Our Next Great War

by Martin Archer

  Our enlisted aides and the Marines, Jack assured us, were getting the same menu served up by his instructors. Actually, that turned out not to be the case. It seems Jack’s instructors “happened to find” some canned vegetables, fresh bread, and ice cream to go with their steaks and coffee. They also heard Teniers’s significantly embellished tale of the battle on the staircase and were greatly impressed.

  ******

  It was getting chilly as we stood around outside grilling our steaks and eating. We talked about Russia and ourselves and a bunch of trivial things as we watched the Russian and American cargo planes coming and going from the nearby runway.

  When we were finished eating we jammed into Jack's hut hear from Jack and the guys who had remained here while we were gone. They told us about the Russian special operations teams and swimmers, and we once again discussed what we might suggest to Danovsky, Rutman, and Krutchovy when we see them in the morning.

  Jack began by telling us about the special tent encampment the Russians have set up at the edge of the airport for the swimmers and bridge-blowing teams. He said the Russian special operations guys were outfitted okay, but that the dozen or so swimmers who had reported in so far were not allowed to bring their wetsuits and did not any winter gear. Even worse, none of them really knew much about explosives and blowing bridges.

  “Anyhow, the Spetsnaz guys were impressed when they found out what the swimmers were there to do, so they took to them like brothers and found winter gear for them. More importantly, they found an English-speaking translator somewhere and we’ve started running a bridge blowing course for everyone.

  “But we have absolutely got to get survival suits for the swimmers. The water out here comes off of glaciers and is just too damn cold to even try to work in it without them. Some of the Spetsnaz on the partisan teams will also need them if they have to go in the water to set their charges.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Make me a list of the wetsuit sizes you think we’ll need if we get enough swimmers and how many you want of each size. You better double the numbers so that everyone gets a wetsuit that fits.”

  “We’ll send the list tonight,” I told Eddie Rasmusson, one of Hanson’s Signal Corps warrants. I’ll give you the message after we wrap things up here. I’ve got to remember to ask Danovsky to light a fire under his navy to send more swimmers.

  “Another problem,” Jack said, “and it’s a big one, is letting the teams know when to make their move.” What?

  I looked at him quizzically and he explained.

  “We don’t have enough portable radios and the ones we’ve got don’t always pick up the local Arkhara radio station even though it’s right next door. Its signal is too weak. And the station’s too shaky. It’s using an AM transmitter that’s got to be at least sixty or seventy years old and it periodically has technical problems and goes off the air. It still uses tubes for God’s sake.”

  I had to smile. Years ago, when I was a kid in Cordova, I used to work sometimes at the little AM station there, KLAM. Its 1950s-era transmitter used tubes and the only ones the station manager could find to buy were imported from Russia which was the only place where tubes were still being manufactured.

  “If that station goes off the air or gets hit, the Russians are screwed. We need a backup transmitter and more of those cheap little battery powered boom box radios. We’ve got to get them or our teams hiding out in the bush won’t know when to launch their strikes.”

  Boy, that got Charlie’s attention. He’d never thought of that. Neither had I.

  The good news, Jack told us, is that there is a much bigger station at Chita further to the west, a real boomer, which can be heard all over eastern Russia at night and sometimes during the day. We can use it as a backup—unless the Chinese hit it.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll try to get a portable transmitter, and it and the notification problem goes on the list of things we’ll take up with General Danovsky in the morning. I’ll ask him to arrange a link to Chita and ask him to have a reliable officer there to broadcast the message when he wants his counter attack to begin.”

  Our discussions lasted so late into the evening that it was almost midnight and the sun was finally going down when I walked out back to pee one last time and crawled into my sleeping bag. I was really pooped. But at least I have a list of things to talk about when we meet with the Russian brass.

  The last thing I remember seeing in the dimming twilight was two patrolling Marines standing outside the window of my hut carrying Russian weapons.

  ******

  After all our efforts to get ready for the meeting, it turned out that Krutchovy was weathered in somewhere and generals Danovsky and Rutman were delayed and wouldn’t even be in Arkhara until late in the afternoon at the earliest. So the meeting was postponed and we spent the morning once again going over the maps and planning nasty surprises the Chinese won’t expect; things we think the Russians might be able to implement with what they have or we can get to them.

  One suggestion we would for sure put forward was that the Russians set up skirmisher outfits recruited from their Spetsnaz and airborne troops who knew how to ride motorcycles. I was going to advise Danovsky to grab up every motorcycle he can get his hands, even civilian dirt bikes.

  According to Colonel Marshall, whose tank battalion worked with some of the bike-riding Turkish skirmishers, they really worked well against the Russians and it looked like they might work out here too against the Chinese, at least until it snows. I didn’t discuss this in Khabarovsk because I wanted Danovsky’s head Special Forces guy, Colonel Krutchovy, to hear about it first and become an advocate.

  “Hell Charlie, if Krutchovy’s got enough riders we could use the C-130s to bring in some of the dirt bikes that the Turkish skirmishers returned in case the Russians cannot find enough locally. I’m sure a lot of Russians know how to ride motorcycles because I saw them zipping around everywhere both on our trips to Moscow and in Khabarovsk.”

  “Charlie, do you have any idea as to how many of the dirt bikes the Turks have returned?”

  “Only about seven hundred have reached The Detachment so far, General. But some of them are really fucked up.”

  “Okay, I’m going to send a message to Terry Ann to get the good ones on the next available C-130s along with the all the little battery powered AM radios and batteries she can find that can pick up 1080 and 520 on the AM dial.”

  I’m also going to ask Bill Hammond to send some portable AM radios in case Terry Ann can’t find enough. They can clean out the retailers if necessary. I’m also going to ask the Turks to return as many more of the skirmishers’ motorcycles as they can possibly get to an airfield in the next ten days.”

  We once again kicked around the idea of setting up small units of volunteer partisans from the Russian Spetsnaz and airborne troops. Even if they don’t have dirt bikes they could still come out of the vast forest tracks between border and Podovsk as additional raiders. I’m pretty sure Danovsky already had this in mind. But I’m going to ask.

  Then I suddenly feel like kicking myself. Something I’d seen parked in the mud next to a building as we drove over to our log cabins finally rang a bell. A big tracked bus-like vehicle waiting for the snow to arrive. Of course, you fool, snow machines. Not bikes.

  “Jack,” I said. “Did you ever use a snow machine?”

  “No boss. I’m a California guy.”

  “Well I have. When I was growing up. And that’s what the Russians need more than the bikes, snow marchines. Hell, there’s going to be a lot of snow soon and even dirt bikes don’t work all that well in the snow.”

  Damn I feel stupid. I should have thought of this a long time ago.

  ******

  We finally got in to see Danovsky after supper. Krutchovy and Rutman were with him along with Kafanov and half a dozen Russian generals I did not recognize. I made it a point to be deferential to them.

  “Yuri Andreovich, I know you and your staff and commanders h
ave been planning for a long time to fight the Chinese so will you all please pardon me if I bore you with silly questions and suggestions about things you and your officers already know. But please indulge me and let me have a few minutes of your time.”

  I started by telling the Russians about our skirmishers and their use of motorcycles called “dirt bikes” which were designed for off-road use.

  “We found them to be quite useful in the hands of experienced riders taken from our Special Forces and airborne troops,” I told the Russians.

  “They can carry handheld missiles in their saddlebags and be rapidly ridden long distances, even when the roads are congested, to wherever they are needed to fill gaps in the front lines and cover troop withdrawals; and they also work well in rough and wooded terrain where big tracked vehicles such as tanks and BMPs can’t go.”

  “If you think they would be helpful and want them, Yuri Andreovich, I may be able to fly in as many as five or six hundred dirt bikes for your motorcycle riding Spetsnaz and airborne troops to use; you could do what we did, find out who among your elite troops knows how to ride a motorcycle and divide them among your divisions and perhaps hold some as a strategic reserve.”

  “On the other hand, it’s going to be cold soon and motorcycles, even dirt bikes, don’t work all that well on snow. There is something even better that your troops can use.” Then I told Yuri and his officers about our little two-man snow machines and explained how they can be used when snow is on the ground.

  More and more I’m beginning to think that snow machines might be the tool that will defeat the Chinese if the war drags on into the winter—if we can get enough of them.

  Danovsky and his men really liked the idea of using snow machines. One of his colonels got really excited about the idea and his enthusiasm quickly convinced the others. He apparently had actually ridden on one when he’d been posted to Finland a couple of years earlier.

  “Da. Da. Exactly.” He said loudly with real enthusiasm as he stood up and waved his arms around. He talked so fast that Colonel Lindauer, who was doing our translating at that moment, missed some of what he said as he explained to the other Russians how snow machines work and how they could be used.

  There are a lot of back and forth questions and the Russians get more and more excited as they increasingly realized the edge they would have if their men had snow machines and the Chinese did not.

  After things settle down and the colonel lit up a cigarette and sat down with a look of accomplishment and satisfaction on his face, I assured Danovsky we’d try to get some dirt bikes and as many snow machines as we could find for his troops. Then I brought up the idea of stashing armored units in the bush to raid into the Chinese rear.

  “You mean partisans, Richard Ivanovich? We know about partisans. You are suggesting partisan armor?” Danovsky’s a sharp guy. We’d already discussed this a bit yesterday. His comment was to inform his officers what we were going to be talking about and his demeanor was to convey his interest

  “Yes, I am General,” I said very respectfully as I held up a folder. “Here are some suggestions and possible plans for you and your officers to consider. I hope you will find some of them useful. They will, of course, have to be improved and modified by your own planners.

  “Basically, what we are suggesting is that you consider leaving some very small armored formations behind if you are forced to pull back, maybe just a single tank or BMD in some places; maybe more in other places. Hide them off the probable Chinese main lines of advance as you pull back, and then use the Chita radio station’s regular programming when you want to order them to attack into the Chinese rear when you want to wreak havoc and confusion.”

  What I handed to Danovsky and Rutman were map sets for the possible initial locations and attack routes for a dozen or so armored raiding formations, each with about one or two tanks or infantry fighting vehicles, and a host of start points and targets for small squad-sized partisan units of men with dirt bikes and snow machines.

  “Where you would actually put them, of course, would depend on where you are and what armor you have available at the time.”

  I also very respectfully pointed out where our analysts thought the Russians might find it profitable send their construction equipment and engineers to build new choke points when the Russian finish building the first batch.

  Rutman and Krutchovy seemed quite pleased. So did the head of his engineers, a tall string bean of a guy whose name I didn’t catch. They should be pleased. What I was suggesting would cause their commands and responsibilities to substantially expand.

  Then I got to what really bothered me. There were two land routes with pioneer roads that the Trans-Siberian could have followed, but did not because they were farther from the border and zigged and zagged as they moved from east to west. I strongly urged him to put some kind of mobile blocking force on each of them with mobile rally points going all the way back.

  Danovsky smiled and we absolutely beamed at each other, and I gave him and his staff a little bow of acknowledgement, when he told me his staff had already identified them and blocking forces were already moving into place.

  His officers are obviously quite pleased by my acknowledgement of their readiness. I’ve got to remember to stay super respectful and keep giving them compliments.

  I also respectfully suggested that, in the case of a withdrawal, he require all his division commanders to assign a specific engineer officer the responsibility to pre-mine the key bridges and blow them after his troops get past.

  “I hate to admit it,” I said with a deliberately wry smile and embarrassed shrug to help make the point, “but you can learn from my mistakes in the recent war.” Then I explained both verbally and with appropriate hand gestures.

  “We found the destruction of bridges to be a problem in Turkey,” I explained. “The division commanders gave the proper orders. But sometimes in the confusion of pulling back the orders did not get to the engineers in time, or the engineers who received the orders did not have enough explosives or expertise.”

  Actually, we left some of the bridges up deliberately but the Russians don’t need to know that.

  “It was my mistake,” I admitted. “I should have required the division commanders to assign the responsibility for having the appropriate men and explosives on hand at each bridge to a specific officer instead of to their engineers in general.”

  I was watching the Russian officers as the translator repeated my words. I think from the expressions on their faces and the understanding nods that they got it.

  Finally, I expressed concern that there was only one choke point being constructed on the Trans-Siberian branch line that used to go across the Amur to the Chinese city of Heihe. Perhaps, I suggested as diplomatically as possible, it might be useful to put a battalion-sized unit with armor and mobile artillery in the mountains in front of the choke point and another in the mountain pass behind it. They would be "speed bumps" to slow down the Chinese advance.

  It would also be helpful, I suggested, if the commanders of all your choke points were required to identify some rally points behind it and be ready to use them.

  Our suggestions were well received, perhaps because moving troops into these positions before the Chinese attack fit in with the Russian observation that it was going to take longer to move their troops about than they initially anticipated. Danovsky admitted as much to me yesterday in Khabarovsk. Apparently the chaos and delays at the train station have been a real eye opener for everyone.

  Then we all settled in for a banquet of epic proportions and a night of heavy drinking and informal discussions in a smoke filled room. Despite my “medical problem” I drank a couple of bottles of Russian beer and ate a lot of cheese and pretzels. Really good beer and I especially liked the pretzels.

  Chapter Eight

  We find our missing men.

  Special Forces Colonel Randall “Jim” Bowie was waiting for me the next morning when I came out of the co
mmo hut after getting a message off to General Hammond. In it I asked Bill to use his discretionary funds to corner the market on snow machines by buying every single one that could be found and shipped within the week.

  Bowie was really worried. One of his missing two-man teams of special operators showed up. They’d been tied up and robbed. They’re pissed and embarrassed, but otherwise okay. The other team, however, was still missing and so were the eight Russian Spetsnaz troops assigned to accompany them as they made their rounds paying the Russian troops and making sure the food deliveries were reaching them .

  He also let me know that in a few weeks many of the Russian units were going to start running out of flour and whatever else was needed to make bread.

  “Bread’s real important to the Russian troops, General. It’s the most important part of their rations. Hell, they even have bread baking ovens mounted on some of their Jeeps.” Damn, I didn’t know that.

  “I didn’t know that, Jim.”… “Well, I’ll get a message off to the States. What do you think – split the food cargos fifty—fifty between flour and meat by weight?”

  Colonel Bowie didn’t know the answer and got red faced with embarrassment.

  “I don’t know, Sir. But I’ll find out immediately.”

  ******

  I was busy stuffing my dirty clothes in a duffle bag about an hour before my flight back to the States when Mr. Simmons, one of the Signal Corps warrant officers, jogged up to my hut and barged in the door.

  “Priority call for you General. We’ve got the Vice President on the scrambler phone.” The Vice President. What’s he doing calling me out here?

  I trotted two huts down and motioned for the troops inside to step outside as I picked up the phone.

  “General Evans here.”

  “General, it’s Dan Sullivan.”

  “Hello Mr. Vice President. What can I do for you, Sir?”