Our Next Great War

by Martin Archer

Right behind us were twelve much larger trains carrying almost twenty five thousand men and over nine hundred tanks and BMDs, the bulk of Chernenko’s newly created 47th Army. They will follow behind us every twenty minutes—they’d been loading and forming up for almost forty-eight hours and were ready to go

  It was cold as hell and there were clouds covering the moon so we couldn’t see a thing in the dark. Everyone jumped and got really anxious when we begin clattering over the first of the three bridges south of Bikin.

  And then we got even more anxious, at least I did, when I realized it was so dark we probably won’t even know when we got to Bikin and the Chinese who might be waiting. At least we wouldn't know until they started shooting at us.

  We were primed and ready to bail out and walk home if the Chinese stopped our little train. But they didn’t. There wasn’t as much as a peep out of the Chinese. So we just kept going and going and at some point obviously shivered our way through the village. Actually, either the clouds blocking the moon temporarily parted or I was hallucinating—a few minutes earlier I had suddenly able to see the outline of a couple of shacks out of the corner of my eye and almost had a heart attack.

  Not everyone was traveling by train. General Chernenko and his staff would fly in a helicopter to Chita in the early morning darkness if any of his divisions get past Bikin.

  General Chernenko was doing the right thing by not being with his men on the trains. It’s more important he manage his entire army than lead a relatively small number of men who may have to make a fighting withdrawal back to the port if the railroad is cut.

  We were here, on the other hand, only because I had climbed aboard without thinking. Vern and I should have gotten on one of the later trains.

  ****** Chairman Xi.

  The afternoon’s politburo meeting in the Beidaihe conference room started rather smoothly. It began with the members receiving an extensive report on the military situation. The news was good.

  On the active fronts, our brave Red Army continued to advance slowly but surely towards Khabarovsk in the face of fierce Russian resistance. Similarly, there were fierce artillery duels between the North Koreans and the Russians in the south on the outskirts of Vladivostok.

  In contrast, the fighting in the south between our forces and the Russians has tailed off to almost nothing as our troops continue to relocate to confront the ungrateful North Koreans. And the little bastards really are ungrateful. We’ve been helping that goddamn Kim with food and supplies ever since we lost so many men saving him from the fascist Americans in the 1950s.

  The most important news of all, however, was that our observers in the mountains along the railroad continued to report that eastbound Russian military trains were coming out of Chita and Vladivostok bringing troops and equipment to reinforce Khabarovsk where we were continuing to push the Russians back. Their reports were corroborated by the observer from the 114th Division who was radioing in similar reports from Bikin.

  Army Command, General Wu announced, was elated because “every tank and soldier the Russians send east to reinforce Khabarovsk is significant; it means one less will be there to oppose us when our real invasion begins.”

  “I’m also pleased to report,” he told the men sitting around the long table, “that our buildup of troops and supplies for our main thrust towards Chita is complete. We can proceed whenever the order is given.”

  “In a nutshell, Comrades. Our deception strategy is working and we will win.”

  “There were other interesting reports. They suggested that the Russians were beginning to secretly withdraw their troops from the Ussuri front in order to use them to confront the Koreans at Vladivostok and to reinforce Kharbarovsk.”

  “The Russians tried to keep their withdrawals secret but we have been able to verify them with reliable eyewitness reports. There is no question about it—the better part of the Russians forces in the south, both those confronting us on the Ussuri Front and those confronting the North Koreans, were moved by train last night to reinforce Khabarovsk.”

  “The Russian withdrawal is bothersome because it clears the way for the North Koreans to advance past the mountains where our Red Army troops have been repositioned and into Vladivostok itself.”

  Then the general dropped his bombshell.

  “The Military Committee is pleased by the continuing Russian withdrawal of its forces in front of our main invasion route. But it is concerned because of the likelihood that even more of our lands will be occupied by the North Koreans as a result. Accordingly, the members of the committee now believe we should remove the North Koreans while our troops are ideally positioned to do so.”

  The arguing and discussion continued for hours. At times it became more heated and rancorous than anyone can remember. Much of the talk was political because North Korea has been an ally in the past, albeit undependable, but still officially an ally. In the end the military view prevailed and a consensus was reached. It would be a three-way war.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Another big change.

  About nine in the morning local time, the Chinese army poured out of the mountains and fell on the North Koreans who had invaded Russia. The Russians, in turn, began shelling them both. It was a three way war and no one had tanks and other tracked vehicles capable of crossing the partially frozen stream and marshes separating the Russian lines from the Chinese and North Koreans.

  But then something unexpected began happening. It was photographed and reported by the only media representative on the scene, Marcine Dupont of Reuters.

  It was an amazing sight. First North Korean soldiers began crossing the ice and surrendering in droves to the Russians. Then more and more of the Chinese who had been attacking the North Koreans began to join them. Some of the opposing forces could even be seen walking together across the ice in an effort to escape to the Russian lines.

  In many places the ice was thick enough to hold the weight of the desperate men streaming across to surrender. In others the ice broke and they went into the water, and rarely came out.

  No vehicles made it across. It was early in the cold season and the ice still was not thick enough to hold their weight. That was obvious from the pictures Ms. Dupont sent in of the three or four North Korean light trucks that fell through the ice last night when their desperate drivers tried to get them across.

  At first it was only a few cold and starving Koreans and Chinese who came across in the dark. But it was hundreds every hour by the time the sun came up on the day after the Chinese attack on the North Koreans. By noon thousands of desperate men could be seen struggling over the ice-covered marshes to reach the Russian lines. There were also many unmoving dark forms on the ice from those who would never get across.

  The world media was agog at the reports and photos. They were all coming from the Reuters reporter in the isolated Russian port city of Vladivostok. Marcin’s photos and her interviews with the Koreans and Chinese who reached the Russian lines were a sensation around the world.

  Within hours the Russians could not keep up with torrent of deserters let alone get any kind of count. Hastily assembled trucks and buses shuttled them from the front to the port. There they were quickly unloaded and placed in the unheated tents, warehouses, and other facilities left by the recently departed Russian troops.

  They were mostly unguarded, both because every available man was at the front, and also because they were clearly in no shape to cause trouble. And they initially stayed that way—almost without exception they had no food or blankets to help keep them warm.

  By noon of the first day the streets of Vladivostok were full of Chinese and North Koreans who were on their last legs and desperately seeking food and shelter. There were also dead bodies in the snow dusted streets and several buildings were blazing as a result of warming fires set by the cold and hungry men that get out of control.

  By mid-morning of the second day the Russians had restored order and the number of cold and hungry deserters comi
ng through the Russian lines, though still substantial, began to dwindle as both the Chinese and North Koreans begin shooting their deserters and reestablishing discipline.

  At the same time things were getting more organized to care for them because, before he left, Chernenko authorized the distribution of some of the available military rations. They were available because they had been left behind by the Russian troops who went north on the trains.

  Marcine Dupont’s sensational stories and photos about the after effects of what she was calling a "Great Russian Victory" had a tremendous impact. By the evening of the second day Danovsky had been promoted to the rank of Marshal; the United States announced it would begin “mercy flights” to Vladivostok to take out the sick and wounded of all nations; South Korea and Taiwan offered “sanctuary” to any of the North Koreans and Chinese who wished to defect; and the Chinese and North Koreans were royally pissed and hugely embarrassed.

  ******

  Our train pulled into the Khabarovsk station about two in the afternoon. Vern and I were so cold and stiff we could barely climb off. And not everyone did. At least one of the Russians apparently died of hypothermia sometime in the night. He looked like a lonely bundle of leftover rags.

  We and almost everyone else, including the colonel commanding our train, rushed to get into the station waiting room with its promise of warmth and shelter. Others temporarily delayed joining us while they peed and pooped on the station platform and tracks, not an easy thing to do when the temperature is below zero.

  The little waiting room was quickly packed and the elderly lady selling tea and sandwiches at its little kiosk was instantly overwhelmed and sold out. Most of us, including me and Vern and Eugene, had to be content with the warmth of the crowded waiting room’s single coal burning potbellied stove and do without food or drink.

  "Vern, I don't know about you but I’m hungry and thirsty. Any ideas?"

  No one had informed the station commander, an elderly Russian lieutenant, of our train’s pending arrival. But he and his handful of men had had several weeks of experience handling much larger numbers of men on arriving and departing trains. They knew what to do. Within minutes two long lines of shivering soldiers were shuffling forward to have their mess kit cups filled with hot tea and be handed tins of rations.

  "I wonder if anyone told him how many troops are on the trains coming right behind us?" Vern asked as he tried to open a tin.

  ****** A surprise in the mountains.

  Things were about to change. The Chinese observer on the side of the mountain, a Lieutenant Tan who previously had been on the staff of the artillery school and been promised a promotion and a bigger room for his family for volunteering, was quite bored as he used his powerful binoculars to watch yet another loaded train carrying Russian troops and armor move eastward from Chita towards Kharbarovsk and Vladivostok.

  “Oh. Look at that,” he said, talking out loud to himself even though no one was within miles. “It’s exactly like the train yesterday—the BMD with the white turret cover on the second flat car is parked behind the same piece of mobile artillery with the ripped flag.”

  The revelation of what he just said and its implications hit Tan like a thunderbolt a few seconds later. He knew exactly what it meant.

  But how long has this been happening and what should I report? That was the question Lieutenant Tan pondered all day as he waited to make his nightly report. He knew full well the consequences would be extremely serious if he admitted he might have been sending in inaccurate reports.

  Tan waited until well after dark, and then he took the easy way out. He merely reported “no troop trains eastbound today.”

  Two hours later he sent another message.

  “Enemy closing in. Will try to escape and hold out until my comrades arrive. Long live the Red Army.”

  Then he began packing up his camp. Tomorrow at first light he would begin moving deeper into the mountains. The war wouldn't last forever.

  In the dark Lieutenant Tan couldn’t see the train’s return and the six big troop trains that followed it. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have reported them—he didn’t want to be “re-educated” if he made it back. He had parents and a wife and child to protect.

  The Red Army intelligence unit monitoring Tan’s transmittals received both of his messages and immediately notified Army Headquarters that the Russians may have found the observer. The NSA analyst monitoring them both knew better. She knew there were no Russian units on the mountain and that there was an eastbound train.

  “Possible, but not certain, Chinese know about the fake eastbound trains”

  That was the flash message I received from Tommy Talbot’s office while munching on a donut in The Detachment's conference room. I immediately picked a scrambler phone and started to call Colonel Lindauer so he could alert Danovsky.

  But then I put the phone back down. What could he do differently if the Chinese had found out about his deception? Nothing—the trains carrying reinforcements from Vladivostok to Chita would continue until the Chinese cut the line.

  ******

  The next morning’s Politburo meeting found its members pleased by the continuing advances of the Red Army and their sumptuous breakfasts, but once again filled with concern and anxious discussion and outrage due to the reports in the western media of Chinese troop defections. The rumors that the damage to the vital bridges was much greater than had previously reported merely made their mood even worse.

  Neither of these problems were mentioned in the briefing notes handed out before this morning’s Central Committee meeting. As a result, several of the members once again ask for more information "to help us understand the situation."

  The army tried to oblige.

  “It is the North Koreans from the units we have destroyed who are defecting to the Russians, not our troops,” claimed General Wu.

  “Of course the Russians are parading a handful of our troops that have been captured,” Wu explained. “Even defeated armies capture enemy troops. But it means nothing.”

  “The reality is,” General Wu announced with some satisfaction in his voice, and a satisfied nod of his head to agree with himself, “that we have totally defeated the North Koreans and regained some of our stolen land. We will take the rest of it as soon as the ice is strong enough to support our armor.”

  What primarily caught the attention of the Politburo members, however, was the report that suggested that the Russians may have finally stopped shipping reinforcements eastward to the Khabarovsk front.

  “Our observer's report about the enemy finding him does not mean the enemy has stopped sending reinforcements eastward to support the Kharbarovsk Front. And even if they did find him and forced him to stop sending his reports, our deception has already worked far better than we dared to hope and caused them to significantly weaken their forces in front of Chita.

  "Comrades, the Red Army is in position and ready to proceed—now is the time to act.”

  According to the CIA’s informant there was then much discussion as to whether or not the time was ripe for the main thrust of the invasion to commence. It took all morning but in the end a consensus was reached. The Red Army was ordered to proceed to retake the occupied territories.

  The order to proceed immediately went out to General Jian commanding the Chinese forces on the Chita Front. Tomorrow morning at dawn the reoccupation of the stolen Chinese lands was to begin in earnest. In a few hours thirty-two divisions of Red Army troops would storm over the Amur River and advance towards Chita. Every available plane and helicopter in the Red Army's inventory would be there to support them.

  NSA intercepted the order and within moments I was reading flash messages both from the NSA and from Tommy Talbot’s office.

  I instantly called Danovsky. It took Lonnie a while to get me through to him. But when he did, I immediately informed the newly-minted Russian Marshal that the Chinese would attack over the Amur and begin moving towards Chita at 0527, an hour
before dawn. They would also simultaneously cut the Trans-Siberian at Bikin and several other isolated locations, including several we just learned about.

  Additionally, they would also simultaneously launch a major attack over the Amur towards Blagoveshchenk, many hundreds of kilometers to the east of Chita, in an effort to create confusion and uncertainty.

  Danovsky and I had repeatedly discussed the various responses he might take if he had enough advance knowledge as to when the main attack was coming. One of the unanswered questions had to do with when and where he might employ the paratroopers we had been repatriating from Germany and Belgium.

  Now there was an answer. The newly frocked marshal, my sometime friend and drinking buddy, announced that he was going to use what remained of Russia’s transports and airborne troops to hit the Irkutsk and Angarsk airfields. He was, he said, going to do it immediately, that very night, in an effort to destroy as many Chinese planes as possible and reopen, at least temporarily, the Russian air routes to the east.

  "We will suffer casualties and still don't have enough transports, but it will cause confusion and damage even if only one of our transports gets through with the paratroopers it is carrying."

  I promptly told Danovsky that, in my opinion, he had made exactly the right decision. It was the kind of difficult decision that comes with the territory when you are a commander. What we both assumed was that the Chinese had learned from their own experiences attacking the Russian airfields and were ready to repel an airborne attack on theirs. We hoped we were wrong.

  ******

  Finally the signal. The first song on the radio after the 2am weather forecast was “Happy Red Wind” performed by the Red Army singers of the Eighth Entertainment Regiment. Its meaning was clear. Lieutenant Bao Wei and his Special Company were to blow the railroad bridge over the ravine as soon as possible.

  Bao immediately woke up his men and paraded them in the moonlit darkness. “The Party is depending on us,” he told them. “Tomorrow afternoon we will attack and destroy an important railroad bridge. We will not fail.” Unless I can figure out a way to defect.