The Red Collusion Read online

  “Yes, Comrade”, Yevgeni replied.

  “I’ve just had a totally insane idea. Why not go for the real thing?” “And what is the real thing?”

  “Instead of simulating a nuclear blast and communication blocks etc. etc., why not detonate an actual nuclear artillery shell that fit our requirements exactly”, explained Colonel Nazarbayev.

  The room turned eerily silent in an instant. Dimitri, the experienced naval officer and intelligence analyst, combed his cropped hair with his fingers, considering this bizarre idea without dismissing it out of hand, and formulating a careful answer. He turned to Colonel Nazarbayev.

  “My dear colleague, I think you have defined your idea yourself. It really is insane!”

  General Okhramenko cleared his throat, and Dimitri looked at him with respect.

  “My friend, Nazarbayev, I think your idea is insane but also extraordinarily clever. At first glance, I find it lacking in one component, and that is that we cannot carry out any preliminary experiment. The experiment is the idea, executed in real time on the day of the operation. Of course, we can’t do this without getting prior approval from the Minister of Defense, Marshal Budarenko, but I can take care of that.”

  Yevgeni drew on the cigarette again and turned to Colonel Nazarbayev.

  “Please give us some background. What is this nuclear shell?”

  “Our Armed Forces have nuclear artillery shells. They are tactical weapons that were developed to destroy headquarters and troop concentrations the size of brigades and armored divisions. A 152- millimeter shell of this kind, that can be fired from a self-propelled gun, has the power of zero point one megaton, which is equivalent to one hundred thousand tons of TNT. It’s the smallest tactical nuclear shell available in our Armed Forces.”

  Yevgeni interrupted him.

  “This little shell is pretty big. To the best of my knowledge, it is about six times more powerful than the bomb dropped on Hiroshima. Is that right?”

  “It is true, Colonel, but we would fire the shell into an empty area in the ocean. I estimate the kill radius is in the range of a few kilometers. Four-five kilometers, maybe a little more. In the worst case, some fishermen will die.”

  “And how are we going to fire this shell?”

  “Firing is done from a standard 152 mm self-propelled gun. In my opinion, although it is very preliminary, we have two options. One, to install the gun on the bow of the boat. This may cause difficulties in operating the gun, especially because of sea motion, waves et cetera. The other option may necessitate reinforcing the area where the gun is deployed. We simply take the Akatsiya, as it is, and place it on the deck with a large pier crane, right in position on the deck.”

  “Pardon my ignorance, but what is this Akatsiya thing?”

  “It’s a standard Red Army Artillery Corps self-propelled gun, and we have several thousands of them. If we resolve the issue of weight and loads, the gun will be ready to fire ten minutes after the crane places it on the deck.”

  “And how much does this Akatsiya weigh?” Yevgeni asked

  “Twenty-six tons.”

  Yevgeni again paused to think, before turning back to Dimitri.

  “Brigadier General Dimitri, why are you so quiet? It’s important that I get your opinion on this dramatic twist of the plot.”

  Dimitri sat up in his seat and shot another question at Colonel Nazarbayev.

  “Some details are lacking for me to form an opinion. For example, what is the range of this gun?” “Twenty-four kilometers.”

  “That means that we should let the submarine pass underneath us to the east and wait until it is several tens of kilometers away and only then shoot the shell. I have another question to ask you. Does this shell have a fuse that can detonate at a certain altitude above the surface, or in our case, above water?”

  “Yes of course. It is called a shell with a barometric fuse.”

  Colonel Nazarbayev now seemed encouraged, even enthusiastic, to carry out the idea that he had come up with only a few minutes before.

  “If you give me the green light, I can get such a gun and its crew of four within several hours. As for the shell, that would require a personal order from the Minister of Defense, Marshal Budarenko, but that would be your baby, Colonel Yevgeni.”

  Dimitri expected Yevgeni to reply to the Kazakh Colonel, but Yevgeni turned to him instead.

  “Dimitri, you haven’t given us your opinion of the new plan. So, please, tell us what you think. I’m anxious to hear it.”

  “As I see it, we can all agree on this insane, bizarre plan. We should distribute the tasks between us, as I think that within twenty-four hours, we’ll have to go for the real thing.

  “Yevgeni, you contact the Minister of Defense. I think that your winning argument with him is that with this nuclear shell, we can be ready and on our way as early as tomorrow. Of course, he should issue the order immediately, for the nuclear command to provide us with this shell. Colonel Nazarbayev, you activate your people to deliver the Akatsiya here without delay. We need to take a structural engineer to the trawler. I want him to check the boat’s blueprints and tell us exactly where to place these twenty-six tons. Ask Commander Vitaly, the boat’s captain, to procure a large tarpaulin to conceal the gun, but not a military one. If they don’t have one in stock, they should buy a colorful one in town.”

  Dimitri leaned towards Yevgeni and they exchanged a few whispers before he continued.

  “I suggest that we adjourn now for half an hour, no more. Colonel Yevgeni will try to catch the Minister of Defense; Colonel Nazarbayev will assign tasks to his team, and when we return, we will study the Americans’ training program and come out of here with the final detailed schedule for executing the mission. We’ll reconvene here in half an hour. Let’s go.”

  The team members hurried to take their seats around the table where Colonel Yevgeni was already seated. Brigadier Dimitri sat in a corner of the room with a young officer in a naval uniform. A large map was spread over the table and Dimitri held a slide rule and was taking notes in his notebook.

  “He’ll join us presently”, Yevgeni told the team. “We have approval and confirmation from Marshal Budarenko. Two shells will be delivered to us by dawn tomorrow.”

  Yevgeni turned to Colonel Nazarbayev.

  “What have you managed to arrange for us, Colonel?”

  “The Akatsiya will be sent to us from an artillery battalion not far from here. They estimate that it will take three or four hours from now, and they are also sending a crew with the gun. The structural engineer is conducting a preliminary investigation at this very minute. He reckons that it won’t be a problem to lower the gun onto the amidships deck and not onto the bow; this is preferable not just regarding loads, but also better for the ship’s balance. There will also be less sea motion.”

  Dimitri seemed deep in thought, habitually scratching his head.

  “Please tell me”, Yevgeni said, turning to him. “Is the bow area of the boat completely clear of antennas or other protruding elements that may be in the shell’s trajectory? If the gun is located amidships, will there be any problem?”

  “We’ve checked the issue. The command bridge with the radar, which is the tallest element on the boat, is at the stern. Therefore, when the gun is located in the middle of the boat, there should be no impediment, especially since the firing will be at an elevation of forty-five degrees. In short, we’ve checked the issue and there is no obstacle.”

  In the corner of the room, Dimitri thanked the junior officer for his assistance, dismissed him and then hurried to join his teammates. Yevgeni waited until Dimitri took his seat at the table, and only then continued.

  “General Okhramenko, I want to say a few words to you. The role of the radio operator from Intelligence is critical. Only he can change the time of firing, based on the reports that he retrieves from
the submarine along its reporting points. It is important to understand that the purpose of all the communication-blocking equipment has not been canceled. The nuclear blast will indeed cause a communication block, but no one can say for certain how long it will last and at what radius from the epicenter of the blast it will be. Therefore, your people should be responsible for all the communication blocks from the time of the firing. From my point of view, it will be compounded security. There is another critical subject, and that is: who will take overall command of the activities, especially of coordinating the timing for firing on the ship? This cannot be done remotely, but from the boat itself, which is under the command of Commander Vitaly, who in effect is nothing but our driver.”

  Colonel Nazarbayev raised his hand.

  “There’s no such question here at all, Colonel Yevgeni. This is my responsibility and I have to be aboard the trawler. Everything starts and ends with the firing of this shell, and that is now my baby. I request that you not even think of stationing anyone else aboard that boat.”

  Yevgeni glanced quickly at Dimitri, whose face was expressionless, yet Yevgeni could see that he was giving him a slight vertical nod of his head as a sign of consent.

  “Colonel Nazarbayev, I respect your wish. I could not ask for anyone more responsible and more reliable than yourself for such a supreme and critical mission,.”

  Colonel Nazarbayev nodded his head in gratitude and smiled with satisfaction. Now, everyone at the table waited for Brigadier General Dimitri to speak. He stood by the table with the paper map rolled in his hand.

  “Are you ready?” Yevgeni asked.

  Dimitri spread the map out on the table. It was a nautical chart of the Atlantic Ocean with blue and red lines stretched its length and width. A photograph of a submarine was placed on it. Dimitri took the picture and held it up for everyone to see, and began speaking animatedly.

  “Comrades, this is our engagement. Please meet the bride, USS 726, the Ohio. She is the creation of an aviation giant, the General Dynamics Corporation. Here is some general data on this vessel. It is a new submarine, having only been in service for two and a half years, since April 1979. It is one hundred and seventeen meters long and thirteen meters wide. Its crew is made up of fifteen officers and one hundred and forty seamen. The submarine is equipped with twenty-four Trident missiles, and its home port is Bangor in the state of Washington.”

  Yevgeni interrupted.

  “Up till now, you’re presenting this submarine as if we want to buy her. Dimitri, we’re short of time. Please get to the point, to the operational details.”

  Dimitri smiled. It seemed that he was not about to take Yevgeni’s advice.

  “Now, having met the bride-to-be, I will tell you when we are set to meet. USS 726 Ohio set sail for navigation exercises nine days ago from Norfolk. Within three days, it will arrive at our rendezvous point here, northwest of Norway, about four hundred kilometers southeast of the island of Svalbard. Here, right here. This is exactly the place.”

  Dimitri pointed to a red circle on the map, and everybody looked at it.

  “If the weather doesn’t change drastically, the trawler will require forty hours to reach the rendezvous point, and it must be there on location five to six hours before the American submarine is due. If you work it out for yourselves, you’ll see that the trawler must sail tomorrow at noon at the latest.”

  Brigadier General Dimitri motioned to Colonel Nazarbayev, who came up to him, and the two exchanged whispers in a huddle.

  “Do you see this reporting point? The submarine should arrive here in three days’ time, at 1012 hours in the morning. You should be at this point exactly. You will wait here another twenty-nine minutes for the submarine to sail away from you eastward, for about eighteen kilometers, and then you will fire your nuclear shell to the west, at exactly 1041 hours. Your firing to the west, and the submarine’s movement to the east, will create a distance of forty-two kilometers between the blast epicenter and the submarine. This timetable is sacrosanct. Only you, Colonel Nazarbayev, as the commander in the field, may change it, and only on one condition: only if the Intelligence radio operator, who will be aboard the boat with you, hears with his own ears that the submarine reports from the location points at times that are different to the times on the navigation chart. This is very rare, and it is reasonable to assume that it will not happen this time. Colonel Nazarbayev, you don’t have to memorize anything – I’ve written down everything for you on the chart on this table.”

  Colonel Yevgeni waited patiently until Dimitri and the Kazakh Colonel looked up from the chart.

  “I am asking every one of you again. We have exactly eighteen hours. Each of you should go over his tasks and notes, nudge anyone who needs nudging, and cover all possible corners. We’ll meet later next to the trawler. Good luck to everyone and especially to you, my friend Nazarbayev.”

  The team members began leaving the conference room. Then Colonel Nazarbayev noticed that Yevgeni and Dimitri were still in the room, and he joined them.

  “Aren’t you coming to the trawler?”

  “We need to finish up a few things. We’ll join you in a few minutes.”

  Nazarbayev left the room.

  Brigadier General Dimitri looked at Yevgeni, who was sitting at the table, both hands covering his head. He touched him gently on the shoulder.

  “My good friend Yevgeni, I know exactly what you’re thinking. We have no choice. If it helps ease your conscience, please remember that fifty percent of the decision is down to me. It was a joint decision by the two of us.”

  “Thank you for your support, Dimitri, but it’s almost unbearable, even with this fifty percent. He is a good man, the Kazakh officer. He is simply a very good man.”

  Chapter 10

  Svetlana, faithful private secretary to Vladimir Petrovich Yermolov, General Secretary of the Communist Party, the Head of State of the Soviet Union and the Commander in Chief of its Armed Forces, glanced at the large wall clock across from her desk. She got up and hurried to the General Secretary’s office.

  “Gospodin Vladimir Petrovich Yermolov. I wish to remind you that the Minister of Defense, Marshal Budarenko, will arrive in five minutes’ time to see you.”

  “Yes, I remember”, the Secretary replied, without lifting his eyes from the document he was reading.

  Svetlana welcomed her uncle, Marshal Budarenko, with a broad smile. Her sharp senses detected right away that the Minister was in good spirits and in a much better mood than usual this morning. She led him to the General Secretary’s office, but before he went in, he pulled her into a hug and kissed her on the cheek. She let out a giggle. This is interesting, she thought. What’s causing this grumpy uncle of mine to feel so happy this early in the morning? Maybe today, for a change, there is a better chance than usual that his conversation with Gospodin Yermolov will be peaceful and produce a better outcome.

  The Minister of Defense took his seat at the heavy oak desk across from his superior, and only then did the General Secretary finish reading the document and place it on the desk.

  “Good morning to you, Mister Secretary.”

  “Good morning, Minister. Am I correct in saying that your mood is better than usual this morning? Is there a particular reason for it? Please tell me, as it may also lift my own spirits.”

  The General Secretary said this without expression. The Minister of

  Defense smiled and made himself comfortable in the chair.

  “It is a simply glorious day. The whole of Moscow is white and the sun is shining. But I am here to brief you on the progress of our deployment on the border of the German Democratic Republic.”

  One of the female office workers entered the room, bowed her head slightly, and placed a silver tray with a teakettle and two glasses on the table. The two watched in silence until she left the room.

  “I am listening, Marsh
al. Speak up.”

  “For three days now we’ve been mobilizing our forces to the border areas of the German Democratic Republic. This is a huge logistical operation, and far from simple. We’ve been using trains, and I’ve commandeered almost every railroad engine and car from all corners of the country. What is delaying us a little is the fact that our trains travel across Poland only at nighttime. There are two reasons for this. One is that they don’t have too many railway systems and I don’t want to shut down their regular service lines during the day; not least because it would signal to the West that this is an especially urgent action. The second reason is that, of course, during the night, the Americans and their friends in NATO won’t be able to estimate the size of our forces, particularly as these are typical winter nights.”

  “And how is the collaboration with the Poles? Do you want me to talk to someone who can expedite things?”

  “No, Mister General Secretary. There is no need. They are collaborating exceptionally well. At night, no Polack train moves. They have cleared everything to make it one hundred percent available to us only.”

  The General Secretary drank his tea and examined the face of his Minister of Defense.

  “How long will this continue?”

  “This is a tremendous logistical operation. It’s not only tanks; it also includes fuel, ordnance, supplies, logistical headquarters, full operational headquarters of brigades, divisions and armies. In short, vast masses. We shall complete most of the deployment within two or three days. But we’ll still need the trains to continue conveying supplies and equipment on an ongoing basis indefinitely.”

  The General Secretary seemed ill at ease. He contracted his eyebrows and scratched his chin.

  “I think we should get this done as soon as possible. I don’t think we can trust the Poles for long, especially after we enter Germany. After all, we’re not going there to entertain residents and parade our forces, right? When blood starts flowing, and there is no doubt that blood will be shed, Poland itself may start an insurgency in solidarity with their German brethren.”