Our Next Great War

by Martin Archer

  Neither Bao nor his men knew that the message had come too late; almost all the military trains had already passed the bridge, including those carrying the men and armor that just arrived on the Moskva and Leningrad.

  Indeed, the only possible reinforcements that had not yet reached Chita were the trains now loading in the Khabarovsk yards. They were loading what was left of three of Bulganin’s divisions, and almost all of his surviving armor, to carry them from the Khabarovsk Front to the Chita Front.

  ******

  Earlier in the afternoon Bulganin had received the order to disengage three of his army's four divisions and most of his armor—and bring them to Chita as quickly as possible. He’d been expecting the order for several days and was as ready as he could be under the circumstances. Even so, it came as a shock both to Bulganin and to his deputy who would stay behind as the new frontal commander and do whatever he could to slow down the Chinese.

  Conditions for the withdrawal were not favorable. The constant Chinese attacks had worn down all four of his divisions. Two nights ago he moved the two that were to remain back into the center of his main line of resistance. The three divisions they replaced, the ones he was to try to take to Chita, moved back into the second defense line on the city’s outskirts for as much rest and refitting as he could arrange.

  Despite the problems, all of Bulganin’s remaining armor and self-propelled artillery, the three very understrength and slightly rested and refitted divisions, and all but two of his surviving assault helicopters, were being loaded on seven very long trains of flatcars and gravel cars.

  The scene in the floodlit rail yard was almost surreal. Men were everywhere running and waving or standing in ranks and stamping their feet to stay warm; tanks, BMDs, and self-propelled artillery pieces were moving up the temporary loading ramps and then clanking down the length of the flatcars to jam up against the previous vehicle that had been loaded; and artillery flares periodically popped up to light the sky over towards the forward edge of the nearby battle.

  Overpowering everything was the din of noise as the three divisions were loaded and the smell coming from the white dusting of snow covering the ground that is increasingly pockmarked with yellow and brown stains as the men relieved themselves before they boarded. Even so, it didn’t compare to the sound of thunder coming from the frontline which was about fifteen kilometers away and periodically lit with flickering red and white lights of exploding flares and mortar and artillery rounds.

  It may be my imagination, General Bulganin thought as he stood on the hood of his jeep with his hands on hips, but I think the volume of Chinese fire has decreased significantly in the past twenty-four hours. Could it be that the Chinese are finally running low on ammunitions, or do they know that all this fighting is merely a sideshow to the main event that will be occurring elsewhere?

  “Lieutenant Demyan,” he shouted down to his aide. “Is it my imagination or has the Chinese fire lessened in the last couple of hours?” Mother of God, I hope so. My boys are going to be really thin on the ground once we pull out to reinforce Chita.

  ******

  Transport planes carrying the Russian paratroopers lifted off early in the evening from airfields far to the west, airfields thought to be much too distant to be used to attack the Chinese-held Russian fields west of Lake Baikal, or any other Chinese bases for that matter. There were only about twenty of them so that many of the paratroopers had to be left behind.

  Controllers in a Chinese AWACS turboprop operating over Mongolia saw the Russian planes take off and immediately sent a report to the headquarters of the Red Army. What they thought they saw, and reported, were cargo planes moving men and supplies to Russian airfields closer to the eastern fronts.

  Neither the AWACS crew nor anyone else suspected an attack on the Chinese-occupied airfields west of Lake Baikal. The airfields from which the Russian planes were coming were much too far away for that.

  The officers on the first Chinese AWACS never did realize their mistake. They lost contact as the fleet of Russian planes moved further east. The controllers on the second Chinese AWACS, the one radiating more to the east, saw them coming several hours later but had already been informed that they were merely more Russian cargo flights. As a result, they ignored the on-coming Russian transports until they realized the Russian planes were well past the most eastern airfield still held by the Russians. By then it was too late.

  Controllers in the second more-easterly Chinese AWACS were able to get a last minute warning to Angarsk, but the field at Irkutsk never received any warning at all. The Chinese air force tower operators at Irkutsk remained blissfully ignorant of their impending doom until the dark shapes of Russian paratroopers suddenly begin dropping past their dirty snow-spattered windows.

  Russia’s airborne drops were timed to hit the two snow dusted airfields simultaneously. And it more or less worked that way despite the murky darkness and dusting snow. The Russian paratroopers came down on the two airfields without warning. Truth be told, a goodly number of them missed the fields entirely due to the darkness and the poor performance of the pilots—but those that did make it were more than enough to overcome the totally unready Chinese.

  Vicious fighting broke out instantly with quarter neither asked nor given. The Chinese paratroopers woke up when the shooting started. They came out of their makeshift quarters in the airfields’ hangars and buildings and did the best they could. But it was pitch black and freezing cold, and they were unprepared and without assigned positions.

  Worst of all for the Chinese, almost all of their ammunition was under lock and key in accordance with the peacetime regulations that kept the army's ammunition under lock and key when it was not needed.

  Heavy fighting, mostly lopsided in favor of the Russians, continued for several hours on both fields even though the issue was basically settled within the first few minutes. A good number of the heavy Russian casualties were the result of friendly fire in the darkness and broken bones from landing on buildings, planes, and equipment they couldn’t see in the dark.

  After the Russian transports dropped their paratroopers, instead of turning back to the west towards bases they didn’t have enough fuel to reach, the Russian transports turned on their landing lights and began attempting landings in the sleeting rain and dark on the deserted emergency and auxiliary fields surrounding the two main airbases. About sixty percent of them landed successfully.

  The United States did somewhat the same thing in World War Two. A large force of American B-24 bombers based in Italy flew far past their maximum bombing range to hit German targets on the Eastern Front. The plan was for them to continue on even further eastward and land on Russian airfields beyond the front lines. Many of them crash landed instead and most of the survivors ended up being temporarily interned by the Russians. Similarly, Doolittle’s Raiders overflew Japan with the idea of bombing Tokyo and flying on to China. Most of them did not make it.

  Like their American predecessors, a lot of Russia’s best men and a good chunk of the remaining Russian transport planes were gone—but it was well worth the sacrifice, at least according to the Moscow politicians and important bureaucrats when they finally heard about it a day or so later. They had long ago gotten themselves and their families safely out of harm’s way in case the Chinese went nuclear.

  If sending the transports on a one way trip turns out to be a mistake we can blame Marshal Danovsky was the consensus view.

  ******

  Chernenko was waiting in the Chita rail yards as the first of the trains carrying his men and equipment arrived. It pulled in immediately behind the returning dummy train. This time it would be unloaded since there were no more reinforcements available further east.

  Vern and I could see Chernenko as the flatcar on which our Jeep was riding slowly moved past him and a group of his officers. I raised a hand in a friendly salute but he didn’t see it.

  Why were Vern and Eugene and I in a Russian Jeep? Because it was dam
n cold and we could periodically turn on the engine and run the heater.

  And we weren’t always in the Jeep—we periodically got out so some of the Russian grunts could warm up after they finished their turn at sentry duty. Then, when they were warmed up a bit, we would play musical chairs and rush to change places so they could climb into their sleeping bags behind the hastily erected plywood sheets and canvas that was being used as windscreens at the front of each flatcar.

  When the train finally jerked to a stop in the Chita yards, we jumped down to walk back to where we saw Chernenko. It was a relief to get off after two straight days and nights of sitting in a Jeep rolling through the empty Siberian countryside on a railroad flatcar.

  The snow covered mountains we’d seen had been spectacular, but damn it was cold and uncomfortable. Besides, according to Vern, when you'd seen one mountain, you'd seen them all. One the other hand, the snow-covered rail yard and the thunder of the guns to the south all somehow seemed to fit together. It was almost as if we were all actors in an old Russian black and white war movie. I kept waiting to see Cossacks riding horses and waving their swords.

  ******

  Vern and I exchanged salutes with Chernenko and then big bear hugs and cheek kisses. I didn’t recognize any of the officers around him. But I knew exactly what he had just done—he'd sent a message to his staff about us without ever saying a word.

  “It’s good to see you again, Comrade Major. I'm glad you made it.” Then he turned back to watch the equipment unloading begin and shout orders to the men organizing it.

  “Things are about to get difficult,” he said a few minutes later as we stood together to watch the his trains unload. “The Chinese assault battalions have been across the Amur for hours and the Chinese have some pontoon bridges up and are already moving armor over them. More are under construction.”

  Then he turned away and began barking orders to the men around him and greeting the officers reporting to him from the first two trains.

  Vern and I quietly stepped back and moved away from the gathering group of Russian officers. It’s no wonder Chernenko had no more time for us—he needs to quickly use his troops and armor to form a third Russian defensive line before the Chinese break though the first two.

  He also has to unload the tanks and armour from the dummy train has been carrying them eastward every day and bringing them back every night every night in the dark. They will go into the third line he was building with his four divisions from the Kuznetsov and the Korean and Vladivostok Fronts.

  ******

  It took a while before it was our Jeep’s turn to be driven off the loading ramp. But it finally did come off, and we got in it and drove away before anyone had a chance to tell us we couldn't take it. Then, after Eugene made some inquiries, we headed down a dirt road to where we hope to find Colonel Lindauer at General Danovsky’s headquarters. It was time to call home and report.

  The Russian military police at the entrance to the dingy concrete building that was the Russian headquarters needed to call an officer, and Eugene had to do a lot of talking, but we finally got in and a staff lieutenant in a clean uniform was taking us somewhere.

  He gestured with sort of a “go in” motion at a battered wooden door. So I opened the door and we walked into to a small office with unpainted concrete walls and a single electric light bulb dangling down from the ceiling.

  Surprise. It belonged to Colonel Lindauer and was stuffed with communications equipment, sleeping bags, and personal gear. Lindauer obviously worked and slept here and so, it turned out, did David Teniers and Chief Warrant Officer Hanson and his two fellow warrant officers who handled Lindauer's communications.

  Colonel Lindauer, “call me John,” and everyone else jumped up and gave us an extremely warm welcome. It seems they had been closely following our travels and travails. Then they peppered us with questions and brought us up to date as we ravenously devoured some of their old Russian field rations.

  We’d been out of touch for several days and immediately asked about the war. The big news to us was that the Chinese were over the Amur River in front of both Chita and Blagoveshchenk, and the Russians had, a few hours earlier, at least temporarily regained the Irkutsk and Angarsk airfields.

  “David will be excited to see you.” Colonel Lindauer said. “He’s out running an errand and will be back shortly.”

  According to the Colonel, everyone else has been withdrawn or will be withdrawn shortly, even Chief Matthews' swimming instructors; we seven are the entire American contingent—or nine if you include Captain Shapiro who was still missing and Chief Matthews who apparently had remained behind to pay his swimmers.

  ******

  Vern and I, and Eugene, stacked our weapons in the corner and dumped our sleeping bags and packs on the floor. Then we shot the breeze and waited while Mister Hanson tried to get me through to General Evans.

  It was late morning here and the middle of the night in Riems. France was ten hours earlier and General Evans had obviously been in bed asleep. He woke up instantly.

  “Jerry? Are you and Vern alright? Where are you and what’s happening?

  I filled him in as best I could.

  “All four divisions got through from Valdivostok? And there are three more to come from Bulgansky's army and maybe more? Well, that is good news and I’m glad to hear it. You two have done good. Real good. Thank you. Okay, let me speak to Colonel Lindauer.”

  “Well John, what do you think?"

  "I think you should let them stay."

  “Yeah, you’re right. They might as well stay out there with Chernenko. Let me speak to Major Carpenter again.”

  “Okay Jerry. I want you and Mister Hurlburt to stay with General Chernenko.

  "According to Marshal Danovsky, he's been promoted, Chernenko’s men will form a third Russian defensive line. The battle will be handed off to them if, I probably should say when, the Chinese break through the first two. I want you to keep checking in with me and Colonel Lindauer at least every eight hours on a regular schedule to update us, and also immediately every time something significant happens.

  “No. I regret we haven’t heard a word about Captain Shapiro.”

  ******

  General Jian, the Chinese army commander and his senior officers understood their orders quite clearly. They were to take Chita and then continue north and take Tynda.

  Taking Chita to cut the Trans-Siberian Railroad which runs south of Lake Baikal was not enough as far as the Chinese leadership was concerned. General Jian was under orders to continue north and take Tynda as well.

  General Jian and his staff fully understood the the reason for their orders and the importance of what they were to do. One look at the map and it was clear that Tynda had to be occupied to cut Russia's Baikal-Amur Mainline railroad, otherwise known as the BAM. It had been under construction for years and would sooner or later be completed.

  The route of the BAM was further north than the Trans-Siberian; when completed it would go around the northern end of Lake Baikal to Tynda and then on to Yakutsk, Magadan, and the Kamchatka Peninsula—far from the Chinese border and, thus, it would be virtually impossible to reach and cut.

  In other words, if the Red Army stopped at Chita and didn’t continue north to take Tynda, the Russians would be able to complete the new railroad line and be able to go around the north end of Lake Baikal to Yakutsk, the hub of the Russian arctic, and on to Magadan across from Alaska. They would continue to hold the huge northern part of the Russian east even though China held the south.

  Russia’s desolate arctic was sparsely populated, but there were reports and rumors of astonishing oil and mineral deposits up there. The Chinese wanted them in addition to the cultivatable lands in the Amur drainage. Equally important, they didn’t want the Russians to have them.

  ****** General Evans

  After talking to Jerry and contemplating the situation over a cup of tea, I decided to contact Master Chief Matthews at Arkhara. I w
anted to get his read on the possibility of the Russian swimmers and explosives being available for an additional "trip" to visit the pontoon bridges the Chinese had thrown over the river at Chita.

  That’s when things started to go wrong. I couldn’t reach Matthews. My call arrived too late. Lonnie finally got through to someone at the Swimmers’ camp who reported that Matthews had paid those of his men who had returned and flown out via Moscow two hours earlier.

  Finally, I called General Petrov and asked him to have someone meet Chief Matthews’ plane and have him call me immediately on one of the airports public phones. I told Petrov only that Matthews was one of my men and I needed him to return to Arkhara as soon as possible. On a special plane if necessary. I didn’t tell him why.

  Late in the afternoon, Matthews was patched through from the Moscow airport. We spoke in Americanese double-talk because the line was not encrypted and I was pretty sure that someone, and perhaps a lot of someones, was listening.

  Basically, Chief Matthews had left on a refugee-carrying plane because he had long ago been ordered to pull out as soon as his men were paid.

  Whether or not he could be successful in getting "my sub-contractors to resume work," Matthews said, would almost certainly depend on whether he could once again pay them as soon as they finished the job and what else could he promise them.

  Without clearly using the dollar amounts, I authorized him to offer another thousand "Benjamin Franklin euros" one hundred thousand euros to every swimmer who succeeded a third time and the same as before for "those who help them get it done." They would be on their way to him immediately.

  We both knew it was absurd to talk on an open line at an airport, but we had no choice. Time was of the essence. What I was counting on was that the attacks on the pontoon bridges would be long over and done by the time word of our conversation reached the Chinese and they could respond to what was being said. It was a race against time.