“This might be the ticket to ending this war if we can make it work,” Cotton thought happily.
Kholman looked at the map and paused. He scattered some notes on the paper in front of him, and Cotton surmised that General Kholman was calculating the distances. Suddenly, he frowned. “Herr General, I agree this would cause the Russian lines to collapse. However, I’m not sure if you are aware, but that would be roughly a 320 kilometer drive south, largely behind enemy lines. We would in all likelihood not be able to resupply them for several days, maybe even a week, depending on whether or not the enemy cut through our own supply lines,” he explained.
“What do you believe we’d need to have happen to make this plan work?” inquired Cotton. He really wanted to finish the Russians off there in Poland.
Kholman thought about that for a second. He looked at the units in the nearby area and consulted the map one more time. “Herr General, I’m not sure if the British are going to return to the war soon, or if they will at all, but if they did, we could probably complete the maneuver you requested if we could have the 16 Air Assault Brigade carry out a combat assault and secure Ivanava, Belarus, and Manevychi, Ukraine. I believe they would be able to keep our supply lines open and make sure Fifth Corps didn’t get cut off or surrounded.” He gestured to the locations on the map as he spoke.
General Cotton needed a moment to consider this option. No one spoke for a little while, although several of the people scribbled notes, apparently making their own calculations. Finally, Cotton replied, “I’ll talk to President Foss about that when I speak with him tonight. It’s only been twenty-four hours since the new British government was sworn in, and I’m not sure how quickly they’ll want to get back into the war.”
Looking now to his naval counterparts, Cotton said, “Changing subjects, are we ready to launch Operation Polar Bear yet?”
Operation Polar Bear was going to build on Operation Nordic Thunder by leveraging a naval task force to sail around the Kola Peninsula and finish off the remains of the Russian Navy. Once the Admiral Kuznetsov and the rest of the North Fleet were sunk, the amphibious assault portion of the operation could commence. The goal was to land a regiment of French Fusiliers Marins, the French version of the Marine Corps, who would assault Severodvinsk, Russia, in the White Sea, which would open up their access to the strategic city of Arkhangelsk. The French Marines would be supported by Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry. Between the three Canadian battalions and the French forces, General Cotton believed they should have more than enough strength to secure this critically important Russian seaport and open it up for future offensive operations once spring thawed the winter snow and ice.
French Admiral Denis Béraud, who would be leading the expedition, responded, “The task force is ready to sail within seventy-two hours of your giving us the order.” He crossed his arms, hesitating. “However, if I could, General Cotton, I would advise that we wait to see if the British are going to rejoin the war. If they do, then I recommend we hold off on deploying the task force until we can get the British to join us.”
Admiral Béraud pulled up a screen with a summary of his naval forces. “Right now, we have the Italian carriers Cavour and Giuseppe Garibaldi. Combined, these carriers have thirty-eight vertical takeoff aircraft. Then we have the Spanish Juan Carlos I, which can carry twenty-eight VTOL aircraft. Then I have my own carrier, the Charles de Gaulle, which can carry forty aircraft. We also have three amphibious assault ships that could carry additional aircraft, but I have intentionally left them to be dedicated helicopter assault ships to support the ground invasion. If we add in the USS Kitty Hawk, the USS Enterprise, and USS John F. Kennedy, it will bring our naval airpower to over three hundred aircraft. However, if the HMS Queen Elizabeth is able to join the fleet, it’ll add another fifty aircraft. Plus, we’ll be able to add the Royal Marines to the ground force. It’ll make our offensive much more effective.”
A smile spread across General Cotton’s face. “Admiral, I’m impressed. You’ve been given an incredibly difficult job of cobbling nearly a dozen navies together to form the largest allied fleet in the Atlantic since World War II, and you’ve done it. Again, I’ll speak with the President tonight to see what the status of the British is and if we may be able to count on them in this coming operation. Was there any trouble getting the American carriers manned and ready?” he asked. “I know they’d just recently been pulled out of mothballs, so they needed a lot of work done to them.”
Admiral Béraud nodded. “Yes, they needed a lot of work to get ready for this operation,” he replied. “However, I’d like to commend America on its ability to get these ships ready for war in such a short timeframe. In less than fifteen months, your shipyards were able to rewire them and install the most current defensive systems, targeting computers, and radars. It truly was amazing.”
General Cotton, who was now feeling much more optimistic than when he’d entered the room, concluded, “Thank you, everyone, for your hard work these past few days. We’re close to defeating the enemy. We need to stay focused on the task at hand and finish these snakes off.”
Then he got up and headed back to his office. He needed to prepare for his brief with the President, which would take place in two hours.
The air was thick with tension and apprehension as the men who would decide the fate of the free world sat at the table in the large room of the National Military Command Center, deep in the bowels of the Pentagon. From this very room, the launch orders to unleash America’s nuclear arsenal could be generated and executed. The men and women that manned this room on a twenty-four-hour basis at times felt the weight of the world on their shoulders as six nuclear-armed powers waged war against each other. They never knew if one or all six would at some point unleash those horrid weapons of mass destruction.
Sitting at the briefing table was the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Admiral Meyers, the service chiefs of each branch of service, the Secretary of Defense, the National Security Advisor, several of the intelligence directors and the President. They had just concluded a teleconference with the newly sworn in British Prime Minister, Rosie Hoyle, who’d just informed them that the United Kingdom would be resuming their participation in the war against Russia. She’d promised that her government was going to do everything they could to reinstate the military buildup and the prior deployments of the military to the continent. This was obviously welcomed news.
They didn’t have too long to revel in this happy development, though. A technician walked into the room and walked over to the colonel who would be leading the next brief. “Sir, the guys in Europe are ready for you,” he announced.
The colonel nodded, and the technician gave a thumbs-up to someone in the rear of the room to activate the screen. A second later, the image of General Cotton and a couple of his advisors were shown on the large screen.
“Good evening, Mr. President,” General Cotton said to the group. It was still technically lunchtime in the US, but he greeted him based on local time.