Tom Clancy: Red Storm Rising

"Major, the essence of a soldier is discipline," Alekseyev concluded. "I have brought you here for a reason, but I must know that you will carry out your orders exactly. I will understand if you cannot."

There was no emotion on his face at all, but the hand relaxed. "Yes, Comrade General, and I thank you from my soul for bringing me here. It will be exactly as you say."

"Come, then. We have work to do."

The General's car was already waiting. Alekseyev and Sorokin drove to the inner ring road around central Moscow that changes its name every few kilometers. It is called Chkalova where it passes the Star Theater toward the Kursk Railroad Station.

The commander of the 77th Motor-Rifle Division was dozing. He had a new deputy commander, a brigadier from the front to replace the overaged colonel who had held the post. They had talked for ten hours on NATO tactics, and now the Generals were taking advantage of their unexpectedly extended stop in Moscow to get some sleep.

"What the hell is this!"

The 77th's commander opened his eyes to see a four-star general staring down at him. He jumped to attention like a cadet.

"Good morning, Comrade General!"

"And good morning to you! What the hell is a division of the Soviet Army doing asleep on a Goddamned railroad siding while men are dying in Germany!" Alekseyev nearly screamed at the man.

"We-we can't make the trains move, there is some problem with the tracks."

"There is a problem with the tracks? You have your vehicles, don't you?"

"The train goes to Kiev Station, where we switch locomotives for the trip to Poland."

"I'll arrange transport for you. We don't have time," Alekseyev explained as though to a wayward child, "to have a fighting division sit on its ass. If the train can't move, you can! Roll your vehicles off the flatcars, we'll take you through Moscow, and you can get to Kiev Station yourself. Now rub the sleep out of your eyes and get this division rolling before I find someone else who can!"

It never failed to amaze the General what a little screaming could do. Alekseyev watched the division commander scream at his regimental commanders, who went off to scream at their battalion commanders. In ten minutes the screaming was done at the squad level. Ten minutes after that, the tie-down chains were being stripped off the BTR-60 infantry carriers and the first of them rolled off the back of the train for assembly in Korskogo Square in front of the station. The infantrymen mounted their vehicles, looking very dangerous in battle dress, their weapons in their hands.

"You got your new communications officers?" Alekseyev asked.

"Yes, they have completely replaced my own people," the division commander nodded.

"Good. We've learned the hard way about communications security at the front. Your new men will serve you well. And the new riflemen?"

"One company of veterans in each regiment, plus others spread individually throughout the rifle companies." The commander was also pleased to have some new combat officers to replace a few of his less-well-regarded subordinates. Alekseyev had clearly sent him good ones.

"Good, get your division formed up in columns of regiments. Let's show the people something, Comrade. Show them what a Soviet Army division is supposed to look like. They need it."

"How do we proceed through the city?"

"I have gotten some KGB border guards for traffic control. Keep your people in proper order, I don't want anyone to get lost!"

A major came running up. "Ready to move in twenty minutes."

"Fifteen!" the commander insisted.

"Very good," Alekseyev observed. "General, I will accompany you. I want to see how familiar your men are with their equipment."

Mikhail Sergetov arrived early for the Politburo meeting, as was his habit. The usual complement of Kremlin guards was about, one company of infantry with light arms. They were from the Taman Guards division, ceremonial troops with minimal weapons training-a praetorial guard without teeth, like many ceremonial units they practiced parading and boot-shining and looking like soldiers, though at Alabino they did have a full divisional set of tanks and guns. The real Kremlin guardians were the KGB border guards and the division of MVD troops garrisoned outside Moscow. It was typical of the Soviet system that there would be three armed formations loyal to three separate ministries. The Taman division had the best weapons but the least training. The KGB had the best training but only light weapons. The MVD, which answered to the Ministry of the Interior, was also short on weapons and trained mainly as a paramilitary police force, but they were composed of Tartars, troops of known ferocity and antipathy toward the ethnic Russian people. The relationship among the three was more than merely complex.

"Mikhail Eduardovich?"

"Ah." It was the Agriculture Minister. "Good morning, Filip Moiseyevich."

"I am worried," the man said quietly.

"About what?"

"I fear they-the Defense Council-may be thinking about atomic weapons."

"They cannot be so desperate." If you are an agent provocateur, Comrade, you know that I've been told this. Better that I should know now what you are.

The man's open Slavic face did not change. "I hope you are right. I have not managed to feed this country for once to see someone blow it up!"

An ally! Sergetov told himself "If they put it to a vote, what then?" "I don't know, Misha, I wish I did. Too many of us are being swept away by events."

"Will you speak out against this madness?"

"Yes! I will soon have a grandchild, and he will have a country to grow up in even if it means my life!"

Forgive me, Comrade, forgive me for all the things I have thought of you before.

"Always the early bird, Mikhail Eduardovich?" Kosov and the Defense Minister arrived together.

"Filip and I had to discuss fuel allocations for food transport."

"You worry about my tanks! Food can wait." Defense walked past them into the conference room. Sergetov and his compatriot shared a look.

The meeting came to order ten minutes later. The General Secretary began it, immediately turning over discussions to Defense.

"We must make a decisive move in Germany."

"You have been promising us one of those for weeks!" Bromkovskiy said.

"This time it will work. General Alekseyev will be here in an hour to present his plan. For the moment, we will discuss the use of tactical nuclear weapons at the front and how to prevent a NATO nuclear response."

Sergetov's was one of the impassive faces at the table. He counted four who displayed obvious horror. The discussion that followed was spirited.

Alekseyev rode with the division commander for the first few kilometers, past the Indian Embassy and the Justice Ministry. The latter drew an ironic look from the General. How fitting that I should pass that building today! The command vehicle was essentially a radio with eight wheels. Six communications officers rode in the back to allow the commander to run his division right from here. The communications officers were from the front, and loyal to the combat officers who'd brought them back.

Progress was slow. The combat vehicles were designed for speed, but speed also made for breakdowns, and at anything over twenty kilometers per hour the tanks would tear the pavement apart. As it was, they motored along placidly, attracting small knots of people who watched and waved and cheered as the soldiers passed. The procession was not as precise as one of the parades for which the Taman Guards practiced every day. If anything this made the people more enthusiastic. Here were real soldiers going to the front. KGB officers stood along the route, "advising" the officers of the Moscow Militia to let the division pass-they'd explained the reason, the foulup in the eastern rail network, and the traffic policemen were only too happy to make way for the soldiers of the Motherland.