The attendees of the meeting laughed and, with a scraping of chairs, sat down to make a start on the meeting. The PM was offered a cup of tea, which she refused. She placed her dark blue, patent leather handbag, on the table in front of her Its the colour matching her woollen dress an even darker blue, large buttons securing it along its length,. With her bouffant hair and red lipstick, a circular brooch on the left of her outfit and a pearl necklace, she looked every bit the sophisticated, confident leader she was. An aide placed some papers in front of her, similar documents to those already set before the others.
“Will you start us off with an update, Lawrence?”
“Yes, Prime Minister.” He shivered. “They could have warmed this place up a bit though.”
“A hot cup of tea for the Secretary of State for Defence,” she called to her aide. “That will warm you up from the inside, Lawrence. We are meant to be a war cabinet, don’t forget.” She smiled.
“Thank you, Prime Minister.”
“Sucked into the Americans’ games, more like,” moaned the Home Secretary.
“Gentlemen,” the PM said firmly. “The Soviet Union is a real threat. If the current tensions between the Soviets and ourselves, NATO that is, continue or escalate, we could very well be sat down here with the doors slammed shut waiting for the missiles to fall. So, let’s get on with it, shall we? Lawrence.”
The Defence Secretary picked up a sheet of paper from his folio and scanned it quickly. “The American command post exercise has been in progress for three days now. The Americans are pushing hard on their Psyops Programme, Prime Minister, although they are trying to keep that knowledge within a very small circle of people. Oh, and there is nothing in writing.”
“I take it we are in that circle?”
“Yes, Prime Minister.”
“The United States are giving the USSR a bit of a rough ride then?”
“Yes, they are definitely trying to spook the Soviets.” He looked across at Edward Walker. “Isn’t that the case, Air Marshal?”
Walker, who was sitting opposite between the First Sea Lord and the Chief of the Defence Staff, looked left towards the PM. “Yes, Prime Minister, they are certainly giving the Soviets the jitters.”
Harriet Willis fixed him with one of her unwavering stares. “How?”
“By flying bombers directly at the Soviet Union,” he responded. “They are sending bombers over the North Pole, flying them as close as possible to Russian territorial boundaries, and waiting to be lit up by the Soviet Air Force’s radar.”
“Then what?”
“Then, Prime Minister, they turn back. They’re also using fighter bombers to probe along the Soviet’s Asian and European borders.”
Holmes interrupted. “It’s a risky strategy, Prime Minister.”
“Carry on, Air Marshal. How often are they doing this?”
“Yes, Prime Minister. At peak times? I’d say they’re conducting up to three flights a week. At irregular intervals naturally, so the Soviet Air Force don’t know when they’re coming. They just spook them; wait till they’ve been lit up by Russian radar then head for home.”
The First Sea Lord Alistair Palmer cleared his throat. “The US Navy has been doing much the same thing, Prime Minister. If the large naval exercise in 1981, involving over eighty warships where they got through the Greenland-Iceland-United Kingdom Gap undetected and carried out simulated attacks on Soviet targets, wasn’t enough to frighten them then the fleet exercise in the Pacific, involving three US carrier battle groups, in May this year certainly was.”
“But what about now?” interrupted the Home Secretary impatiently.
“Now, Home Secretary? US warships and submarines are operating in the Baltic and Black Seas, and are routinely sailing into the Barents Sea.”
“That’s right in their backyard,” added Holmes.
“They also have submarines simulating attacks against Soviet SSBNs beneath the polar ice cap,” continued Palmer, unperturbed, used to interruptions from Members of the Cabinet at meetings like this.
The large, hollow-sounding room was suddenly silent as the Prime Minister reflected on what she had just heard. Before she could ask any further questions, an aide came into the room, excused himself and approached Lawrence Holmes. He whispered into the Defence Secretary’s ear and handed him a piece of paper. The Defence Secretary quickly scanned it.
“Something urgent, Lawrence?”
“No, Prime Minister, just a routine signal about Grenada. Not like the flurry of activity we had toing and froing during October, prior to the American invasion,” he said with a light laugh. He slid the message across the table towards Mrs Willis, who picked it up and swiftly scanned its content.
“Well, it was a Realm of the Commonwealth,” she said as she read the message. She looked up again. “What is the current alert status?”
“Defcon 2, Prime Minister, but about to move up to Defcon 3,” responded Dominic Hamilton, Chief of the General Staff.
“Remind me?”
“Defcon 3, Prime Minister, is called ‘Roundhouse’. It involves an increase in force readiness.”
“Are we keeping pace with the American alert-states, Lawrence?”
“Yes, Prime Minister, we are moving our Bikini alert-state up to ‘Black Special’. The French and the Germans are also following suit.”
“Ah, the French. How are they taking all of this?” She said it with a smile.
“They are kicking up a bit of a fuss actually,” answered the Home Secretary. “President Michaud is comparing the current situation to that of the Cuban missile crisis.”
“Hmm,” she murmured. “Détente does seem to be at a bit of a standstill at the present time.”
“Aren’t the Americans pushing things a bit too far, Prime Minister?” asked the Chief of the Defence Staff. “If they want to move the command post exercise up to Defcon 5, a planned nuclear attack, what’s to stop the Soviets getting really spooked and launching a pre-emptive strike?”
“It’s only an exercise,” responded the Home Secretary with a slight smirk.
Harriet Willis jumped in. “The Soviets don’t play games, Jeremy. There are still six days to go until the exercise is concluded.” She turned to the Secretary of State for Defence. “I want a daily update, Lawrence. We need to make sure we are in a position to support our American Allies at every turn regarding this exercise. And, should it take a turn for the worse, we need to be in a position to react.”
She pushed her chair back and stood up, the rest of the attendees following suit. The meeting was concluded. “I must get back to Chequers. Thank you, gentlemen.”
Chapter 8
THE KREMLIN. 8 NOVEMBER 1983.
THE RED EFFECT −8 MONTHS.
“Come in, Yuri, come in.” Baskov slowly stood up from his seat, the arthritis in his hips playing up. He moved from behind his desk, making his way around its large counter.
“Thank you, Comrade General Secretary.”
They both air-kissed on their respective cheeks and then positioned themselves opposite each other on the long extension to the Russian leader’s impressive desk.
“What have you got for me, Yuri?” Baskov leant forward, his thick eyebrows slightly arched as he asked his visitor. “Is it getting a bit fraught with the Americans? What are they up to? Are they going to attack? Why are they testing our defences so frequently, Yuri?”
The Chairman of the KGB, Yuri Aleksandrov, looked slightly startled by his leader’s outburst. “We continue to monitor their activities, Comrade General Secretary.”
“So, what have you discovered?”
“There is some concern amongst my department. The Americans are using unique message procedures of a type we’ve not seen before.”
The Russian leader leant closer to his KGB chief. “In what way?”
“The message formats have changed; they are more sophisticated. The volume of traffic has also increased. In addition, Comrade General Secretary, during late
October, there was a significant volume of communication between the United States and Great Britain.”
Baskov laughed. “The actor and the Lady of Steel, Yuri. Maybe they share a bed together.”
“Maybe they do,” responded Aleksandrov, sharing his leader’s humour.
“What about RYAN then? What about your foreign agents?”
“They are reporting that the Americans are at Defcon 3. That is war readiness.”
“Get them working. We need to know what is going on over there, Yuri!”
“I have redirected existing agents to focus on RYAN; nothing else.” Aleksandrov tapped some papers in front of him. “We have started recruiting new agents and will target a few honey traps. My directorate has already targeted hundreds of American servicemen, the German military, students and businessmen in West Germany and Berlin. We’ll get to the bottom of it, Comrade Secretary.”
“Who is driving them?”
“I have sent a Permanent Operative Assignment. That will ensure our agents over there will be methodical in their approach in uncovering what the Americans are up to.”
“What about their allies, their British puppets and German lackeys? Are they on a high alert?”
“Yes, Comrade Secretary, both are at the same level. The French as well.”
Baskov looked down at the meeting table, clearly sifting through his mind what he had just heard, along with previous conversations. He looked up again. “What about the military?”
“The Glavnoye Razvedyvatel’noye Upravieniye (GRU) are actively seeking information on NATO forces. They have a lot to do. The West are starting to build up their forces as well as introducing tactical nuclear weapons into Europe.”
“We can only survive a nuclear strike, Yuri, if we pre-empt it. Their Pershing IIs have a flight time of only five or six minutes from Germany to our motherland. They have a real capability to hit us quickly, and it reduces our time to retaliate. I will call the council together today. This needs to be discussed further at the highest levels of the party. In the meantime, I want all of our nuclear capable aircraft in Poland and the German Democratic Republic to be brought to a high-alert status. I shall also order our ICBMs to be readied for launch.”
“The Americans won’t be able to detect our ICBMs state of readiness. Then, when the time comes to strike—”
“We need more intelligence, Yuri,” interrupted Baskov, thumping the desk with his fist.
“Yes, Comrade General Secretary, I will send a Flash message to all of our residencies that the American bases are on a high alert, and demand further information from them on the Americans’ readiness for a first strike.”
“What about the East Germans?”
“The Hauptverwaltung Aufklärung have been tasked to assist us.”
“Good, Yuri, good. We are in a bad position. Is your foreign intelligence directorate computer programme still showing a negative trend for us?”
“Yes, Comrade Secretary, we are still currently losing the overall battle and the United States is steadily gaining ground.’
“This cannot continue, Yuri,” responded Baskov, slapping the table again. “We are even buying grain from the West. Twice as much as our tenth year plan and three times as much as our ninth year plan; a quarter of it off the Americans.” He thumped the table again.
“You are right, Comrade General Secretary, things are dire. Afghanistan is not going well for us, and Cuba is sucking in far too much money. We can’t sustain that for much longer. The Angolan regime are struggling to hold back the American-backed insurgents and, to top it all, Nicaragua’s Marxist government is being strongly challenged by their opposition forces, again supported by the interfering Americans.”
“We are losing our way, Yuri. Our grand strategic assault on the West is fading. What about American public opinion?”
“They are not particularly supportive of us, General Secretary.”
“They never have been, Yuri,” responded Baskov with a laugh. “But neither have they been particularly supportive of their own country.”
Aleksandrov leant forward. “But that is changing.”
“In what way?”
“Since the Korean airline incident, and others, there is a steady groundswell of support forming. They’re even starting to back the American defence build-up.”
“Yes, but will they support their government when the money starts to run out for their Star Wars extravaganza?”
“This Strategic Defence Initiative will cost them billions, Comrade Secretary. Surely they can’t maintain that level of expenditure and support their NATO conventional forces.”
“But you said the American public were in support.”
“They are. But their president has been telling his voters lies about our nuclear capabilities. Their technology is also improving every day, Comrade Secretary. Even children in America play with computers. Their weapons are becoming increasingly more sophisticated.”
“We are ahead of them with our conventional forces currently, Yuri, but they are catching up with us. It has to stop; it has to stop now!” Baskov again thumped the table.
“But we are already spending twenty per cent of our gross national product on our military.”
“I know. Our economy cannot afford to sustain our current spend, let alone increase it.”
“What’s the answer then, Comrade General Secretary?”
“There is only one, Yuri. War! We must strike first and hard, while we can.”
“Nuclear?”
“No, unless that is what the Americans want. We have a strong enough conventional army to take on and defeat NATO.”
“What about a possible nuclear response? The American Pershing missiles are already on the European continent.”
“We have our SS-20s. Anyway, when it gets to that, we sue for peace,” Baskov responded with a sly smile. “The West German government aren’t going to want a nuclear holocaust raining down on German cities, are they, Yuri?”
“But we keep our territorial gains achieved at that point?” Aleksandrov smiled. “Shrewd, Comrade Secretary.”
“I will call the Politburo together. We need to meet.”
“And meet with the military?”
“Yes, definitely.”
“The Commander in Chief of the Teatr Voyennykh Deystviy, the Soviet Western TVD Command, Marshal Obraztsov, will have to take the brunt of any hostilities against the West. The main thrust of the attack will be under his responsibility.”
“He has a large force under his command, Yuri, to fulfil that very role.”
There was a knock at the door and Baskov called his assistant in. She was bearing a tray holding a pot of coffee, two cups and plate of Lepeshki biscuits. She pottered around the table serving the two senior Politburo members. As she was leaving the room, Baskov got up from his seat and walked to his desk, picking up a file that had been lying there. He returned to the table, dropping down into his chair, and slapped the file onto the table in front of Aleksandrov. “молот, Yuri, Exercise молот 84.”
“What about it, Comrade Secretary? Cancel it now and attack for real?”
Baskov picked up one of the biscuits and took a small bite, savouring the almonds and the extra special taste created by using sour cream rather than butter to make them. Through a mouth full of crumbs, some of them spraying the table, he whispered, “No, Yuri. We go ahead, but it will be an exercise with a difference.”
He sat back, pushing the plate towards his KGB Chairman. Aleksandrov took one and dipped it into his coffee before taking a large bite, wet morsels decorating his tie. “Use the exercise as cover? But not all of our divisions, apart from those in East Germany, are at full strength.”
“Yes. Use it to consolidate our forces ready to strike!” Baskov pounded the table again. “To build up our under-strength divisions, we can call up our reserve troops to complete their annual training, but not release them; keep them with their units.”
“But the West will pick up
on that, surely.”
“Not if they are being called up for duties in Afghanistan. We can slowly wind down Afghanistan. It’s not so important now. But NATO won’t know that.”
“It’s war then, Comrade General Secretary, war.”
Chapter 9
THE KREMLIN. 4 DECEMBER 1983.
THE RED EFFECT −7 MONTHS.
The table was lined four on one side and five on the other, with the General Secretary of the Soviet Union choosing to sit behind his desk. On the right of the extended table, nearest to Baskov, sat Yuri Aleksandrov, Chairman of the dreaded KGB; next to Aleksandrov, Marshal Obraztsov, Commander of the Western Strategic Direction, Commander of the Western TVD, covering a front from southern Norway, Denmark, Belgium, Netherlands, Federal Republic of Germany, Northern France and, although not on the continent, Great Britain. To his right sat Army General Mantarov, Commander of the Southern TVD, responsible for southern Europe from the southern edge of the Western TVD boundary. Further right was Army General Golodayev, Commander of the South-West TVD. To Baskov’s left, along the other side of the table, sat five other senior members of the Soviet Union’s Defence Force. Nearest the General Secretary was Marshal Dolzhikov; next to him, a large man in resplendent uniform: Army General Zavarin, his uniform bedecked with medals, Commander of the Group of Soviet Forces Germany (GSFG), the most powerful conventional force in the Soviet Union’s armoury. Then it was the Commander of the Central Group of Forces, Banin; Commander of the Northern Group of Forces, Colonel General Zhiglov; and Kaverin, Commander of the Southern Group of Forces. Although a large body of very senior officers, this was only a mini-STAVKA. The full Soviet Stavka, Verkhovnogo Glavnokomaidovaiya-STAVKA, commanding all of the Soviet forces involved in time of war, would be assembled at a later date.
Baskov banged his desk with the model artillery piece that often found its way into his hand and called the meeting to order. “Generals, please help yourself to a drink. Coffee and water only. We can have something stronger during dinner later,” he said with a laugh. “We have an extremely important subject to get through today.” He pointed to Marshal Obraztsov. “Comrade Marshal, please start off proceedings.”
The Red Effect (Cold War) Page 7