Charles Taylor - Show of Force

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As the two largest, most powerfully equipped naval fleets in history move slowly toward each other near Islas Piedras — an American missile site in the Indian Ocean that threatens Russia's grip on the Middle East — two men stand in the darkened control rooms of their ships. David Charles and Alex Kupinsky are worried because, as the admirals of these fleets, they may be responsible for all-out nuclear war. They are also concerned because once, a long time ago, they were the best of friends…
As Admirals Charles and Kupinsky face imminent disaster, forced to make their moves on the chessboard of modern warfare, we look back over their pasts as men of peace and men of war. David Charles learned the hard way in the tragic Bay of Pigs, on the treacherous rivers of Vietnam, and in the backrooms of embassies around the world. Alex Kupinsky was raised by the man who watched his father die in World War II — the same man who has since become Admiral of the Fleet of the Soviet Union.
Moving from the real past to the possible future, from romantic memories of the women left behind to hard action on the high seas, SHOW OF FORCE is the story of men turned warriors, of a world turned battlefield. And as communications break down between Washington, Moscow, and the fleets themselves, it becomes the story of two men with the power to stop that ultimate folly of the mighty, World War III.

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Sam Carter had found himself with complete responsibility for the tactics in the Indian Ocean. His boss, the CNO, had decided that his own responsibilities were purely administrative. He felt his place was with the President, another man who was now unwilling to involve himself with a potential war, or the avoidance of that war. And Jasperson had found himself working with Carter. The President, rather than negotiating as planned, was now talking of withdrawal from the carefully planned installation at Islas Piedras. It was the last chance the Americans had to protect themselves as a world power. Now should have been the time that Admiral Collier and the Ambassador to the Kremlin presented themselves to the Russians. They should have instructions from Washington to explain the situation tactfully in an effort to avoid further bloodshed, backed up by a firm President. But it was already too late. The Russians had learned too soon of the missile installation at Islas Piedras. Quickly they determined the reasons for the U.S. strategy. World leadership was basically seesawing between Russia and the United States. The many nations in the immense Indian Ocean sphere, most of whom were either just-emerging countries or in the throes of revolution and counterrevolution, were easily swayed and looking-for leadership. The Cold War romancing by the two giant nations had lost touch with the reality of new countries caught between socialism and capitalism. Economics and protection was the name of the new game. Whichever country offered security would become the suitor. Military protection was paramount.

The end result would be American missile control over Africa and the oil states, and an obvious shift to the United States of support from the Third and Fourth World nations. The Russians destroyed communications between the American Embassy and Washington as quickly as the U.S. had done with the Soviet communications and missile satellites, and the President was unable to carry off the supreme bluff.

Now it was a stalemate. The Americans either had to go through with their plan, or withdraw, shamed before the world. While their leaders attempted to gain the upper hand by enforced silence, two great fleets unavoidably became engaged in a death struggle in the Indian Ocean.

Admiral Carter resumed his instructions to the lieutenant commander in front of him, a communications specialist on the CNO's staff. "All right, son, we won't use tin cans." Jasperson, now standing behind Carter, smiled in the direction of the other officer. The latter gave no indication that the silver-haired Secretary had won a point with the Admiral. "First, let's consider communications with Moscow. Do we have any satellites of our own, or any owned by private companies that can provide us with secure contact with Admiral Collier?"

"No, sir. Even if we did, it would have to be one that had a direct space/ground line to the embassy. We feel that if more than one relay is used when the scrambler is in operation, there is the possibility, even probability now, that the message would be recorded each time. That greatly increases the odds of starting to compromise our scrambler system if they have the same message recorded twice. It is communications policy, Admiral, and I would need your written orders to do otherwise." The junior officer stopped for a moment, thinking better of his explanation. "I didn't mean that exactly the way it sounded, sir. Those are just my orders, and I thought you should be apprised of them."

"No, no problem," replied Carter. "We're just trying to determine our next move." He turned to Jasperson. "What does State have in its grab bag… Tom?" The use of the first name of this distinguished man didn't come easy.

The Secretary raised his bushy white eyebrows as he often did when thinking, wrinkling his forehead. "Nothing impressive, I must admit. I guess we've always figured there'd be one more satellite at a time like this." He nodded briefly in the direction of the younger officer and said, "I guess you wouldn't be here now if you didn't have every clearance in the book." Then back to Carter, "We have a type of hot line to the embassy, similar to the President's hot line to the Kremlin. But it was set up primarily for direct communications between my office and the ambassador's, mostly for lesser affairs of state. I doubt it's very secure and I'm sure it's tapped right now." He smiled. "It probably rings in the Chairman's office in the Kremlin."

"But if we used, say, a onetime code, at least someone at the embassy would be able to relay to Collier, wouldn't they?"

"Oh, no problem with that, sir," offered the communications officer. "We just have to be certain we don't use any that were aboard the ships sunk today."

"It sounds rather like our Civil War systems," mused the Secretary. "We seem to be going back to conditions of more than a hundred years ago. It's kind of ironic, isn't it, that in an age of satellites and instant relay we might be reduced to reading coded messages over a telephone. But," he decided grimly, "it's better than nothing at all."

"I also have no secure method of communicating with Admiral Charles, Mr. Secretary… Tom," Carter faltered. "I have a task force on the other side of the world that's essentially fighting blind now. It's the fastest, best-equipped force the U.S. Navy has ever had. Its sophistication makes it purer and more effective than the Russian force, and its computers are tied directly into the War Games Center at Johns Hopkins. The tactical situation can constantly be fed back to the center, which can then evaluate every strategic possibility and relay possible decisions to Admiral Charles in seconds. And, if he decides to take the computer's advice, all that need be done is to push a couple of buttons. The system controls air, surface, and subsurface units and can unite the proper weapons in any of the three dimensions to stop the enemy… without ever seeing them," he emphasized. "And that system is absolutely useless right now with the loss of the satellites that unite War Games and the flag ship. You're right for the time being, Tom. Maybe David Charles isn't quite back to a Civil War level, but he's making decisions on his own with no backup from the system that was developed for a crisis such as this."

The Secretary of State, who with his wavy, neat, silvery hair looked every inch a man who should have been in that position of authority, paced across the room a few times, his hands clasped behind his back. He finally stopped in front of the nervous young communications officer. The younger man was feeling the strain of being in the same room with two who were making decisions that would effect global strategy. Jasperson smiled at the officer, and said rather loudly, "I don't give a shit if you have to tie a long string between two tin cans," and then he laughed heartily.

From a former distinguished senator, a Vice-President, a onetime candidate for President, a former Ambassador to the Court of St. James, and now the Secretary of State, the pronouncement broke the ice. "Now, my friend," he said to the younger officer, "how would you suggest that Admiral Carter and I get in touch with Admiral Charles?"

"It's not going to be easy, sir. We already had another satellite on the pad for just this problem. My boss had planned for something like this months ago. But before we can send it off, we have to ensure that the Soviet offensive satellites are neutralized, or the same thing's going to happen again. And my Admiral says he sure as hell doesn't have any more satellites in his back pocket."

"Of course not," Carter responded. "When will you be sure about the safety of this one?"

"As soon as the people at Hopkins get back to us, Admiral. Their intelligence indicates that our initial laser firings got all of the offensive satellites, but they have to check what may have been launched by the Russians since then. They've got a hell of a lot of them in reserve." He paused for a moment. "And we can't just push a button and put another satellite up, sir. We have to wait until we have enough information on the position of Admiral Charles's forces, so we have a direct relay."

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