War with Russia

“It’s a clever move talking to the nations, David.” Vahr was supportive but wary. “However, it’ll backfire if it is seen as an initiative by SACEUR. And it’ll be even worse if it is seen as your initiative. I’ve no doubt the US will be working on the Germans overnight, so I’m confident we’ll eventually get agreement. But the NAC is very sticky about the military getting ahead of the game. Any change of readiness must look as if it has come from the nations themselves. We have to play the long game on this.”

McKinlay opened his mouth to speak, but Vahr held up his hand to stop him. “Before you say anything, I know, David. It may well be far too late by then. But wasn’t it ever so?”

Now back in SHAPE and reflecting on events in Brussels, McKinlay walked up the stairs that took him direct to his office door, entered, and was greeted by Group Captain Jamie Swinton, his Principal Staff Officer. The rest of his front office team of three Military Assistants (German, French and British), his Flag Lieutenant and his PA all stood.

“Sit down, guys,” said McKinlay. “I keep telling you there’s no need to stand when I come into the office.”

“Evening, Sir,” said Swinton, ignoring him and still standing. “The only thing to add to the news of the cyber-attack on Latvia is that the NATO Communications and Information Agency and the Cyber Center of Excellence in Tallinn are all over it at the moment. The boffins are working the wiggly amps to help the Latvians get their systems back up and running. And, by pure chance, I’ve just managed to get a call through to General Balderis’s MA in Riga on my mobile. He’s a chum of mine and I happen to know he has an American mobile and number from his time at Staff College in the States. I tried him on that on the off-chance and got him. You probably want to speak to him before SACEUR?”

“That’s good—well done, Jamie. Put me through.” He went through to his office and sat down.

Swinton followed, handed him his iPhone and pulled up a chair so that he could listen in.

“Raimonds, how’re things? You’re having a tough time.”

Balderis’s voice was clear, albeit he sounded a long way away. He was calm and measured.

“David, my friend. Things are very dangerous here. All our command and control systems are down, but we’re working to get things under control. I feel that we are living through that exercise you ran in Riga last year, Steadfast Pyramid, when we war-gamed an attack on Estonia and its reinforcement by NATO under Article Five. But this time it’s for real. And it’s us and not Estonia. Yet.”

Balderis paused to gather his thoughts and McKinlay guessed his friend was not really as calm underneath as he was showing on the surface. He doubted he would be under similar circumstances.

“Russia has already attacked Latvia by indirect means. Now we must expect something more direct. I think it will come in a very short time. This is the time we need that unconditional support from our NATO friends and allies. If anything warrants a declaration of Article Five, it is this. Where is it?”

McKinlay felt that he was personally letting his friend down. Balderis had looked after him so well when he had spent a couple of weeks in Latvia last year, running the war game. Then, as scripted, NATO had of course declared Article 5. Now it was for real and NATO had not.

“Raimonds, I am not going to raise false hopes. Today’s NAC was a disaster. The Germans insist on an attempted political solution before there can be any declaration of Article Five, or any question of military deployment. I’m about to talk to SACEUR in the States and then I’ll be on the line to the UK, France and Denmark to see if they can’t get things moving unilaterally, on a national basis.”

Balderis allowed himself a touch of irony. “Our grandparents would never have believed that the mighty Fatherland—Germany—would one day be the most pacifist nation in Europe.” He gave a bitter laugh. “To paraphrase Bismarck, they clearly think the Baltic states are not worth the bones of a single Pomeranian Grenadier. Thanks, David. I know you’ll do what you can.” And with that the line went dead.

“SACEUR’s coming on to your Tandberg secure video link now, Sir.” Sergeant Lorna Bevin placed on his desk a mug, resplendent with the Globe and Laurel badge of the Royal Marines, and brimming with steaming, strong tea. “And seeing as you missed lunch, here’s a couple of biscuits.”

“Thanks, Lorna, you’re a star.”

“Hi, Dave.” SACEUR came through on the Tandberg from Washington. “I’ve heard about the NAC. What a mess. I’m about to head over to the White House. The National Security Advisor has called me over to talk to the President. What can I tell her?”