War with Russia полностью

“Now listen, Number One.” Narborough smoothed back his hair. “I told you this morning that we’re deploying as the flagship of a Littoral Maneuver Group. Our task is to sail for the Baltic and be ready to poise off shore to demonstrate the resolve and determination of the British government and the NATO Alliance to face down the Russians and, above all, to stop them trying anything else on. Our masters accept they’ve got the Baltic states by the short and curlies and there’s not a lot anyone can do about it. But we can stop them going any further. We may not have any Lightning IIs, but we’ll have an impressive mix of helicopters and be able to pack quite a punch ashore with the Marines if needs be… and let’s get this straight, nobody has said anything about actually fighting the Russians.”

Bush knew that to push the issue any further would amount to insubordination. He’d expressed his concern with the mission they’d been given and he now had two basic choices. Turn to the right and get on with it, or resign his commission in protest. But to do the latter on the verge of a possible war would be tantamount to cowardice.

However, he tried one more tack. With just nineteen frigates and destroyers left in the Royal Navy after the last round of defense cuts, Bush knew that the Task Group would be lucky to get more than a handful of escorts to provide the all-important anti-submarine and anti-aircraft defense systems needed to ensure the protection of Queen Elizabeth. Some were in long-term, planned refit, others in dock for servicing and repairs, yet others in far-flung parts of the world, and while they might be making best speed to return, they would not be back in time to join the Task Group before it sailed. Back when the Royal Navy had a fleet of some size they had always been able to make do when a crisis unexpectedly erupted. Now the navy was so small—“lean” was a favorite expression spouted by politicians trying to sell a negative as a positive—there was no longer anything to spare in the cupboard.

“Sir, are you happy with the makeup of the Task Group?” he asked Narborough.

The Captain narrowed his eyes. “What’s bugging you, Number One?” he demanded in his high-pitched, nasal voice. “We’ll have the amphibious ship Bulwark with a Royal Marine Commando on board along with us. I’d hoped for the second amphibious ship, Albion, as well, but sadly… well… you know how it is. After the last round of cuts we can’t man both of them as well as the carrier any longer. As for escorts, Fleet HQ has promised two Type 45s: Daring and Dauntless. They’re the most capable destroyers ever launched, as well as the world’s best air-defense ships. Our anti-submarine protection will be provided by the hunter-killer sub Astute—and there’s no better way to defend against subs than with another sub. Our anti-sub escorts will be two Type 23s: Kent and Lancaster. So, together with our two Royal Fleet Auxiliaries for logistic support, I reckon we’ll be quite a punchy Task Group.” Narborough looked pleased.

Bush knew his time was running out but decided to press on, although he knew when to concede a point.

“I get the point about the Type 45s and Astute, Sir. Nevertheless, however good the Type 45 anti-aircraft capabilities are, there are only two of them—and let’s not forget that they can only ever be a backstop at best. It’s the Lightnings we haven’t yet got which are meant to be our first line of air defense. So we’re cutting it very fine. As for the Type 23s: only two anti-submarine frigates is taking a real risk with the depth and balance of our anti-submarine protection screen, particularly as we’ll be up against the Russian Kilos. They’ve got plenty of them and the new generation is top class. If they send a few of those after us, we will have real problems trying to track them all, especially without maritime patrol aircraft and only one hunter-killer sub. The Nimrods may have been old, but they did the job.”

“What are you trying to say, Number One?” Narborough was on the verge of getting cross, but Bush also knew that the Captain had a grudging respect for him. While unlikely to translate into an unambiguous recommendation for command, he knew that the canny, upward-thrusting Commodore listened to him.

“You’re commanding the Navy’s biggest-ever ship. We’ll have over two thousand on board with our crew and the commandos. You and this ship are the pride of the Navy. But if we went to the bottom, it would be as big a disaster as Repulse and Prince of Wales being sunk by the Japanese in 1941… You’ll be remembered forever as the unlucky captain. And the name Narborough—”