It had been a simple statement, not a question. Svedrov knew his advice was not being asked but that a response was necessary. He would continue as Admiral Kupinsky's alter ego, to act both as a right arm and as the royal opposition, whatever the occasion requited.
"Why do you say that? We have won!"
Alex whirled. "Won what, Svedrov? Tell me what we have accomplished today."
"Why… the Americans have been badly beaten. Nimitz is sunk."
"Lenin is also."
"We have destroyed so many of their ships, we could launch an attack on Islas Piedras this instant."
"With what?"
Silence from the other.
"We have used two air groups. The Maldives force is decimated. Gorenko can send us nothing. It is more likely that he is right now trying to explain what happened to that supertanker."
"Admiral, we now have the warm-water port we have needed for so many years."
"And I think, my friend, that Islas Piedras may soon be completed."
Again there was silence from the Chief of Staff. Svedrov did not know what more he could say to his Admiral, a man he revered. He could not comprehend the fact that, after such heavy losses, a task-force commander could look like Kupinsky. To inflict damage, you must accept losses yourself. It was doctrine. But perhaps the older man was right. They could not go on. - '
"I sincerely believe, Svedrov, that only David Charles and I can avoid any more death. It must stop." He slammed both hands hard on the table in front of him. "We cannot afford to lose any more ships or men, or we will have nothing left to sail into that warm-water port of yours. And, if Islas Piedras is completed by the Americans, we must have a strong fleet in the Indian Ocean.
"Svedrov, is there anyone on this little Rezvy who can contact the Americans for me? I will talk to David myself."
The other raised his hands in despair. "I will find out."
"And, I also want you to inform all units that they are to drop back and to use their weapons only to protect themselves." He raised his hands, keeping Svedrov from speaking right away. "I do not think, Svedrov, that we will receive any orders from Moscow. Admiral Gorenko is probably trying to explain right now why so little has been accomplished today."
"But we have done so much."
"And so have the Americans. What do you think is going on with Admiral Charles right now? He is probably waiting for orders from his seniors in Washington, who are trying to explain all of this to their politicians. Can you imagine what the U.N. is saying to the Americans right now? Can you imagine what the whole world thinks about both our countries? Think, Svedrov, what might have happened if either of us had been the first to use atomic weapons."
There was only silence from the other. Svedrov understood. It was just so hard to take when so many ships had been lost, and so many friends he had known from the days at his Higher Naval School. He had not told his Admiral about his brother. He had been made captain of Boiky, before they sailed. Boiky had been lost in the wolfpack attack.
David Charles sat in the bow of California's whaleboat, a craft much smaller than his own admiral's barge. Try as he would, the young coxswain could not keep the water out. At first he attempted to steer around the ocean chop, but that was impossible in such a breeze. Then he had the engineman throttle down, hoping the speed could be raised and lowered to make the ride drier and more comfortable for the Admiral. But that was impossible also. David had told them to proceed normally, not to worry about him. They would see the other boat they were to meet soon anyway.
It had been a most unusual conversation with Alex. California's comm officer had suggested one of the international-distress frequencies. Most ships would be guarding it anyway with so many aircraft down.
"I want to speak with Admiral Kupinsky." He had used Russian and identified himself. The pause was momentary.
"This is Admiral Kupinsky."
The voice had come back too quickly, he thought. Again he identified himself and asked for the Soviet Admiral. As he released the key, the other voice came back instantly.
"This is Admiral Kupinsky," again in Russian. Then, in English, "This is Admiral Kupinsky."
There was no way to identify a voice over the air, but there was no mistaking the familiar accent. Charles then said first in English, then in Russian, "Alex, this is David Charles. It was necessary to call you."
"Yes..I recognize your accent, David. I intended to speak with you also. That is why I was nearby."
"We should talk, Alex. We know from listening to your radio circuits that you have no more contact with Moscow than we do with Washington."
"We realize your problem also."
"I can sink the remainder of your force if I have to, but I feel we should talk first."
"It doesn't really matter who could still sink the other, David. Rather than concern ourselves with that, let us attempt to save the remaining lives, if that is at all possible. But, I will not come on board one of your ships."
"Nor I yours. I have asked my ships to drop back. If you will do the same, I suggest we use small boats and meet by ourselves in between."
"I have already asked my ships to reform, David. Let us bring our flag ships within five kilometers to limit the distance traveled in small boats. Then we will have them fall back ten kilometers. Do you agree?"
"Agreed. Will you come alone?"
"Yes. But two other men are necessary to handle the boat."
"I hadn't thought of that, but yes, you're right. No weapons?"
"I see no use for them at this point."
"Alex, do you have any of your good vodka aboard?"
There was a different intonation in the answer, a lighter one. "When 'will you Americans ever modernize your Navy?" There was a pause and a voice in the background as the key was held down. Then, "No vodka. But, David, you are in luck. We happen to have some of that good Georgian brandy that you like so well. Compliments of the Soviet Navy!"
"I will accept them. It is now 1420. Could you be there at 600?" '
"David, I had my whaleboat readied half an hour ago."
So, there was no question about it. They had both had the same intentions. "I'm sure our chart positions may be slightly different. I believe that a point three five zero degrees true, one hundred fifteen kilometers from the center of Islas Piedras, will be pretty much equidistant between our two ships right now."
"I believe so. I can assure you there will be no firing as the ship you are riding approaches that point to put over its boat."
"I assure your safety also." They had never for a moment said what either wanted to talk about. It had been understood.
He thought of that conversation now as he saw the coxswain point just off the bow and shout something that drifted away with the breeze. He stood, looking over the canvas, and saw the other boat, no bigger than his own, working its way toward him. It was having equal difficulty with the developing chop that came with a stiffening breeze.
Again, he thought how strange it was that two small boats were approaching each other in, the wake of a battle that had involved some of the most powerful ships in the world only hours before. He held tightly as they lurched to starboard. Then the wave that had slapped the bow covered them with water.
As the other came closer, he could see the Admiral's flag in the bow and the hammer and sickle in the stern, both displayed as he had also directed his boat be decorated. David had ensured that his sailors were in their full dress uniforms. Now soaked, he still wanted to show them off as the pride of the American Navy.