“Extrapolating from our reported losses and expenditures, the correlation of forces and means is actually increasingly favorable in the Third Shock Army sector,” Chibisov reported. From the staffs perspective, the British were hanging on by sheer determination and could not sustain another such day’s fighting.
Malinsky reached for a cigarette. The action shocked Chibisov. Malinsky never smoked in his presence, because of the chief of staffs asthma. But, in a moment, Chibisov recognized the action for what it was: absentmindedness, a manifestation of the old man’s intense concern for Starukhin’s situation.
“In any case,” Malinsky said, puffing a glow onto the tip of the cigarette, “Starukhin has to push through them by noon tomorrow. We must present the enemy’s operational headquarters with a situation of multiple crises and apparent collapse that prevents them from implementing a truly appropriate response. We need to fragment the enemy’s alliance into a conflicting set of national concerns that leads each national commander to actions or inactions based upon his own parochial perspective. And we need to drive in behind them in all sectors in order to prevent the nuclear issue from becoming an attractive option.”
“Dudorov still reports no sign of a NATO transition toward a nuclear battlefield,” Chibisov said.
“Keep watching it. Closely. Make sure Dudorov understands. Meanwhile, Starukhin has to keep up the pressure on the British all night. If it means committing his last tank, so be it. I’ve never been comfortable with night operations. I have no doubt that our enemies can see us more clearly than we can see them. But it would be fatal to stop and allow them a breathing space. We must rely on shock, on speed, and, ultimately, on simply grinding down the enemy at the point of decision, when no alternative presents itself. But we must preserve and even accelerate the tempo of combat operations. Consider it. The British have been fighting all day. Now we’ll make them fight all night, against fresh forces. And we’ll keep hitting them throughout the morning. If their nerve doesn’t run out, their ammunition will.”
But Chibisov detected an undertone of doubt in Malinsky’s voice. The front commander was a powerful presence, and now it was odd, troubling, to hear even a slight wavering in his voice.
“Starukhin… has got to make the hole,” Malinsky said. “He must do it.” Malinsky’s teeth were slightly parted, and he breathed through his mouth in the intensity of the moment. “And what about the decoy air assaults?”
“They’ve gone in,” Chibisov said. “We had to go in with all light forces, though. The enemy air defenses limited our ability to introduce the tracked vehicles and the full range of support of the air-mechanized forces. But our troops are on the ground at Hameln and Bremen-south. Samurukov’s already celebrating.”
Malinsky sucked at his cigarette. “Good. I want the enemy to be looking very hard at those spots. I want him to panic, to become so obsessed by those assaults that he squanders his last local reserves on their reduction. I have never liked the notion of sacrificing soldiers, Pavel Pavlovitch. But if the Hameln and Bremen assaults do their jobs, we’ll save far more, both in lives and in time, than we’ve lost.” Malinsky chuckled, but there was neither life nor any trace of humor in the sound. His face became a bitter mask. “It’s a betrayal, of course. Sending in men who believe in the sacredness of their mission, who have no inkling that they’re merely part of a deception operation, and many or most of whom will die wondering why the link-up force never arrived. I console myself that, if we move swiftly enough, we may get them out of there before they’re completely destroyed. But I don’t even half believe it. I know I would not sacrifice momentum to save those men. But we all find devices by which we rationalize decisions with which better men could not live. Really, it’s a monstrous thing to be a commander. Odd that we should so love the work.”
“The air assaults on the actual crossing sites will be triggered as soon as the Third Shock Army reports a breakthrough situation.”
“The timing will be critical. But you understand that.”
“The enemy air defenses remain a serious threat. But their missile consumption appears to have been very high, and systems attrition favors our operations. The in-flight losses incurred by our deep assets ran just under seventeen percent. But they’ll be lower tomorrow.”
“Radio electronic combat?”
“Impossible to accurately gauge the extent to which the provisions of the plan have been fulfilled. Gubyshev’s a busy man, though. The Operations Directorate insists he’s jamming friendly nets, while Dudorov complains that he’s jamming too many enemy nets of intelligence value. Then the Operations Directorate turns around and wants to know why more jamming operations aren’t being conducted. The fires portion appears highly successful, but we have no tool for measuring success or failure in the electromagnetic spectrum.”
“Perhaps the outcome of the war will be the only viable measure.”
“Well, it’s unquestionably a bit muddled. But automation has really come through for Gubyshev. He couldn’t begin to manage his assets or to de-conflict frequencies with paper and pencil. And after all is said and done, Dudorov’s a believer. The GRU position is that we have meaningfully impaired the enemy’s ability to react on the battlefield.”
“Within the contours of the plan, I trust,” Malinsky said. “I’m still waiting for indications of the movement of the enemy’s tactical-operational reserves to the flanks. Don’t let Gubyshev queer that up. Don’t let him get carried away with a sudden sense of power. What about air-battle management? Every single one of the army commanders has complained about it. Of course, I recognize that they’re bound to complain. But it appears that we’re having some genuine problems.”
“It’s certainly a bit off track. The air force is struggling with it now. The biggest problem is assessing the damages we’ve inflicted, then retargeting aircraft. Even the automation’s overwhelmed. The air force representatives are attempting to put a good face on it, but I suspect there’s a lot of guesswork going on. I do not believe that all of the available missions are being employed efficiently.”
“Of course, we’re speaking of relative efficiency. On the edge of chaos. Think of what it must be like for the infantryman out there in the dark, Pavel Pavlovitch. And keep pounding on our comrade aviators. But not to the degree that it becomes counterproductive. So… what’s your overall assessment of the troop control situation? From the perspective of the chief of staff.”
“Better than I feared,” Chibisov said. “We can communicate, although we’re often forced to rely on nonprimary means. The confusion on the ground is intense. It’s a matter of continuous effort. You know our antenna farm was struck earlier? We were at minimum capability for over an hour. That didn’t help the effort to maintain the automated data bases. But we’re back up to ninety percent now.”
“They’ll hit the bunker again,” Malinsky said. “And again. You’ll be able to measure their desperation by how often the walls shake around you.”
Chibisov nodded. He felt tired. Exhausted. Yet there was so much waiting to be done. The smoke from Malinsky’s cigarette snaked into his lungs, and he unconsciously touched the pocket where he carried his pills.