by Unknown
“How well, I know it,” said Hammond. “If they break through across here, it will cut off the supplies for the Spanish and the Italians. That would leave Richardson holding the bag. Her supply lines are getting pretty long,” he said.
“I wonder why they are ignoring the army on their east coast?” asked Dortmund. “They must know it would let us take Vladivostok.”
“Yes, but I am figuring they don’t really care about that as much. Remember, this is over in Siberia. Even they don’t like going outside over there in the winter,” said Hammond. He thought for a second. “How soon before they reach their objective?”
“First thing tomorrow morning. The Koreans have been massing troops and tanks along the border ready to move in. From what we are seeing, they may not even realize that General Bryant is halfway there,” said Dortmund.
“The power’s still out, right?”
“Yes, sir. Their fleet can’t even move because they are out of fuel. It would be nice if they just surrendered, but I doubt they will,” said Sir Richard.
“Well, when they find two armies surrounding them, they may think again,” said Hammond. “Now let’s get back to the current problem. We need to start pounding away at those assembly points. Every time they make a move, we hit them. I also want to hit every train line again from Moscow westward. They can’t make a war if we break their toys,” he said. “Remember the Battle of the Bulge? Well, when the allies opened up with their air power, everything kind of folded up. In this case, the Russians are trying to make their own kind of bulge, except this time, we know what’s in the Ardennes. It’s time to break them. I also want drone strikes everywhere their army has a heat source. That usually means mobile kitchens or showers or some kind of barracks. We’re going to make their army’s life miserable. At least more miserable than it already is. Let’s make them all want to go home,” Hammond said.
“That will go along with one other thing in my brief,” said the Intelligence briefer.
Hammond grinned. “Oh! Sorry, we kind of got away from ourselves. What else do you have?” he asked.
“No problem, sir. You just need to know that evidently the Russian Patriarch is raising some hell, no pun intended. We just found out he is communicating with troops in the rest areas and offering assurances that God would look favorably on those who resist the government.”
Hammond got a surprised look. “Well, isn’t that interesting. You think some of the front line troops might be hearing the same thing?”
“I believe it is inevitable, sir.”
Hammond nodded. “Not too bad,” he said.
Voronezh Malshevo Airbase
The entire base turned out to see the bombers take off. Each had been fitted with long range external tanks in addition to their bombs. General Fedinko made his way to the control tower to watch. On signal, the bombers began moving at the far end of the field. One by one, the bombers rose into the sky. The base mechanics had worked up until an hour before to make sure each aircraft would be able to fly. They stood by the now empty hangars and watched them take off.
The bombers rose into the sky and circled the field until all had moved into their positions in the formation. On signal, the formation turned and made one more run over the base.
General Fedinko watched through his binoculars as they began making their last overflight. Suddenly he saw the aircraft begin dropping their bombs on their own base. One plane moved around sharply and dove toward the control tower.
Major Vasiley carefully lined the tower up in his sights. He keyed his radio. “General, I know you are listening. No one should send his people to almost certain death without their approval. You no longer have our approval.” He triggered the bomb release and watched as six bombs dropped free. Banking sharply he saw each of them strike the area around the tower. One struck directly on the glass control center. Climbing back to altitude he called out. “Vulture leader, mission accomplished.”
Colonel Chenik called out to his group. “Radio silence. No one speaks except for me. Form up on me and follow my lead,” he said as he banked his aircraft toward the Allied lines.
Berlin
“What the hell is this?” asked one of the watchstanders. Several of the people came over to look at his sector. “Sir, it looks like this flight of planes is bombing their own air base,” she said loud enough for all to hear.
Several watched as miniature explosions were seen all along the runways. They also saw the control tower explode and topple to the ground. “Admiral, you better come see this,” the supervisor called out.
Hammond turned and walked back to the table. It was obvious something had happened. There was a cloud of dust all around the air base. He also saw the flight of planes headed toward Poland. “You said something about bombing their own base?”
“Yes sir, they just took off and circled, then they made a run over the base and dropped their bombs,” said the first watchstander.
Hammond turned to a technician. “Would this thing be able to see if these aircraft are carrying weapons?”
“No, sir. We can see them, and define a shape, but the ordnance is under the wings and we wouldn’t be able to tell,” the technician said.
“Get a couple of our fighter squadrons in the air to intercept. Tell them don’t shoot until you verify they are unarmed. They may be trying to defect. If so, they are to escort them to the Warsaw airport. Land them at the civilian airport, not the air base. You got that?” Hammond ordered.
Five minutes later two squadrons of F-35 Lightnings lifted off and made their way toward the incoming Russian formation. It would take an hour to get there, but the outcome might be worth the wait.
Colonel Chenik was worried. They were getting close to the battle lines and he knew from experience that the Americans would come out of nowhere. He constantly scanned the skies for a hint of where they might be. He had tuned his radio to the international distress frequency and hoped there would be time to explain. Until then he had to remain silent. The Russian Air Force would be listening as well and if they got to his formation before the Americans, they would pay a heavy price.
The radio crackled to life. “Russian bomber on my starboard side, this is US fighter. We see you are unarmed. Please follow me,” the voice said. Suddenly Chenik saw an F-35 lift up from below him and take a position to his side. The pilot held up a sign that read, in Russian, “defect?” Chenik nodded his head. He saw the pilot say something and very shortly their force was surrounded by the American fighters. The American motioned for Chenik to follow him and took a position in front of Chenik’s plane. For the first time in months Chenik felt relaxed. Vasiley had been right. The Americans seemed to somehow know what was going on. He also seemed to know that the Americans would not fire if they saw they had dropped their bombs. He had now saved the lives of forty good young men and women. It had meant going against his government, but he was sure it was well worth it.
Skies over Poland
Major Sean Pennick was amazed. He was flying in his B-1 bomber along with the rest of the 9th Bomber Squadron on the way into Russia. That was normal. What wasn’t normal were all the rest of the Allied aircraft in the sky with them. Before today, most of the action he had seen was on the squadron level. They flew in to a specific target, dropped their loads and went home. Today he looked out of the cockpit into a sky filled with aircraft. Below them were German Tornadoes. To the left were French Mirages. To the right were Spanish F-18s. The British were high and to the right, and the Italians low and to the left. High above, he could see the contrails of the B-52s. Today Ivan was going to get pounded.
Checking his link, he could see the others around him and saw the distance to the target. Supposedly it was some major assembly point deep inside Russia. In front of them was a line of fighters. Although they knew that the new cloaking system worked like a champ, it was good to know they were taking no chances. In the brief they explained that the assembly area was massive and that each group was assigned a ce
rtain section. His was a tank farm that was supposed to have about a thousand tanks in it. He was carrying 96 GBU-39 Small Diameter Bombs. Each had been set up to attack one of the tanks. There were fifteen planes in his squadron that day. That meant they had the ability to take out 1,450 tanks in his squadron alone. That’s why after the raid, they had permission to move along a specified corridor and look for targets of opportunity. It would be a fun day.
Pennick looked over at his copilot, Captain Jay Sweeney. “Take it a minute so I can stretch out some,” he said.
“My airplane,” came the reply.
Pennick stretched in his seat. Despite the comfort built into the seats of the aircraft, long flights were hell on the rear end. Moving around in his seat he tried to limber up again. It was no use. He reached back and grabbed a bottle of water and drank down about half of it. “I’m getting too old for this shit,” he said as he put the bottle back into its holder and sat back into the seat. He keyed the mike. “How soon to target?”
“One more hour, Major,” said the Offensive Systems Officer (OSO). “By the way, we just passed into Russian airspace.”
“More good news,” the Major said. “Well if your butt can take it, so can mine. Is the targeting set up through the link?”
“All set, Boss. I have been updating it for the last hour just to have something to do. We’ll be dropping seventy this go round. That will leave us with another 26 to play with. I expanded out towards the corridor and see a bunch of things that way. We’ll be home in time for supper,” said the OSO.
“Just as long as I can sit in one of those hot tubs for about an hour,” said Sweeney. “It will take that long to get the wrinkles out from all this sitting.”
There were chuckled from the rest of the crew. “Well, let’s get back to business,” said Pennick. “Keep an eye open for the bad guys. Maybe we’ll get home anyway,” he said.
The hour passed uneventfully. No enemy fighters rose to meet them. It was about as exciting as watching paint dry. The closer they came to the target, the more things got exciting. Pennick went through the checkoff list and got everything ready. The OSO was busy counting down the miles and times while the Defensive Systems Operator or DSO kept his eyes glued to his instruments. Despite the fact that there were no enemy fighters, the men on the bomber were sweating.
“Systems lock. Launch sequence start. Bomb bay doors opening in ten seconds,” said the OSO. Now the bomber was on autopilot and the bombs would be dropped automatically by the computer. The doors opened and the men inside could hear the rush of air as the doors changed the aerodynamics of the aircraft. “Bombs away,” said OSO.
The bombs were dropped individually in a rapid succession. As they left the plane, they nosed down toward their target and a set of wings spread and stabilized the bomb. Inside the seeker, the computer matched a target with the target designation fed to it by the link. Once correctly identified, the bomb nosed down even further and plunged into its target, a T-14 main battle tank. The warhead penetrated the top of the tank’s turret before it exploded, sending the turret high into the air after igniting the ammunition inside. By the time Pennick and his squadron had left the area, there was not a tank left untouched. Most were burning fiercely.
“Okay, folks, let’s go hunting,” Pennick said to his crew. The squadron broke up and made their way along a corridor where the supplies and equipment were coming in.
Berlin
In the command center the people were almost cheering with each strike. There were two large groups going after the two largest concentrations of equipment. In two adjacent sections of the room the cameras from Eyeball had been focused on the two staging areas. Each hit was graphically displayed for the command team. Once the bomb runs were complete, a damage assessment was done to see if there would be another strike.
“My god, this isn’t warfare, it’s like being in a slaughterhouse,” said one of the men.
Hammond overheard and turned to him. “Yes, and that’s why we are showing that warfare on this kind of scale can no longer be afforded,” he said. Hammond pointed to the destruction. “How many people do you think have been killed? A few hundred? A thousand? If those tanks had crews in them it means we have killed over five thousand people in that one run alone. They didn’t stand a chance. With the kind of technology we have today, we can see everything that goes on anywhere. There’s not much of a way they can hide anything. With this new cloak, they can’t see us coming. Even if they did, they couldn’t lock onto us. It’s like Patton said about the so-called push button warfare. There’s no honor, no heroes, just people living and people dead. If we’re lucky, this will be the last war. But I doubt we will be that lucky,” he said sadly. He caught himself and looked at the young man. He gave a slight grin. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to vent.”
The young officer smiled back at him. “It’s all right, Admiral. I don’t mind and that’s something a guy has to do sometimes,” he said.
Hammond placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Well, I keep hoping and praying that in the future people will be too afraid to start something like this to ever do it again. If we have the patience, this war will be over soon. Then we’ll see if humanity is smart enough to let that happen.” Hammond turned back to the board. Now targets were being hit along the corridors they had specified. He turned to the air watch officer. “Are the runs set for tomorrow?”
“Yes, Admiral.”
“Good. We won’t need to hit these again. Go for the secondary targets and send out the orders,” Hammond said. He watched a little while longer before he gave the young man a wink and turned and left the room.
Krakow
Anton Bugayev was in a bind. The Russian forces had been driven out of Krakow and surrendered. In the north, the Russian army was being forced back to the border with Ukraine and Belarus. He was receiving no orders and the Polish State Police had his photograph and were looking for him. Transportation was still nonexistent. On his last meeting with the Russian army officials, Bugayev sensed the fear and panic going through the units. There was nothing more he could do in Poland. He had planned on joining in on the crowds of people exiting the cities for the countryside, but since the Russians had capitulated in the area, those people were on the way back to the cities. He would stand out going the opposite direction. His only hope was to travel the roads at night.
Two days out he found a deserted farmhouse. In the barn were the remains of a long departed Russian Army unit. They had obviously used the place for an encampment, and had been removed forcefully. Bullet holes riddled the house and bard, but in the barn he found rations and even a sleeping bag and backpack. That day had been the first in a week that he had slept warmly. Before he left, he found a pistol and some ammunition along with a good pair of gloves and a clean scarf. Despite the extra clothing, that night’s hike had been miserable. The bitter wind had cut almost through every layer and even his joints felt as if they might seize up.
The next day he slept in an old shed beside a field. There was no fire, but the combination of the sleeping bag and an old horse blanket he found allowed him to thaw out and sleep. Each day he became angrier at his situation. When he had asked to be sent home by the army, they had said he didn’t have a priority, especially since they were too busy trying to get themselves out. Bugayev felt isolated and betrayed. Yet, there was one thing still burning inside him. Over the past months he had been able to find nearly all of the men who had been with him that night the police had arrived. Those still working for the Russian cause were allowed to live. But seven of the men he had taken the satisfaction of murdering. Only two of the men he had not been able to find. Bugayev had determined he would finish that job at some time. It may take a few years, but he would get back and finish his mission. That hatred drove him onward.
Just before dawn on the fourth day, Bugayev came upon what once was a small store. The building had been hit by some sort of artillery and one side had collapsed inward. The roof was at an
angle and no windows were intact. Finding an entrance, he made his way past a few remaining shelves until he saw the door to a room in the back. It was a small space with no windows, but on one side was a metal bed with a dirty mattress. Making sure the door was secured, he spread out his sleeping bag and crawled inside it. Although some light seeped in through some cracks in the wall, the room remained relatively dark and within a few minutes he was sound asleep.
Ustya, Ukraine
“Pete, how would you like to take a trip to Berlin?” asked Ricks just prior to the morning brief. The drone units had been moved into the Ukraine to help out the Spanish and Italian forces.
“What is going on in Berlin?” asked Petyr.
Ricks grinned. “Well, it seems they want us to go up and develop a tactics manual for future drone operations. The Commander in Chief also wants a detailed briefing on how these things are working. Your government seems to think you are the expert on these matters so they asked if we wanted to go. You up for a trip?”
Petyr’s face lit up. “Sure. When?”
“Like now. Our orders are being typed as we speak. Go pack your stuff and meet me in front of the barracks in about thirty minutes. We’ll be driving there,” Ricks said. “And by the way, we will be stopping in Krakow for a day or two along the way. You think your parents can find room for us? If not, I guess I can find a place in town,” he grinned.
The realization hit Petyr like a breath of air. Seeing his family again would make be wonderful. There was so much he wanted to say and do. “We’ll find room,” he said before rushing out the door towards his barracks. In thirty minutes Ricks pulled up to the entrance with a Humvee. Petyr threw his things in the back and climbed into the passenger side.
