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the port bow of the patrol boat under his command.
It was not off the port bow.
It was lurking under the stern.
When the patrol craft backed away from the shadow in the water that turned out
to be a sunken oil drum, it rammed the spy submarine. The sub broke open like
an eggshell and sank, killing all aboard and embarrassing the Soviet Union
before the entire world.
Major General Gunnar Rolfe's patrol boat also sank during the Battle of
Stockholm Harbor, with the loss of half its crew, but this was dismissed as
"an acceptable level of casualties in an engagement of this magnitude," in the
report the Steel-Haired Peacemaker submitted to the office of the Prime
Minister.
Or, as he later expressed it to his fellow officers: "Leading men to their
deaths is good for morale. More officers should have the opportunity. Who
knows, we may be forced to fight a war in another hundred years."
"Or two," a lieutenant said grimly.
"Or two," agreed Major General Rolfe, taking a deep draft of imported dark
lager to stiffen himself against the prospect that his great-grandson, or
great-great-grandson, might have to go through the hell he had suffered on
that dark day. He shuddered.
Life had been good to the major general since that day. The government had
increased his pension by many thousands of krona. A summer cottage in the
pastoral valleys of Norrland had been built especially for him. Nubile blonde
teenage girls asked for his autograph in public, and entertained him in
private as only Swedish girls can.
As much as Major General Rolfe was admired in his native land, he was despised
by the Soviet leadership. It had been an open secret that Russian submarines
regularly prowled Swedish coastal waters, mapping her military installations.
Everyone knew it. And everyone knew why. Sweden was an officially neutral
nation, and the only Scandinavian country not allied with NATO. Sweden had no
military allies, an inexperienced army, and virtually no defense against
Soviet aggression. The Soviets had targeted Sweden as the first nation for
annexing in the event of a ground war in Europe. When the Soviet subs first
began venturing into Swedish waters, the official policy was to ignore the
intrusions. When the Kremlin realized how much they could get away with, they
began slipping tractor-treaded midget subs into Swedish waterways. This was
too much even for the peace-loving Swedes, so they sent out their patrol boats
to drop depth charges a harmless three miles away from the lurking subs and
made a public show of pointing an accusing finger at the terrible Soviet
aggression.
Each time, the Russian subs were allowed to leave peacefully-even though
Swedish law called for their capture on espionage charges. It was official
policy not to antagonize the Soviet leadership. In fact, there had been
considerable embarrassment in the upper levels of the government when it came
out that Major General Rolfe had actually sunk a Soviet spy sub in Swedish
waters. The Prime Minister had been formulating a formal apology for
hand-delivery to the Russian ambassador and there was talk of cashiering Major
General Rolfe for violating Sweden's official neutrality policy, which had
kept them safely out of World War II-although it hadn't prevented the
government from allowing German troops to cross supposedly neutral Swedish
territory so the Nazis could finish crushing Norway.
But when the Russians didn't retaliate, the Swedish government decided they
were safe and declared victory. Overnight, Major General Rolfe had gone from
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blunderer to national savior-although he, too, suffered from sleepless nights
wondering if Soviet KGB agents weren't planning to liquidate him personally as
a warning to his government. But nothing of the sort had happened.
This lack of retaliation bothered Major General Gunnar Rolfe, but he was
enjoying his newfound acclaim too much to dwell on it. Even six months after
the Battle of Stockholm Harbor, he was still receiving decorations; presents,
and the favors of high-school girls. His apartment overlooking the
Kungstadgarden, whose marigolds had been in bloom a century before Columbus,
overflowed with them.
Had he known that at that very moment a Scandinavian Airlines jet was carrying
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