War with Russia

Howard listened intently. “I like the sound of that, Skip… I guess if we only have ten Iskanders ready to launch at Russia, that’ll be enough of a propaganda coup to humiliate the President and force a climb-down. Then it’ll be up to the politicians to offer him a way out. Whatever happens, even if Rasputin is overcome and they recapture the batteries, the Russians will have no idea how many nukes will work or what they’ll do if they fire them. Once we’ve had control of them, for even a short time, the Russians won’t dare to use them until they’ve all been stripped down and checked… Hell!” He slapped his thigh and grinned. “This is like a nightmare terrorist plot, on speed. And for once we’re the goddamn terrorists—we’re the ones doing it! It sure makes a change from being the ones being kicked, doesn’t it, Dave?”

McKinlay laughed as well. The Admiral was right: it nearly always felt better to be attacking than defending. “Full marks to us for lateral thinking. And it’s not a plan you’d find in a Staff College solution anywhere west of Syria. Which is why the Russians won’t have thought of it. But if Rasputin works—which it will—it offers us the genuine chance of winning the war at a stroke. We’ll hold the Russians to ransom with their own nuclear weapons until they extract from the Baltic states. It is a solution that will see the minimum number of casualties for the maximum amount of effect. Which is why I have always supported the plan… as you know.”

Howard nodded his agreement and so McKinlay continued. He knew that, while the buck stopped, ultimately, with the Strategic Commander, as his deputy he was there to support, reassure and share the burden of command. And that meant committing properly to the plan.

“To summarize: high risk, but not yet a gamble.”

“Thanks, Dave. I appreciate your full support. I believe we’re decided then, gentlemen.”

“There’s one other thing, SACEUR,” added McKinlay. “Thanks for agreeing to 3 Para helping to secure the site at Pravdinsk. That’s a good call for us. They’ve been training with the 82nd Airborne. I’m told they’ve even been jumping out of American planes with American parachutes. Not that they’re going to jump tonight, of course.”

“Too right,” added Williams with a grin. Decision made, it was time to lighten up. “I gather they’ve been having an airborne ball and not a Marine has dared to show his ugly—”

“Hang on…,” McKinlay immediately started to protest.

“It’s good to see the Special Relationship is alive and well, guys,” Howard said, interrupting and shaking his head in amusement at the age-old rivalry between the green and red berets.

Then he turned to Williams, his face now grave and obviously all too aware of the consequences of his next order. “Let’s roll, Skip.”

0045 hours, Sunday, July 9, 2017, Central European Time 0145 hours, Sunday, July 9, 2017, Eastern European Time

Command Bunker, Iskander Missile Battery Pravdinsk, Kaliningrad

MAJOR ANATOLY NIKOLAYEVICH Vronsky put his head round the office door, only to see Major Pyotr Petrovich Luzhin, the Pravdinsk Guard Force commander, slumped over his desk, head on his arms and snoring loudly, a half-finished bottle of vodka open beside him.

Typical MVD, Internal Troops, he thought to himself, and these are the people responsible for guarding strategic assets like our Iskander batteries!

Picking up his body armor, helmet and webbing from where he’d left it in Luzhin’s office, he slung his AS Val assault rifle over his shoulder and walked down the corridor to the Guard Force Ops Room, where his team were monitoring the surveillance equipment covering the approaches to the perimeter wire. Underneath the Guard Force Ops Room, in the bunker below, was the Top Secret nuclear command and control room, with access only for those cleared at the very highest level.

Vronsky could understand Luzhin’s annoyance. He had arrived the day before with his men and equipment in two trucks. The fat, puffy-faced major with the colorless face had been surprised by the arrival of the Spetsnaz officer wearing no rank or insignia on his combat smock. Surprise had then turned to barely repressed anger when Vronsky had told him that, on General Kirkorov, the Commander of Western Military District’s orders, he was taking over command of the defense and protection of the Iskander compound.