Battlefield Russia

by James Rosone

  Four years earlier, Oleg Zolotov had been promoted to major general and taken over as head of the FSO. This meant he was the man directly responsible for President Petrov’s security apparatus, and he reported directly to Lieutenant General Grigory Sobolev. He was privy to a lot of closely guarded secrets within Petrov’s office. Oleg and Grigory had been old KGB buddies from the Cold War days and had personal relationships with President Petrov that ran deep. It had been Grigory and Oleg who’d advised Petrov to liquidate Ivan Vasilek, his predecessor, for his colossal miscalculation of the American’s resolve to wage total war against the Eastern Alliance. His exposure as the mastermind behind the British prime minister’s coup was the final straw.

  As the atmosphere in the room changed, Dmitry looked at his father-in-law quizzically but dared not speak a word until Oleg explained himself.

  “Don’t be alarmed, Dmitry. When I took my new position as the head of the FSO in 2014, I had my home office turned into a secured quiet room, immune to electronic eavesdropping and surveillance. Anything we talk about in here right now won’t leave this room. It will stay between the two of us. So, Dmitry, what is troubling you so much that you can’t enjoy a rare day off with your family?” he prompted.

  At the outset of the war, Dmitry Chayko had been promoted to the rank of colonel and given command of the Kremlin Regiment, which was responsible for protecting the Kremlin and other critical government buildings, in addition to the honor guard and ceremonial duties they traditionally performed during peacetime. When the war had started, the regiment had transformed itself quickly into a combat arms unit that would rival any other regiment in the army. When Dmitry’s father, Lieutenant General Chayko, had defeated the Allied forces in Ukraine at the outset of the war, President Petrov had placed Dmitry in charge of the Kremlin Regiment, with the explicit orders to turn it into his own personal protective army as a check against the FSO and FSB, if it ever came to that.

  Dmitry took his new responsibility seriously, especially after the Americans had nearly killed Petrov in the first couple days of the war with the attack on the National Defense Building. Dmitry had cycled his twelve companies through intense close-quarter combat training, urban warfare training and small-unit tactics, training with one of the Spetsnaz schools outside Moscow. His regiment was also equipped with the best weapons, body armor, and other equipment he felt they might need. On numerous occasions, President Petrov had commended him personally on how professional and fearsome his regiment now looked. Dmitry valued that praise, and he made sure his soldiers knew the President himself was proud of each of them. The esprit de corps within his regiment was high, and so was their loyalty to him personally.

  Dmitry briefly eyed Oleg, as if he were not fully sure if he could truly trust him. He looked as though he were carrying a tremendous burden on his shoulders. He sighed, gulped down the contents of his tumbler, and whispered, “I received some disturbing news from my father yesterday. As you know, his army group has fallen back to just outside Kursk. They’re preparing for another major battle with the Allies, but he isn’t confident they are going to be able to stop them,” he said in a hushed tone.

  Oleg smiled. “I’ve been in enough meetings to know our army can no longer stop the Allies from invading our country, Dmitry,” he said, almost relieved. “I’m also not hopeful about Minister Kozlov securing a peace deal that wouldn’t humiliate our nation in the process. It’s not a matter of if we’ll be defeated so much as when at this point.”

  Dmitry shook his head. “No, it’s more than that, Oleg,” he insisted. “My father told me he had been issued an ‘eyes only’ order directly from Egorkin and the President to ready a series of tactical nuclear weapons to be used when the Americans attack.”

  Oleg felt like he had just been punched in the gut. He’d heard Minister Semenov implore the President not to use such weapons against the Allies. The man’s logic and arguments were clear; the use of such weapons wouldn’t save Russia. It wouldn’t end the war on more favorable terms—if anything, it would result in an overwhelming retaliatory strike by the Americans, and that counterstrike would necessitate yet another round of counterstrikes, each larger than the previous one until Russia and the rest of the world were obliterated.

  “Dmitry, your father can’t allow that to happen!” Oleg insisted. “If he uses nuclear weapons on the Americans, they will destroy us all. The President must have been mistaken in issuing those orders.” A bit of fear was evident in his voice.

  “You know my father, Oleg. He’s a soldier, not a politician. He will do as he’s told. If Petrov orders him to use tactical nuclear weapons, he’ll use them in a manner that will best serve his army. I’m sure he’ll only use enough of these weapons to accomplish his stated goal without going overboard,” Dmitry countered. He seemed almost bewildered by Oleg’s response.

  Oleg sat there for a moment, absorbing what his son-in-law had just told him. He knew Dmitry’s father to be one of the most competent military leaders in Russia. It was only through his father’s tactical skill that the Allies had not already marched on Moscow. To hear that he was willing to use nuclear weapons if so ordered shocked him.

  “I need another drink,” Oleg announced. He stood and walked over to the wet bar in his office. Rather than pouring himself another glass, he grabbed the bottle and walked over to Dmitry, pouring him another tumbler and refilling his own, then placing the bottle between them.

  Oleg sighed deeply. “How much do I tell him?” he wondered. He pondered what Dmitry would say when he learned the truth, and whether or not he would be turned in or arrested and shot.

  “Dmitry, what do you believe will happen to Russia if your father follows Petrov’s order and uses nuclear weapons against the Americans?” Oleg finally asked, taking a calculated risk.

  Dmitry shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  Oleg understood the struggle his son-in-law must be experiencing. Even if he wanted to be honest, it would go against everything he had been taught as an officer. Softly, he asserted, “Whatever you say to me now will stay between us. I won’t turn you in or have you arrested. You are my son-in-law, father to my grandchildren. This is a frank and honest conversation you and I need to have, and we need to have it without fear that either of us will report the other for his opinions. Is that understood?” A brief awkward moment passed as he waited to see how Dmitry would respond.

  Finally, his son-in-law nodded. “If my father uses nuclear weapons, I’m confident the Americans will hit us back, and probably much harder than we hit them,” he admitted. “That attack will cause an even larger response, and then the Americans will probably obliterate the rest of our country. I believe a nuclear attack on the Americans now will lead to the complete destruction of our country.” He looked like heavy stones had just been lifted off his shoulders.

  Oleg smiled. “That is right, Son. I was in the room when Minister Semenov pleaded with Petrov not to use these weapons. The Chief of the Air Force also made the case for us not to use them as well. That was two days ago. What has changed that calculus?” He paused for a second. “We can’t win this war using nuclear weapons, nor can we win by keeping the war conventional. Right now, the best we can hope for Russia is an end to this war that doesn’t result in the complete destruction of our country.”

  “And how do we achieve that? If the President has made his mind up, then there is no changing it. We are soldiers, we must accept our fate,” blurted out Dmitry angrily.

  “No, we don’t have to accept that fate,” Oleg insisted. “If the President is going down a path that will not only destroy our country but the rest of the world, then we as officers, sworn to the protection of our country, must stop him.” He paused, calculating whether or not to say his next sentence. “We must remove him from power,” he finally said.

  Dmitry’s jaw dropped, and his facial expression registered a mix of shock and horror. He struggled to say something in response, but all that came out was a garbled muttering.<
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  Leaning forward in his chair, Oleg looked Dmitry squarely in the eyes. “I’m about to tell you something—something so secret, only a few senior officers know. With what you just told me about your father, I don’t see any other course of action. We have to move now before it’s too late. Do you want to save your country? Will you save your children from the holocaust that is about to be unleashed on the world?”

  Dmitry inched away from Oleg for a second, apparently attempting to wrap his mind around what had just been said. A moment later, he leaned back forward and looked at Oleg. “What do you have in mind?” he asked cautiously.

  Oleg smiled as he looked at his son-in-law with new respect. “You’ve heard of Alexei Kasyanov?”

  “Yes, I’ve heard of him. No one is allowed to listen to him on the radio or the internet, but from the small pieces I’ve heard, he seems to have his facts straight on what’s going on in the war. The state media is continually putting out counterinformation to what he is saying, but most of my officers don’t believe the state news anymore. I’m finding more and more of my men tuning in to what he has to say.”

  Oleg nodded. “A handful of us have been in contact with him,” he admitted. “We’ve been trying to figure out when would be the most opportune moment to remove Petrov, but with what your father just told you, it seems we don’t have much time to act. When did your father say he might be ordered to use the weapons?”

  Dmitry seemed to go into a sort of trance as he processed all of the information that was being shared. Oleg snapped his fingers to break him from his sea of swirling thoughts. “Hey, I know you may have a lot of questions about Alexei, but right now we don’t have a lot of time. I need to know what your father told you.”

  Dmitry mumbled something, then answered, “My father said it would be at least two more days before the weapons were moved to his operational control. He wasn’t sure how long it would take the other weapons be transferred to their regional commander’s authority, but he was confident the Air Force was also being given access to nuclear weapons. He estimated that they could potentially be used in roughly 48 to 72 hours.”

  Oleg’s mind raced. “We have even less time than I imagined,” he thought in horror.

  “What is the status of your regiment? How loyal are your officers and soldiers to you?” he asked.

  “You mean would they listen to me if I ordered them to secure the Kremlin and the various government buildings?” Dmitry asked, smiling coyly. Then his facial expression shifted, as though he weren’t confident in his answer.

  “If I order the President to be seized and placed under arrest, would your officers attempt to interfere with that arrest, or would they listen to you?” asked Oleg more pointedly.

  “I’m not certain. There’s something I need to tell you—when I was promoted to take command of the regiment, Petrov gave me and my executive officer a secret set of orders. Basically, we were told that our regiment might one day need to assume your office’s duties should Petrov ever catch a whiff of disloyalty from the FSO. Some of my officers may come to Petrov’s aid should you move against him, even if I ordered them to stand down. I could end up in a situation where I have some of my companies turning on each other to protect the President. How loyal are your FSO officers, and what would you do about Grigory and the rest of the FSB?” Dmitry countered.

  “Remember when I said a handful of senior officers had been in contact with Alexei?” Oleg said with a crooked smile. “Grigory is one of those officers. He’ll ensure the FSB doesn’t interfere with our seizing of Petrov. Our main concern was how you and your regiment would respond. We had hoped we wouldn’t need to use the Spetsnaz to go against you, but if you are on board, then the seizing of the Kremlin and Moscow would go significantly more smoothly. We could bring a quick end to this bloody war before it turns nuclear.”

  Dmitry shook his head in shock. Oleg understood the reaction—Grigory and the president had known each other for more than thirty years.

  Dmitry held his hand up. “Why is Grigory involved in this coup? Surely he must be getting something out of all of this to betray Petrov.”

  Oleg nodded and leaned forward as he answered. “I understand your concern, Dmitry, and it is warranted. When the President is deposed, Grigory is going to take his place as interim president for a two-year period until a new election can be held. These are the terms the Allies have secretly negotiated with him in the event that he successfully deposes Petrov.”

  “Then what is Alexei getting out of this, if he is not going to become the new president of Russia? I thought that was the West’s plan all along,” Dmitry insisted.

  “Alexei will become the president eventually. Grigory has cut a deal that will shield him and many others from criminal prosecution and other war crimes by the international community as long he doesn’t run for president when his two-year provisional position is over with. He will work closely with the Allies and Alexei to ensure the country is ready to return to democratic rule.”

  He paused for a second. Sensing some hesitation by his son-in-law, he knew he needed to provide some context. “Dmitry, it has to be done this way. There’s no one else that will be able to carry the respect needed to get the military to go along, and furthermore, we need to be sure the country doesn’t break out in a civil war. Grigory knows he can never become a permanent president. He knows, as I do, that the only way to live out a long life and enjoy the rest of our time on earth for us and our people is to cut a deal, one that we can all live with. This is the deal that has been brokered by the West, and it’s been agreed upon by Alexei and Grigory.”

  “What about you? My father and me? What would happen to all of us?” asked Dmitry.

  “Your father will be offered to take over as the Minister of Defense, and I’ll take over as the head of the FSB, at least until the transitional government ends. Once that happens, I’m not sure what will happen to us, other than I know we won’t be prosecuted for war crimes or brought before any sort of international tribunal. This is a big deal, especially for your father. His army in Ukraine has not exactly been kind to the people there, and under Petrov’s orders, they’ve been destroying the country’s infrastructure, leaving millions of people without water, electricity, and heat in the dead of winter. This has not gone over well with the West. As to yourself, I suspect you will probably be promoted and will be around for many more years to come for your patriotic duty in supporting the coup,” Oleg explained.

  Oleg could hear the faint sound of laughter in the other room. “Think of your daughter and son, Dmitry. I know you believe as I do that they deserve a chance to grow up and live a long, full life. I know that there are risks, huge risks—but this is the only way that there is a legitimate chance for their future.”

  After a moment of contemplation, Dmitry answered, “OK. I’m in. You’re right, we have to do something to save the country before it’s too late. My father was pretty sure the authorization of nuclear weapons would be given within the next three days, and we can’t allow that to happen. What do you need me to do?”

  For the next couple of hours, they talked in detail about what they would do and when it would have to take place. The timeline for when they had to move was short, and they had a lot of things to get moving.

  *******

  Moscow, Russia

  Senate Palace

  Vladimir woke up, startled by a vivid dream he’d had. In his dream, he saw himself being lined up against a wall with some of his key leaders and shot by his own Spetsnaz forces. The fateful trigger was pulled by his longtime friend and the new head of the FSB, Grigory Sobolev. Shaking off the bad dream, he leaned over and kissed his wife softly on the cheek. She gently stirred, smiling at him before snuggling deeper into her pillow. It was still dark out, but he couldn’t sleep, not after a dream like that.

  He glanced at the alarm clock. It was 0420 hours. “Might as well as get up and do some exercises,” he thought. It was going to be a big day.


  As he swung his legs out of the bed, he looked around the bedroom, admiring the detail of how his wife had decorated the space. A frightening thought came into his mind. “Will this room still be here a week from now?”

  He tried to shake away the idea as a holdover from his bad dream. Petrov proceeded to the bathroom and got ready to use the gym down the hall. During his workout, he kept replaying his last conversation with Grigory. His friend had urged him one last time to reconsider the use of nuclear weapons. He’d brushed off the warning and explained that they would only target the Allies’ military units that had entered Russia.

  “We’d be using nuclear weapons on our own soil—surely the West wouldn’t view that as an attack on their own sovereign lands,” he reasoned to himself again. He turned up the speed on the treadmill. There was no room in his mind for changing directions at this point—his army would destroy the Allied armies in Russia with these weapons and then sue for peace. He would rebuild from the ashes and then try again in a couple of decades.

  Still, he could not shake the dream, or his last conversation with Grigory. He knew it was preposterous to think that Grigory would depose him, but if there was ever a time he would do it, today would be the day. This morning, he was supposed to hold a special meeting with his senior military leaders to issue the release of nuclear weapons. Tonight, the Allied armies standing against Russia would be consumed in a nuclear fire that would hopefully end the war and return the world, or at least Russia, to peace.

  “I need to speak with Colonel Dmitry Chayko immediately,” he thought. His Kremlin Guard commander had turned the regiment into a highly trained killing machine, and if Grigory and his Spetsnaz were going to depose him today, they’d need to get through Chayko’s men first. If that happened, Petrov wouldn’t be able to get additional army units from the local garrison to come to their rescue. Chayko’s men would only need to hold the fortress grounds for a handful of hours until help arrived.