Empty Nets and Promises by Denzil Meyrick Page A

Soviet Union, stowed with their cargo of nuclear warheads, only a few years before as they neared Cuba. That was the last time he had felt the thrill he felt again now – of being on the edge as the world held its breath.
    His eyes sparkled as his lieutenant spoke. ‘Sir, we have a visual, fourteen degrees to starboard.’
    Rumsfeld swivelled his binoculars in the general direction he’d been given. Though they were a few nautical miles distant, he could make out a tiny vessel, probably wooden in construction, dwarfed by a red ship many times its size.
    â€˜Lieutenant, confirm or deny, do we have the flag of the Soviets?’
    â€˜Yes, sir, we do.’
    â€˜Does that look like a fishing trawler to you?’
    â€˜Yes, sir. Roger that.’
    Rumsfeld let the binoculars hang on his chest by their leather strap, and rubbed his hands in anticipation. ‘Gentlemen, I need not remind you of the dual function of the Soviet fishing vessels.’
    â€˜Spy ships, sir,’ piped up a young ensign behind him.
    â€˜Good, Palliser, very good.’ He turned to the young man. ‘And what are our standing orders?’
    â€˜To intercept and investigate such vessels, sir,’ the young officer replied immediately.
    â€˜Correct.’ He leaned over a speaking tube and spoke with a commanding tone. ‘Helm, steer fourteen degrees to starboard – full steam ahead!’
    â€˜Sir, if I may make an observation?’ asked his lieutenant tentatively.
    â€˜Ask away.’
    â€˜Sir, we are about to enter UK waters. I mean, do we have the mandate to intercept the Soviet vessel under these circumstances?’
    â€˜Mandate? Mandate, Lieutenant?’ He gave the man a withering look. ‘We are entering the waters of our closest ally. The country we fought for in World War Two. The country that, alongside the United States of America – our fine nation – saved the world from the tyranny of the oppressor.’ He paused, looking into the distance. ‘Did Dwight D Eisenhower ask for a mandate to defeat our enemies, to preserve our way of life? If JFK – may the Lord rest his soul – had asked us to enter Cuban waters to save our country from the horror of nuclear annihilation at the hands of the Soviets, would we have questioned his mandate?’
    â€˜No, sir,’ came the reply, as USS Newark ’s Lieutenant stood to attention, as though he was on parade.
    â€˜We are, and will always be the beacon of freedom. Mandate or no, full steam ahead!’
    The warship turned and the bow wave rose at her side as she made her way towards the Russian vessel.
    Hoynes sat in the Russian captain’s spacious cabin, a large glass of vodka in his hand. He looked across at Hamish who was draining his glass. ‘Well, if you’re in peril at sea and in need of rescue, these are the very boys tae oblige, eh.’
    â€˜I’ve never been a fan o’ this vodka stuff,’ said Geordie. ‘But this fair hits the spot tonight. Nectar, sheer nectar.’
    â€˜But whoot aboot oor fish?’ lamented Hamish. ‘Did you see the size o’ they nets on the deck? You could scoop up half o’ Kinloch in they bloody things.’ He lowered his voice. ‘It’s nae wonder we’ve hardly landed a herring this year.’
    â€˜Och, but these boys are no’ interested in plowtering aboot oor wee bit shoals, Hamish.’ Hoynes puffed at his pipe, which emanated a cloud of deeper blue smoke than normal. He spluttered, eyes watering. ‘The vodka might be like nectar, but the baccy fair tears your throat oot.’
    â€˜Dae you think oor wee silver freens jeest hang aboot the coast waiting for us tae entice them intae a net?’ said Hamish sceptically. ‘They’re deep-sea creatures. They’re no’ going tae turn their noses up at a net jeest cos it’s a Ruskie one.’
    â€˜Dae fish have noses?’ asked Geordie,