OH and I forgot the SS-18 is not the only missile in the Soviet Arsenal and with the One megaton warhead and it was mirved. But if I am not mistaken was primarily targets against US missile silos. It was its silo killing ability that made it so fear with the American leadership. The SS-17, SS-19 would more likely to be used against a city than the front line silo killers of the Soviet Missile Force
FYI, in the Protect and Survive TL, U.S. warplanes engage Cuban fighter jets escorting a Soviet bomber off the coast of Key West on December 29, 1983. Cuban jets patrol the Floridian coastline on January 3, 1984 again.

Just a little reminder to fit that in your timeline if you wish since you are setting this in Miami.
Actually if you want to make sure of a target you use two warheads one megaton or less. Take into account a certain number of missiles will not launch or go off target to varying degrees. Add on that some of the warheads will either not work entirely or possibly go off in a sub critical explosion spewing radioactive material over the area. Look at the CEP of the warheads listed that fast nuke .org website. CEP is the average error in hitting the target. After all Miami gets hammered but no one says that both have to hit or the city is totally wiped out.

Also ground burst are general used for hardened targets, missile silos, underground communication center, or major underground command centers. Cities and International Airport are soft targets, the air burst will do more damage to the city per see but with less overall radiation. You don't have to worry so much about being accurate when hitting a target. Also why target all of the airports, the Soviet Union has X number of missiles and there Yx2 the number of targets. So their is a limit to how many targets can be hit.

Groundbursts are always used on airfields that you have no plans to take. You use airbursts on airfields you hope to possess later. The Soviets knew damn well they wouldn't be taking any airfields that far south ever. It'd be too hard to hold and too far from what's left of home.

@Unknown, I will try to work in the Chip cameo. I've got an idea how I can make that work....
I'm just waiting for the inevitable arguments over which Orange Bowl team is better (Nebraska or Miami) between Kilma and his wife; that could be funny if written right...
After a long day at the zoo and then going out to dinner, I'm now home, sitting on my small patio, glass of pinot grigio at my side, sun setting, and writing Chapter 4.

Not a bad day at all. Hold on to your hats, new writing shall drop soon!
Tell me where you found that bit of information I would like to read it myself and also remember this is another continent and the goal is to make as much damage to whole region not just an airport.
With the CEP or Circle of Probably Error that is the accuracy level of a missile at best with the most accurate Soviet missile which is the SS-18 is five hundred meters. Which means that at least half the time the warhead would land over five hundred meters from its target and given the SS-18 were silo busters, the less accurate missiles were about 92O meters. which is half of all missiles would hit at least a kilometer or more away from the runways which your targeting. Even with the SS-18's you target two per silo to get at least an eighty percent kill ratio. Doing that with civilian airports and given how many there are you would run out of warheads before you run out of airfields. By the way here is a training film on the USAF procedures for keeping airbases operational during a nuclear war and they use an groundburst but this just highlights the problems inherent with ground bursts.
Chapter 4
Chapter 4
November 20, 1983
Miami Beach, Florida

How could anyone get tired of this?

It was a beautiful 80 degree day, and Rosa had decided that her husband needed relaxation, so they were at the beach, watching the waves crash in. Klima was laying back with his aviators on, soaking in the sun, while Rosa and Adriana built a sand castle together. They'd brought a small radio with them, which was playing old jazz songs, making for a peaceful Sunday afternoon by the ocean.

Completely unbeknownst to Jan Klima, his target was walking mere yards from him along the waves, smoking a cigar and talking with a man who was overdressed for the location. El Caracortada was having an animated conversation with his lawyer, Paul Rosenstein. Rosenstein had on a suit that would have fit in five years ago, but had gone out of style, not to mention...he was wearing a suit on the beach. Rosenstein never quite fit in where he was, but for all of the social ability he lacked, he compensated for by being a cunning attorney, and he'd used piles of paperwork and shell companies to keep Manny's cocaine profits nice and legal. Manny even reported and paid taxes (less than his actual income, of course, but enough to look good to the IRS). Rosenstein had successfully persuaded the ambitious drug lord that with Reagan in office, the tax rate on top earners was low enough to be worth paying, since it would remove an avenue of investigation.

Now, however, the current argument was about the Cubans who'd been arrested. One of them had talked, and Rosenstein's efforts to be assigned as the man's attorney had been rebuffed. Miami PD was keeping their informant in protective custody, and Antonio had been unable to find out for his boss where the man was. There was a rumor that he'd get immunity for what he told, and he could tell a lot. The Cuban knew the location of the warehouse, he knew some of the other dealers, and he certainly knew Manny Rivera, El Caracortada. Rivera wanted this man dead, and Antonio had been striking out, so now here he was, badgering Rosenstein as to what could be done to discover how much information had been given.

As they walked the beach, they passed in front of Klima's field of view. Rivera glanced over, right at Klima and his family, as he walked by. Klima looked right in his eyes and got a chill. They were cold eyes, ruthless. Weeks later, Klima would have reason to wish he'd known who it was then. So much could've been prevented, but that was in a world as yet unseen to both men, and so Klima went back to his book, and Rivera kept walking with Rosenstein.

Adriana ran over to her daddy for hugs, excitedly telling him about the sandcastle her and Mommy had built. Rosa came up and gave Jan a kiss, and then looked at him. "Honey, is everything okay?" she asked. "Yeah, babe, everything's fine. Just...that man that was walking by," he replied. She glanced at the two men walking away. "Do you know one of them, Jan?" "No, I don't think so. I don't know what it is. No big deal." Jan smiled. "Let's get some ice cream and go home."


Meanwhile, around the nation, the notices had gone out. Extended call-ups and training were taking place for the Reserves and the National Guard, in preparation for the potential outbreak of war. Men were receiving phone calls at home ordering them to report in, causing much grumbling amongst them and their families. For many in Florida, this meant a fairly long drive to their reporting bases. In Tampa, the 53rd Infantry Brigade was being formed up. In Orlando, it was the 164th Air Defense Artillery Brigade (an important tasking, given the proximity of Cuba to Florida), and in Miami, the 227th Field Artillery Brigade was called up. The Air National Guard pilots and crew reported to the regular bases they flew out of: Tyndall AFB in Panama City, Jacksonville International Airport (also Jacksonville Air National Guard Base), and Homestead AFB west of Miami. Commanders were called to the State Arsenal in St. Augustine to receive a briefing on the threat level and on how long this alert status would remain for the Guardsmen. One of these commanders was Klima's immediate superior, who was a Lt. Colonel in the Guard. This was the second event that would take place this day which would disrupt a future as yet unseen.


Antonio had finished up his work. He hated this part of his job, but it was necessary. Usually, anyways.

He looked at the broken body tied to the chair and felt shame. The man had clearly not known anything, but because he'd been associated with the arrested Cubans, he was suspect. The interrogation had gone on for hours inside this house and yielded nothing except for a lot of muffled screams and a decent amount of blood towards the end. He thought about disposing of the body, but decided it wasn't worth the trouble. Much easier to slip away through the back door and walk to the next block where he'd parked his car. The body would be found soon enough, and it'd be chalked up to the same things that all the others were these days around Little Havana.

These stupid Americans. They've had their little War on Drugs for decades now, in one form or another, and it doesn't stop. People like to get fucked up. You would think after Prohibition they would've figured out that it was pointless, but clearly they didn't get it. Arrogant bastards, always thinking they were so exceptional and could fix anything if they just threw enough money after it.

Antonio found his red '71 Pontiac GTO, fired up the engine, and drove out of the neighborhood. He was home and in the shower when Miguel came home and found his nephew dead.


Hours later, Klima and Cárdenas were called to the house on NW 23rd PL. They hadn't bothered to dress up, so they were both in casual clothes when they arrived, drawing a few snickers from the uniforms at the scene. They walked into the house, turned left into the living room, and...

"Madre de dios!" Luis exclaimed. "What the hell did they do to this guy?"

The coroner was on the scene. "Well, he had multiple fingers fractured, he'd been punched, looks like shocked with an electric cattle prod, and Lord knows what else. This went on for a couple hours, I'd estimate. Whoever did this was pumping him for information and failed, so that's when they finished it. Right there, perfect cut of the jugular." Klima and Cárdenas decided to start looking around, seeing if there was anything left behind, but it was clean, except for the blood. When they tried to speak to Miguel, though, he cursed them, blaming Cárdenas for the death of his nephew, and refused to answer any questions. What had been a good day for the young detective had ended, again, on the sourest of notes. Only the sounds of "In the Air Tonight" broke the silence as the partners drove through the dark streets back to headquarters after leaving Little Havana.

"Hey, Luis," Klima said. "Yeah, buddy?" replied Cárdenas.

"Luis, we're gonna get this motherfucker if it's the last thing I do on this Earth."
Famous last words, as they say...

Hope he and his family live...

Waiting for more, of course...
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Update within the next day or two. We had a visit from Lindsey Graham at work yesterday, so the past couple days were very hectic getting everything in place. Shipping tanks and vehicles around requires lots of paperwork. :rolleyes:
You mean Senator Lindsey Graham (God, I bet he got picked on for that first name in school)? What was he doing there, if you don't mind me asking?

That is interesting, BTW...


You mean Senator Lindsey Graham (God, I bet he got picked on for that first name in school)? What was he doing there, if you don't mind me asking?

Visting troops (assuming @wolverinethad is a soldier, considering they mentioned "tanks and vehicles") is always gold-dirt for politicians with... maybe eventual presidential aspirations, or looking to secure re-election.
Visting troops (assuming @wolverinethad is a soldier, considering they mentioned "tanks and vehicles") is always gold-dirt for politicians with... maybe eventual presidential aspirations, or looking to secure re-election.
I got to shake 43 & 44's hands because the rope line at Tinker AFB was immediately outside the building I worked out of (<25m from my desk at work). Oh yeah, PR circus follows, it's ridiculous and annoying when all the sudden the parking lot you share with two hangar bays full of round the clock civilian contractor maintainers gets cut in half.

Similar problem, @wolverinethad?
Visting troops (assuming @wolverinethad is a soldier, considering they mentioned "tanks and vehicles") is always gold-dirt for politicians with... maybe eventual presidential aspirations, or looking to secure re-election.

I got to shake 43 & 44's hands because the rope line at Tinker AFB was immediately outside the building I worked out of (<25m from my desk at work). Oh yeah, PR circus follows, it's ridiculous and annoying when all the sudden the parking lot you share with two hangar bays full of round the clock civilian contractor maintainers gets cut in half.

Similar problem, @wolverinethad?

Yes, SENATOR Lindsey Graham, and I am one of those civilian contractors. He wanted to see some of the new production and prototype vehicles we had. He's smaller than I ever suspected, maybe about 5'8", fairly small hands (somehow I feel Trump's jibe at Rubio was misplaced), asked lots of questions, climbed inside a couple of armored vehicles, and was very warm with everyone. Whatever one thinks of his political positions, he acts like a decent human being and didn't look down on anyone.
Chapter 5
November 28, 1983
Tallahassee, Florida
State Capitol

The jamming city increases its hum, and those
Terrible words continue to come
Through brass music of government, hear those
Guns tattoo a roll on the drums

No one mentions the neighbouring war
No one knows what their fighting is for
We are tired of the tune, "you must not relent"

Bob Graham thanked God that the Legislature was in committee season, as he was able to hold the emergency preparatory meetings with key legislators without calling a special session, which would've drawn more attention than anyone wanted. Graham wanted to stay as cool and levelheaded as possible, while being ready for the worst.

This current meeting featured the legislative leadership. Speaker H. Lee Moffitt, Speaker pro tempore Steve Pajcic, House Republican leader Ron Richmond, Senate president Curtis Peterson, Senate president pro tempore Jack Gordon, Republican Senate leader Clark Maxwell, and Republican Senate leader pro tempore Toni Jennings. Democrats dominated the legislature, and Graham was sending a message to his own team by inviting the Republicans: this isn't political.

"Good afternoon, everyone. The reason I have you here today is the current world situation, which as you know is tenuous at best. I've spent the past couple of weeks since the Berlin incident touring our shelters around the state, and I have to say, I'm not thrilled." Graham looked around the room. "We likely do not have the time to build shelters, so we have to make the best of what we have. I propose the following steps. First, if war breaks out, the Legislature will move to Gainesville with the Lieutenant Governor. Everything I've learned from the Air Force briefing I've received says that Gainesville is not on any Soviet target list, nor is there any military institution close to it. The University of Florida is there, with a law school, so all the records we need to conduct business are available. I will stay here in Tallahassee with the attorney general, the director of civil defense, the chief financial officer, and the secretary of state. Other state officials will deploy to smaller, untargeted cities to help with potential relief issues should the worst happen. Those cities are: Sarasota, Fort Myers, Naples, Fort Pierce, West Palm Beach, and St. Augustine."

The governor took a drink of water. The room was dead quiet. He continued. "Secondly, if and when war breaks out, I will declare a state of emergency. While I intend to consult with you as much as possible, I need the authority to act as I see fit, so I am asking you to vote to expand the emergency powers of the office, with a sunset of six months from the outbreak of war. If need be, you can vote to extend that authority beyond that term. I do not want these powers if I do not need them, and I tell you, I am praying every night that I do not need these powers. Third, and finally, I'm asking for a special appropriation to purchase additional medical and food supplies to stockpile around the state. We will need, if nuclear weapons are used, a literal tons of iodine, pain medications, insulin for diabetics, food, water, etc. We can produce a lot of canned fruit here in-state, and I recommend we do that as part of this plan."

"Now, I am cringing at asking, but I must. Any questions?"

The room erupted.


Meanwhile, in Miami, Detective Jan Klima was fuming. His boss was gone, called up to the National Guard, and replacing him was a real hardass, Captain Paul Grimes. Grimes seemed to be dissatisfied with everything Klima and Cárdenas had come up with, or rather, hadn't come up with. The captain didn't seem to care that these drug operations were cropping up faster than Miami PD could keep up with them. In fact, he oddly seemed to discount the influence of drugs in the murder of Miguel, at least from it being the result of an organization. Grimes had ventured the theory that a coked-up addict had committed the crime, which both Jan and Luis found ludicrous, but he was their superior, and so they were investigating that angle.

Currently, this meant rousting all sorts of homeless men and stopping into clinics where the addicts got their treatment. To say the effort had been fruitless was an understatement. Not a single man or woman they'd met had recognized Miguel, and more than half were incoherent when they spoke. Klima was reminded of how bad the Army had been, in the shadow of Vietnam, and yet none of those soldiers were in the shape these addicts were. What is the allure of something that does this to you?

"We're getting nowhere, partner." Cárdenas broke the silence. Klima turned to him. "Is there anyone you know who might talk to us, people close to Miguel?" Cárdenas shook his head. "No, man, ain't nobody talking now. Miguel's death has scared the shit out of everyone in the neighborhood. I don't know what to do next." Klima sat there, thinking, trying to come up with an idea that would break through this latest logjam. After a few minutes, he sighed. "Well, I don't know what hardass Grimes will say about this, but I think we need to start doing some stakeouts. We need to watch some dealers in the target area, and then see where they go. I'm going to ask for additional resources, but are you okay with the likelihood that you and I get stuck with this?" Cárdenas grimaced. "This is going to cut into my workout time a lot, isn't it?" Klima looked at Luis with an odd expression on his face. "Buddy, you just hit the gym this morning. How many times a day do you go?"

Cárdenas grinned now. "Ain't nobody said my nighttime workouts involved a gym now, did they?"


A workout was exactly what Manny Rivera was getting right now. He had a beautiful blonde girlfriend, Amber, who he charmed at Club Manhattan by the University of Miami, but she was at her job right now, so Manny took the opportunity to indulge in someone else. Today, it was a dark-haired woman of French descent named Brigitte, whom he'd met the night before at The Mutiny Hotel's exclusive club. It was the sort of place that one wouldn't find a loyal girlfriend, but you were almost guaranteed to get laid. After having lunch on his patio, they'd both indulged in a snort of his pure cocaine before moving to the bedroom, going at it for nearly an hour. Finally, Ei Caracortada finished, rolled over, and lit a cigarette, passing it to this stunning woman, before lighting another for himself. They laid in the silence, sun shining in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Rivera smiled to himself. He really had it made. If no more problems cropped up, he would dominate the cocaine trade in this town within a year. He was already struggling to keep up with demand, especially since he paid close attention to quality, not skimping badly when it was mixed with inert powder, making sure his customers got a high they would kill to keep going. He was able to charge better prices with a reputation established, padding his bank account while Rosenstein looked for new ways to invest the extra cash. Manny realized he owed Antonio an apology for how he'd treated him a few weeks ago. Antonio was his hermano, and he'd taken care of a glaring loose end in Miguel. Manny hated to kill fellow Cubans, but Miguel liked to talk too much, and while pride isn't a bad thing, it is when the wrong ears come upon it. How else could the other three Cubans have been caught? They were still trying to find the Snitch, but he'd been moved around a lot, and Manny's sources inside Miami's police department had not gotten a single bit of useful information.

Rivera sat up. He needed to get to work. He playfully smacked Brigitte's ass, gave her some cash as a thank-you, and kissed her goodbye. Dressing in black button-down and black pants, he headed out the door. Rivera was feeling good, so out came the Ferrari, and off he raced through the streets, headed for Rosenstein's office. They needed to come up with a plan for potential criminal charges, since killing the Snitch didn't look like it was going to pan out. Too bad, Manny thought. Life is so much easier when you can end someone else's to fix your problems.
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The Florida Republican House Minority Leader was named Ron Richmond. His short bio is here: http://www.myfloridahouse.gov/Sections/Representatives/details.aspx?MemberId=2852.

IOTL, he was Minority Leader in Florida from 1982-1984. Good update, BTW...

BTW, a good source on the drug war in South Florida is the documentary Cocaine Cowboys (as I've mentioned); it includes interviews with the criminals and law enforcement involved...

Good update...

Was West Palm Beach untargeted? I seem to recall it being on Florida's target list, IIRC...
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