Лю Цысинь - Hold Up the Sky

On the topic of Misha’s future, the marshal was an understanding man. He wasn’t like the other generals around him, determined that their sons and daughters would succeed them in the military. But Misha really was too distant from his father’s work.

Marshal Levchenko wasn’t a hot-tempered man, but as the commander in chief of the armies, he’d castigated more than one general in front of thousands of troops. He’d never lost his temper at Misha, though. Misha walked silently and steadily along his chosen path, giving his father little cause for concern. More importantly, Misha seemed to be born with an extraordinary aloofness from the world that at times elicited even Levchenko’s reverence. It was as if he’d carelessly tossed a seed into a flowerpot only for a rare and exotic plant to sprout. He had watched this plant grow day by day, protecting it carefully, awaiting its flowering. His hopes had not fallen short. His son was now the most renowned astrophysicist in the world.

By this time, the sun had entirely set behind the pine forest, the white snow on the ground turning pale blue. Marshal Levchenko collected his thoughts and returned to the underground war room. All the personnel for the war meeting had arrived, including important commanders from the Western and Caucasus military districts.

Outnumbering them were the electronic-warfare commanders, all the ranks from captain to major general, most newly returned from the front. In the war room, a debate was raging between the Western Military District’s ground- and electronic-warfare officers.

“We correctly determined the enemy assault’s change in direction,” Major General Felitov of the Taman Division said. “Our tanks and close air support had no problems with maneuverability. But the communications system was jammed beyond belief. The C3I system was almost paralyzed! We expanded the electronic-warfare unit from a battalion to a division, from a division to a corps, and invested more money in them these two years than we invested in all the regular equipment. And we get this?!”

One of the lieutenant generals commanding electronic warfare in the region glanced at Kalina. Like all the other officers newly returned from the front line, her camo uniform was stained and scorched, and traces of blood still stuck to her face. “Major Kalina has done noteworthy work in electronic-warfare research, and was sent by the General Staff to observe the electronic battle. Perhaps her insights may better persuade you.” Young Ph.D. officers like Kalina tended to be fearlessly outspoken toward superiors. They were often used as mouthpieces for tough words, and this was no exception.

Kalina stood. “General Felitov, that’s hardly the case! Compared to NATO, the investment we’ve put into our C3I is nothing.”

“What about electronic countermeasures?” the major general asked. “If the enemy can jam us, can’t you jam them? Our C3I was useless, but NATO’s worked like the wheels were greased. Just look at how quickly the enemy was able to change the direction of their attack this morning!”

Kalina gave a pained smile. “Speaking of jamming the enemy, General Felitov, don’t forget that in your sector, your people forced their own electronic-warfare unit to turn off their jammers at gunpoint!”

“What happened out there?” Marshal Levchenko asked. Only then did the others notice his arrival and stand to bow.

“It was like this,” the major general explained. “Their jamming was worse for our own communication and command system than NATO’s! We could still maintain some wireless transmission through NATO’s jamming. But once our forces turned on their own jammers, we were completely smothered!”

“But don’t forget, the enemy would have been completely smothered too!” Kalina said. “Given our army’s available electronic countermeasures, this was the only possible strategy. At this time, NATO has already widely adopted technologies like frequency hopping, direct-sequence spread spectrum, adaptive nulling systems, burst transmission, and frequency agility.1 Our frequency-specific aimed jamming was completely useless. Full-spectrum barrage jamming was our only option.”

A colonel from the Fifth Army spoke up. “Major, NATO exclusively uses frequency-specific aimed jamming too, with a fairly narrow range of frequencies. And our C3I system widely incorporates the technologies you mentioned as well. Why would their jamming be so effective against us?”

“That’s easy. What systems are our C3I built upon? Unix, Linux, even Windows 2010, and our CPUs are made by Intel and AMD! We’re using the dogs they raised to guard our own gate! Under these circumstances, the enemy can quickly figure out, say, the frequency-hopping patterns used for our intelligence reports, while using more numerous and more effective software attacks to strengthen the effects of their jamming. The Main Command suggested the widespread adoption of a Russian-made operating system in the past, but met heavy opposition from the ranks. Your division was the most stubborn holdout of all—”

“Yes, yes, we’re here today to resolve precisely that problem and conflict,” Marshal Levchenko interrupted. “I call this meeting to order!”

Once everyone was seated in front of the digital battle simulator, Marshal Levchenko called over a staff officer. The young major was tall and skinny, his eyes squinted into slits, as if they had trouble adjusting to the war room’s brightness. “Let me introduce Major Bondarenko. His most obvious trait is his severe myopia. His glasses are different from other people’s—their lenses rest inside the frame, while his stick out. Ha, they’re as thick as the bottom of a teacup! This morning they got smashed when the major’s jeep was hit in an airstrike, which is why we don’t see them now. I think he lost his contacts too?”

“Marshal, it was five days ago at Minsk. My eyes only became like this in the last half year. If it happened earlier, I wouldn’t have been admitted into Frunze Military Academy,” the major said stolidly.

No one knew why the marshal had chosen to introduce the major like this, though a few chuckled in the audience.

“Since the beginning of the war,” the marshal continued, “events have shown that despite Russian losses on the battlefield, our aerial and ground weapons aren’t far behind the enemy’s. But in the field of electronic warfare, we’ve been unexpectedly left in the dust. Many events in the past contributed to this situation, but we’re not here to point fingers. We’re here to state this: In our situation, electronic warfare is the key to taking back the initiative in the war! We must first admit that the enemy has an advantage in this area, perhaps an overwhelming advantage. Then we must work within our army’s hardware and software limitations to create an effective plan of battle. The goal of this plan is to even out our and NATO’s electronic-warfare capabilities within a short period of time. Maybe you all think this is impossible—our military planning since the end of the last century has been based on the assumption of a limited-scope war. We really haven’t done enough research for an invasion on all fronts by as powerful an enemy as the one we’re facing right now. In our dire situation, we have to think in a completely new way. The central command’s new electronic-warfare strategy, which I’m introducing next, will demonstrate the results of this mode of thinking.”

The lights went out, the computer screens and digital battle simulator dimmed, and the heavy anti-radiation doors shut tightly. The war room was plunged into total darkness.

“I had the lights turned off.” The marshal’s voice came through the darkness.

A minute passed in dark and silence.

“How’s everyone feeling?” Marshal Levchenko asked.