But now he realized nothing of the sort would be forthcoming. This was just belligerence from Jack Ryan. Threats and aggression.
Semyonov said, “Mr. President, you know full well my small nation has no capacity to deny the Russian Western Military District anything.”
Ryan replied, “I see this as a political decision, President Semyonov. You have invited them in with open arms, and therefore you have facilitated President Volodin’s crimes. I’ve seen nothing from you that distinguishes you from him.”
Ryan’s tone darkened, and he hoped the translator conveyed this. “Mr. President, it would be very dangerous, and very costly, for my forces to enter Kaliningrad because that is Russian territory. But we can, and we will, enter into Belarus if we see the need to do so.”
“What? Invade my nation?”
“If we deem it necessary to reduce the threat to Lithuania.”
There was silence on the line for a moment as the Belarusan president tried to think of something to say.
Ryan filled the dead air. “One last thing, Mr. President. My diplomatic leaders remind me that your private offices are in the Republic Palace. And my generals have notified me this is also the location of a portion of your military apparatus.” Ryan let this hang in the air until well after the interpreter finished with his translation. Then he said, “For the duration of your war with your neighbor, I suggest you relocate for your own personal safety.” Another pause, and then, “I’d hate to have to reenact this phone call with your successor in case of some sort of mishap.”
The Belarusan president shouted into the phone. “Your comments are outrageous!”
Ryan now dangled the carrot. “If you publicly distance yourself from Valeri Volodin, not the Russian Federation, but only the current Russian president, and if you conduct tangible actions to limit Russian access to your western region, if only logistical, procedural, or political actions, I would see your nation’s role in this conflict in an entirely different light, and the actions of United States forces would be adjusted accordingly.”
After a pause he said, “But to date, you have shown yourself to be the leader of a vassal state, so I have little hope of your independent thinking. I only pray you prove me wrong, because the lives of millions of people in your region of the world hang in the balance.”
The call ended there.
Ryan put the handset back in the cradle and turned to Scott Adler, who had been seated next to the President’s desk in the Oval Office. Adler hadn’t heard the translations, although he would be handed a transcript within moments. But he had heard Ryan’s end of it, and from that Adler gave a thin smile. “And that, Mr. President, was a back-alley beating.”
“There was a time for me to be chief executive. When that failed, I became the nation’s chief diplomat. Diplomacy has gone by the wayside as well. Now it’s time to concentrate on my role as commander in chief. I’m all for letting the State Department work night and day to try to stop this war, but my only concern is in winning this war. Semyonov is a two-bit thug, and he only respects bigger thugs. That’s why he’s Volodin’s underling. I had to show him I wasn’t the laid-back smiling guy on television, that I can crack a skull if I need to.”
Adler nodded. “Not how I learned to do things at the Foreign Service Institute, but admittedly, not much of what I learned there has helped me with Belarus.”
Ryan smiled, then stood. “All I’ve accomplished so far is pissing off yet another corrupt Slavic leader. We’ll have to see what happens.” He looked at his watch. “Sorry, Scott. I have a meeting with the Joint Chiefs now, then I’m heading over to the UN to announce the fact I’ve committed troops independently of NATO. I have a feeling that call with Semyonov will turn out to be the most upbeat and friendly conversation I have today.”
Adler said, “Mr. President, in order for this conflict to remain isolated, short, and sweet, we have to get Polish forces over the border to help out Lithuania, we have to convince NATO to join us now that there has been an Article Five violation. It would also be damn helpful for Sweden to give us some air support. I see all three of these issues as things I need to be concentrating on.”
“I agree. Let’s talk tonight, see where we stand on all these issues.”
69
Russia’s next move on Lithuania took place not on land, but over water. With the sinking of the Maltese-flagged oil-products tanker Granite the previous day, Lithuania’s tiny navy had come out of its harbors and littorals and up to the edge of its maritime borders, a show of force against any potential Russian incursion into its territory.
This meant the Lithuanians did exactly what the Russians wanted them to do. Vilnius did not understand that the sinking of the Granite was conducted simply to draw out as many Lithuanian naval vessels as possible into international waters so they could be destroyed without Russian submarines risking detection inside Lithuanian waters.
The first boat to fall prey to a Russian Varshavyanka — their name for the advanced version of the NATO designated Kilo-class sub — was the Kuršis, a Hunt-class mine-countermeasures boat the Lithuanians had purchased from the United Kingdom five years earlier. At 196 feet in length, it was an impressive-looking vessel, and it did have an older-generation but functioning sonar for detecting submarines, but other than mini-guns and machine guns on its deck, it had no real firepower, and nothing at all on board to combat an undersea threat.
But the Kuršis was sent out to show the Russians that Lithuania meant business, and in so doing it was promptly torpedoed just three hours after beginning its patrol southwest of Lithuania.
At nearly the same time the Kuršis was sunk, the Lithuanian ship Žemaitis was targeted by the other Russian Kilo. Unlike the Kuršis, the Flying Fish — class fast patrol boat the Lithuanians had purchased from Denmark did have significant antisubmarine capabilities, including modern sonar and advanced MU90 torpedoes. But the crew of the Žemaitis, distracted by the attack on the Kuršis, positioned itself to attack the sub that killed their countrymen, and this proved to be a fatal error.
The Žemaitis detected the Varshavyanka that destroyed the Lithuanian minesweeper, and it focused its attention on the identified contact, preparing to launch a torpedo over the side down the heading of the launch. But before the captain could give the order to fire, his sonar technician screamed a warning that two new torpedo contacts had been detected going active, and they were heading on a bearing that indicated they had been fired from out in international waters.
In the direction of the Žemaitis itself.
The Žemaitis had some torpedo countermeasures on board, and the captain had been trained to create large and confusing wake patterns to bewilder the Russian Type 53s’ wake-homing sensors, but the torpedoes’ electronic brains sorted out the attempt at misdirection. The first of the two torpedoes raced under the hull of the 175-foot-long fast patrol boat, and the ensuing explosion ripped the Žemaitis in two, and the second torpedo detonated under the fresh wreckage, ensuring that not a soul survived.
By five a.m., four Lithuanian naval vessels — two old minesweepers, the Flying Fish — class fast patrol boat, and a Storm-class fast patrol boat — were all resting on the sandy bottom of the Baltic Sea. The two advanced Varshavyankas had fired eight torpedoes between them, killed eighty-four men, and left another fifty-seven to be rescued, many with grave injuries.