Krauja turned right and made her way through the narrow streets of the old port quarter and then joined the main highway. Finally they drove onto the 600-meter length of the Vansu bridge, high above the Daugava River.

“There’s your ship. Down on the left,” said Krauja, pointing.

Morland looked left as Krauja indicated and there, his view partially obscured by the metal guardrails that ran alongside the bridge, were three small battleship-gray mine countermeasure ships, alongside the dockside on the other side of the river; all that NATO had been able to agree among themselves to send to Latvia in its hour of need. And now, from the activity on the deck, he could see they were preparing to leave.

HMS Padstow wasn’t much to look at, thought Morland, and she carried no weapons worth mentioning. But thank God, the Royal Navy was here. Further alongside the dock, at the stern of the next ship, he could see the black, red and gold flag of Germany.

Now that escape was at hand, he wasn’t quite sure how he was going to say goodbye to Krauja. Something told him that when he said farewell, as he knew he must, he would not be seeing her again. Krauja had unfinished business with the Russian airborne and he doubted she would survive. And then, as they reached the center of the bridge and Morland was about to start saying his goodbyes, it happened.

High above them, too high to hear the roar of their jet engines, Morland spotted the tiny silhouettes of two Su-25KM Scorpions—Russia’s state-of-the-art ground-attack aircraft—as they banked below the clouds. He leaned out of the window to get a better view and saw them straighten for a moment and then, from each of them, came tell-tale twin streaks: laser-guided bombs. Morland had only ever seen them fired in news clips from Ukraine, but he was in no doubt about what he was witnessing and what would happen next.

Improbably and shockingly, the bombs began to snake down, heading directly toward the bridge and the Land Cruiser. He instinctively ducked, as if they were meant for him. But in the split second as the bombs streaked over the bridge, he knew he was being ridiculous. Those bombs were designed to destroy something very much larger and more valuable than him and his camera.

Next moment the bombs hit two of the ships on their left.

Nevertheless, Morland forced himself to glance back up. He saw the aircraft circle, bank again and, fearing nothing and nobody, let loose more bombs.