Red Hammer 1994

“Maybe so,” remarked Alexander. “But I’ll bet analysis will show the wreck was some surplus boat, purposely sunk. If the Kurile sinking was a hoax, it could have serious implications. Our good friend Nikolai may be putting us to the test.”

Normally Jenkins, the national security advisor, played traffic cop. In his absence, the president was forced to keep the meeting on track.

“Let’s hold the questions and comments, please,” he suggested.

The director’s smile broke at being second-guessed, and he stared icily at Alexander. “Surveillance of other Russian strategic assets shows nominal deployment patterns. The number of ballistic-missile submarines at sea is five. The Strategic Rocket Forces have concluded a major exercise of both SS-24 rail-mobile and SS-25 road-mobile missiles, with most units returning to garrison. Strategic bomber and interceptor aircraft are riveted at their airdromes. In summary, gentlemen, Russian military activity is quite normal. And, I would like to add, significantly lower than five or ten years ago. Our Russian friends are a shadow of their former selves,” he said.

While the director paused to take a drink of water and let his wisdom sink in, Alexander turned to Thomas. As usual, the director had said nothing relevant.

“Excuse me, Mr. President,” said the chairman bursting through the door. He quickly took the empty chair next to Alexander. “I was tied up in the tank with the Joint Chiefs. I felt it would be worthwhile to get their gut feeling on this.” The president smiled and nodded approvingly. He trusted his general, much to the annoyance of Wilks and Genser, who frowned at the late arrival. Wilks coughed and then began again. “As to whether the Russians deceived us, we will have positive confirmation within five days at most.”

“Five days,” thought Thomas, “that’s one hell of a long wait while a Delta chock full of nuclear missiles cruises off the Mexican coast.”

Genser raised a finger but was preempted by the president.

“I’d like to hear from the chairman. This is, after all, first and foremost a military matter. General, what do the Chiefs think the Russians are up to?”

The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs had a dual role—top military advisor to the president and independently, the representative of the Service Chiefs. It was his mission to champion the Chiefs’ concerns, tempered by his own judgment, before the NSC.

“Mr. President,” he said, folding his big, rough-hewed hands in front of him on the table, “I don’t think anyone can say with any certainty what the Russians are trying to prove. Laptev’s pushing, but so far the Russian military has been resisting. But I’m afraid I can’t be as sanguine as the director. If they wanted, they could catch our bombers and tankers on the ground with a few well-placed cruise missiles. Remember, we no longer have aircraft on alert.”

He paused to let all reflect on a long-past decision, unpopular with the military. “Our over-the-horizon backscatter radar would never pick those turkeys out of the sea clutter. We’d never know what hit us. Adding the ballistic missiles on that Russian Delta makes the situation intolerable. We’re vulnerable and should take immediate action while we sort out this mess.” The general locked his eyes on the president and ignored the others. He knew who mattered.

“A surprise attack?” commented Genser lightly. “Why does the military always dwell on fantasy?” A ridiculing smile curled from the corners of his mouth. The well-trained soldier held back.

“A surprise attack is an extremely unlikely event, I’ll grant you that. But, the bottom line is that we must consider all the alternatives. My job is to be prepared for any contingency, period.” His best hard-ass stare penetrated the fragile secretary of state. Genser was indignant.

“What would you do? Flush our bombers and tankers, and put the entire fleet to sea every time the Russians move submarines close to our shores?” asked Genser impatiently. “Those days are long gone.”

“That’s not what I meant,” snapped the chairman. “We’ve bent over backward these past few months trying to accommodate the Russians. The more we bend, the more Laptevrants and raves. Now they’ve restarted their missile lines, and we haven’t said a word. It’s time to say enough is enough.”

Genser cocked his head. He became composed, tacking with the wind. The secretary of state knew he would lose a shouting match with the general. “My point is that we cannot have a knee-jerk reaction every time the Russians tweak us. Two submarines do not a crisis make. We do the same thing, especially with our submarines. I suggest we protest to the Russians that we know about their submarines and insist they remove them, posthaste. We can get excellent mileage out of this. Actually, we’ve been hoping for just this sort of opportunity to embarrass Nikolai and put him in his place.”