“As ever, Comrade Marshal,” Zhukov conceded.
‘One day, Chekist… you little shit… one day…’
Stalin lit his pipe and sent a wave of thick smoke over those closest to him.
“Politically, we must act with great firmness. Speak to their minor allies… tell them we were attacked without warning or cause… try and drive a wedge between them all.”
He raised a warning finger towards Zhukov.
“We must do nothing to antagonise the neutrals. Sweden, Finland, even the fucking Swiss and that two-faced shit Tito… nothing to make them ally themselves in any way, Clear?”
“Yes, of course, Comrade General Secretary.”
Stalin sat back in his chair and looked at two of his comrades.
He raised an enquiring eyebrow and received a small nod of agreement.
“There is more we can, of course. As your leader, I have had to prepare for all eventualities, and I can tell you know that our Motherland has other tools at its disposal in this new fight, tools that will make the whole world tremble.”
He stood and addressed the now fully focussed assembly.
“Comrades, with foresight helped by understanding the capacity for duplicity and treachery of these capitalist bastards, your leadership has continued with a special project that will now enable us to strike back at the very heart of our enemies.”
He had their undivided attention.
“Project Raduga. It will strike them by land and sea, hurt their soldiers and their civilians, here and in faraway lands.”
He puffed on the pipe and decided where he would stop, at what point he would baulk at telling them details to protect security… and disguise the fact that he had intended to bring about another war in any case.
For now, he decided to use their fury at the betrayal.
“Comrades, you’ll understand… I cannot say too much… but I’ll tell you this. They will die in their tens of thousands, both at home and at the front.”
‘You want to know how… and you, Comrade, want to know if we have it, don’t you?’
He knew the questions they were asking themselves and decided to meet their suspicions… their unspoken questions… head on.
“Yes.”
Some looked puzzled.
“Yes, Comrades… the Motherland has the bomb… and we’ll use it at the appropriate time.”
There was genuine excitement.
“Yes, we have it, but we also have much more.”
He put his pipe on the table and moved around to the large map on which Zhukov had pointed out places during his briefing.
“We have much, much more… and we will use it!”
He swept his hand over the map, encompassing everything in one mighty sweeping gesture.
“There is nowhere on this map that is safe for them.”
The map went from Portugal and the British Isles on the left, through to Siberia and Japan on the right.
The leader smiled as he had a thought.
Turning back to the excited audience, he pointed over his shoulder.
“Nowhere off the map that’s safe for them either.”
Even those who were less sharp understood his words.
‘Amerika!’
Stalin laughed.
“Yes, Comrades, we will burn them in their beds, be it in New York or San Francisco.”
“Urrah!”
They stood as one and applauded, at first the leader, then Zhukov, then themselves.
Only a handful present knew that the rhetoric was little more than simply earnest hopes on claimed technical opportunities translated into promises, and that Raduga would need a lot of luck to experience any successes such as Stalin had just suggested.
The meeting was carried on a wave of emotion, and the USSR was committed to a war the like of which had never been seen before.
All-out conflict with weapons that had the capacity to consume people in their tens and hundreds of thousands.
In the United States of America, the great and powerful of American politics received briefings, either from and in the White House direct, or from those of varying importance sent to bring the information to disbelieving ears, depending on the recipient’s place in the food chain.
The incredible act of betrayal brought about by the Soviet Union bore too many parallels to that inflicted upon them in December 1941 for any politician to do anything but throw his or her weight behind a full and deadly prosecution of any renewed war.
The latest ‘Day of Infamy’ saw the translation of Truman’s words to Patton into action, and by the time that Governor Dewey of New York was informed and committed himself to the full prosecution of the renewed violence, the secret movement of L-14 through L-19 and J-3 through J-5 had already started.
Destination… Karup.
1800 hrs, Saturday, 15th March 1947, NATO Headquarters, Leipzig, Germany.
Patton set his jaw and listened with studied severity, hands on his hips in classic pose.
Incredulously, there were no major Soviet incursions, although according to German and Polish reports, the bastards had come close, with disaster only averted at the last moment when forces on exercise moved up and beat the enemy thrusts back.
The British had suffered from artillery and mortar exchanges all along their front line, and in a stiff exchange south of Kalvarija, where the Guards Division had responded by launching a spoiling attack towards the town and come up short in the face of well dug-in anti-tank guns and infantry.
German and Polish forces had responded quickly and had pushed over the Soviet lines in a number of places, creating an opportunity not wasted on the fiery American.
The French had mostly been spared, save for the ex-SS legion units, who had taken a pounding from artillery and mortars without any accompanying ground assault.
A strange report from one of their divisions needed clarification, and Patton moved on, deciding that if the damned SS couldn’t find an enemy armored and infantry force reported to be in brigade strength attacking the DRH’s 78th Sturm Division, then quite clearly he needed someone to put a burr under the ass of their commander.
“Never happen with my old boys of the Third, goddamn Krauts!’
Around Vienna, the situation was extremely confused.
Austrian reports had the Bundesheer counter-attack and partially break into the designated Soviet corridor into Vienna.
US forces aggressively moved against the Austrian capital and took a bloody nose despite gaining good ground, bringing some infantry units into the city itself.
Who exactly was where was not always clear, but Austrian forces set behind the US lines were already moved up to closely support any further assaults.
He eyed the area around the Yugoslavian lines, and in Italy, with a jaundiced eye.
‘I don’t trust those motherfuckers one fucking bit!’
The air briefing was music to his ears, with solid reports of kills and targets struck down across the front from the Baltic to the Graz in the south.
“Arthur, we must make sure your boys don’t start anything with the Yugos. Make sure of it. No mistakes. Can’t afford that critter kicking off down there, ok?”
Tedder had already stressed that to all commands, but knew it wouldn’t hurt to say it again.
The navy brought very little to the table.
One enemy submarine sunk in Arctic waters, and a British submarine brought to the surface and severely shaken up during a vigorous attack made by the Norwegian Air Force. Some sorties had been flown off aircraft carriers, but these had netted nothing of note.
Unconfirmed reports had another Soviet submarine down in the Black Sea, but the RAF aircraft responsible had been unable to confirm before being driven away but enemy forces.