Talent is presently on station.
“Together with the Talent, the Polk will continue to ride shotgun on the Queen, with our next rendezvous point south of Newfoundland’s Cape Race.
This is where the great circle portion of the crossing begins, and it’s here that we’ll link up with the Russian Akula-class submarine, Baikal, and France’s Casablanca.”
This revelation generated a disgusted grumble from his audience, and the XO was quick with damage control. “Hey, guys, we’ve gone over this before, and there’s nothing we can do about it. Look, I’m no more excited than you about the prospects of working with three other submarines. The Polk’s a lone wolf, and even though we’re more than capable of protecting the QE2 on our own, we’re just going to have to live with Command’s decision, flawed though it may be.”
Benjamin Kram was quick to stand and offer his support. “The XO is correct, gentlemen. We’ve gotten our fair share of unpopular orders before, and the time for whining is over. This is the way the President and the international community wants it, and this is the way it’s going to be. Case closed.”
This definitive statement served to silence the crowd, and Kram sat back down and gestured his XO to continue.
“Air coverage for the first half of the crossing will be compliments of Canada’s 404 Maritime Patrol Squadron. We’ve worked with the Flying Buffaloes before, off Andros, and for my money, next to the U. S. Navy, these guys are the best.
“East of the mid-Atlantic ridge, Royal Air Force Nimrods will take over, providing air coverage all the way to Southampton. Throughout the crossing, the QE2 will be under constant satellite surveillance. The National Reconnaissance Office will be coordinating America’s space-based assets, including a newly launched Big Bird platform and a U. S. Navy White Cloud unit. The Russians will be providing use of their latest RORSAT radar-scanning satellite, with the French National Space Agency covering the passage with a SPOT recon platform.”
“XO,” the sub’s COB. “What’s the latest on those sunspots?
Last time I paid a visit to the radio room, both the VHF and UHF bands were so filled with static that I thought our antennas were malfunctioning.”
Dan Calhoun looked to the other side of the room, nodding toward the meteorologist. “Chief Murray, can you help me out with this one?”
SEAL Team Two’s weather expert shrugged his broad shoulders and answered. “The interference that COB is referring to is being caused by the opening shots of what looks to be a very active eleven-year sunspot cycle. Think of it as a period of bad weather in outer space that starts off when plumes of hot, ionized plasma gas are ejected from the sun and directed toward earth via solar winds blowing at over one-million miles per hour. The trouble down here occurs when these gasses slam into the earth’s magnetic field at supersonic speeds. And since this is only the beginning of the next active cycle, I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do but try our best to work around it.”
“Sort of like how the Polk is coping with this fucking mission,” added Doug Gilbert, to another outburst of laughter, especially from the SEALs gathered on his side of the room.
The Folk’s XO got a chuckle out of this as well, and finding himself with nothing else to say, he looked down to Benjamin Kram.
“Commander Gilbert,” remarked Kram, after glancing at his watch. “Is there anything else you’d like to add to this brief before we break?”
The moustached commando scanned the familiar faces of his audience and singled out a tall, blond-haired officer standing at the back of the room. This smooth faced middle-aged individual wore a dark green woolen sweater over his khakis, and was in the process of calmly sipping a cup of hot tea.
“Lieutenant Colonel Laycob,” said Gilbert. “Would you mind joining me up here and saying a few words?”
With a deliberate slowness, the officer this request was directed to put down his mug. As he proceeded to the front of the compartment, Gilbert offered the initial introduction.
“Lieutenant Colonel Laycob of the Royal Marines is the newest member of our team. He joined us two days ago, and many of you haven’t had a chance to meet him as yet.”
“I’m certain that the pleasure will be all mine,” muttered Lawrence Laycob with a clipped English accent. On arriving beside Gilbert, Laycob nodded toward the Folk’s CO and added, “Captain Kram, distinguished officers and enlisted men, may I take this opportunity to thank you for your warm hospitality. I realize that I’ve been sent into your midst by a joint decision of that international community that you mentioned earlier, and I do hope that I don’t prove a bother.”