B018R79OOK EBOK

by Unknown

  Poland

  General Moynahan was waiting. First Armored and the First Cav were straining to get moving. They had been moved into heavy tree cover two days before, just to be ready. Everything had been done to conceal their position from prying eyes. It must have worked, because in the airstrikes the previous day, none had come near their units. The move had been lightning fast. When they reached Brest, they had been loaded onto trains and transported across Germany and into Poland by night. Hidden under tents and inside large hangars at an airport, the men had been told to check their gear and rest during the day. That night they had been moved again to their current position. They had expected some rest, but the Russian attack had come quicker than expected. Now they all waited for the word to move.

  The phone started everyone in the operations tent. It was answered, then the officer handed the receiver to Moynahan. “Moynahan,” he announced.

  “Chuck, Roger Hammond. Your guys ready?” he asked.

  “Just waiting for you to say go, boss. Everyone is fully briefed and all communications are well established. Once you say go, everything moves out. My artillery has its positions assigned and they will get there first and start their operations, followed by the tanks and infantry. My air units will pop up once we hit the line,” he reported. “Just like old times,” he added with a smile.

  “General, the trap is sprung. You know the plan. Hit ‘em hard,” Hammond said.

  “Aye, aye, sir,” said Moynahan. “We take off in less than five.”

  “Good luck, Chuck,” Hammond said.

  “We’ll take care of business, Roger.”

  Moynahan hung up the phone and turned to his staff. “Get this show on the road. The Germans and Poles are waiting on us. Commence operations,” he ordered.

  Outside the tent, tanks were started and began moving forward. Trucks were filled with troops and began moving out. They had one hour of night left, and they were going to use every minute of it.

  Sergeant Mike Provo and his tank crew were seated in their Abrams tank waiting for the orders to move. The engine was off and only the Link 16 was up and running for the moment. The men had been in the tank for three hours. After checking the systems, the men had shut down and waited for something his lieutenant had called a special operation. He had no idea what it was, but if it would help them gain ground, he was all for it.

  The alert appeared as a message on the link and Provo kicked his dozing crew back to life. Within seconds, the turbine was back online and all the systems switched on. A minute later and Provo found himself dashing through the trees and undergrowth toward the front. The link gave him an assignment of a tank just on the other side of a clearing showing up ahead. As the Abrams burst out of the tree cover like a charging horse, he could see a number of images on his scope. Not to mention what appeared to be hundreds of tanks making the same dash along a general line.

  His thermal imager picked up his target. “Target, tank. Heat,” he almost screamed. The loader selected the round and shoved it into the breach of the cannon. “Ready!” shouted the loader.

  The gun was already on its target and Provo pressed the trigger. The cannon roared and Provo watched as it struck its target with a bright explosion. Another target was assigned and Provo instantly saw it as well. The second shot took the turret off the second tank in a devastating roar. A third was assigned. “Train left, target tank, fifteen hundred,” Provo called out. Again the target was destroyed with the first round. What the hell is going on here, Provo wondered. Why aren’t they shooting back? Machine gun rounds began peppering the side of his tank. His gunner saw the source and began returning fire. It only took a few seconds.

  By mid-morning Provo and his tank had advanced over five miles. He still had nearly half of his main gun ammunition, but they had completely run out of machine gun ammo. As he turned his tank back to refuel and reload, more tanks took his place. All together they had wiped out fifteen tanks, four armored vehicles and three personnel carriers, not to mention hundreds of troops who simply had no way to defend themselves. He could tell his people were getting tired of just killing. Without people shooting back, the tenseness just wasn’t there. The tanks he had encountered simply sat there. Maybe he would find out more when they got back.

  Moscow

  President Borodin had enjoyed a good night’s sleep, only to have it interrupted by an aide who came rushing into his room.

  “Sir, you have an urgent call from the Defense Ministry,” the man practically yelled.

  Borodin sat up in his bed and reached over for his bedside phone. That was when he noticed that the lights weren’t coming on. What’s going on with the power?” he asked.

  “It went off just a few minutes ago. We have someone working on getting the generator started. It should be back on momentarily,” the aide said.

  Borodin grunted and returned to the phone. “Borodin,” he said into the receiver.

  “Comrade President, this is General Aledrovy. The Americans have begun a widespread attack against our front line. I must report we have had to fall back to secondary positions temporarily. Our losses have been almost catastrophic,” the general said. You could tell in his voice he was very agitated.

  Borodin became angry. “How can this be? We have ten divisions of front line troops there. Up until now we have met only weak resistance. What does the commander say?” he demanded.

  “That is part of the problem. He has been killed in some sort of assault. The reports coming in say that the troops were attacked with pistol fire at close range before the American tanks came in. Our initial estimates say we have lost nearly six thousand troops from that alone, mostly our tank crews. Our tanks can’t move because their crews have been decimated. Now the Americans are coming through destroying everything. The deputy commander is getting things reorganized and we are sending up fresh troops and tanks. As soon as he can get things back together, we can get a better assessment,” said the general.

  “He had better get things back quickly. We have a schedule to keep. I know that the Allies will put up resistance, but we are expending everything to get through to the English Channel. Tell that commander to get the job done or I will get someone in there who can,” Borodin demanded as he slammed down the phone.

  Flinging the covers to his bed back, he got up and rushed to his shower. The water came out as a trickle instead of a steady stream. Cursing under his breath, he splashed some of the water on his face and toweled it off. He then went to his room and began putting on his suit. He noticed that it was getting colder. Finally, the lights flickered back on. Looking out the window he saw that the rest of the city was dark. As he pulled his suit coat on, he walked to his door and called for the guard. “What is going on with the electricity? They know I have given strict orders that electricity must be maintained. Have you heard anything?” he asked.

  The guard shook his head. “Nothing, really, Mister President. I heard they were calling, but no answer as yet. They had some trouble with the generator, but they got it running. Is there something else I can do for you?” he asked.

  Borodin waved him off. “Let’s go down to the briefing room. We can find some answers there,” he said.

  The two men walked down the corridor and into an elevator. They went down three floors to another heavily paneled hallway. Turning left, the men walked to the end of the hall and entered another guarded doorway. Inside was a table where men were seated, talking on phones to their counterparts in the Defense Ministry. Video monitors filled the far wall and several younger officers rushed back and forth doing various tasks for the men at the table. Everyone stopped and stood when Borodin entered the room.

  “Alright, I am here. What is going on?” Borodin asked brusquely.

  General Aledrovy walked back to one of the large screen monitors. He pointed to a line that bowed across Poland. The line of advance has been pushed back about five miles and is firming up. The reserve tanks have come forward to hold the line. But now we are get
ting some reports of activity near the former border. I doubt it is serious, but we have called for the Second Army to send an additional division from the Ukraine to bolster the lines and continue the advance. They are on the way now,” he reported.

  “What about those casualty figures? Have we gotten any more information?” Borodin asked.

  Aledrovy looked almost stricken. “The casualties are rising. Our initial estimates were nowhere close to accurate. Our troops are still being lost behind the lines. There are reports of what sounds like a swarm of bees just before the attacks. Then pistol shots and men begin dropping. It looks like they are targeting tank crews specifically. The latest figure, including those lost to direct enemy action is over twenty thousand,” he said. But something else has happened,” he said as he nodded to the Air Force general across from the President.

  “Sir, we are getting reports from across the country that there are explosions at a number of sites. Fourteen of our hydroelectric dams have been struck. A number of the oil refineries from the Urals back to the Baltic were hit. There are massive fires. Another thirty seven of our electric generating plants are also inoperative due to explosions. The large electrical distribution yard outside Moscow has been hit and is inoperative. Several natural gas yards have been destroyed. There were also hits on a number of key bridges across the country. Right now, there is practically no electricity flowing anywhere in Russia. It appears this is due to a low level cruise missile attack. As you know, Comrade President, there is very little chance of such an attack being detected. The missiles could have come from anywhere, including launch from submarines. We stepped up anti-submarine patrols and have placed more aircraft in the air. We also stepped up manned stations along the coasts so that any future attacks will be detected,” the general reported.

  “This is unacceptable. We have entered the winter. Our people are going to get cold. Divert what we need to get the electricity back on,” Borodin ordered.

  “That will be a problem, Comrade President,” said the Energy Minister. “It will take months to achieve this. The only thing we can do for now is bring in portable units that can supply at least some power. But there are not enough to even help the major cities, much less the countryside. Most of the major manufacturers have their own units, but they won’t last forever. The only thing we can do is supplement with coal and oil fired units that have been shut down.”

  “That won’t work when our refineries are destroyed and our bridges are down,” cried another minister. “Remember we are at war! Our armies have first priority for our resources.”

  The arguments spread like a wildfire. No one had expected such a devastating blow this early on. This was supposed to be a rapid thrust to the Channel, then spreading out for all of Europe. Until today, everything had worked perfectly. Finally, Borodin held up his hand to quell the bickering. “You were supposed to have things ready to prevent such things as this from happening. Nothing should have reached Russian soil. Now I see that your efforts have fallen short. I must question your leadership on other matters as well.” His words slapped everyone in the room. Suddenly they realized how vulnerable their positions were.

  Borodin continued, “We must do what we can for our people, but the main goal is to continue our thrust into Europe. Draw forces from the east to supplement our troops. Issue some of our small coal burning units to people in the rural areas and get some electricity to the cities. The people will just have to suffer through this. We have done this in the past, and the people can do it again,” he said. Glancing back at the screen, he asked, “What are the red areas on the map in the Atlantic?”

  Admiral Metzik stood. “They are submarines that have been lost so far. Most were tracking American ships coming out of port. Several of our commanders report they have sunk American subs as well. We do not have firm numbers yet,” he said.

  Borodin looked slightly stricken. There were well over thirty spots on the display. “How can this be? According to your intelligence, most of their submarines were still in port,” he said.

  Metzik nodded slightly. “This is true. Our people on the ground have reported that the mining of the ports has worked well. Several of their ships were struck and few ships can get to sea, however, it appears there were still a fairly large number of submarines and ships that are at sea. They may have left port just before operations began.” He pulled up an image of USS Gettysburg broken in two and sitting in the channel of the St. John’s River. “Here is an example of what our mines have done,” the admiral said with glee.

  Borodin smiled. “At least something has worked well. Are we still blockading the air traffic?”

  “Yes, Comrade President. No aircraft have challenged us and no aircraft have crossed this line,” he said. He didn’t tell the President that there were other ways to get across the Atlantic.

  Borodin sat back in his seat. It would be foolish to think the Allies would not put up some resistance. Everything they had done had worked well to this point. He resigned himself to let the people at home suffer for a while. The main goal was to win this war.

  CIA

  The Joint Chiefs stared at the three dimensional display with unbelieving eyes. There in the room was what looked like a model of the battlefield in Poland. They could see the differences in the terrain, the trees and brush, and the individual tanks and soldiers as they moved along the battlefield. The display was the size of a basketball court. What was even more amazing was when aircraft appeared on the scene. They could clearly be seen above the ground as they attacked the troops on the ground. Even the explosions could be seen flying into the miniaturized air.

  “How the hell are you able to do this?” asked General Foote.

  Josh Mayfield relished the moment. It was not very often that the CIA had the respect of the Joint Chiefs. “The system is called Eyeball. It is a series of satellites that are up there in pairs. These pairs are linked together so that any time we want to look at an area it’s like seeing things with your own eyes. We get back this 3-D image. It can be zoomed in and out to regulate the size of the area we want to see. But more importantly, there are eight sets of cameras on the satellites to do this, allowing seven different groups to watch specific areas. The eighth is a fixed set, linked to a computer, so that any movements are detected and immediately relayed back to us here or to any other people on the net,” he said. Mayfield motioned for the operator to go to the fixed image. The ground before them suddenly expanded to the entire continent of Europe and much of Russia. Looking closely, the men could still see things on the ground and in the air.

  “This is amazing,” said Black, still staring at the display. “I thought the KH-14s were beyond compare, but this puts them to shame. What kinds of things have you been able to do so far?”

  Mayfield turned to one of the men. “You want to give them what we found from this morning’s efforts?” he asked.

  The younger man returned the view to the battlefield image, expanded to cover Poland and about 400 miles into Russia. He looked at his screen. “The American and French units destroyed 847 armored units and killed approximately 17,000 troops. We have at least temporarily gained air superiority over the battlefield and the German and Polish units are now closing in behind the Russians and are turning back to the west. The Russians are sending a large force of tanks up this road. There is also a large formation of planes joining up to make more strikes. I believe you call this situation, ‘fluid.’”

  “My god, we can see every move. How can I get this information to the local commanders?” Foote asked.

  “That’s the best part,” said Mayfield. “My people can integrate our signal into your Link 16 data system. With your okay, that can happen tonight. We have also manufactured seven more sets of displays just like this. If you have a space for it, we can begin transporting the equipment tomorrow. Once we take care of this line of death the Russians have set up along the mid-Atlantic, I can have another sent to Germany for the Allied Supreme Commander. Then it�
�s a matter of where else you feel you need a unit,” he said.

  “Is there a way to warn them about what’s happening now?” asked Admiral Johnson.

  Mayfield grinned. “What’s the number to your operations center. If you can call them, and set up a line, we can talk them through it for now,” Mayfield said.

  The White House

  The President looked over the initial report from the FBI. Former CIA Director Harmon had made several phone calls the morning of the attack to Senator Clark, who was not only on the Senate Armed Services Committee, but also on the Senate Intelligence Committee. One call, coincided with the time the attack commenced. A further look at Clark’s calls included other members of the minority party both on the committee and off. Now there was general concern that Eyeball had been leaked.

  The President looked up at Director Phelps. “What’s the next move?” he asked.

  “Sir, the Bureau will now look into each of those senators to try and ascertain if they leaked information to other members of the senate who are not cleared for such information. It’s going to get sticky. You need to know that once this gets going, the media is bound to find out. You will not receive any further information from us. The Attorney General has convened a special prosecutor to look into this.”

  O’Bannon handed the papers back to the Director. “One thing we don’t need is a scandal right now. With the elections coming up it could mean chaos. How many of those senators are up for reelection?” he asked.

  “All but one, Mister President.”

  The President closed his eyes and hung his head. This was beyond party politics. For years he had watched both parties gnaw at each other. Nothing of substance could get passed, including a budget. The bickering, accusations, recriminations and general hatred going back and forth was ruining the nation. The American people were fed up, but because many key senators and congressmen held sway in Washington, real reform was impossible. Now, during a war, it threatened everyone in uniform. He would have liked to use his position to make sure the media was gagged, but he knew if he did it, he would never have their trust again. He looked up at Phelps. “What a mess.”