Nevertheless, the aerial intruders were soon picked up by Russian Regional Air Command, which scrambled several squadrons of MIG-31 ‘Foxhounds’ and SU-27 ‘Flankers’ to intercept them. By the time they were in the air, however, the damage had been done and the PLA warplanes were already returning to their bases. The entire operation to neutralize what remained of Russia’s forces along the Amur had taken less than thirty minutes.
The Russian jets pursued the PLA MIGs deep into China’s mountainous northeastern province of Heilongjiang. But, less than twenty miles over the border, Chinese SAM batteries lay in wait. These batteries had left their radars off, so as not to attract any undue attention from the enemy, but as soon as the Russian warplanes came into range, the radars were switched on and the Russians found themselves lit up like Christmas trees before they could figure out what was going on. Several Russian jets fell victim to the SAMs as the PLA’s ground force began its advance. Because the Russian jets had only been fitted with AAMRAM missiles, they weren’t properly equipped to engage ground forces, never mind SAM sites. A few tried to strafe the rapidly advancing PLA troops with cannons, but the Chinese were simply too numerous and widely dispersed for this tactic to have any serious impact.
It soon became apparent that Russia’s disorientated Army would be unable to contain the irrepressible Chinese advance. PLA amphibious units were the first ground troops to cross into Russian territory, exploiting the holes smashed in Russia’s defensive line by PLA bombers. They formed a series of beachheads on Russia’s side of the Amur and secured several strategically vital bridges crossing the river. Once they had done so, thousands of elite paratroopers were dropped deep into Russian territory. Simultaneously, armored and artillery units crossed the now secure bridges. They encountered little resistance in doing so.
The operation was little over an hour old.
With air superiority now more or less assured, the PLA armored units would form the crux of the Chinese push to the north. The paratroopers would secure towns and villages on Russia’s side of the Amur. Within an hour, the entire Chinese invasion force comprised almost three quarters of a million troops.
In Khabarovsk, the General in charge of Russia’s Eastern Command began to panic. Having assumed that his superiors in Moscow would be more concerned with events elsewhere, he had been reticent about informing them of what he’d initially thought to be a minor border clash. But as reports of PLA incursions along the entire length of the Sino-Russian border flooded in, he began to understand what was happening. Russia had been invaded.
He didn’t know who was in charge in Moscow right now, but whoever it was would soon have more to worry about than American nuclear attacks. At first, the military aide who took his call at the Kremlin command bunker dismissed the report as an overreaction symptomatic of the general panic that had gripped the nation’s military. It was only when the General explained that, at their current rate of advance, Chinese troops would be in Vladivostok, Novosibirsk, Khabarovsk and Krasnoyarsk within twelve hours that the aide took notice and informed Colonel Grizov.
That had been twenty minutes ago. Another report had just landed on the General’s desk. He read it with a sense of foreboding that was to prove justified.
The Chinese had reached the city limits of Vladivostok.
And there was still no sign of assistance from Moscow.
UNDERGROUND COMMAND POST, THE KREMLIN
Despite the sense of dread he felt at the news that Russia was being invaded, Kalushin felt a wisp of relief that Yazov had reasserted his authority at this critical moment in history. His old friend was back. This was the Yazov who had so cunningly seized power by exploiting the weaknesses of the powerful and the egos of the stupid. It had taken a Chinese invasion to jolt him out of his funk, but that didn’t matter. It was Grizov who was now on the back foot.
And with very good reason. The conflict with America had been largely political in nature. After all, there were no military geniuses where nuclear war was concerned. The conflict in the east, however, called for a military solution, and Grizov was certainly no military leader.
Yazov was making that point eminently clear as he paced the war room, aware that he had everyone’s attention. “This situation is far more dangerous than the conflict with America,” he was explaining in his most thoughtful tone. “It is clear - is it not? - that the objective of China’s invasion is not merely territorial, but is aimed at seizing the Siberian oil fields.”
Of course, most of those present had privately arrived at the same conclusion, but only Yazov had voiced it. His revelation caused a dull murmur to sweep the room.
“Nonsense,” Grizov protested. It was the first time he had openly challenged Yazov, and the fact that he chose this moment to do so showed his desperation to retain whatever influence he retained. “The Americans have killed over ten million Russians. They pose the greater danger, not China.”
Yazov didn’t show any reaction to Grizov’s patronizing tone. Instead, his face registered the faintest hint of a smile as he walked over to a large wall map of Russia. Keep talking, Colonel. With every word, you make my job easier. He used his hand to draw an invisible line on the map, running north from the western tip of the Sino-Russian border, through the Siberian lowlands, up to the Arctic coast.
“At their current rate of advance, Chinese troops will be in Novosibirsk within a few hours. That is the point at which they will strangle our supply routes to the east. Effectively, Novosibirsk will give them control over the Russian Far East. Meanwhile, their paratroopers and armored divisions in the Far East are moving into Vladivostok at this very moment, and they are doing so with remarkable ease. The central prong of their advance, comprising heavy armor and artillery, appears to be focused on Siberia. So far, we have offered little in the way of resistance, and it seems increasingly likely that by the time we’re able to mount a cohesive response, the Chinese will have already achieved their objectives.”
“So,” an elderly Marshal shrugged, “we wait until the situation with America is resolved and then push them back later. We’ve done that before.” He was barely old enough to remember the Great Patriotic War, and never wasted an opportunity to remind everyone of the fact.
Yazov grimaced as if he had a foul taste in his mouth. “If only it were that simple, Marshal, but you fail to take into account America’s reaction to this development. The Americans will be terrified of a Chinese expansion into European Russia, particularly after what has happened in the past twenty-four hours.” He stroked his unshaven face. His words were edged with grim finality. “I guarantee, gentlemen, that if China continues its advance unchecked, NATO forces will invade European Russia to head them off. Our nation will be partitioned, carved up, and we will be slaves to both west and east.”
“NATO will never invade us,” Grizov protested. “They wouldn’t dare. Not with tensions still so high.”
Yazov fixed him with a hard glare. “You are talking, of course, about launching another nuclear attack to repel the invaders.”
Grizov lowered his head and said nothing. But what Yazov proposed next caused him to look up in surprise.
“And you are quite correct,” Yazov added. “But this time the attack should be against China, not NATO. That is clearly the only chance we have of stopping the Chinese. If we allow them to continue unimpeded, and NATO forces invade from the west, the nuclear option will be stolen from us. We must use it whilst we can.”
Suddenly, it all made sense to Kalushin. The man is a genius. Grizov had been cultivating a growing consensus to escalate the nuclear war against America and begin targeting their cities. Yazov considered this idea both insane and abhorrent. So he had seized the initiative from Grizov by appearing to be more hardline than the FSB chief. Except he had used the Chinese invasion to divert the hardliners’ attention, and he had done so by using his favorite psychological tactic; the same tactic he’d used to seize power in the first place.
Take them to the brink,
draw them back and milk their gratitude…
By concentrating on the Chinese, he’d bought himself just enough political capital to call off the war with America. And if that meant killing a few million Chinamen, well that was just too bad, wasn’t it?
RESIDENCE OF THE GERMAN CHANCELLOR, BERLIN
Like many other world leaders, German Chancellor Franz Berger felt as if he hadn’t slept for a month, even though it had only been a few hours since the Foreign Minister had first informed him about the terrifying global crisis that was unfolding. The Chancellor had just returned home from a banquet in Stuttgart when the news broke. It seemed as though several eternities had passed since then, and Berger’s foul mood was not helped by the gradual realization that, of all the world’s major powers, his was the most impotent given that it possessed neither a permanent seat on the U.N. Security Council nor a nuclear arsenal with which to enter what had become an essentially nuclear game. He found it bitterly ironic that the five permanent U.N. Security Council members were all founder members of the nuclear club. That, so far as he was concerned, spoke volumes about the priorities of realpolitik.
By definition, Germany’s potential role in any East-West conflict was limited. Not only did it lack a nuclear arsenal - Berger hated the damned things anyway - but it lacked the practical experience of modern warfare that would lend itself to this particular scenario. Although Germany was Europe’s economic engine, Britain and France had traditionally provided the continent’s muscle in times of international crisis. It therefore didn’t surprise Berger that the United States had chosen to liaise with the EU and NATO through London, rather than Berlin. He was certain that, had the circumstances been less perilous, the British Ambassador in Berlin might have taken the opportunity to gloat over Washington’s sudden favoritism towards London. Despite the constant talk about harmonious European relations, Britain and Germany still acted like a couple of immature children when it came to competing for the attentions of their big cousin across the water.
Britain’s Prime Minister had not called Berger for over an hour, leaving the Chancellor not much better informed than his public. The German government was increasingly deriving most of its intelligence data from GCN and the Internet. Because events were unfolding at such breakneck speed, it was hard for everybody to keep track of what was going on. To an extent, that meant nobody had time to let the consequences of what they were hearing sink in, although that didn’t stop them being any less frightened.
Berger could hear the distant sound of a peace protest outside his office window. Glancing through the reflective glass, he saw a rainbow of color as a hundred or so demonstrators - flanked by nervous looking police - converged just yards away from his palatial residence. Most of the demonstrators, he reckoned, probably didn’t even understand what they were demonstrating against. And besides, what the hell did they expecthim to do? Politely ask the Russians and Americans to stop fighting? If only they really knew how little influence he had in such areas.
This protest was only the beginning, he knew. Morning was creeping across Europe, and as people woke up to news of the nuclear exchange, panic would beget chaos. There were already reports of widespread rioting and looting elsewhere on the continent and, despite Germany’s reputation for orderliness and reticence, the German people were bound to be as frightened as anybody else; with good cause, given that their nation was likely to provide the focus of any conventional hostilities in Europe. Fear knew no national boundaries.
European diplomatic reaction to the crisis had been sluggish at best. That was at least partly due to the fact that the crisis had emerged in the middle of the night, but also owed something to its unexpected suddenness. Britain (naturally, Berger grumped) and Italy had been the only two countries to react so far, both issuing solid statements of support for America and expressing optimism that a diplomatic solution could be found before the conflict escalated to global proportions. Even so, Berger had learned from his Defense Minister that Britain had placed its own nuclear submarine fleet on combat alert. France, Germany, the Netherlands and Spain had so far remained silent. As far as Berger knew, that had less to do with any reservations about supporting their American allies than a lack of information from across the Atlantic.
Also lacking was a coherent reaction from the European Union. The Brussels parliament was due to convene in a couple of hours’ time for an emergency debate on the nuclear war, although this would probably be subordinate to similar debates that would simultaneously take place in national parliaments across the continent. Berger expected a degree of anti-American rhetoric from the heavy concentration of socialist members in his own parliament; ideological throwbacks that until a few hours’ ago had been rendered anachronistic by the New World Order.
Shortly, Berger was due to meet the Ministers of Defense and Foreign Affairs for an update on military and political developments. That was to be followed by a full meeting of the cabinet, the debate likely to focus on emergency war provisions. That meeting was scheduled for two hours, after which Berger would give a press conference and make his way to parliament for an emergency debate. All of this took for granted that the Russians and Americans hadn’t blown up the world by mid-morning.
His telephone started to ring, its harsh trill almost causing him to jump.
“Ja,” he said, lifting the receiver.
The cool, female voice was that of his private secretary. “The French President is on line six, Herr Chancellor.”
What took you so long, Jean-Claude? “Put him through.”
There were a couple of clicks on the line, followed by the voice of French President Jean-Claude Betin. “Franz, how are you?”
As always, the Frenchman spoke in his native tongue, even though he was quite capable of speaking German. In that respect, Betin was as arrogant as many of his other countrymen when it came to linguistic prejudices.
“I’ve had better days,” Berger admitted. “Et Tu?”
The reply was curt and humorless. “I feel like I’ve aged ten years in the past few hours, Franz.” Betin cut straight to the chase. “We need to formulate a policy regarding the Americans, don’t you think? As the two leading members of the European Union, others will be looking to us for a lead.”
Except for the British and Italians, who have already affirmed their allegiance to America, the German didn’t say. “What is there to discuss, Jean-Claude? We are both members of NATO. We must both adhere to our treaty obligations. If a NATO country is attacked, we are obliged to offer whatever assistance is requested of us.”
The five-second silence that followed told Berger more than words about Betin’s real reason for the call. “Are we indeed?” came the eventual response. “I wonder about that. The European Union, in terms of size, population and military manpower, is considerably bigger than the United States which, after all, has just toppled from its pedestal. So why should we allow Europe once more to be their battlefield?”
The implication caused Berger to shiver involuntarily. “You are, of course, assuming in your statement about the Union’s size that our fellow members would support an autonomous policy. I find that highly unlikely, Jean-Claude, given the warm relationship that exists between London, Rome and Washington.”
“The British and Italians are irrelevant,” spat the Frenchman. “I’m not suggesting that we support the Russians. God forbid. I am simply posing a rhetorical question. Is this conflict really any of our business? And if so, does it justify the annihilation of our continent? You and I both know, Franz, that if this situation escalates,all NATO countries will become viable targets. You will also be aware that, in such a scenario, Germany would be targeted more than any other European nation.”
As if I hadn’t already thought about that, Berger wanted to say. “It is simply a matter of principle, Jean-Claude,” he reasoned. “If we were to renege on our NATO commitments at the most important time of all, how could we expect any nation ever to take us seriously again?”
&nbs
p; “We are both member states of the Union,” Betin reminded him. “Are you saying that membership of NATO should override our bilateral EU obligations? If so, then the implication is that the EU is subordinate to the whims of our American brethren.”
“It depends on the situation. The interests of the Union and of NATO should coincide.”
“And, thus far, they have,” the Frenchman admitted. “But this is an extraordinary situation. It is also an opportunity - is it not? - for the Union to assert its autonomy in matters of international affairs. We should state clearly that the conflict between America and Russia - which is by its nature strategic rather than localized - is of no concern to us.”
“But this cannot be legitimate Union policy without the tacit agreement of all member states,” the German protested. As he spoke the last word of that sentence, it began to dawn on him what wasreally happening here. This wasn’t Betin’s idea. The Frenchman had been bullied into a corner by his socialist-dominated government. Now he needed - notwanted , butneeded - Germany’s support if his Presidency were to survive. This wasn’t a matter of principle. It was old-fashioned political posturing, pure and simple.
It was almost as if Betin could read the thoughts of his German counterpart, for he remained silent for several seconds while the Chancellor pieced this theory together in his mind.
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