Red Storm Rising

by Tom Clancy

  KOBLENZ, FEDERAL REPUBLIC OF GERMANY

  “Good evening, Major.” In a guarded wing of the military hospital, the chief of CIA’s Bonn Station sat down with his British and French counterparts and a pair of translators. “Shall we talk about Lammersdorf?” Unbeknownst to the Germans, the British had a file on Major Chernyavin’s activities in Afghanistan, including a poor but recognizable photograph of the man remembered by the Mudjahaddin as the Devil of the Kandahar. General Jean-Pierre de Ville of the French DGSE handled the questioning, since he spoke the best Russian. By this time Chernyavin was a broken man. His only attempt at resistance was killed by listening to a tape of his drug-induced confession. A dead man to his own countrymen, the major repeated what these men already knew but had to hear for themselves. Three hours later, Flash-priority dispatches went to three Western capitals, and representatives of the three security services prepared briefing papers for their counterparts in the other NATO countries.

  14

  Gas

  WANDLITZ, GERMAN DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC

  SCENARIO 6

  Spring-summer weather patterns (moderate humidity and temperatures; rain probability 35% per day); westerly and southwesterly winds of 10 to 30 km/hr at ground level, indexed for altitude; use of highly persistent agents against communications nexi, POMCUS sites, airfields, supply, and nuclear weapon storage facilities (normal computed delivery error rate, see Appendix F of Annex 1). The chief of the Communist Party of the German Democratic Republic read on to the bottom of the abstract, despite the acid churning in his stomach:

  As with Scenarios 1, 3, 4, and 5, any warning of over 15 minutes will ensure virtually complete MOPP-4 protection of alerted combat and support personnel. The problem of civilian casualties remains, since over a hundred targets of the categories cited above are near major population centers. Biodegradation of persistent agents such as GD (the expected Soviet agent of choice; for an analysis of Soviet literature on this topic, see Appendix C of Annex 2) will be slowed by generally mild temperatures and weather-reduced sunlight photochemical action. This will allow the agents in aerosol form to drift on wind currents. Given minimum source concentrations of 2 milligrams per cubic meter, predicted vertical temperature gradients, and cloudwidth inputs, we see that the downwind toxic vapor hazard to large areas of the FRG and DDR will be approximately 0.3 (plus or minus 50% in our calculations, allowing for expected impurities and chemical breakdown in the chemical munitions) as great as that at the targets themselves.

  Since open Soviet literature calls for source (that is, target) concentrations well beyond median lethal dose (LCT-50), we see that the entire German civilian population is at the gravest risk. Expected allied retaliation to such chemical strikes would be largely psychological in nature—the use of Soviet munitions alone will effectively contaminate most of Greater Germany; it is expected that no part of Germany east of the Rhein can be considered safe to unprotected personnel, beginning 12 hours after the first munitions are expended. Similar effects may be expected in parts of Czechoslovakia, and even western Poland, depending on wind direction and speed. Such contamination must be expected, moreover, to continue at least 1.5 times the mean persistence level of the agents used.

  This is the last (and statistically most likely) of the scenarios outlined by the contract specifications.

  SECTION VIII: EXECUTIVE SUMMARY

  As the reader will appreciate, although given tactical warning of only a few minutes, alerted military formations can confidently be expected to suffer few casualties (albeit with 30-50% degradation of combat effectiveness; this degradation likely, however, to equate to both sides), expected casualties to civilians will actually be greater than those anticipated from a Level-2 exchange of tactical nuclear weapons (200 warheads @<100kt yield; see Appendix A of Annex 1) at a mix of military and civilian/industrial targets. Thus, despite the fact that chemical munitions are not of themselves directly damaging to fixed industrial assets, serious near- and long-term economic effects must be expected. Even the use of nonpersistent agents at the FEBA (Forward Edge of the Battle Area) cannot but have major impact on the civilian population due to the heavily urbanized character of the German countryside and the patent inability of any government to provide adequate protection for its civilian population.

  In terms of immediate effects, the 10,000,000+ civilian fatality floor figure in Scenario 2 represents a public health problem worse by an order of magnitude than that following the Bangladesh Cyclone disaster of 1970, and is likely to include synergistic effects well beyond the scope of this study. (Contract specifications specifically excluded investigation into bio-ecological effects from a major chemical exchange. While the difficulty associated with an in-depth examination of this subject is impossible at this writing to estimate, the reader is cautioned that such far-reaching effects are less easily dealt with than studied. It might be necessary, for example, to import tons of insect larvae before the simplest food crops can again flourish in Western Europe.) For the moment the ability even of organized armies to dispose of millions of civilian bodies in advanced stages of decomposition is not something to be taken for granted. And the civilians needed for the reestablishment of industrial production (under what are almost certainly optimistic estimates) will have been at the least decimated in the literal, classical sense.

  An Analysis of the Effects of Chemical

  Warfare in the European Theater Utilizing

  Atmospheric Release Advisory Capability (ARAC) Prediction

  Lawrence-Livermore National Laboratories

  LLNL 88-2504 * CR 8305/89/178

  SIGMA 2

  Specified External Distribution Only

  >>SECRET<<

  Johannes Bitner did not throw the report into his trash basket—he felt like washing his hands. Yet another similarity between East and West, he thought coldly. Their government reports are written by computers to be read by calculators. Just like ours. Just like ours.

  “Herr Generaloberst.” The Chief of the Communist Party of the DDR looked up at his Commander-in-Chief. He and another officer had come early in the morning—and in civilian clothes—to visit him at his plush private residence in Wandlitz, the enclave of the Party elite outside Berlin. They had delivered the document obtained only two days earlier through a highly placed DDR agent in West Germany’s Ministry of Defense. “Just how accurate is this document?”

  “Comrade Secretary, we cannot check their computer models, of course, but their formulae, their estimates for the persistence of Soviet chemical weapons, their predicted weather patterns—that is, all of the data which supposedly underlies this study—has been examined by members of my intelligence staff and rechecked by some chosen faculty members at the University of Leipzig. There is no reason to believe that it is anything but genuine.”

  “In fact,” said Colonel Mellethin, director of Foreign Operations Analysis—he was a spare, austere man with eyes that clearly had not known sleep for some days—“the Americans understate the total quantities of munitions employed, because they consistently overstate the accuracy of Russian delivery systems.” The other two men in the room noted at once that Russian had been substituted for Soviet.

  “There is something else you wish to say, Mellethin?” Bitner asked sharply.

  “Comrade Secretary, from the Russian point of view, what is the objective of this war?”

  “The neutralization of NATO, and access to greater economic assets. Say what you have to say, Comrade Colonel,” Bitner ordered.

  “Comrade, success for the Warsaw Pact would leave a united Germany. I point out that a united Germany, even a united socialist Germany, would be viewed as a strategic threat by the Soviet Union—after all, we are better socialists than they, nicht wahr?” Mellethin took a deep breath before going on. Was he risking his life? Did it matter? The family name had once been von Mellethin, and unwavering loyalty to the State was not something that Communism had taught his line of professional soldiers. “Comrade Party S
ecretary, Soviet success in this operation will leave Germany, socialist and capitalist, as barren as the surface of the moon, a minimum of ten to thirty percent of our people dead, our land poisoned, even without Western chemical retaliation. Comrade, we learned today that the Americans have begun airlifting ‘Bigeye’ chemical aircraft bombs into their base at Ramstein. If our ‘allies’ use their chemical weapons, and then NATO retaliates in kind, it is entirely possible that our country—that German culture itself—will completely cease to exist. Such an objective is not militarily defensible, but I suggest, Comrade, that this could be an additional, political objective of the Russian plan.”

  Bitner’s expression didn’t change a whit, and his visitors couldn’t see the chill that was enveloping their national leader. The meeting he’d had the previous week in Warsaw had been unsettling enough, but now the reason behind the greasy reassurances offered him by the Soviet leadership seemed all too clear.

  “There is no way to protect our civilian population?” Bitner asked.

  “Comrade.” The General sighed. “These persistent agents need not be breathed. They also work through the skin. If one touches a contaminated surface, one is poisoned. Even if we order our people to remain in their homes with windows and door closed, houses and apartment blocks arc not airtight. And people still must eat. Factory workers in certain essential industries still must work. Medical personnel, police, and internal security personnel—some of our most valuable citizens will be the most gravely exposed. These aerosols will travel invisibly across our country, virtually undetectable. They will leave a toxic film on lawns, trees, fences, walls, trucks—nearly anything. The rain will wash much off, but tests made years ago show that some of these poisons—those on the undersides of fences, for example—will persist for weeks, even months. We would need thousands of decontamination teams even to begin the task of making our country safe enough for our citizens to walk to their markets. Colonel Mellethin is correct: if the Russians use their gas weapons, and then the Americans reply in kind, we would be fortunate if half our citizens were alive six months from today. It is actually easier to protect our citizens from nuclear weapons than against gasses, and nuclear effects are shorter-lived.”

  “Du lieber Gott.”

  MOSCOW, R.S.F.S.R.

  “They said what?” The Defense Minister almost screamed.

  “Our fraternal socialist comrades of the German Democratic Republic have informed us that they can only view the use of chemical munitions inside their territory as a matter of the gravest national concern.” The Foreign Minister spoke dryly. “Moreover, they have forwarded to us intelligence reports which show clearly that the use of such weapons would only serve to harden NATO resolve—and possibly open the door to other weapons of mass destruction.”

  “But they are part of the plan!” Defense objected.

  “Comrades,” Sergetov observed. “We all know that the use of chemical munitions will have calamitous effects on civilians—wouldn’t this compromise our political maskirovka? Aren’t we saying that our quarrel is with the West German government? How might it look then if on the first day of the war we coldly exterminate many thousands of civilians?” How many more innocents shall we slaughter? he thought.

  “And there is another question,” said Bromkovskiy. Old and frail though he was, he was still an experienced man from the last war against the Germans, and his views on defense affairs still commanded respect. “If we use these weapons against all the NATO armies—and how can we restrict them to German formations? —America and France have made it clear that they consider gas as a weapon of mass destruction, to which they would respond in kind.”

  “The American chemical arsenal is a joke,” replied Defense.

  “I have seen studies from your ministry that suggest otherwise,” Bromkovskiy shot back. “And perhaps you will laugh at their nuclear weapons! If we kill many thousands of German civilians, their government will demand the use of atomic weapons against targets in our territory. If our gas weapons kill some thousands of American soldiers, do you think the American President will refrain from using his own weapons of mass destruction? Comrades, we have discussed this before. This war against NATO is a political operation, no? Do we cast away our political camouflage by using a weapon like this? We have the assurance now that at least one NATO country will not join in a Russian-German war. This is a great victory for our political policy. The use of chemical weapons will cast away that advantage and open political dangers from more than one direction.

  “I feel that we should retain control of these weapons in the Politburo. Comrade Defense Minister, are you telling us that we can win only if weapons of mass destruction are used?” The old man leaned forward and spoke with harsh determination. “Has the situation changed? You will remember telling us that if strategic surprise were lost, our armies could be recalled. Has surprise been lost?”

  The Defense Minister’s face went rigid for a moment. “The Soviet Army is ready and able to carry out its mission. It is now too late to retreat. This is also a political question, Petya.”

  “NATO is mobilizing,” Sergetov said.

  “Too late, and too halfheartedly,” replied the Director of the KGB. “We have split one country from the NATO alliance. We are working on others, and are hard at work throughout Europe and America spreading disinformation about the bomb attack. The will of the people in the NATO countries is low. They will not want to fight a war for German murderers, and their political leaders will find a way to disassociate themselves from the conflict.”

  “But not if we slaughter civilians with gas.” The Foreign Minister nodded. “Petya and young Sergetov are correct: the political cost of these weapons is simply too high.”

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  “But why? Why are they doing this?” the President demanded.

  “We simply do not know, sir.” The Director of Central Intelligence was clearly uncomfortable with the question. “We know that this Kremlin Bomb Plot was a complete fabrication—”

  “Did you see what the Post said this morning? The press says that this guy Falken has ‘agency’ or its German equivalent written all over him.”

  “Mr. President, the truth of the matter is that Herr Falken was almost certainly a Soviet sleeper agent under KGB control. The Germans have been unable to uncover very much about him. It’s as though he just sprang into being thirteen years ago, and he’s been quietly running his import-export business for the last twelve years. Sir, every indication we have is that the Soviets are prepared for an attack against NATO. There is no indication, for example, that they are demobilizing their conscripts who are at the end of their enlistment periods, nor any evidence of preparations for the new ‘class’ of conscripts that should have begun to arrive several days ago. Finally, there’s the case of this Spetznaz major the Germans picked up. He was infiltrated into the Federal Republic before the bomb plot, with orders to attack a NATO communications base. As to why—Mr. President, we simply do not know. We can describe what the Russians are doing but not the reason for it.”

  “I told the country last night that we would be able to control this situation through diplomatic means . . .”

  “We still might. We need to communicate directly with the Soviets,” the President’s national security adviser said. “Until they respond positively, however, we have to show that we mean business, too. Mr. President, a further call-up of reservists is necessary.”

  NORTH ATLANTIC

  The Julius Fucik was rolling ten degrees with a beam sea. It made life hard on the soldiers, Captain Kherov noted, but they were doing well for landsmen. His own crewmen were dangling over the sides with sprayguns, painting over the ship’s Interlighter markings, preparatory to replacing them with the Lykes Lines emblem. The soldiers were cutting away parts of the superstructure to conform with the silhouette of the Doctor Lykes, a U.S.-flag Seabee carrier remarkably similar to the Fucik. The Soviet ship had been built years before in Finland’s Valmet yar
d from plans purchased in America. Already the elevator winch area aft had been painted completely black to match the American line’s house colors, and a black diamond had been painted on both sides of the superstructure. Gangs of men were changing the shape and colors of the two funnels with prefabricated parts. The hardest job remaining was the paintwork on the hull. The Interlighter markings were made of twenty-foot letters. Replacing them called for the use of canvas templates, and the lettering had to be neat and exact. Worst of all, there was no way to check the workmanship short of launching a ship’s boat, something he had neither the time nor the inclination to do.

  “How long, Comrade Captain?”

  “Four hours at least. The work goes well.” Kherov couldn’t hide his concern. Here they were, mid-Atlantic, far from the usual sea lanes, but there was no telling—

  “And if we are spotted by an American aircraft or ship?” General Andreyev asked.

  “Then we will find out how effective our damage-control drills have been—and our mission will be a failure.” Kherov ran his hand along the polished teak rail. He’d commanded this ship for six years, taken her into nearly every port on the North and South Atlantic. “We’ll get some way on. The ship will ride more easily on a bow sea.”

  MOSCOW, R.S.F.S.R.

  “When are you planning to leave?” Flynn asked Calloway.

  “Soon, Patrick. I hope you’ll be coming with me?” The unmarried children of both men were in college, and both had sent their wives west the day before.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never run away before.” Flynn scowled at the empty stage at the end of the room. He had the scars to prove it. “They pay me to report the news.”