Richard Shirreff - War with Russia

Helping pack away the satellite Morland saw that, at this stage, no one back in the UK had the first idea as to how to react to the Russian attack. But the situation was stark to him; he and his team were trapped in Latvia, Padstow had been sunk, and like it or not, the UK was at war with Russia and that was that—even if they had not realized it yet. He’d do what he was told and lie low, but if the opportunity came to have a crack at the Russians, he would grab it. Meanwhile, Morland was to set up a twice-weekly prearranged radio “sked” to brief back and to receive orders.

It had not taken long to prepare themselves. Their bergen rucksacks were already packed with minimal personal kit. The Latvians gave the team a spare GPMG to supplement their SA80 rifles and as much ammunition as they wanted from the armory. The rest was already being driven off to be buried in the forests.

Their Inmarsat satellite system was too heavy and bulky for a patrol moving fast and light, so the Latvians gave them a spare Harris secure manpack radio. Not only would it enable them to talk to the Latvians in the forest, but its satellite capability would also allow them to link up securely with PJHQ in the UK. Bradley, the team signaler, spent half an hour with the Latvians testing it, checked he could speak to PJQH and pronounced himself more than satisfied, but with one concern.

“What about batteries, Sir?” he asked. “Where are we going to get a replen?”

Major Krastiņš reassured him. “Don’t worry, we’ve been preparing for this. We’ll be using an old Forest Brothers bunker as our safe haven. It’s deep in the forest and it’s been well stocked with batteries, ammunition, rations and everything we might need for a prolonged stay.”

Morland had heard about the Forest Brothers while they’d been training the Special Tasks Unit; it was the name for the thousands of partisans who had taken to the massive forests of the Baltic states to fight a guerrilla war against the Soviet occupation of their countries from the late 1940s, well into the 1950s. Unbelievably, the last Forest Brother had only emerged from the forest in 1995, a full four years after Latvia had gained its independence from the Soviet Union. A fact that had at first astonished Morland who, up until then, had thought it was only the Japanese who had a monopoly on fanatical soldiers refusing to accept defeat. However, his all-too-brief time training the Latvian Special Tasks Unit already had him rethinking that assumption. He would not want these people as his enemy.

Meanwhile, Krauja went outside to call her office on her mobile phone to explain what had happened. She returned looking visibly upset.

“They’ve given me clearance to stay with you, Tom… but things are really bad in Riga. The Russians have taken over all the key buildings; there are Russian army road blocks on all the main junctions. They’ve declared a curfew after six p.m., they say they’ll shoot anyone found outside after that time, and they’ve started to round up all the ministers and senior government figures. They’ve taken my boss, Juris Bērziņš.”

“That’s bad,” said Morland awkwardly. “He’s a good man.” He waited a respectful moment before asking about General Balderis, an impressive man who had left a lasting impression on him.

“Last heard of fighting at his Joint HQ… apparently nobody got out. If anyone resists they’re not taking prisoners. He told me he had no intention of ending up in Siberia and it sounds as if he won’t be…,” Krauja paused and took a deep breath, getting her emotions back under control. “Now give me a rifle. I’m a Nordic skier and I do the biathlon. I hunt boar and deer with my father, so I can shoot straight.”

Soon they were ready and the team had set out from Ādaži in civilian vehicles, alone or in pairs to avoid attracting undue attention. Not long after, they had turned off the main road at Sigulda, with its attractive, white clapboard, wooden church and houses. Here they headed on forest tracks to Ligatne, site of a former Soviet command bunker built deep in the forest, where they hid their vehicles so they were impossible to see from the air and difficult to see from the ground, unless, that is, you as good as walked into one. Thereafter, it was bergens on, and into the trees. Led by a Special Tasks Unit soldier who knew the forest intimately, they had finally, after several grueling hours, stopped in a clearing deep in the thickest part of the forest, close to the Gauja river. Ahead of them was a well-camouflaged entrance.

“Welcome to your new home, Tom,” said Krastiņš cheerfully. “This is one of the Forest Brothers’ lairs. The Russians never found it and not even the locals know about it.”

Morland lowered his bergen and took a swig from his water bottle. “How’re you doing, Marina? Feet alright?”

Krauja looked at him. “I’m fine Tom, thanks. I’ll walk you off your feet before this is over.”

Krastiņš overheard the exchange and laughed. “She will, you know. As will the rest of my team. I told them to go easy with you during training…”

Morland looked round. All the Latvians were smiling.

He grinned back. It was a good start. The Latvians were joshing with them, which meant they were willing to accept them as part of their team.

The next couple of days passed quickly. A routine was established in the well-stocked bunker. To avoid giving away their position, radio transmissions were limited to prearranged data-burst skeds only, conducted some distance away and never from the same spot; otherwise the Russians would locate them in no time. They listened in to Latvian State Radio, LVRTC, from which they were able to build up a picture of the Russian occupation. Standing patrols of a couple of soldiers were established around the bunker as close protection and regular foot patrols went further out every day to check for any sign of Russian activity. At night, sentries were posted covering potential approaches to the bunker and patrols brought in. They all took their turn on stag.

Morland, lying in his shell scrape, looked at his watch. Dawn “stand to” had just finished and the day routine was about to begin. He crawled from under his poncho with the GPMG and returned to the bunker.

Inside, it was warm, dry and comfortable and reminded him of Badger’s den from Wind in the Willows . The steps descended into an underground room. One side wall was taken up by a large map of Latvia, a table and radios; another by a table, upon which sat a two-ringed, camping-gas cooker. A low door led to another room lined by bunks. A generator hummed quietly, providing power to run an air-conditioning system, the radios and a battery charger. In another cramped space off the bunkroom were a chemical toilet and metal camp basin.

Twenty yards across the clearing in the forest was a second bunker set up as a store facility. One room was lined with shelves on which were stacked Latvian Army 24-hour ration packs, batteries, ammunition, claymore mines and explosives. A second, bigger room contained Stinger hand-held SAMs, old Carl Gustav anti-tank weapons with their still highly effective HEAT ammunition, and six motocross motorbikes together with fuel and spares.

All very comfy, but it’s not going to win the war , thought Morland, we’ve got to find a way to get the Russians onto the back foot. I’m not going to hang around here indefinitely playing Hansel and Gretel.

Sergeant Danny Wild handed him a mug of tea. Morland took a sip. It was strong and sweetened, Latvian-style, with honey. “Thanks sarge, just what was needed. It was getting pretty chilly out there.”

“Brad’s just received a message by data burst from PJHQ,” said Wild quietly. “They’ve picked up SigInt and from Russian soldiers tweeting that a senior Russian general and an unnamed high-profile VIP could be flying into Riga by helicopter in the next couple of days. They want to talk to you at greater length.”