The Red Collusion Page 2

  The General Secretary’s fist again pounded the table as he looked for any sign of disagreement among the officials at his desk.

  “I will appropriate any resource that is needed. You can assume that you have unlimited means from this moment on.”

  “Is that clear to you?” the secretary was now addressing the KGB chief.

  “This work must be neat. All sabotage in these countries should be attributed to local organizations and domestic underground movements. Baader-Meinhof, Red Brigades, anarchists, whatever. Nothing should point back to us. You may use your friends from Muslim countries to transport arms and explosives. This you can do rather well”, Yermolov remarked sardonically to his KGB chief.

  The General Secretary removed his eyeglasses and rubbed his cheeks.

  “And now, to our own internal affairs, and I mean those of our sister states, Yugoslavia, Romania, and especially the German Democratic Republic. Here we need immediate remedial action. We must use our iron fist! In Germany, we will deploy tanks and troops, but carefully, because of the proximity to West Germany which is full of foreign armies. Do you remember Operation Donau in August 1968? Two thousand, not twenty thousand, tanks, were enough to take over all of Czechoslovakia. Do you know why? Because we were creative. We used our brains. We acted wisely”, Yermolov expounded, pointing a finger at his temple.

  “We sent one hundred of our agents, dressed in civilian clothes, on a commercial flight to Prague International Airport. They seized the airport within minutes and opened it to hundreds of our transport planes, and the rest is history. That is how I want our forces to deal with the GDR; primarily with creativity and logic. If we operate swiftly and forcefully there, eliminating the traitors, the other countries will understand what awaits them. Then you will see all this agitation dying out by itself.”

  The General Secretary had said enough. He took a break, sipping tea from a glass that had been served to him. He then turned his sharp eyes to Marshal Budarenko, the Minister of Defense.

  “Well, Marshal”, he said. “I’m sure you have not wasted any time and have already prepared a plan to crush the GDR. We would like to hear it.”

  Everyone waited for the marshal to speak.

  The Defense Minister’s oversized military cap, with its huge gold- trimmed visor, lay on the table in front of him. Marshal Nikolai Sergeevich Budarenko, of medium height and with a solid, muscular torso, was well into his sixties and still had the build of a medium- weight boxer. His close-cropped dark hair emphasized his square face and unusually high, protruding cheekbones. His bushy, unkempt brows were already graying. His appearance reflected his character, warning those who crossed his path that his reputation as a tough, opinionated and confrontational man was indeed justified. Few would challenge him in debate or discussion, and none dared to argue with him outright. With one exception – his sole superior, Yermolov.

  Budarenko had made a name for himself as a brave infantry commander in the Second World War, fighting the Wehrmacht’s vastly superior Sixth Army for eight horrific months in Stalingrad. Budarenko, then a lieutenant colonel, was in charge of an ill-equipped unit of tank destroyers. In a series of battles that marked a turning point in the balance of power on the eastern front, Budarenko’s poorly-outfitted forces used daring tactics to spread havoc and fear among the German Panzer troops. It was a time of great heroism. The Soviet Union lost more than a million soldiers and Russian civilians in and around Stalingrad. Many more, including Budarenko, were wounded. Although forty years had passed since then, the Defense Minister still had a limp, a souvenir from those terrible days of Stalingrad.

  For his courage in Stalingrad, the Marshal had been awarded the prestigious Меdal Za Otvagu3. This medal, made entirely of silver, featured a silhouette of a T-34 tank and the red Cyrillic letters Za Otvagu and CCCP, for USSR. Now, as he sat at the conference, the medal, not just the ribbon, was pinned to his jacket, almost lost among the dozens of other medals and ribbons covering the entire front of his army jacket.

  The Defense Minister cleared his throat and turned to the increasingly impatient General Secretary.

  “Comrade General Secretary Vladimir Petrovich Yermolov”, the Defense Minister rasped in a voice roughened by years of heavy smoking. “Regarding the first signs of rebelliousness here at home, I am not at all worried. Comrade Politruk and the Comrade Chief of the KGB know exactly what to do, and they have already informed me of the arrest of seven hundred and fifty hooligans. The main problem, as I see it, is in Western Europe, not in our sister states. All the poison and incitement are coming from these countries. There lies the head of the serpent and there we should hit hard.”

  The General Secretary leaned back in his seat, expressing no surprise or emotion at what he had just heard, as if to say he had not expected the marshal to propose a worldwide peace initiative.

  “Has the Minister finished speaking?” Yermolov asked, somewhat irritably.

  “No, Mr. General Secretary”, the minister shot back. “I wish to elaborate further. Mr. General Secretary has explained that we occupied Czechoslovakia with two thousand tanks. I was there, commanding an army, and I can tell you that we could have completed the work there in the same time frame even with five hundred tanks. But dealing with NATO is totally different. We will certainly have to deploy a large portion of our armored forces, which we built up precisely for this purpose. I wish to remind you that we have thirty thousand tanks at our disposal. Our numerical advantage over them is so great that we can overwhelm them within three weeks and their regimes will fall like dominos. Even the Americans can’t stop us. Their only answer to our massive forces is to deploy tactical nuclear weapons, but they will not dare, because we also have nuclear weapons and it can turn into World War III...”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Marshal?” Yermolov snapped, both angry and impatient. “If we invade with thirty thousand tanks, are we not starting a third world war?”

  The room fell silent. Yermolov paused, recovered his composure, and said, “What is this, a picnic? A social call? Do you have room on your chest for more medals?”

  It was obvious that Yermolov was losing what little patience he had with his Defense Minister.

  “I will say this again”, Yermolov repeated more calmly, but as authoritatively as ever. “Tomorrow, you, Mr. KGB Chief, will hand me a plan for your operatives’ activities inside the western European states.

  From you, Marshal, I will receive a plan for a limited entry and takeover of the GDR, that is, East Germany. Do you understand me, Marshal? We are not taking Paris, Rome or London. We are taking Berlin!”

  Yermolov stared intensely at Marshal Budarenko, trying to gauge if his message had been received.

  “I will be more specific so as to avoid misunderstandings”, the General Secretary resumed. “We are aiming for the eastern part of Berlin, the eastern sector only, and even when we get there, we will keep a safe distance from the Berlin Wall.”

  The General Secretary locked his eyes on both his Defense Minister and the KGB chief. “You two arrange a time with Svetlana to meet me tomorrow. This meeting is closed.”

  As the General Secretary, followed by his two bodyguards, hurried out of the conference room and back to his office, he was greeted by Svetlana.

  “Good morning, Gospodin Vladimir Petrovich Yermolov.”

  “Good morning, Svetlana”, he replied, without slowing his pace. “By the way, regards from your uncle. I so enjoy meeting him, especially early in the morning before the day’s work begins.”

  “Thank you, Sir”, Svetlana replied, struggling to hide a grin, as she was well versed in the General Secretary’s biting irony. They must have had another shouting match, she thought.

  * * *

  1Literally “lord” in Russian

  2Elite KGB units

  3Medal of Valor

  Chapter
2

  The GRU soviet military intelligence base was situated in the midst of a dense forest, some twenty miles outside Moscow. It was a top secret location and very few even knew of its existence. Sergey Blutin, Marshal Budarenko’s loyal aide, had been waiting at the base for two hours, wondering why he had been summoned there with such great urgency. The room he was in, with its bare walls and basic functional furniture accentuating its gloomy starkness, looked like a simple, modest classroom. A low wooden platform and a desk stood at the front of the room near the doorway, with a green-painted blackboard hanging on the wall behind them. Three desks and several padded metal chairs occupied the center of the room.

  Every few seconds, Sergey would glance at the five other men waiting with him. He assumed from their body language and reticence that, like him, they had just been pulled out of their regular places of work a short time earlier. He gazed out of a narrow window at the nearly empty parking lot. He understood that he had been summoned to discuss a very sensitive topic, but he struggled to understand the presence of what looked like a platoon of soldiers in battle gear and carrying assault rifles patrolling the building’s grounds. Are they protecting us from outsiders, or guarding us, he wondered. We are being watched, he concluded, like prisoners. What is going on here, and who are the other five people here, who are probably thinking the same thoughts.

  The sound of incoming vehicles cut into his musings, and he returned to his seat at the desk. There was some talk outside before the door opened to usher in the Defense Minister himself. Marshal Budarenko, wearing green army fatigues, strode to the wooden platform and took his seat in front of his small, stunned audience, who stood at attention. The Marshal motioned for them to be seated before pulling a cigarette from a pack of Marlboros and lighting it. He took a deep drag and exhaled the smoke through his nostrils, as if starved for its aroma. He was savoring every moment.

  “These Yanks sure know how to make good cigarettes”, he joked, trying to lighten the frosty, tense atmosphere in the room. It seemed futile, as his small team of military men sat motionless, seemingly frozen in terror before his intimidating presence.

  Another man, wearing a light blue suit, entered the room, carrying a large brown leather case. He approached Budarenko, and, when the Marshal had unlocked the case, ceremoniously pulled out several large sealed manila envelopes and placed them carefully on the Marshal’s desk. The Minister of Defense’s eyes followed the blue-suited man as he briskly left the room and closed the door.

  Marshal Budarenko had not yet finished his cigarette. He scanned the faces of the six silent and expressionless men seated before him, all awaiting a clue from him as to why they were gathered there.

  “From now on, until further notice, you are to stay here in complete isolation and under close surveillance”, he finally declared, crushing the cigarette butt in a metal ashtray, never taking his eyes off the six men.

  “You will work here, eat here and perhaps even manage to steal a few hours of sleep, also here”, he added.

  “You are my personal, confidential team of thinkers. Each of you is considered a prodigy in his field. But if any one of you fails to deliver...”

  He paused for a moment, raised his right arm, and swiftly sliced the air in a beheading motion. There was no need for further explanation.

  “Am I clear? If any one of you fails, he will be replaced immediately with another, most talented man. Your replacements are ready – there is another team of six here on base, and any one of them can replace each and every one, or all of you, at a moment’s notice.”

  His audience remained rigid with fright. The atmosphere was grim. Marshal Budarenko was most certainly living up to his reputation.

  “Each of you will receive one of these sealed envelopes with an order personally signed by me. It is intended for anyone in the Soviet Union who can help you acquire anything you need to complete your mission, including arms, equipment and personnel. They are ordered to fulfill your request immediately, regardless of their rank or status or whether they are military or civilian. All possible means are at your disposal, including any transportation to any destination, by land, sea or air.

  “And remember, you are not alone here. You will remain here 24 hours a day under surveillance. Your liaison officer with me is the civilian gentleman who entered this room a few minutes ago. You will direct any questions or requests to him.”

  The six men remained silent. They still had no clue as to their mission, and none dared to ask. What was certain was that their lives were changing before their eyes.

  “Sergey, we’ll start with you”, announced the marshal.

  Sergey, who up until a few hours before had been working as a senior aide to the Minister, stood up. His soon-to-be colleagues did not yet know who he was.

  “Yes, Mr. Minister”, he responded.

  “You, Sergey, have an easy task, which you will complete before morning. You will prepare a detailed, comprehensive paper for me to submit to Comrade General Secretary. In this document, which I will personally present to Mr. General Secretary for his approval, you will detail and explain the methods of action and orders of battle sufficient to invade and seize control of the German Democratic Republic as swiftly as possible. You will leave no question unanswered. I want the order of battle to be as large as possible, much larger than we need just for this mission. I trust you will find justifications, such as the harsh winter and the mud that will slow the progress of our armored columns, as well as other possible reasons, so long as they seem rational and proportional. But that is not all. I also want you to prepare a Phase B plan for me, in which I want a full outline for deploying as many of our armored forces as possible as a reserve, at a reasonable distance from the border between the two German republics. These, even if stationed outside the GDR, should be able to cross into West Germany within 36 to 48 hours of receiving their orders. This reserve, or maybe even the main force, should be able to leverage the advantages gained by Phase A’s invading force and enter West Germany by surprise, thereby expanding and deepening our hold of the NATO territory that we will then occupy.

  “Do you understand your mission, Sergey?” the Minister of Defense barked.

  “Yes, Mr. Minister. It is clear to me.”

  Marshal Budarenko lit another cigarette and, flabbergasting his new team with a most uncharacteristic act, pushed the pack of cigarettes to the end of the table towards his men.

  “If any of you wants to smoke a good American cigarette, be my guest”, he offered.

  This gesture was entirely out of character for Marshal Budarenko, who was, after all, a high-ranking bully who treated his men as formally and harshly as was possible. Perhaps he was indeed wooing them?

  Of course, not one of the men dared to even think of smoking the marshal’s prized cigarettes.

  Budarenko reached out and collected the pack quickly enough, placing it close to him where it had been. “Now we come to the real matter”, he revealed.

  “Our beloved Soviet Union is in existential danger. You are the few, the best men, selected for this historic mission of saving our motherland from harm. Even if we suppress the stubborn rebellion in the GDR, not only will we not have eliminated rebellions in other countries, but this may even breathe new life into these reactionary insurgencies. If this happens, the small pockets of discontent we are already witnessing here at home will grow, intensify, spread, and eventually threaten the very existence of the Soviet Union. Every one of you knows that our country is composed of dozens of different nationalities, many with different cultures, faiths and languages, some even dreaming of independence.

  “If the rebels in Yugoslavia, Romania and the GDR manage to mobilize the masses and depose the communist regimes in their states, there will be a massive snowball effect that will erupt into our own country. I do not want to think what could happen if the Ukrainian people suddenly decided to break away from us
. The Ukrainians sit on the Black Sea, home to our Black Sea Fleet, armed with great quantities of nuclear weapons to deter our enemies. Do you understand? You are being entrusted with the great historic privilege of saving our motherland.”

  The six men exchanged glances, trying to assess each other’s reaction to the Minister’s words.

  “No one in the Kremlin understands this as fully as I do. They do not know what is required to defend the motherland!”

  The Minister spoke with great passion, raising his voice as if addressing a massive audience.

  “Our operation in the GDR will benefit us there, but it will not remove the threat to our union, and as I said, it might even escalate the situation. It all begins and ends with the belligerent western European states of NATO. They incite all the unrest. They finance the troublemakers and direct them from there. Eventually, the cure for this disease must be administered there. Only by striking these countries good and hard will we eliminate the danger. And when we fight against an outside enemy, all Soviet citizens stand united behind the Red Army.

  “And now to the mission before you.”

  The Marshal’s ashtray was filling up with cigarette butts, and the room became smokier as he spoke.

  “Our forces will deploy to the west of the Soviet Union within days, and will be positioned within striking distance of Western Europe. However, in order to actually strike and invade, we must first create a reason, a cause to justify our actions. If we hit them first, we are bullies, but if we let them hit us first, we will be acting in self-defense. We need to create an incident serious enough to warrant such an operation, and you will be the ones to create it. As I said before, out of all the sons of the Soviet Union, you were selected for this mission. You will submit a plan to generate an event that will make our invasion of the West seem a legitimate and justified retaliatory action.