Red Storm Rising Part 2

Sergetov leaned back in his leather chair. So, there it was: war was less risky than a cold, hungry peace. It had been decided. Or had it? Might some combination of other Politburo members have the power or prestige to reverse that decision? Could he dare to speak out against this madness? Perhaps a judicious question first.

"Do we have the ability to defeat NATO?" He was chilled by the glib reply.

"Of course," Defense answered. "What do you think we have an army for? We have already consulted with our senior commanders."

And when you asked us last month for more steel for more new tanks, Comrade Defense Minister, was your excuse that NATO was too weak? Sergetov asked himself angrily. What machinations had taken place? Have they even spoken with their military advisers yet, or had the Defense Minister exploited his vaunted personal expertise? Had the General Secretary allowed himself to be bullied by Defense? And by the Foreign Minister? Had he even objected? Was this how the decisions were made to decide the fate of nations? What would Vladimir Ilych have thought of this?

"Comrades, this is madness!" said Pyotr Bromkovskiy. The oldest man there, frail and past eighty, his conversation occasionally rambled about the idealistic times long before, when Communist Party members really believed that they were the leading wave of history. The Yezhovshchina purges had ended that. "Yes, we have a grave economic danger. Yes, we have a grave danger to the security of the State-but do we replace this with a greater danger? Consider what can happen-how long, Comrade Defense Minister, before you can initiate your conquest of NATO?"

"I am a.s.sured that we can have our army fully ready for combat operations in four months."

"Four months. I presume that we will have fuel four months from now-enough fuel to begin a war!" Petya was old, but no one's fool.

"Comrade Sergetov." The General Secretary gestured down the table, dodging his responsibility yet again.

Which side to take? The young candidate member made a swift decision. "Inventories of light fuels-gasoline, diesel, et cetera-are high at the moment," Sergetov had to admit. "We always use the cold-weather months-the time when usage of these fuels is lowest-to build up our stocks, and added to this are our strategic defense reserves, enough for forty-five-"

"Sixty!" insisted the Defense Minister.

"Forty-five days is a more realistic figure, Comrade." Sergetov held his position. "My department has studied fuel consumption by military units as part of a program to increase the strategic fuel reserves, something neglected in past years. With savings in other consumption and certain industrial sacrifices, we might expand this to sixty days of war stocks, perhaps even seventy, plus giving you other stocks to expand training exercises. The near-term economic costs would be slight, but by midsummer this would change rapidly." Sergetov paused, greatly disturbed at how easily he had gone along with the unspoken decision. I have sold my soul . . . Or have I acted like a patriot? Have I become like the other men around this table? Or have I merely told the truth-and what is truth? All he could be certain of, he told himself, is that he had survived. For now. "We do have the limited ability, as I told you yesterday, to restructure our distillate production. In this case, my staff feels that a nine-percent increase in the militarily important fuels can be accomplished-based on our reduced production. I caution, however, that my staff a.n.a.lysts also feel that all existing estimates of fuel usage in combat conditions are grossly optimistic." A last, feeble attempt at protest.

"Give us the fuel, Mikhail Eduardovich," the Defense Minister smiled coldly, "and we'll see it is properly used. My a.n.a.lysts estimate that we can accomplish our goals in two weeks, perhaps less-but I will grant you the strength of the NATO armies, and double our estimates to thirty days. We will still have more than enough."

"And what if NATO discovers our intentions?" old Petya demanded.

"They will not. Already we are preparing our maskirovka, our trickery. NATO is not a strong alliance. It cannot be. The ministers bicker over each country's defense contribution. Their peoples are divided and soft. They cannot standardize their weapons, and because of it their supply situation is utter chaos. And their most important, most powerful member is separated from Europe by five thousand kilometers of ocean. The Soviet Union is only an overnight train ride from the German border. But, Petya, my old friend, I will answer your question. If everything fails, and our intentions are discovered, we can always stop, say that we were running an exercise, and return to peacetime conditions-and be no worse off than if we do nothing at all. We need strike only if all is ready. We can always draw back."

Everyone at the table knew that was a lie, though a clever one, because no one had the courage to denounce it as such. What army had ever been mobilized to be called back? No one else spoke up to oppose the Defense Minister. Bromkovskiy rambled on for a few minutes, quoting Lenin's stricture about endangering the home of World Socialism, but even that drew no response. The danger to the State-actually the danger to the Party and the Politburo-was manifest. It could not become graver. The alternative was war.

Ten minutes later, the Politburo voted. Sergetov and his eight fellow candidate members were mere spectators. The vote was eleven to two for war. The process had begun.

DATE-TIME 02/03 17: 15 COPY 01 OF 01 OF SOVIET-REPORT.

BC-Soviet Report, Bjt, 2310*FL*

Ta.s.s Confirms Oil Field Fire*FL*

EDS: Moved in advance for SAt.u.r.dAY PMs*FL*

BY: Patrick Flynn*FC*

AP Moscow Correspondent

MOSCOW (AP)-It was confirmed today by Ta.s.s, the Soviet news agency, that "a serious fire" had taken place in the western Siberian region of the Soviet Union.

A back-page article in Pravda, the official Communist Party newspaper, noted the fire, commenting that the "heroic fire brigade" had saved countless lives by its skill and devotion to duty, also preventing more serious damage to the nearby oil facilities.

The fire was reportedly begun by a "technical malfunction" in the automatic refinery control systems and spread rapidly, but was swiftly extinguished, "not without casualties among the brave men detailed to attack the fire, and the courageous workmen who raced heroically to their comrades' side."

Though somewhat at odds with Western reports, the fire in the area did go out more quickly than had been expected. Western officials are now speculating about a highly sophisticated firefighting system built into the Nizhnevartovsk facility that allowed the Soviets to extinguish the fire.

AB-BA-2-3 16: 01 EST*FL*

* *END OF STORY* *

3.

Correlation of Forces

MOSCOW, R.S.F.S.R.

"They didn't ask me," explained Chief of the General Staff Marshal Shavyrin. "They didn't ask for my evaluation. The political decision was already made when they called me in Thursday night. When was the last time the Defense Minister asked me for a substantive judgmental decision?"

"And what did you say?" asked Marshal Rozhkov, Commander-in-Chief of Ground Forces. The initial response was a grim, ironic smile.

"That the armed forces of the Soviet Union were able to carry out this task, given four months of preparation."

"Four months . . ." Rozhkov stared out the window. He turned back. "We won't be ready."

"Hostilities will commence on 15 June," Shavyrin replied. "We must be ready, Yuri. And what choice did I have? Would you have had me say, 'I am sorry, Comrade General Secretary, but the Soviet Army is unable to carry out this task'? I would have been dismissed and replaced by someone more tractable-you know who my replacement will be. Would you rather answer to Marshal Bukharin-"

"That fool!" Rozhkov growled. It had been the then-Lieutenant General Bukharin whose brilliant plan had led the Soviet Army into Afghanistan. Professionally a nonent.i.ty, his political connections had not only saved him, but continued his career to near the pinnacle of uniformed power. A clever man, Bukharin. Never involved in the mountain campaigns himself, he could point to his brilliant paper plan and complain that it had been poorly executed, after he had moved on to command of the Kiev Military District, historically the s.h.i.+ning gate to marshal's rank.

"So, would you have him in this office, dictating your plans to you?" Shavyrin asked. Rozhkov shook his head. The two men had been friends and comrades since each had commanded a tank troop in the same regiment, just in time for the final surge toward Vienna in 1945.

"How are we to go about it?" Rozhkov asked.

"Red Storm," the Marshal replied simply. Red Storm was the plan for a mechanized attack into West Germany and the Low Countries. Constantly updated for changes in the force structures of both sides, it called for a two- to three-week campaign commencing after a rapid escalation of tension between East and West. Despite this, in accordance with standard Soviet strategic doctrine, it called for strategic surprise as a precondition for success, and the use of conventional weapons only.

"At least they aren't talking about atomic arms." Rozhkov grunted. Other plans with other names applied to different scenarios, including many for the use of tactical and even strategic nuclear arms, something no one in uniform wished to contemplate. Despite all the saber-rattling of their political masters, these professional soldiers knew all too well that the use of nuclear arms made only for ghastly uncertainties. "And the maskirovka?"

"In two parts. The first is purely political, to work against the United States. The second part, immediately before the war begins, is from KGB. You know it, from KGB Group Nord. We reviewed it two years ago."

Rozhkov grunted. Group Nord was an ad hoc committee of KGB department chiefs, first a.s.sembled by then-chief of the KGB Yuri Andropov in the mid-1970s. Its purpose was to research means of splitting the NATO alliance, and in general to conduct political and psychological operations aimed at undermining Western will. Its specific plan to shake the NATO military and political structure in preparation for a shooting war was Nord's proudest example of legerdemain. But would it work? The two senior officers shared an ironic look. Like most professional soldiers, they distrusted spies and all their plans.

"Four months," Rozhkov repeated. "We have much to do. And if this KGB magic fails to work?"

"It is a good plan. It need only deceive the West for a week, though two weeks would be better. The key, of course, is how quickly NATO can reach full readiness. If we can delay the mobilization process seven days, victory is a.s.sured-"

"And if not?" Rozhkov asked sharply, knowing that even a seven-day delay was no guarantee.

"Then it is not a.s.sured, but the balance of forces is on our side. You know that, Yuri." The option of recalling the mobilized forces had never been discussed with the Chief of the General Staff.

"We will need to improve discipline throughout the force first of all," CINC-Ground said. "And I need to inform our senior commanders at once. We need to implement intense training operations. Just how awful is this fuel problem?"

Shavyrin handed his subordinate the notes. "It could be worse. We have enough for extended unit training. Your task is no easy one, Yuri, but four months is a long time for this task, is it not?"

It wasn't, but there was no point in saying so. "As you say, four months to instill fighting discipline. I will have a free hand?"

"Within limits."

"It is one thing to make a private soldier snap to the orders of his sergeant. It might be another for officers conditioned to pus.h.i.+ng paper to change into combat leaders." Rozhkov skirted the issue, but his superior received the message clearly enough.

"A free hand on both, Yuri. But act carefully, for both our sakes."

Rozhkov nodded briefly. He knew whom he'd use to get this done. "With the troops we led forty years ago, Andrey, we could do this." Rozhkov sat down. "And in truth we have the same raw material now that we had then-and better weapons. The chief unknown remains the men. When we drove our tanks into Vienna, our men were tough, hard veterans-"

"And so were the SS b.a.s.t.a.r.ds we crushed." Shavyrin smiled, remembering. "Keep in mind that the same forces are at work in the West, even more so. How well will they fight, surprised, divided? It can work. We must make it work."

"I'm meeting with our field commanders Monday. I will tell them myself."

NORFOLK, VIRGINIA.

"I hope you take good care of it," the Mayor said.

It was a moment before Commander Daniel X. McCafferty reacted. USS Chicago had been in commission for only six weeks, her completion delayed by a yard fire and her commissioning ceremony marred by the absence of the Mayor of Chicago due to a strike of city workers. Just back from five tough weeks of workups in the Atlantic, his crew was now loading provisions for their first operational deployment. McCafferty was still entranced with his new command, and never tired of looking at her. He'd just walked the Mayor along the curved upper deck, the first part of any submarine tour, even though there was almost nothing to be seen there. "Excuse me?"

"Take good care of our s.h.i.+p," said the Mayor of Chicago.

"We call them boats, sir, and we'll take good care of her for you. Will you join us in the wardroom?"

"More ladders." The Mayor pretended to grimace, but McCafferty knew him to be a former fire chief. Would have been useful a few months back, the captain thought. "Where are you heading tomorrow?"

"To sea, sir." The captain started down the ladder. The Mayor of Chicago followed him.

"I figured that." For a man in his late fifties, he handled the steel ladder easily enough. They met again at the bottom. "What exactly do you do in these things?"

"Sir, the Navy calls it 'Oceanographic Research.' " McCafferty led him forward, turning for a smile with his answer to the awkward question. Things were starting quickly for Chicago. The Navy wanted to see just how effective her new quieting systems were. Everything looked good in the acoustical test range off the Bahamas. Now they wanted to see how well things worked in the Barents Sea.

The Mayor laughed at that one. "Oh, I suppose you'll be counting the whales for Greenpeace!"

"Well, I can say that there are whales where we're heading."

"What's with the tile on your deck? I never heard of rubber decks on a s.h.i.+p."

"It's called anechoic tile, sir. The rubber absorbs sound waves. It makes us quieter to operate, and makes it harder to detect us on sonar if somebody pings at us. Coffee?"

"You'd think that on a day like this-"

The captain chuckled. "Me, too. But it's against regulations."

The Mayor hoisted his cup and clicked against McCafferty's. "Luck."

"I'll drink to that."

MOSCOW, R.S.F.S.R.

They met at the Main Officers Club of the Moscow Military District on Ulitsa Krasnokazarmennaya, a ma.s.sively impressive building dating back to Czarist times. It was the normal time of year for senior field commanders to confer in Moscow, and such events were always punctuated by elaborate ceremonial dinners. Rozhkov greeted his fellow officers at the main entrance, and when all were a.s.sembled, he led them downstairs to the ornate steam baths. Present were all Theater commanders, each accompanied by his deputy, his air force commander, and the fleet commanders: a small galaxy of stars, ribbons, and braid. Ten minutes later, naked but for a pair of towels and a handful of birch branches each, they were just another group of middle-aged men, perhaps a bit fitter than was the average in the Soviet Union.