“How did they take the idea?” asked Colonel Smalls.
Ricks grunted. “It dawned on them that we are supposed to kill people with these things. There may be ten or so out of the sixty that may have lingering problems. I could see it in some of their faces. But the rest will be okay,” he said.
“Better be. I just got word these will ship over to Germany in two weeks,” the colonel said.
“Damn,” said Ricks. “That’s an awful short time to get these guys ready.”
“I know, but you’ve seen the papers. I’m starting to think it’s actually worse than even the media expects. I heard they want over five thousand people like these over there. If that’s the case, somebody’s going to get hurt. I just hope it’s not us,” the colonel said.
“If they do send people over, do you think it includes us?”
“Not right now. We just train them and send them out. Train them hard, Ricks. Even if we don’t go, we made a difference,” said Smalls.
“Yes, sir,” Ricks said as he turned back and reentered the classroom.
Maria Slovatin gave her son a big hug. He stood there resplendent in his Russian Navy uniform. Many mentioned that he hadn’t worn it long enough to take the creases out of it. Over the past year all of the young men in the village had been called into service. Maria’s son Misha was the last. They stood on the bus platform along with several other families to bid Misha farewell. No one spoke much. Misha was only seventeen, but the government had sent a letter telling him to report for training just six months before. Now that training was complete and this was his last trip home for at least a year. The visit had been bittersweet. Misha was enthusiastic about serving, but he really didn’t want to leave home. His mother seemed to always be crying or wiping her eyes.
Handing his canvas bag to the driver to be put away, Misha gave his mother another kiss, shook his father’s hand and climbed aboard. As the bus pulled away, the small crowd waved and he waved back.
Misha was number fifty one from the small community southeast of Moscow. Now there was no young man in the village older than 16 or younger than 25. Only the oldest members of the community remembered when, during the Great Patriotic War, all the young men had gone. It was a good thing the harvests were in. There would not be enough to bring in the crops during harvest time. Everyone hoped the young men would return in a few months. Otherwise, the elderly and children would be forced back into the fields.
Without fanfare, the crowd began drifting back to their homes. There was already snow on the ground. Soon it would be too cold to do much of anything but try to stay warm.
The military headquarters was filled with many photos and paintings of former Russian military heroes. They included Vasily Chuikov, commander and hero in the Battle of Stalingrad, Andrei Grechko, World War II Soviet Marshal and Soviet Defence Minister under Brezhnev, Mikhail Kutuzov, hero of the Russo-Turkish War (1787–1792), who defeated Napoleon's Grande Armée during French invasion of Russia in 1812, Maria Bochkareva, founder of the Women's Battalion of Death during World War I, Aleksandr Menshikov, associate of Peter the Great, Roza Shanina, World War II Soviet sniper with 54 confirmed kills, Vice Admiral Cornelius Cruys, the first commander of the Russian Baltic Fleet, Admiral Ivan Yumashev, who reclaimed Southern Sakhalin and Kuril Islands for the USSR during the Soviet — Japanese War in 1945, Alexander Novikov, Chief Marshal of Aviation during World War II, Nikolay Sutyagin, the top Korean War Soviet fighter ace, Yuri Gagarin, the first human to travel into space, along with dozens of others whose exploits dated back. Few westerners understood the rich history of the Russian military or the pride Russians felt about their accomplishments. Every day the officers would go to and from their offices and were reminded of the leadership which brought the Russian Military to where it was today.
With such leadership on their minds, a group of senior leaders gathered in a large ornate room with one gigantic table in its center. On it, were the maps of Europe. Each map was embellished with symbols of where current strongholds were and where Russian troops were expected to move. The meeting had already been going for over an hour, yet the arguments were still strong and vocal.
“They cannot have that many tanks, I tell you! I don’t care what our intelligence says. We have seen thousands in the photographs. Has anyone reported an increase in production? Has anyone seen the units drilling? It cannot be real!” a general shouted. Several others in the room were nodding in agreement.
General Gregorye Pusko sighed and tried to reassure the man. “General, I share your concerns, however we cannot take the risk that these numbers are accurate. We know the Americans are sending over more tanks and the Germans are pulling in tanks they had taken out of service. If the Austrians and a few of the other countries are doing the same, we might see higher numbers like these, but I believe we are seeing some of the same tanks over a period of several days. Moving from one place to another would be confusing for us, but I believe we can see through these things. Nevertheless, it does not alter the plan. If you notice, the tank buildups are in Austria, Germany and along the Czech border. It would appear that the European powers are leaving Poland to fend for themselves. The Poles are deploying to protect Warsaw and this northern area. That leaves the rest of the country ripe for the picking. Notice the fine roadways from Lviv across the southern part of the country straight through to Germany and on to Amsterdam. Once we are at the Channel, we turn south through France and Spain. This will leave Denmark and Italy isolated. They will be easy to take once we have the rest. England we will simply blockade and starve to death with our submarine forces,” he said following the plan explicitly.
“Humph,” expressed another general. “Hitler tried it in the Great Patriotic war. Little good it did him.”
“Yes, but he didn’t have the resources we have. If we go by the plan, the United States will not be able to resupply the English. By placing our submarines close around the islands, nothing can get through,” said Pusko. “Is this not so, Admiral?”
Admiral Ivan Koseko was the top ranking submarine officer in the Navy. Everyone had heard of his heroic exploits in the past. They turned to him. “It is true, comrades. I can keep a small fleet of our submarines along the coasts here,” he said pointing along the map. “With rotations every week or so, our submarines can prevent anything from entering their waters. More importantly, I can mine their harbors so that their own ships cannot leave port. By the time our planes have begun using the French and Belgium airfields, nothing will be able to get in. Remember, our subs and aircraft have far longer ranges than anything from that far back. Our technology can make this all work,” he assured the men there.
“And the plan calls for us to do the same elsewhere. But it is imperative that we stick to the time schedule. The start is at the end of next month, so we have already begun moving our assets. It is time to cast away our doubts. We have gone over this many times. It cannot fail unless we make it so. What I need to know is if everyone is ready,” he said straightening up and looking around the room.