by Unknown
“What time did you tell them,” the first asked.
“Tonight at around 11 pm. One hour before their shift changes.”
“Good. We must be ready.”
They were interrupted when another officer leaned in and started trying to talk to the men. Despite their reluctance, they began answering general questions about where they were from and what home was like.
After lunch, Jeffers waited until they had left before grabbing the CO of the Marine Detachment and going to see the XO.
At 11 pm, the four officers entered the messdecks and sat down at a table. The area was mostly empty except for a few cooks preparing midrats, or midnight rations to give the oncoming 12 – 4 watch a little something to eat before going up. No one paid any attention to the men sitting there. In a few minutes they were joined by one of the enlisted men. A few more minutes and they were joined by several men trying to appear as if they were just waiting for something to eat. After handing out something to the others, the men got up and began sauntering up the port side and going down the armored hatch just forward of the turret three barbette. Gathering at the foot of the ladder, they were able to see the entrance to “Broadway,” the passageway that runs from turret three all the way to turret two. It connected all of the engineering spaces. No one was seen.
Using hand signals the men began to separate and enter the four engine rooms. Easing down the metal ladders they came down onto the metal mesh deck and began making their way to where they could see men standing in front of the engine control console with its myriad of wheels and gauges. They had only gone about five feet when the Marines sprang from their hidden positions around the engines and behind the electric switchboards. The M-16s and shotguns pointed in their direction forced the Russians to raise their hands. Not a word was said as the dejected looking Russian sailors slowly made their way back to Broadway where the rest of their men were standing under Marine guard. The Marines escorted them to the wardroom where the Captain was waiting. He was standing there with several other officers and the Master at Arms force. Jeffers was standing beside him.
“Gentlemen, you just tried to perform an act of espionage aboard my ship. I am afraid I cannot let that go unpunished,” the Captain said. Jeffers then translated it into Russian. The look on the four officers’ faces was priceless. The one who had warned the others turned and gave them a “dumbass” look.
“Fortunately, I am not going to take my revenge on all of your crew, but you will have to be restricted in your movements for the rest of the time you are aboard. The enlisted men will be moved to the ship’s gym up forward in the ship. There is only one way in or out and you can sleep between the machines. However, for the officers, I cannot trust you to remain under a house arrest, so I have a special place for you where you will not be able to have any conversations with your crew.” He stopped and let Jeffers translate again. “My plan is to get you and your crew off this ship as soon as I can. Until then, you are restricted to the two areas I put you. Hopefully there will be no more such incidents,” he said.
Once again, Jeffers translated, then stopped once more. “Captain, may I say something to them?”
Rhodes grinned. “Sure.”
Jeffers turned to the men. “That had to be the stupidest thing you could do. You realize there are over 1,500 men on this ship. Even if you had taken an engine room, there would be nowhere to go. The officers are supposed to be smarter than this, and you enlisted – well, I understand how you feel. My mother told me about what it is like in her home country. My grandfather bragged of how rugged the Russian people were. He would be ashamed of this effort simply because if it had played out, a lot of you and your crew would be dead with nothing to show for it,” he said. Then he looked at one of the officers. “And keep in mind that the person with the stupid look could be the worst enemy you ever encountered,” he said angrily, pointing his finger at the man. He turned and looked at the Captain.
“You done?” the Captain asked.
Jeffers smiled. “Yes, sir.”
Rhodes nodded. “Captain Bollander, take these men and secure them in their spaces. Put on a double guard. I don’t even want them to think before I know about it.”
The men were escorted from the wardroom and everyone let out a long breath. Rhodes turned to Jeffers. “You’re a handy guy to have around. What did you say to them?”
Jeffers told him. “I insulted their officers and consoled the enlisted about their stupidity. It will wound their pride. Most of the enlisted guys wouldn’t do this on their own. But they are scared to death of their superiors. One word from them and when they get home things could go bad for them and their families. I doubt anything else will happen, especially since word will get around fast on what happened.”
“I believe you’re right. Anyway, the officers won’t be getting out of the brig until we offload them,” the Captain said. He turned to the others. “Nice work, people. Now let’s get some shuteye. We will be at our target about 0900. It’s time to sink some trains and bridges,” he said.
Slowly, the men left the room and went to their staterooms. Jeffers looked at the few things he hadn’t unpacked and decided it could wait until tomorrow. It would be his first gunshoot.
Voronezh Malshevo Airbase
Major Vasiley was disgusted. It had taken a month to get replacement bombers and pilots. What had come looked as if it came from the third world country. The pilots were mostly around twenty and totally wet behind the ears. Most had fewer than ten hours flying the SU-34. That meant they barely knew how to get the thing off the ground. Not that that mattered. The aircraft that had been ferried in were barely complete. Vasiley had inspected his new aircraft the minute it arrived. It looked nice, with a new blue camouflage paint job, but in the cockpit, wiring was hanging from under the instrument panel. In a few places he could see holes in the side of the aircraft where the rivets had not been completed. All along the body were rivets which had not been ground down to be flush with the surface. It was much like some of the old planes from the Great Patriotic War – everything rushed to get equipment into service.
“How do they expect me to go up and win air battles with something like this?” he asked his maintenance chief.
“They are all the same,” the chief told him. “Number 27 flamed out when it was landed. It turned out the engine hadn’t even been installed properly and disconnected itself from its own fuel line. It’s a wonder the thing didn’t come out and slide along the runway,” he complained.
“Vasiley spit on the ground. “First they tell me to kill our own people. Now they want to kill us by putting us up in inferior equipment. These new pilots won’t know what to do when something goes wrong. They’ll end up digging a deep hole in the ground,” Vasiley said in disgust.
“They’re also scared to death,” said the chief. “My guys had to clean out four of the aircraft where they had vomited their guts out. And this was a routine flight,” he said.
“I can’t let this happen,” Vasiley said.
“What can’t you let happen?” asked Colonel Chenik, walking up beside the aircraft. He was their commanding officer.
“Did you see these planes? My son could build better with those little plastic blocks. It will take at least a month to get the aircraft ready and another month to train these new pilots. If they go up it will be like a death sentence,” Vasiley snarled.
“Yes, I saw. And I agree with you. If the Americans don’t kill them, these planes will. I was about to go to the wing commander. You want to come along?” asked Colonel Chenik.
“Yes, indeed!” said Vasiley.
The two men made their way to the administration building and went into the office of General Giorge Fedinko, commander of the bomber wing. They were immediately escorted into his office. Fedinko sat in a huge overstuffed chair resplendent in his formal uniform. He looked up from the papers on his desk.
“What do you need, Colonel?” he asked sternly.
“General, t
he aircraft they sent us are in a terrible state of disrepair. Most are barely able to fly, and the pilots are going to need a lot more training to get them ready to take on the Allies. The Major and I fear we will need at least a month to get everything up to some acceptable level,” the colonel reported.
Fedinko gave him a withering look. “These squadrons have been down for more than a month. Our forces need us in the air and on the job tomorrow. It’s your responsibility to make that happen. If you can’t do the job, I will find someone who can,” he growled.
“General, you were a bomber pilot like the rest of us. You know that sending these fresh pilots out right now will almost mean sure death. With the state of these aircraft, we may find that tomorrow night we will be down for another month,” pleaded Vasiley.
The general rose from his chair, his face beet red. “Yes, I was a pilot and I always followed my orders. We had to overcome many things in my career, and you will have to do so as well. We also knew the risks. It makes no difference how much training they have. This will give them hands on experience in combat, which is much better than playing around in a simulator. The first mission will be tomorrow morning. If you need to work on the aircraft, I suggest you have your lazy aircrews work all night. Better yet, you work alongside them. These new pilots will need to know their aircraft anyway. Now get out and never come complaining to me again!” Fedinko screamed.
The two men came to attention and saluted before turning and leaving the room. Vasiley looked up at his superior. “This is murder, and that man is an idiot. He forgets I have been up against the Allies and it will take more skill that I have to win a victory.”
“I’m afraid you’re right, but we have to get these guys as ready as we can. Why don’t we take them up with the few planes that are acceptable, and get at least a little training in. You up for that?” the colonel asked.
Vasiley nodded. “Not that these few hours will make a difference. At least I can give them an idea of what to look for,” he said with a sigh.
They found six aircraft in good enough shape to fly. Vasiley took three up at a time. The first three had difficulty using their radios and came back down. The second three achieved altitude but when they began aerial combat maneuvers, two of the places simply fell apart leaving two smoky plumes to mark the place where their pilots had died. Getting the one pilot left on the ground was a chore. His brother had been one of the pilots killed. Upon landing, Vasiley went to the colonel’s office and closed the door. The discussions lasted nearly three hours.
Moscow
“Patriarch, we are hearing from a number of Army units that have been called back to reform. I understand there is general mistrust in the ranks for the senior leadership. We were able to spread some of your words to those units,” said a young monk.
“Ahhh, so it is true the things we have heard,” said the Patriarch.
“Yes, and they have confirmed the terrible losses by our forces. One sources told us that the Army has lost another 250,000 men just in the past month. The men and women are scared. They long for a change. Many are vowing never to return to the front,” the monk relayed.
The Patriarch nodded in understanding. For two months he had been forced to hide in basements and in one case a cave, to evade the Russian government. It had stiffened his resolve immensely. “Father, get word to our brethren in the services. Tell them God is hearing their voices. We urge them to let their consciences help them decided what to do. Tell them that God is always with those who desire righteousness and good. They have the blessings of the Patriarch of Moscow and all Rus,” he said calmly.
“Holy Father, if you are captured…”
The Patriarch held up his hand. “Be at peace, my son. Our cause is the cause of our Holy Father. I will not rest until his will is done,” he said.
The Kremlin
The morning brief was not going well. “We can’t just keep throwing men and equipment into this. Production cannot keep up with our losses,” said the Defense Minister. “I don’t care what the generals say. We are bleeding like a butchered cow. I have pushed the production facilities to the breaking point, and we still are losing up to 100 aircraft a week. I won’t even go into the tanks. We are now bringing back some of our older models just to keep up. Then there are the people. No one is making their enlistment quotas. Now even the older men are refusing to leave their homes. If we cannot stop this hemorrhage, our efforts will be catastrophic. Now you want us to pull all our forces together for a giant push to the Channel. We are doing it, but it means leaving our eastern shores vulnerable. I have also stripped our forces from the oil fields and northern areas. Everything will go. I have also cut the rest and rebuilding of our already hard worked divisions and ordered them back to the front. We will make this big thrust, but it had better work,” he said firmly.
“It must work!” demanded Borodin. “The rest will work itself out in time. The American incursion on our east coast is a feint. Nothing more. The forces in Georgia and Ukraine must use what they can to stop the Turks and the other Allies.”
“That is easy for you to say,” shouted another minister. “In one month they have taken Baku on the Caspian Sea. Their forces are already on the other side of the Caucasus Mountains and moving west! By the time they reach Stavropol we won’t have a force left to engage them. And what about the Spanish and Italians? They are already in Moldova! The Moldovan government sent a message saying they do not have the forces to stop them and will remain neutral. At this rate, the forces will join up within the month. I have heard that their General Richardson is making plans to liberate Kyiv!”
“It won’t make any difference! Once our forces get through France, there will be no supplies to maintain their efforts,” countered Borodin, his anger rising.
“And what of our supplies,” said the Transportation Minister. “Our people are still in the dark. I have reports of people freezing to death each day. I have no fuel to run the trucks for the general population and the food shortages are getting dire,” he said calmly.
“It will just be for a short time more,” said Borodin. “The priority is our armed forces. We Russians can take whatever it costs in order to achieve a victory,” he said.
The Minister looked him square in the eyes. “You have been saying that for four months now. It has been a terrible winter so far and we still have another month of it. Now even our army is having difficulty getting their supplies through. You are correct. This big push of yours had better work,” he said with a hint of warning.
Borodin slammed his hand on the table. “Enough! I have heard enough bickering. We will all get behind this effort and that is an end to it!” he demanded. “Anyone not doing his part will find himself in a gulag in Siberia. Go back to your offices and make this happen!” he insisted before turning and storming out the room.
The Ministers looked at each other and gathered their papers. As they began leaving the room one of them murmured, “Now I know what it was like in the Fuhrer’s bunker.”
Several nodded at him as they silently left the room.
Vyazemsky, Russia
The cold was so bitter no one dared venture out of a building. With the fuel almost gone and the electricity still off, school had been cancelled until everything was restored. In most homes, the families had resorted to purchasing a wood stove to provide some heat. Several old buildings in the city had been ravaged to obtain wood for burning. In many cases, windows were taken out and flue pipes shoved through the openings, then anything nonflammable was used to seal it back up. There were no cars on the road and even the trains had stopped running. It was a surprise when the residents heard a train making its way down the tracks. The long blast of its horn echoed between the buildings in the driving snow. Many residents peered out the window in hopes that some relief was finally arriving. Instead they saw a train loaded with military vehicles headed south. Upon closer look, the tanks and equipment looked different. Only when they saw an American flag flying from one of
the cars did they realize what was happening. It also came with another realization. Russia was losing the war.
Aboard the train, General Harold Bryant looked out his window at the stark houses and countryside. He couldn’t imagine how people lived in this wasteland. At the same time he was thanking his stars that it was the dead of winter. Since using the LCACs to come across from Sakhalin Island, they had only encountered very weak resistance, mostly soldiers who didn’t want to be there anyway. It had been a stroke of luck about the train. He had expected to have to travel the 800 miles from Sakhalin to Vladivostok by truck. But sitting in the rail yard on one town were ten locomotives and hundreds of cars set aside because there was no fuel to run them. He then found out that the train service hadn’t been on line in over a month. To the army, fuel was not a problem, so he decided to replicate what the Russians had done in southern Poland. Within one day everything was packed onto the rail cars and they began moving out. It would take one more day before reaching Trudovoy on the outskirts of Vladivostok. By then, he hoped the second surprise would be waiting. It would be fun working with the Koreans again.
Berlin
“It’s a massive buildup,” said the intelligence briefer. Using a pointed, he pointed to the various places where they were seeing assets being moved. “They are still bringing in troops, tanks, planes, artillery and almost every other kind of military supplies. They are using mostly rail lines,” he said pointing to specific main lines heading toward the western front. “Over the past week they seem to be moving people and equipment from the east coast and the northern territories to these locations. Just yesterday they began moving some equipment and troops from around their oil rich provinces.”
“It goes with what we believe. They are going to mount a massive attack along the Polish border to break through to France and the Channel,” said General Pol. “With these numbers, they could well do it. Our forces could never withstand such an attack,” he said.