Sokolov cast aside his memory of the tragedy, and the premonition it could evoke. Focusing solely on the upcoming mission, he walked off to pick up his gear. After the final check on his uniform, armor and weapons, he joined the assault team leaving the Special Purpose Center.
Chkalovsky Military Airfield was only five kilometers away, allowing instant deployment. At Chkalovsky, Sokolov saw their aircraft, recognizing an old friend.
It was an Ilyushin Il-76 freighter, a beauty to behold. Sokolov eyed the familiar lines which had earned the plane its affectionate nickname of “Swallow”— the powerful arrow-shaped wings set high atop its thick fuselage, driven by four large turbofan engines, and the sweeping T-tail. The Il-76 was a workhorse that operated without fail in any weather conditions, using any airstrips and carrying forty tons of cargo across 5,000 km. Over the years, not a single plane had crashed due to technical breakdown.
Sokolov almost smiled, thrilled at the reunion. The image of the Il-76 had always accompanied him, first throughout his life at the air force base in East Germany, and later during his service in EMERCOM, which used Il-76s to deliver humanitarian aid.
This particular version, an Il-76MD, had an even greater capacity and range, and was equipped with jamming capabilities, essential for raids behind enemy lines. With the cargo ramp at the rear of its undercarriage opened, three military vehicles were being loaded inside. Resembling BMPs, the original Infantry Fighting Vehicles, these units were in fact designed for air delivery by parachute, and called Airborne Fighting Vehicles, or BMDs. When burdened by the military hardware, the number of paratroopers the Ilyushin could take aboard was reduced from 160 to 21.
Colonel Grishin commanded a group of nine Alpha men, and an equal number of fighters from Vympel, including Major Petrov. Together with Sokolov and Asiyah, the assault team made the required total exactly.
Like Sokolov, they wore desert battle dress uniforms and body armor, devoid of any insignia. Tactical goggles accompanied their helmets for protection against a sandstorm. Each FSB fighter carried a full arsenal of weapons — new standard-issue Yarygin PYa pistols, Kalashnikov AK-104 rifles, and enough grenades to blow up the entire island. Asiyah and Sokolov each only had a Yarygin handgun, and an AK-104—a shorter modification of the AK-74 with the full stopping power of 7.62mm ammunition.
On the hot tarmac in front of the Ilyushin, nothing gave away the tension of the FSB fighters who appeared nonchalant as they awaited boarding. Sokolov tried to remain calm, but Asiyah was nervous, her eyes full of anxiety, transfixed on the BMD vehicles. With their turrets and caterpillar tracks, they looked like adequate substitutes for tanks, but Asiyah’s expression conveyed her failure to imagine these beasts being parachuted from transport aircraft.
“Eugene,” she said. “Are you sure it’s safe?”
“Everything will be fine,” he replied, hoping that it really would be.
“I still can’t believe we’re going to drop out of the plane inside those things,” Asiyah murmured. “Whoever could conceive such idiocy?”
Petrov winked. “Don’t worry, the method is foolproof. You’ll be so comfortable that you won’t notice the landing. Even if we fall into whatever water is left in the Aral Sea, the BMDs are amphibious.”
Once the BMDs had finished loading, the assault team embarked, boots clanging as they walked up the metal ramp and along the main cabin floor, passing the vehicles. On either side of the cargo cabin, a row of integrated jumpseats lined the wall, and the FSB fighters picked their places. Sokolov pulled a seat down and occupied it, pressing his back against the hard interior of the fuselage. Asiyah took the one next to him. Grishin and Petrov faced them opposite.
The ramp closed, and Sokolov felt a knot tightening in his stomach as he anticipated the lift-off. The Ilyushin’s four heavy engines whined, warming up, and the freighter taxied to the runway. The noise of the turbofans rose to a roar as the Ilyushin charged down the airstrip, and then its nose pitched up.
“Hold tight!” Sokolov told Asiyah.
The jumpseats lacked belts or any other means to secure passengers, and the unfamiliar lateral pull could come as a surprise. Sokolov grabbed the side of his seat, but the thrust of the Ilyushin produced so much power that he had to plant his feet firmly against the metal floor to keep from sliding sideways. Asiyah clutched her jumpseat but the steep burst of the plane made her lean close to Sokolov for a second.
“ETA is three hours,” Colonel Grishin announced to the team as the airlifter climbed to its cruising altitude.
In the windowless cabin of the Ilyushin, all that Sokolov could do was focus mentally, just as he would en route to any other assignment. The hum of the engines made conversation strenuous, and there was nothing to discuss anyway. For all the planning, no one really knew what to expect once they hit the ground.
Sokolov thought of the irony that accompanied the mission. The Ilyushin would be matching the route flown from Chkalovsky countless times. The airfield acted as the main transportation hub for the adjacent Star City, the Russian space camp, and most of the flights originating from Chkalovsky were bound for the Baikonur Cosmodrome in Kazakhstan.
5
From Chkalovsky airfiled, the Il-76MD set course south to Karshi-Khanabad airbase in Uzbekistan. The base had been used until 2005 by the U.S. during the war in Afghanistan, and then utilized by Russia ever since the Americans had left. The Ilyushin’s passage would be routine throughout the flight, but for a section above the Aral Sea, where it would briefly drop altitude. On paper, the official Kazakh-Uzbek border lay across the Aral, even dividing Renaissance Island between the two countries, but in reality, the border stayed neglected, like the entire region.
Thirty minutes before the Il-76 began to descend, Grishin ordered the assault team to assume positions inside the BMDs.
The idea behind the creation of the BMD was delivering a specialized vehicle to accompany paratroopers, thus giving them superiority on the battlefield. Unlike a simple personnel carrier, it had to be highly mobile, and at the same time provide heavy firepower and protection — a complete combat system. Light aluminum armor allowed for both defense and maneuverability, and firepower was something the BMD packed in abundance. The current, fourth-generation BMDs were equipped with a twin 100mm and 30mm cannon and two mounted Kalashnikov machine guns with 4,000 rounds of ammo, which created a firestorm.
At some point, the BMDs designers found it logical that the airborne troops be dropped off already inside the vehicles for extra efficiency. Rising to the challenge, the Russian Airborne Corps had honed the procedure to such perfection that parachuting crews inside BMDs had become the standard method of operation.
But every other country in the world deemed it too dangerous to merely attempt.
That thought alone made Sokolov psych himself up.
Each BMD-4 could take on a crew of seven, so the assault team members broke into three even groups. Following the Alpha men into the first vehicle, Sokolov climbed through the rear hatch. Loaded with men and equipment, the interior was tight, but he quickly strapped himself in his seat. Securing the straps on his ankles, his knees, waist and shoulders, he imagined that he resembled a death row inmate who was personally preparing himself for execution in an electric chair.