Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 09

by Warrior Class (v1. 1)

  “—An artillery assault in that area could easily be construed as the prelude to an invasion,” Simorov went on. despite the interruption. “That highway where the fighting broke out is the main transportation route between the Aegean and Adriatic seas, between Greece and Albania. If Macedonia takes control of it, tanks can be roaring into Tirane within hours. They can encircle Tirane with ease.”

  “Encircle Tirane?” Greer again asked incredulously. “Colonel Simorov, this is nonsense. Albania is not being threatened by anyone, especially Macedonia.”

  “Then whom. Colonel?” Simorov asked angrily. “Who else would want to slap Albania down?”

  “No one is trying to—”

  “Macedonia is supported and is being armed by NATO,” Simorov said. “Only NATO benefits by destabilizing Albania and strengthening Macedonia. Perhaps I should inquire to the NATO secretary-general what he has in store for Albania?” “Colonel Simorov, as the KFOR commander and a deputy chief of staff of the NATO High Command, I assure you NATO has no designs on Albania,” Willoughby said. “Quite the contrary. NATO and all of Europe would benefit greatly by forging closer ties with Albania. Macedonia is a friend and prospective member of the Alliance, but they are not being armed by NATO, nor are they acting as a NATO military surrogate.”

  “Sir, only NATO and Macedonia stand to gain if an invasion of Albania is successful,” Simorov said. “Macedonia wants to cut off all arms and drug smuggling across its borders, and it wants to be able to eject ethnic Albanians from its territory at will. What better way to topple the Albanian government and create a safe, secure outlet to the Adriatic Sea than by committing mysterious hit-and-run attacks in Albania, along the main corridor linking two seas, and then letting NATO make excuses and apologies for its actions?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Colonel,” General Sir Willoughby said seriously, “but if you please, let us hear some constructive suggestions rather than wild speculation. What should we do now? Both the United Nations and the European Union are waiting for recommendations.”

  “Obviously it is in all of our best interests to keep the fighting from escalating?” Colonel Messier said. He turned to Ambassador Joelson and went on, “With all due respect, sir, UNPREDEP has been a dismal failure. I almost wish we had kept the Protection Force in place. Even Swedish peacekeepers are ineffective in this situation. We need an armed military force in place in both Albania and Macedonia to prevent this conflict from reigniting a general Balkan and possibly even a European war/’

  “I agree: The United Nations Protection Force was, with all due respect, a failure,” Colonel Simorov said, nodding toward the Italian force commander. Italy had supplied most of the peacekeeping force in UNPROFOR-Albania about eight years earlier. “Besides, Italy has all but withdrawn from NATO peacekeeping efforts in the Balkans anyway.”

  “Italy finds it is safer and better for ourselves to patrol and police our own borders,” the Italian colonel said. “Perhaps it might be better if Macedonia did the same.” He turned to look at Lieutenant-Colonel Greer and said with a sneer, “Of course, the Americans would certainly provide a credible force—if the American president would ever agree to provide more than a token air base and logistics force to assist. Just when Europe seems to be on the brink of all-out war, the Americans decide to become conscientious objectors.”

  “The United States is willing to do its part to provide protection forces for NATO member nations,” Colonel Greer said. “The United States is not divorcing itself from any potential crisis situations—”

  “Certainly not divorce—it is more like frigidity!” the Italian commander shouted. That got a chuckle from most of the KFOR commanders—all except Greer, of course.

  “Very funny, sir,” Greer said, with a smile that he hoped would disarm the growing tension in the room. “I disagree with Colonel Simorov—the Italian peacekeepers were most effective in Albania, as has been UNPREDEP in Macedonia. I can’t explain this sudden outbreak of hostilities. Macedonia and KFOR have been relatively successful in reducing arms smuggling into Kosovo through Macedonia. Weapons are still getting through Albania. But we trace much of the instability in the region to the Kosovo Liberation Army’s activities. KFOR needs time to work to be effective until we find a political solution.”

  “Easy for you to say, Colonel—your commander was not skinned and burned alive in the streets of Prizren,” Simorov said acidly. ‘The Russians have suffered half of all KFOR casualties in Kosovo at the hands of Muslim rebels. The incidents of violence increase every day. Obviously, our presence in Kosovo is not enough—we must cut off and flush out the source of weapons and guerrillas. That means stationing peacekeepers in Albania. And since Macedonia appears unwilling or unable to stop this flow of Muslim freedom-fighters and weapons into Kosovo, someone must set up border security forces in Macedonia.”

  “And the United States disagrees,” Greer said. “I don't understand this sudden need to expand the peacekeeping operation’s scope of involvement. Two small-scale border skirmishes don't signal a complete deterioration in the political situation. Let’s not act too hastily.”

  “Pardon me. Colonel,” Simorov said, “but I think the United States has forfeited its right to comment on how KFOR deploys its forces or accomplishes its mission. Contributing a few cargo planes and reconnaissance satellites doesn't add up to a peacekeeping force with equal responsibility.”

  “Let us stop wasting time with squabbling,” Colonel Messier said. “If the Americans and Italians refuse to participate, others must step in to help quickly stabilize the situation. Pending approval from my government, I can deploy my forces south from Pec, Kosovo, into Albania. We’ve received a certain amount of relative goodwill from the Albanian government in the past—I think the United Nations and NATO can convince the Albanian government to allow German peacekeeping forces into the region. We can limit our movements, say, from the Bigorski Monastery southward to the Lake Ohrid area, restricted to north of the Elbasan- Thessaloniki Highway. Naturally, if the Albanian government allows us to do so, we can cover and patrol more extensively throughout Albania.” He stood up and pointed to a large map against a wall. “With permission, we can even perhaps cover both sides of the border.”

  “German troops moving into both Albania and Macedonia?” Colonel Simorov retorted. “Pardon me. Oberst, but I would very much like to see a more balanced force in place. The Russian contingent is by far the largest force still remaining in the region, except for Germany and perhaps Britain. I will propose to my government that Russia move a portion of its peacekeeping forces south from Prizren to the Lake Ohrid area, perhaps headquartering in Bitola. That way we’re close enough to assist if there’s an outbreak of hostilities, but we’re not breathing down anyone’s neck either.” He nodded to Messier and added, “Next to the Germans perhaps, the Russians enjoy the worst reputation in this part of the world.”

  “I think that honor is now reserved for the Americans,” the Italian commander said. Many of the commanders laughed— but the Italian colonel was serious.

  “The English and French can maintain their positions in Kosovo,” the German commander summarized. “With assistance from the other nations involved, I believe Germany can maintain a sufficient presence in Albania to quell any violence, and certainly with the Russians across the border in Macedonia, we can calm the situation dramatically. We stay out of sight unless there’s fighting or unless we see signs of illegal activity, such as arms smuggling. It is a workable interim solution until the diplomats can find a more lasting mechanism for keeping the peace.”

  There were no other nations willing or able to offer a better solution, so the resolution passed unanimously. At that, with a simple voice vote, the Balkans were carved up once again.

  Government House, Skopje, Republic of Macedonia

  That same time

  “Tell that rat bastard Kazakov to get the hell out of Skopje— his visa is to be revoked immediately!” Branco Niko
lov, the prime minister of the Republic of Macedonia, shouted. “I am canceling my appointments with him now and to eternity!” Nikolov hated gangsters like Kazakov, and the reason was simple: Macedonia was one of seven nations in the world legally authorized to cultivate, store, sell, and ship pharmaceutical opium. While it was a very lucrative enterprise, perfectly suited for a mostly agricultural country like Macedonia, the nation had to endure constant scrutiny and immense challenges to make sure the opium was not getting into the hands of illegal- drug makers. Macedonia expended quite a bit of its gross national product on internal and border security to combat the evil influences of men like Kazakov.

  It didn’t make any difference that Kazakov wanted to talk about something else entirely—getting licenses and leases to build a huge pipeline across Macedonia from Bulgaria to Albania. It didn't matter. Kazakov was scum.

  Just then, the phone rang. Nikolov picked it up and listened. His assistant saw his shoulders droop and his jaw drop open. “Sir?”

  Nikolov looked up at his assistant, surprise and disbelief etched across his face. His eyes again fell to the desk. “Get Kazakov ... no, ask Comrade Kazakov to come in.”

  “Sir?” the assistant gasped. “I thought you said .. ?”

  “Just do it,” Nikolov said in a low, panicked voice. “That was the President. The United Nations Security Council is voting later this morning on a resolution to send Russian peacekeepers into Macedonia from Kosovo.”

  “What? Russian troops in Macedonia? It cannot be!”

  “They are on the move right now,” Nikolov said. ‘The resolution is expected to pass by the end of the day. Three thousand Russian troops from Prizren, another five thousand troops expected to fly into the capital by next week and move to Bitola to set up observation posts along the Albanian border. The Germans will be patrolling the Albanian side. The goddamned Germans—”

  “But.. . but what about Kazakov? What does he have to do about this?”

  “I don’t know, but I feel his fingers pulling some strings in all this.” Nikolov said ominously.

  “How so, sir?”

  “Don’t you see? The Russian troops from Prizren will be following a route exactly identical to the routing Kazakov’s proposed pipeline will take. Kazakov will practically have Russian troops guarding every centimeter of his proposed pipeline.”

  “But that’s got to be a coincidence, sir,” the assistant said. "The duplicity falls apart at the Albanian border. Kazakov will never get approval from Albania to extend his pipeline project into Albania.”

  Nikolov looked worried enough to chew a fingernail, something his assistant had never before seen him do. “But if he does do it, if he does get permission, there’s nothing we could do about it with Russian troops occupying half our country,” he said. “Better to make a deal with Kazakov now—the fewer enemies we have, the better.”

  Near Resen, Republic of Macedonia

  The next day

  “C’mon, kids, let’s get going!” Chief Master Sergeant Ed Lewis, NCOIC of the 158th Fighter Wing, Vermont Air National Guard, shouted through the mess tent door. “It’s a beautiful day outside, we’re having a great time, and breakfast was exceptionally good today! Let’s move it!” The Chief greeted his troops like this every day at 0645. He was usually the first one in line when the chow hall opened up at 0600, but he had already led PT at 0530 and had conducted an informal first sergeant’s meeting at the breakfast table.

  Inside the tent, his troops made a few raucous comments as they got up from the picnic bench-style tables, policed up their trays and areas, and headed outside. Lewis spoke a little Macedonian and greeted every Macedonian soldier in his own language, which he knew sounded funny as hell in his thick New England accent. The weather was miserable, the conditions were poor most times, the workdays were long and hard, the food was plentiful but bland, and they were six thousand miles from home—but Ed Lewis and his Green Mountain Boys loved every minute of it.

  For the second year in a row, members of the Vermont Air National Guard were participating in a Partnership For Peace program called Cornerstone, where NATO and Macedonian military units worked side by side, shared equipment, learned about each other’s capabilities, trained together, and did some good work for the locals at the same time. For Cornerstone 2001-3, the encampment was in a rural area fifteen miles north of Resen in south-central Macedonia. Spring flooding had decimated a number of villages in the area, so construction units of the U.S. Navy Seabees and U.S. Marine Corps, led by units of the 158th Fighter Wing “Green Mountain Boys” of the Vermont Air National Guard, had been sent in to rebuild roads, schools, bridges, and other buildings, help the local utilities restore and restart service, and supply drinking water to the citizens.

  This was the second time that Chief Master Sergeant Ed Lewis, first sergeant of the 158th Fighter Wing of the Vermont Air National Guard, had been in Macedonia during his training rotation. To tell the absolute truth, he enjoyed the hell out of it. Southern Macedonia was very much like his native Milton, Vermont—rural, rugged, isolated, lush, a little backward, wet, sometimes cold and gray, other times sunny and spectacularly beautiful. The people were friendly and very hospitable. Most everyone spoke English, at least much better than Lewis spoke Macedonian or Greek, which was a real benefit to Lewis and his contingent of one hundred Guardsmen and the other American service members here.

  The troops were treated like neighbors here. If a soldier paused longer than normal on the street, a woman would come out of a nearby house and invite him inside to rest, or offer him or her coffee, cakes, or delicacies such as lamb’s head soup. They never gave directions to anyone—the locals would always escort a lost soldier to his destination, no matter how far out of their way it was. If an American did the simplest courtesy for a Macedonian, even as trivial as stepping aside to let him or her pass, or holding a door open, the next time you’d meet that civilian, he or she would offer to launder your uniform, take you for a drive around town to sec the sights, or have you meet every one of his relatives. Although living in the field was tough on all of them, the locals did everything they could to make the foreigners seem welcome.

  The latest and biggest project by Cornerstone 2001 was restoring a flooded school campus. The combined elementary, middle, and high school complex, which also served as a local medical clinic, day-care center, farmer’s market, veterinary clinic, and vocational-technical school, had been badly damaged when the nearby Czur River had spilled over its banks in the springtime rains and runoff, and nearby damage and contamination to wells and water-treatment facilities had left the area without any sanitary facilities or healthy water supplies. It was Lewis’s job to coordinate the activities of the Green Mountain Boys, along with a few soldiers from other NATO countries, Macedonian Army conscripts, and local paramilitaries and townspeople into an effective construction unit.

  The first task was organizing this mishmash of foreigners, soldiers of different branches, and locals, but that’s where Lewis really shined. He had been organizing things all his life, starting with his baseball card collection, his Little League team, his senior class in high school as class president, and yard stock in the lumber yard where he had worked as the day- shift foreman for the past ten years. He used an effective combination of communication skills, cajoling, horse trading, force, and his keen powers of observation to identify leaders, followers, or slackers, and put them in the right place. After fifteen years in the Air Guard, including two months in Saudi Arabia during Desert Storm, he also knew a lot about taking a bunch of kids—the conscripts in the Macedonian Army were all between eighteen and twenty years old—matching them up with the veterans, and letting the old farts lead.

  Once the job for today was outlined for the groups, they launched off on their own. The job was to pump out standing water from the campus, strip out water-damaged walls and floors, inspect the structure for signs of weakness or damage, repair or replace the foundations and structures, rehabilitate the grounds,
and then get them ready to refurnish. About half of the campus was still under water, some of it as much as two feet high, so they had big trailer-mounted pumps ready to go. But before anyone stepped into even a quarter-inch of water, Lewis had the 158th Medical Services Squadron and the 158th Civil Engineering Squadron, Environmental Control, come in and test the soil and water for signs of contamination. This part of Macedonia was fairly pristine, and there were few villages upstream, but Macedonia did quite a bit of cattle farming in the highlands, and cattle waste and disease caused all sorts of problems, not to mention the real hazards if they found any dead cattle carcasses or corpses. So nobody touched anything unless it was signed off on by the medical and environmental guys.

  Lewis’s troops were just fanning out to begin work when he heard choppers in the distance. It was not unusual at all—the international airport at Ohrid just a few miles to the west had a military facility where most of the United Nations troops were stationed; and being fairly close to the border and to the two-millennium-old historical sites of southern Macedonia, the area was very heavily patrolled—but Lewis stopped to search for them and watch them approach. Macedonia had a few American surplus UH-1 Hueys and a few old ex-Soviet Mil-17 transport helicopters, but these choppers sounded even bigger—and it sounded like a lot of them inbound.

  There were Popping up from a low level high-speed inbound approach to the schoolyard was a formation of three Mil Mi~24V “Hind-E” helicopter gunships in a wide V formation. The big armored choppers zoomed in at treetop level, and as soon as they cleared the tree line, their noses lowered again, rapidly picking up speed. He could even see the big gun turret in the front under the nose sweeping back and forth, looking for targets, locking on and tracking any large vehicle or militarylooking building—he swore the lead chopper’s gunner locked on to him and had him dead in his sights. Lewis had seen plenty of Russian helicopters throughout the Balkans in his years here, but all of them had been unarmed. These were armed to the tefcth with rocket pods, anti-armor missiles, bombs, mines, even air-to-air missiles filling every attach point on their weapon pylons. That was a major violation of NATO and United Nations directives—but even more than that, they were scary as hell.