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dropped a pair of
atomic weapons on fleets anchored off Bikini Island to see what the effects
were. Many ships survived the blast intact like this, sinking in time from slow
leaks and hull damage. That battleship will undoubtedly sink as well. It is
little more than a hunk of floating mangled steel now, and God go with the men
who died there today.
    Yet
when it was over he was amazed to see that a second wave of aircraft was still
coming in from that same heading, the planes sweeping around the tall mushroom
cloud as it cauliflowered up into the gloaming sky. And further out to the west
there came another large group. Karpov had ordered him to cease fire so the
P-900 carrying the tactical weapon would arrive safely on target. What was he
planning now? Was he going to swat these remaining planes from the sky with
another tactical airburst, or were they to resume conventional SAM defense? The
question was moot, as the Fleet Commander was nowhere to be seen.
    He
steadied himself, shaking the horror of the moment from his mind and ordered
his radio man to see if they could contact Kirov for further
instructions. Perhaps the ship had veered off and was lost in the haze. Yet
they had nothing on radar but those damn American planes. There was no initial
response but the hail continued, sounding more and more plaintive with each
repetition… “Orlan to Kirov. Come in, Kirov. Requesting battle orders. Over.
Orlan to Kirov. Please respond. Over. Where are you, Kirov? Please come in.
Orlan to Kirov. Where are you?…
    Frustrated
and knowing the enemy planes were just minutes away, Yeltsin stepped out of the
enclosed armored citadel of the bridge and onto the weather deck, binoculars in
hand. They had been steaming about two kilometers in front of the big
battlecruiser, but when he scanned the sea in his wake, there was no sign of
the ship. Kirov was gone! What had happened?
    Yes,
they had felt the harsh wind from the explosion, the shock wave and swell from
the sea, but even his much smaller ship rode it out easily, and there were no
enemy planes in close. Could Kirov have suffered the same fate as Admiral
Golovko , struck by a late fired round from the stricken American
battleship? No, there was no sign of an explosion aft, and Kirov was a
very big ship. If there had been an incident, or even an accident aboard the
ship itself, he would have seen something. Yet what was that strange glow on
the sea? He would not have time to investigate further.
    The
hard seconds ticked away, and now it struck him that Orlan was alone,
and soon to be faced by a massive air attack. Time was running out. He rushed
back into the bridge.
    “Air
alert one! Resume SAM defense! Ready all close in defense systems!”
    The
klaxon howled out the alert, and within seconds the first sleek SAMs were
ejecting again from the ship’s forward deck, streaking wildly into the sky to
seek and destroy the American planes. The roar of the missiles continued, one
after another, the skies streaked by ribbons of smoke as they sped away on hot
white tails. Then he heard the low, distant drone of many engines, saw the blue
specks in the sky drawing ever nearer amid the roiling explosion from his
lethal SAMs
    Perhaps
a hundred planes massed above Iowa had been swept to oblivion by that
detonation, but there looked to be another hundred behind them, veering left
and right around the angry mushroom cloud and still bravely bearing down on his
ship.
    “How
many missiles do we have remaining?” He shouted over the growing noise of the
oncoming planes.
    “Sir,
I read 96 SAMs still remaining and ready to fire.”
    But
there was a second group of aircraft off their starboard side, the planes off Ticonderoga and the remainder of Sprague’s carrier group, at least 160 or more contacts. He
was now being attacked by nearly 280 enemy aircraft, three planes for every
missile they had on the primary SAM system. They had 56 more missiles on the
Kashtan system, and 8700 rounds on the 30mm