The painful memories of the conflict weighed heavily on the Russian psyche, something the West seemed incapable of understanding. The United States, for example, extolled its Greatest Generation—those who fought in World War II—along with their enormous sacrifice: over four hundred thousand dead. A sacrifice that paled in comparison with the Soviet Union’s: seven million military personnel killed, along with twenty million civilians as the German Army exterminated ethnic groups during their occupation and razed entire cities to the ground as they retreated.
Twenty-seven million.
And these were the casualties from just the last invasion by a Western European power. First the Poles in the seventeenth century, followed by Napoleon’s army in the nineteenth century, with both armies sacking Moscow. The French Army had occupied the Kremlin Senate; Napoleon had stood on this very same balcony and watched Moscow burn.
Never again.
Russia would never again endure the genocide of its people or the destruction of its cities. Following World War II, the Soviet Union established a buffer zone of Eastern European governments friendly to the Soviet Union. The next time the West invaded Russia, there would be advance warning as troops moved through the Eastern European countries on Russia’s border, and next time, the war would be fought on another country’s soil. Unfortunately, the buffer zones to the west had eroded since the fall of the Soviet Union. The Baltic States had joined NATO, and now Ukraine, Russia’s longtime ally, was turning to the West. It was time Russia rectified the situation, re-forming a buffer zone of friendly provinces to the west, even if that meant employing its military.
Kalinin looked to the side as Boris Chernov joined him on the balcony. Chernov stood beside him in silence for a moment before speaking.
“All preparations are complete,” he said. “You must decide, Yuri.”
Kalinin’s eyes swept across Russia’s capital again before coming to rest on Red Square, where the March of the Immortal Regiment ended.
Twenty-seven million dead.
Never again.
Kalinin turned to Chernov. “You may proceed.”
35
WASHINGTON, D.C.
It was almost 10 p.m. when the president called it a day and ascended to the second floor of the White House, entering the presidential bedroom suite. The first lady was already in bed, with a book in her hands and her back propped up with three pillows. As she looked up to greet her husband, the phone on the nightstand rang, accompanied by the vibration of the cell phone in the president’s suit jacket. Pulling the phone from its pocket, he examined the caller: SecDef McVeigh.
“Yes, Bob. What is it?”
“Russia has invaded Ukraine and Lithuania. Troops started pouring across the borders a few minutes ago.”
The president absorbed the information and its implications, then replied, “Meet me in the Situation Room with the Joint Chiefs as soon as possible.”
“How about midnight?” McVeigh asked.
“See you then.”
As the president slid his cell phone back into his suit jacket, he met the concerned eyes of the first lady, who had placed her book on her lap. “What is it?” she asked.
* * *
As the clock struck midnight, the president entered the Situation Room in the basement of the West Wing, taking his seat at the head of the rectangular table. Members of his staff and cabinet were seated to his right and the Joint Chiefs to his left, with the Situation Room walls lined with additional military and civilian personnel. SecDef McVeigh, seated on the president’s right, began the brief.
“We’re still analyzing the data, Mr. President, bringing more satellites into play and querying local sources on the ground, but here’s what we know. At four thirty a.m. local time, a Russian mechanized infantry division invaded Lithuania, and six mechanized infantry brigades invaded Ukraine. Another twenty-four brigades from Russia’s Western, Southern, and Central Military Districts are racing toward Lithuania and Ukraine—six toward Lithuania and eighteen toward Ukraine.
“I’ll discuss Lithuania first, because Russia’s objective seems clearer. Satellite recon shows the Second Guards Motor Rifle Division taking defensive positions on the Polish border and along a parallel line fifty miles to the north.”
“They’re establishing a corridor into Kaliningrad Oblast?” the president asked. “What for?”
“Our best guess is that the Russians plan to permanently annex this region of Lithuania, removing the thorn in their side—having to request permission from a NATO country anytime they want to move military personnel or equipment between Kaliningrad Oblast and the rest of Russia. They’ll still have to go through Belarus, but Belarus is a staunch Russian ally.
“Ukraine, on the other hand, is murkier. Russia is launching a broad assault across the entire length of Ukraine’s eastern border. Whether the Russians intend to annex a portion of Ukraine or control the entire country is unclear. Once all twenty-four brigades reach Ukraine and Russia begins its push farther into the country, we’ll get a better idea of their intentions.
“Which gets me to an important and perhaps critical flaw in Russia’s plan. The invasion was sudden, without the usual buildup at the border before an invasion, which helps and hurts us. It hurts us because Russia got a head start on Ukraine and NATO. However, by not massing troops at the border ahead of time, their invasion is piecemeal, with only six brigades currently inside Ukraine. The lead units have seized the key transportation hubs just across the border and appear to be waiting for the remaining Russian units before beginning a coordinated push westward. This gives Ukraine a fighting chance; not to defeat Russia, but to hold out long enough for NATO to intercede should it choose to do so.
“This brings me to the crux of the issue,” McVeigh said. “Lithuania and Ukraine cannot repel Russia without NATO assistance. Lithuania has only a few thousand combat troops, barely more than a brigade, compared to eight Russian brigades they’ll be facing. Ukraine is in a much better position with twenty-two brigades, but their training and equipment is significantly inferior to Russia’s. Still, there’s hope they can hold off Russia long enough for NATO to provide assistance.”
“What do we have at our disposal?” the president asked.
McVeigh answered, “For immediate response, there’s NATO’s Very High Readiness Joint Task Force, deployable within twenty-four hours. However, it’s a single brigade of only five thousand troops. It’s a component of the NATO Response Force, with another thirty-five thousand troops, deployable in five to seven days. But even if NATO agrees to assist Ukraine, forty thousand troops won’t be enough. They’ll buy time, but forcing Russia from Ukraine will require the mobilization of additional NATO troops; it could take weeks or even months before the troops and equipment arrive in Ukraine.”
The president replied, “Let’s cross each bridge when we get there. The priority right now is to obtain NATO authorization to assist Lithuania and Ukraine. If NATO doesn’t agree to assist Ukraine, we’ll build a coalition of our own.”
“I take it your mind is already made up?” McVeigh asked. “We’re going to help Ukraine, with or without NATO?”
“Damn right,” the president replied. “There’s no way we can stand by and do nothing. We took the Neville Chamberlain approach when Russia annexed Crimea, choosing appeasement rather than war, and it emboldened Russia. We have to draw the line somewhere, and this is it.”
Turning to Dawn, the president asked his secretary of state, “How soon can we expect a NATO decision?”
Dawn replied, “An emergency meeting of the North Atlantic Council will occur within the hour, but there is zero chance the council representatives will have authorization to commit NATO to a full-blown war with Russia. That’s going to take a meeting with the heads of state from all twenty-eight nations. The best we can hope for is that the council will order the mobilization of all NATO assets today, and the heads of state will meet tomorrow. I’ll keep you informed as I learn more, but you should
plan to travel to Brussels later today.”
The president nodded his understanding, then wrapped up the meeting. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us, on both the diplomatic and military fronts. We’ll sort out the details of our military response once the political landscape becomes clear.”
36
CASTEAU, BELGIUM
Five levels underground in a hardened bunker, General Andy Wheeler stood at the back of the NATO command center, examining the video screens mounted on the front wall. Located just north of Mons, SHAPE—Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe—was the headquarters of NATO’s Allied Command Operations. As the commander of NATO’s military force, General Wheeler was referred to as SACEUR, Supreme Allied Commander Europe.
The lighting in the command center was dim so personnel could more readily study the video screens, each displaying a different section of Europe. The maps were annotated with symbols of varying colors and designs, each representing a NATO, Ukrainian, or Russian combat unit—armor, mechanized infantry, artillery, and air defense, to name a few.
As the first day of Russia’s invasions of Lithuania and Ukraine drew to a close, the fighting thus far had been sporadic. Lithuania was quiet, with the country’s government wisely deciding it was futile to send its four thousand combat-ready troops against forty thousand Russians who had taken position along the fifty-mile-wide corridor on the country’s southern border.
In Ukraine, fighting had been limited to Ukrainian units engaging the lead Russian brigades, which seemed content with consolidating their early gains into the country while they awaited additional Russian units. As night fell across the continent, Russia thus far had amassed fourteen brigades inside Ukraine, controlling the key transportation hubs along the eastern border. Another ten units were still en route, bringing Russian forces invading Ukraine to twenty-four brigades: five tank and nineteen mechanized infantry units. Ukrainian units were likewise rushing to the front, with all twenty-two brigades already across the Dnieper River and into the eastern third of Ukraine. The war thus far had been mostly a race to the start line.
By daybreak, the battle lines would be clearly formed and Wheeler was certain Russia’s main offensive would begin. Whether Ukraine would withstand the assault long enough for NATO or a U.S.-led coalition to assist was unknown. A meeting of the North Atlantic Council, with all heads of state attending, had been scheduled for 8 a.m. the next morning, with most of the NATO heads of state already in Brussels and the last few on the way. If NATO was going to assist Ukraine, they needed to commit in the morning.
Wheeler examined a video screen at the front of the command center, displaying a map of Eastern Europe, studying the red symbols representing Russian combat units amassing in Lithuania and eastern Ukraine. He found it odd that Russia’s two premier forces were missing from the map. Russia had several brigades of Spetsnaz scattered throughout their military and intelligence organizations, along with numerous airborne units, the most well-trained and -equipped units in the Russian military aside from Spetsnaz. Airborne and Spetsnaz had been the first to be employed in recent Russian conflicts, including the wars in Chechnya and Georgia, but they were absent thus far from the current conflict.
Where the hell were they?
37
NOVAJA HUTA, BELARUS
As day transitioned to night, an orange-purple glow on the horizon greeted Belarusian Army Colonel Edward Aymar as he stood in the hatch of his T-72 main battle tank, idling at the edge of the forest only a kilometer from the Ukrainian border. He pulled the binoculars to his eyes and surveyed the countryside, the dense trees giving way in the dusk to rolling meadows blanketed by a layer of light evening fog. In the still air, his company of tanks produced a low rumble in the otherwise quiet forest.
Behind him, in the trees east of highway E95, were the other tanks and infantry fighting vehicles of the 120th Guards Mechanized Brigade, and behind them, also hidden in the dense forest, were another three brigades. To the southwest, the 6th Guards Mechanized Brigade would lead four brigades into Ukraine near Pustynky, while the 11th Guards Mechanized Brigade would lead another four brigades south from Rayffayzen.
Thirty hours ago, Aymar received orders from the Belarusian Northwestern Operational Command, sending his unit south toward the Ukrainian border. It didn’t take much to discern the purpose of his deployment, nor was he surprised they had repositioned during the night under the cover of darkness, pulling off the highway into the forest just north of the Ukrainian border before daybreak. He was surprised, however, when the Belarusian units were augmented with six Russian Spetsnaz brigades, transiting into Belarus before their journey south. Russia wanted a quick and decisive victory.
As Colonel Aymar prepared to begin his unit’s assault into Ukraine, he knew his men wouldn’t get much sleep over the next few days. The encouragement he offered them at times like this echoed in his mind.
You’ll sleep when you’re dead.
As the last light of day faded to darkness, Aymar called down to his tank driver, ordering the 120th Guards Mechanized Brigade into motion. His tank pulled forward, followed by the others, emerging from the trees. Their objectives were far, making speed essential.
38
KIEV, UKRAINE
In the tail of the Ilyushin IL-76 jet aircraft, Sergeant First Class Roman Savvin sat in his webbed seat along the transport bulkhead, the last soldier in the 125-man detachment. Wearing full combat gear and two parachutes—a main on his back and a reserve strapped to his stomach—he waited patiently, taking comfort in the familiar vibration from the aircraft’s four turbofan engines. Tonight, Savvin’s aircraft was one of over one hundred IL-76s and a slew of other transports carrying Russia’s VDV—Vozdushno-Desantnye Voyska—airborne troops and their equipment.
They had initially headed west over Belarus, with some aircraft carrying only troops, while others carried a small cadre of soldiers and the airborne units’ armored vehicles. Unlike its Western airborne counterparts, which were essentially light infantry, the VDV was a fully mechanized infantry fighting force with significant firepower. Each unit was outfitted with a plethora of air-dropped armored vehicles: Typhoon armored personnel carriers, BMD infantry fighting vehicles, and self-propelled mortars, howitzers, anti-tank guns, and air defense missile systems. Compared to Western airborne troops, the Russian VDV was a heavily armed force.
The IL-76 banked to the left, beginning its journey south behind the Ukrainian front line. As the aircraft steadied on its new course, the Russian airborne motto echoed in Savvin’s mind:
Nobody but us.
For the objective assigned to his unit tonight, the motto was apropos. A few minutes after turning south, Savvin felt the aircraft descending, and he knew it wouldn’t be much longer. The light at the front of the aircraft fuselage still glowed red, and as he waited for it to turn yellow, his thoughts drifted to his joint training with American airborne troops several years earlier.
After the Cold War ended and during the brief period Russia and America embraced each other as friends, Savvin had trained for a short time with his American counterparts at Fort Benning, Georgia. He had memorized the American airborne cadences during their training, and although there were many variations of the C-130 cadence, one in particular tumbled through his mind as he prepared for tonight’s jump:
Stand up, hook up, shuffle to the door.
Jump right out and count to four.
If my main don’t open wide,
I’ve got a reserve by my side.
If that one should fail me too,
Look out below, ’cause I’m coming through.…
He remembered stopping by a training session at Fort Benning, where the instructor was explaining the aircraft exit procedure, which included the requirement to count to four—one thousand, two thousand … By the time you reached four, you should feel a tug on your harness as your main parachute deployed.
A trainee raised his hand. “What do you do if you reach four and don’
t feel a tug?”
The instructor replied with a scowl on his face, “Count to six, stupid.”
The trainee raised his hand again, timidly, and asked, “What do you do if you reach six and don’t feel a tug?”
He had apparently asked a sensible question this time, because the instructor answered, “Look up and check your main, ’cause you got a problem.”
The Jump light at the front of the aircraft fuselage shifted from red to yellow. Savvin and the other men in his unit stood, hooked their parachute static lines to a cable in the overhead running the length of the fuselage, then turned aft, watching the aircrew open the cabin door. Less than a minute later, the light turned green and all 125 paratroopers moved toward the open door in unison, exiting at one-second intervals.
Upon reaching the end of the fuselage, Savvin turned toward the opening and, in one fluid motion, placed a hand on each side of the opening and launched himself from the aircraft. In a reflex action practiced hundreds of times, he tucked his chin against his chest, pressed his elbows against his sides, and snapped his legs together, bending at the waist into a pike position just before his body was buffeted by the aircraft’s slipstream. As Savvin tumbled through the darkness, he began his count.
One thousand, two thousand …
39
AIR FORCE ONE
Air Force One cruised thirty-six thousand feet above the Atlantic Ocean, headed east toward Brussels, escorted by a pair of F-22 Raptors periodically refueled in flight. Secretary of State Dawn Cabral and National Security Advisor Christine O’Connor entered the president’s office on the main deck of the aircraft and took their seats in a brown leather sofa opposite the president’s desk. Two days ago, Christine had watched events unfold on the televisions in her hotel, only a few hundred yards from the Kremlin. Her decision to depart Moscow early had proven wise, given Russia’s invasion of Lithuania and Ukraine not long thereafter.
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