Red storm rising - By Tom Clancy Page 0,323

control trying to evade the fish. What followed a moment later was the first warhead explosion O'Malley had ever really seen. The submarine was sliding back down when a plume of water appeared a hundred feet from where the bow had poked up.

"Romeo, Hammer, that was a hit--I saw the sonuvabitch! Say again, that's a hit!"

Morris checked with his sonar officer. They hadn't picked up the Russian torpedo's homing sonar. It had missed.

Captain Perrin scarcely believed it. The Oscar had taken three torpedo hits so far and still there were no breaking-up noises. But the machinery noise had stopped, and he had the submarine on his active sonar. Battleaxe closed at fifteen knots when the black shape appeared amid a mass of bubbles on the surface. The captain ran to the bridge and put his binoculars on the Russian ship. The sub was a bare mile away. A man appeared atop the submarine's sail, waving wildly.

"Check fire! Check fire!" he screamed. "Ship Control, bring us alongside quick as you can!"

He didn't believe it. The Oscar showed a pair of jagged rents on her upper hull and floated with a 30-degree list from the ruptured ballast tanks. Men were scrambling out of the sail and the forward deck hatch.

"Bravo, Romeo. We just killed a Victor-class inshore. Please advise your situation, over."

Perrin lifted the phone. "Romeo, we have a wounded Oscar on the surface, the crew is abandoning ship. He fired two missiles. Our Sea Wolves splashed one. The other hit India in the bows. We are preparing to conduct rescue operations. Tell November that he may continue his promenade. Over."

"Way to go, Bravo! Out." He switched channels. "November, this is Romeo, did you copy Bravo's last transmission, over?"

"Affirmative, Romeo. Let's get this parade to the beach."

General Andreyev took the report from the observation post himself before handing the radiophone to his operations officer. The American landing ships were now five kilometers from Akranes lighthouse. They'd proceed probably to the old whaling station in Hvalfjordur to wait their chance.

"We will resist to the end," the KGB colonel said. "We'll show them how Soviet soldiers can fight!"

"I admire your spirit, Comrade Colonel." He walked over to the corner and picked up a rifle. "Here, you may take this to the front yourself."

"But--"

"Lieutenant Gasporenko, get the colonel a driver. He's going to the front to show the Americans how Soviet soldiers fight." Andreyev watched with dark amusement. The chekist could not back down. After he was gone, the General summoned his divisional communications officer. All long-range radio transmitters except for two would be destroyed. Andreyev knew he could not surrender yet. His troopers would have to pay a bill in blood first, and the General would suffer for every drop. But he knew it would soon reach a point at which further resistance was futile, and he would not sacrifice his men for nothing.

ALFELD, FEDERAL REPUBLIC OF GERMANY

It was over for a while. The second attack had nearly done it, Mackall thought. The Russians had run their tanks fiat-out and gotten to within fifty yards of the American positions, close enough that their old, obsolete cannon had destroyed half of the troop's tanks. But that attack had faltered on the brink of success, and the third attack at dusk was a halfhearted affair executed by men too tired to advance into the kill zone. He could hear the noise behind him of another action under way. The Germans west of the town were under heavy attack.

STENDAL, GERMAN DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC

"General Beregovoy reports a heavy counterattack from the north--toward Alfeld."

Alekseyev accepted the news impassively. His gamble had failed. That's why it's called gambling, Pasha.

Now what?

It was very quiet in the map room. The junior officers who plotted the movements of friendly and enemy forces had never talked much, and now were not even looking over to the other map sectors. It was no longer a race to see whose forces got to their objectives first.

The word you're looking for is gloom, Pasha. The General stood next to his operations officer.

"Yevgeny Ilych, I am open to suggestions."

He shrugged. "We must continue. Our troops are tired. So are theirs."

"We're throwing inexperienced troops against veterans. We have to change that. We will take officers and NCOs from the A units that are off the line and use them to beef up the C units now arriving. These reservists must have experienced combat soldiers to leaven their ranks, else we send them like cattle to the slaughter. Next, we will