Captain Smith walked up.
Admiral Green turned. “Joe, have you met Danny MacDonald?”
They shook hands again. “Yes, we have, Admiral.”
“Danny, Captain Smith was recently selected for admiral.
He’s going to fleet up in a month to be vice commander Cruiser-Destroyer Group One.”
“Congratulations, sir,” MacDonald said.
Smith waved it off. “And don’t pay attention to what Kennedy said. He’s a lot more like you than his comments showed. Just a little younger.”
“Yeah,” Green said. “Deep selected for lieutenant commander and now commander. He’s about two years ahead of his year group.” Year groups identified the officers by their year of commissioning.
“Must be doing something right,” MacDonald said.
“I wonder if the navy knows he’s from a different Kennedy family,” Smith offered.
“Don’t know, don’t care,” Green snapped. “If he can handle the Coghlan as well as Danny commands the Dale, then we’ll have a hell of an ASW team.” He faced MacDonald. “We got a problem, Danny,” Green said softly.
MacDonald’s attention was piqued.
“The Soviets are convinced we are going to invade North Vietnam.” He motioned forward the captain in the doorway. “This is Captain Norton. Alexander Norton is an intelligence officer being detached to my staff. Alex, give Commander MacDonald a quick dump on what you told me this morning.”
Norton groaned. “Sir, we should do this in a special compartmented intelligence facility — a SCIF.”
“Captain, I’m the admiral and this is my intelligence compartment.” Green waved his hand around himself drawing the outline of an umbrella over their heads. Tell him.”
“Yes, sir.” Norton faced MacDonald. “The two submarines following the Kitty Hawk—”
“Are we sure there were only two?” Green interrupted.
“Yes, sir, we are pretty sure. We keep track of all the Soviet warships, so the process of elimination and knowing where the others are operating tell us not only how many could have been out there, but which ones also.”
“Anything else we need to know, Alex?” Green asked.
Norton shook his head; wavy black hair, about an inch too long by navy standards, fell out of place. “The only other crisis continues to be the Middle East one.”
“Shouldn’t bother us; we’re half a world away.”
“Shouldn’t, Admiral, but, the Soviet Navy views the Middle East as one of their growing spheres of influence. Anything we do there, they will react here.”
“Let’s hope they keep their guns in their holsters or the Kitty Hawk will blast them back into the nineteenth century.”
“Yes, sir. That we could definitely do,” Norton replied calmly, and then he cleared his throat. “With Egypt ordering the United Nations to withdraw its peacekeepers and then closing the Gulf of Aqaba to Israeli shipping earlier last week, things are going downhill rapidly.”
“What’s the latest?” Captain Smith asked.
“We received a report this morning from the Office of Naval Intelligence saying the Jordanian Army is massing along Jordan’s border with Israel. That brings to three the number of Arab armies — Egypt, Syria, and Jordan — surrounding Israel.”
Smith’s eyes narrowed. “Do we think they are going to attack Israel?”
Norton took a draw on his pipe as he nodded. “Why would you spend the money, rhetoric, and ego on sword rattling unless you intended to do just that? Nasser is leading the rhetoric. Egypt has always been the strength, power, and key to controlling the Middle East. When Egypt snaps its fingers, the other Arab nations jump in line.”
“If they are going to attack, when do we think they will?” Green asked.
“Good question, Admiral. I would expect something this week, but not later than a week from today. Not on a Friday — that’s their Sabbath, and Saturday is the Jewish Sabbath. If I were the Arabs, I would do it next Saturday, if Israel waits that long.”
“You think they’ll do something?” MacDonald asked.
“Who?” Green questioned.
“The Israelis,” MacDonald replied.
Norton shrugged. “The Israelis are surrounded. We are the only ally they truly have. They will weigh what they do with what we will support.”
“Do we know what President Johnson will do?” MacDonald asked.
“He won’t support them,” Green said adamantly. “The president has his hands full with Vietnam, the riots, and the demonstrations. I don’t think the American people would support a new war.”
“We can’t stand by and watch the Arabs destroy Israel,” Smith said.
Green let out a deep breath. “We have our own war here in the Pacific. We’ll have to hope the French mission to Egypt is able to defuse the situation.”
“French mission?” Smith asked.
“The French have sent a delegation to meet with Nasser. To try to defuse the situation and get the Egyptians to pull back from the border with Israel,” Norton answered.
“And if they fail?” Green asked.
“If our mercurial French ally fails, then we’ll have to wait and see if the Israelis can pull another surprise victory.”
“The Syrian and Egyptian armies are Soviet-trained,” MacDonald said.
“If I were the Israelis, I’d be more concerned about the Jordanian Army,” Norton added.
“Why’s that?” Smith asked.
“They are British-trained. Until a few years ago, the Jordanians always hired a retiring British general to be their chief of the army. The Jordanians are well trained, well educated — in comparison to the Egyptian and Syrian soldiers — with high morale, extreme professionalism, and confidence. The key for Israel will be keeping the Jordanians contained. The good news for the Israelis is the Jordanian Army is the smallest of the Arab armies.”
“Seems everywhere you look in this modern age of 1967, there’s something propelling us toward a nuclear war with the Soviets,” Green said. “Regardless of what President Johnson may or may not do — and, regardless of what I think — I cannot see America standing by and letting Israel lose.”
The three officers nodded in agreement.
“Do you think there is a chance they may divert the Kitty Hawk and Tripoli to the Middle East?” MacDonald asked.
“There is always a chance,” Green replied. He looked at Captain Smith. “Joe, we should check our supplies to see what we have if such an order came down.”
“Aye, sir, will do that after the briefing.”
“Meanwhile, we need to get back to our own piece of the geopolitical show called Beacon Torch,” Green said. “We will have to let the Sixth Fleet worry about Israel.” He turned to Smith. “Joe, when we get back to the carrier, take a look at our emission control status. Let’s see how we can curtail our radars and communications to reduce detection by those commie bastards.”
Bocharkov stepped into the control room. The sound of the pumps operating quietly on the deck below kept a soft vibration constantly permeating the K-122. He made a mental note to have this vibration quieted when the K-122 went back into the shipyard.
“Captain in control room,” Chief Diemchuk, the chief of the watch, announced. Near the hatch where Bocharkov entered, a young starshina made a notation in a green logbook.
“Status?” Bocharkov asked, looking at Ignatova standing near the periscope.
Near Ignatova stood Lieutenants Golovastov and Dolinski.
Just what he needed to take a tense operation inside the U.S. Navy bastion of Subic Bay and make it better. Both the GRU Special Forces gung-ho “kill and take no prisoners” Spetsnaz and the Party-political “working together for a Socialist tomorrow” zampolit.