James Rouch: Hunter-Killer

‘And what if they’re not so obliging?’ The many problems the thumbnail sketch of the mission presented crowded in upon Revell. ‘If the Ruskies don’t lash out, then you’ll have a multiple warhead Lance missile to stir them into action yourself. Nothing that’ll do them any real harm, but it should get the party going.’ Swivelling back and forth in his chair, and chewing furiously, Lippincott waited for the major’s reaction.

‘My men will be on the nearest chunk of Sweden when the Russians open fire. I’d like to know just how much ordnance is likely to come our way. What’s the size of the force that’ll be making the breakout?’

‘Can’t be sure at this stage. You’ll get provisional figures before you go, and we’ll feed you updates once you’re established.’

‘What’s the estimate? There must be a number flying around somewhere.’

‘It’s only a guess, but Staff are working on the assumption there’ll be ten major units and thirty-plus destroyers, frigates and mine hunters as escorts. You’ll only be going for the big stuff, cruisers and the like.’

‘And what do we hit them with? The Swedes have a good radar net. If we’re going to land undetected we have to be travelling light. Since when has NATO had a weapon with a decent range, the ability to resist jamming and get through a ship’s close-in defences, with a warhead. hefty enough to upset the captain of a fifteen thousand ton cruiser, that’ll fit into a shoe box?’

‘Shit, range won’t matter much. The Ruskies will have to pass within four miles of the island, probably less. They ain’t the best seamen in the war, they’ll allow a healthy margin for navigation error. Those shits know that if they stick so much as a double thickness of battleship grey outside the limits, we’ll hit it with everything we’ve got. We can get around jamming by using a weapon that’s just point and fire. If it doesn’t employ guidance then it can’t be buggered by electronic countermeasures. As for getting past the ships’ SAMs and radar directed gatlings, they’ll be beaten by saturation tactics. Send twenty rockets at a target, don’t matter if it’s bristling with every type of flak, some of them are going to get through, especially in the minimal flight time we’re envisaging.’

‘That’s not a description of any anti-shipping missile that I know of.’

‘That’s cause it’s not. The British gunners who are going with you will have simple, lightweight, trailer-mounted versions of our standard 125mm multiple rocket launchers. The sort our artillery boys use all the time. Fucking clever, ain’t it? The Ruskies will have planned for everything; mines, torpedoes, air-attacks, the lot, you name it they’ll be ready for it. The one thing they won’t be prepared for is for you to have a go at them from a direction they’ll not be expecting with a weapon that’s never been used that way before.’

A major drawback occurred to Revell. ‘OK, it sounds smart, but even if they all get through to the target, 125mm rounds are going to do little more than skin damage to those big battlewagons. They’ll shrug it off like so many flea bites and plough on.’

‘We’re one ahead of you. Going back a bit, one of our destroyers off ‘Nam was on the receiving end of an accidental near miss from an air-launched missile one of our pilots let go by mistake. It was a Shrike I think, anyway, it had a fragmentation head and when it banged off right over our ship it took out all her radar, diced better than twenty of her crew and stopped the tub dead in the water. It was kept kinda quiet at the time. The babies you’ll be taking have been fitted with similar heads. If just one of them bangs off over a Ruskie ship it’ll be as good as poking the fucker’s eyes out. Any Commie admiral should take that serious enough.’

‘Maybe if we did enough damage we could force them to turn around, go back for repairs. That’d lock them up for the rest of the winter.’

‘Don’t start getting over-ambitious, Major. That’s what the city fathers of Frankfurt were beefing about. Just do the job as it’s given you. If you manage to knock them about, sufficient to soften them up for a reception by the Brit Navy when they reach open sea, good. But just remember, Copenhagen is not so far from there. At the moment the Ruskies are accepting the Danes’ declaration of it being an open city: they’ve occupied it, but they ain’t harmed it yet. You overdo things and that might change. We need the Free Danish Forces. No point in roping Sweden into the fight if we upset and maybe lose an established member of NATO in the process.’

‘Alright, so let’s assume it all goes according to plan, and the Commies and the Swedes start chucking ordnance at each other. What about my men? We’ll be in the middle of the cauldron, and back-loading our equipment is not going to be easy. If we leave a load of NATO gear on the island it won’t take the Swedes long to figure out that someone has been doing some stirring. Could rather spoil things.’

‘Ain’t that the truth. When you’ve done, you’ll destroy what you can’t carry. It’ll have to be done thorough, but it’s a small price to pay for fucking up a Soviet fleet.’

‘What about the men? Are you fitting them with self-destruct mechanisms?’

Coming from another man Lippincott might have seen humour in the question but not from Revell, strait-laced crud! ‘The planning ain’t got that far yet, but you’ll be picked up as soon as the excitement dies down, or moves elsewhere. Sub, or chopper, or surface craft; we ain’t sure yet.’ He tidied the sheets of paper together. ‘The rest you’ll get at briefing before the ‘off’. We’ve got to move real fast on this one. Met reckon the Commies will have to make a move inside the next eight days. I want you and your crowd kitted and on your way within twenty-four hours. Oh yeah, a last piece of good news. You won’t be exactly making a landing on the island, leastways, not the way you mean, from the sea. I’ve arranged a little treat for you, you’re going in by parachute.’

‘The hell we are! Better find yourself another suicide squad. None of my men are trained, give it to the SAS or the Screaming Eagles. I’m beginning to think you snatched the mission from them in the first place.’

‘Scared the shit out of you, have I?’

‘No,’ Revell kept the irritation out of his voice, but it took an effort. ‘No, you just wasted my time.’ He made to leave.

‘OK, so I was only kidding, you’re not actually making a drop. Well, not a real one.’

‘You want to try explaining that piece of gobbledygook, or shall I keep heading for the door?’

‘Ever seen parachute extraction?’

‘Where a transport comes in low and slow with its rear doors open and chutes deploy to drag out a sled-mounted cargo? Sure, I’ve seen it… you want my men to go to war that way? Are you crazy, that’s strictly hardware only.’

‘They’ve refined it a bit…’

‘What did they do, fit the sledge with springs so it can pogo back inside if it goes down in the wrong place?’

Again Lippincott sensed no light intent behind the remark. ‘I’m telling you, it’s OK. There’ll be three pallets. One will carry the launchers, their ammunition and the demolition charges, along with most of the electronics gadgets you’ll be taking. Another will have a generator, a small tractor for dispersing the launchers and moving your stores, and your support arms and ammunition. Number three will have a cabin that you’ll all ride down in.’

‘And you think the Swedish Airforce is just going to stooge around and watch us while we land and set up camp…’

‘You won’t even see them. Your flight will replace a scheduled civvy run. When you approach your DZ your pilot will report engine trouble to Swedish air traffic control and act like he’s got problems. He’ll lose altitude and drop you off just before the difficulty miraculously rights itself and he turns away for home. Far as the Swedes are concerned, it’ll be a routine flight that just got hairy for a moment or two.’