James Rouch
HUNTER-KILLER
For Lily and Bill Mellor
Cover illustration:
Soviet surface to air (SAM) missile SA-8. NATO code name, Gecko.
Slant range 8.5 miles. Infra-red homing.
Warhead weight 105 lbs (with proximity fuse).
Fired in pairs to defeat electronic counter measures; typical interception speed is Mach 1.5.
The six-wheeled amphibious transporter is based on components of the ZIL-E167 truck. A central tyre pressure regulation system is fitted and the vehicle is sealed for use in NBC environments. Usually employed well forward, the lack of armour has proved a handicap, the radar group in particular being vulnerable to damage by shell fragments. (A tracked armoured carrier is under development.) Eight reload rounds are carried; when they have been used it is necessary for the crew to ballast the vehicle before attempting river crossings. The 12.7mm DShK machine gun, shown on the example is a local modification.
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‘As I see it, World War Three will be fought in two places; in Western Europe, and on and under every damned inch of ocean around the globe.’
The Atlantic. Aircraft from the USS Carl Vinson, lead ship of the nuclear powered task force commanded by Admiral Howard Murray, have made their second ‘kill’ in three days, bringing to four the number of Soviet submarines destroyed by the Force in as many weeks. NATO sources have expressed confidence that the threat to the convoy routes is steadily diminishing. Merchant shipping losses in the last quarter were down by 46 per cent, to 789,000 tons for that theatre.
The Mediterranean. The Palestinian gunboat, Black September (ex-Soviet Poluchat class patrol boat) has been sunk by the Israeli helicopter/missile craft Aliya. A mixed force of British and American destroyers has sunk the Soviet fleet replenishment ship Boris Chilikin (23,00 tons) and driven aground or damaged three Mirka class frigates off Kinaros, at the entrance to the Aegean Sea. HMS Birmingham and USS Dewey suffered some damage in the night engagement, but are remaining on station.
The Pacific. Rescue and decontamination parties are now satisfied they have located all of the survivors aboard the USS Nimitz. Rough weather has prevented the transfer of the last of the casualties to the hospital ship Sanctuary, but a volunteer medical team has established facilities aboard the carrier. With 140 feet of the bow and its island superstructure gone and the bodies of a thousand crew members still on board, it is thought likely, though the Navy Department has issued no statement as yet, that the ship will eventually be sunk as a war grave. The warhead that inflicted the damage, killing 50 per cent of the 6,328 strong complement, is estimated at 5Kt.
The North Seal Baltic Approaches / Baltic. In the past week, five new hulls have been launched from the Soviet naval shipyards at Leningrad, and four warships have completed fitting-out, including a Kresta class cruiser. Three refitted destroyers and six new frigates have joined the squadrons working-up off the coast of Poland. Increased radio activity and the ships deployment has been taken by the NATO Intelligence Staffs as an indication that the Russians may shortly attempt a breakout into the North Sea. If successful this would totally alter the balance of power in the area, and seriously threaten the resupply of NATO ground forces in the Zone.
There is intense diplomatic activity between Stockholm and Moscow, and it is thought likely that the Russians are bringing pressure to bear on Sweden to gain rights of passage for Warsaw Pact combat vessels through her territorial waters. If this is granted, then the Soviet ships will be able to avoid the extensive NATO minefields in the Kattegat. Strenuous efforts to counter the Russian move are being made by Western diplomats, who fear that such a concession could be the forerunner of an agreement between the two countries that would virtually take Sweden into the Soviet camp.
ONE
Flames were coming from the port inner engine of the giant Ilyshin military transport. As the aircraft banked steeply towards the cover of broken cloud below, the feather-edged yellow streamer of fire spread along the high-set wing to its root. It seared away the banded green and brown camouflage paint and its furnace heat buckled the thin alloy skin of the fuselage. The blazing two-shaft turbofan suddenly broke from its pylon and whirled into space, trailing a ribbon of blue smoke.
For an instant a bank of cloud hid the aircraft from sight, then as it emerged into clear sky once more, it was wracked by an internal explosion that littered the air with anonymous debris. Huge sheets of ragged metal were caught and tossed by the slip-stream. The nose of the Ilyshin dropped sharply as it began its last, uncontrolled descent.
There followed a second, more violent explosion that tore the flame-enveloped wing from the transport, and it rolled on to its back and began to break up as it went into a steep dive. A moment before the clouds hid it again, the rear cargo doors burst open and the sky was seeded with the burning fragments of its palletised load and the tumbling bodies of its handling crew.
‘Don’t get fucking excited. It’s not a real-time transmission. The general likes a few tapes of edited highlights played when things are a little slack.’ Major Revell didn’t need to look away from the big screen and the operations room spread out below to know that it was Ol’ Foul Mouth who stood behind him on the balcony. The dramatic scenes of the recording had already been replaced with grid, continent outline and vari-coloured coded symbols of the status chart as he turned from the rail. ‘When do I get my command, Colonel?’
‘Shit, you still rumbling on about that?’ Colonel Lippincott shied the half-inch stub of pencil into a waste basket on the floor below and xylophoned his teeth with a fresh one, before testing its composition with a crunching bite. ‘Come with me, I’ll explain how it is.’
Led at a fast pace half the length of the underground complex, Revell had no chance to repeat his question, as both keeping up and the narrowness of some passageways prevented him from putting it again.
‘Well?’ Lippincott threw open a rivet-studded steel door to reveal a small room not more than ten by ten. The bare, rough hewn walls of natural rock were relieved at intervals by unframed rectangles of startlingly daubed canvas. ‘So tell me, what d’yer think?’
Not certain what it was he was supposed to comment on, Revell played safe. ‘It isn’t what I was expecting.’
‘You can bet your fucking arse it isn’t. You know, I got better than ninety-five square feet here. There’s a two-star general down the corridor apiece who ain’t got half that, and he has to share with a couple of buckets and a mini-mop. How d’yer like the paintings?’ He didn’t give Revell a chance to reply. ‘Did them myself. Kinda hobby of mine.’
Grateful to have been spared the need to conjure up what could only have been an unconvincing ‘very nice’, Revell sat on the canvas sling of the metal-framed chair he was waved to, and waited for Ol’ Foul Mouth to settle in the swivelling bucket-style seat on the other side of the wide polished desk that dominated the artificially lit room.