Petrov smiled and congratulated him on his well-developed plan to sink one of the American Supercarriers. “What about the Atlantic Fleet, though?” he asked. “The Americans are sure to deploy the Dwight D. Eisenhower carrier group.”
Admiral Petrukhin nodded. “The Truman is currently on station in the eastern Mediterranean, conducting anti-ISIS operations with the Arab Coalition. The Eisenhower set sail two days ago and will head to the North Sea on its way to the Baltic Sea. To counter this, I have deployed six Kilo submarines, two Oscars and four Akulas. NATO and the Americans will be very busy in the North Sea and the Baltic Sea.”
The admiral cleared his throat before he continued. “Mr. President, I anticipate that we will lose most of these submarines to American and NATO anti-submarine forces. It is terrible, and there is little I can do about it. Our submarines are just not up to the same standards as those in the West. However, their loss will not be in vain.”
President Petrov nodded. He knew the risks.
Petrukhin explained further, “Like playing chess, one has to sacrifice some pawns or even a bishop to get at the queen or king. That is what we are doing. I have the Severodvinsk, our only Yasen class submarine, lying in wait for the Bush. They have taken nearly a week to get on station, and now they are settled on the bottom of the sea, lying in wait for the right time to strike. As the Bush battle group moves into the Black Sea, they will strike. I am not optimistic of their chances of surviving the strike, but the captain assures me he can launch his torpedoes and still get away.”
Petrov could see the pain in the admiral’s eyes. He was being asked to essentially sacrifice his servicemen for the good of the country. It was hard to commit so many men’s lives to a battle plan that would almost certainly result in their deaths, yet that is what needed to happen if they were to succeed. By sinking two of America’s Supercarriers, they would significantly reduce the number of combat aircraft the Americans could bring to bear in the coming conflict. It would be a huge political win for Russia, and a massive disaster for the Americans.
“Admiral Petrukhin, I know we are asking a lot of your service. But we cannot achieve victory without the sacrifices your men are being asked to make. I make this solemn promise to you — when we are victorious, we will rebuild the navy and return it back to its former glory,” Petrov said reassuringly.
“Gentlemen, this war with the West is going to be won or lost within the first couple of weeks. We have to strike fast and hard if we are to win. Unlike wars of the past, this conflict will be fought on many battlefields. I am counting on each of you to instill within your subordinates a winning attitude. For too long, the West has looked at us as a shell of our former glory. What they do not know is that we are stronger now, more advanced than at any time in our past. For all our past glory, we never had the ability to control so much of the public perception like we do now through social media, or this new ability we’ve developed to deliver a knockout blow through our cyber-warfare division.” He paused to let his words settle in, and then casually took a sip of tea.
His military leaders and trusted advisors were hanging on his every word. They had spent the better part of six years working on this plan, and they had poured billions of rubles into designing the computer systems, disinformation programs, and everything else that would be needed to win. They had even employed several American and British fictional war authors to help them identify weapons of the future and how to employ them. They truly had taken a holistic approach to rebuilding their military.
“Our objective is clear comrades; we will capture and then hold the Ukraine. Our intent is not to recreate the Soviet Union. We are not going to bite off more than we can chew, and we are not going to expand the war any more than is necessary. Once we have achieved our objective, we will push for a ceasefire in the UN and call for calmer heads to prevail,” Petrov said, convinced that this plan would not fail.
Opening Salvos
The Russians had given the US and NATO 48 hours to vacate eastern Ukraine and move back across the Dnieper River. That deadline was still twelve hours away… everyone was tense, unsure of what would happen once it passed.
Sergeant First Class Luke Childers’ platoon was the farthest element of the 4th Squadron, known as “The Saber." They were part of the 2nd Cavalry Regiment from Vilsack, Germany that had arrived in Ukraine to bolster the US and NATO forces already there. The Saber was acting as the eyes and ears for elements of the 1st Armored Division, which was arriving in Ukraine today. They were also the tripwire, in case hostilities did break out. They had been ordered the day before to advance to Kononivka and take up an observation position. The Russians had units stationed throughout the Poltavs'ka Oblast or region which placed them within forty miles of the Pryluky Airbase.
A mosquito buzzed by Luke’s ear, and he swiftly swung his hand to swat it against the side of his neck. As he looked around their position, he could smell the dirt and tree bark as the sun began to creep over the horizon. The rain had finally tapered off a couple of hours ago, after soaking them for the last sixteen hours. The weather had made the transit to their current position more covert as the sound of the raindrops hid their movement, but it also made identifying their observation post difficult.
“Six days,” thought Luke, “I can’t believe we have already been in Ukraine for six days. Here we are at the demarcation line, potentially facing off against the Russians who have taken up residence in eastern Ukraine as ‘peace-keepers.’ I remember all of those old stories Dad used to tell me about being stationed along the Fulda Gap during the height of the Cold War, with thousands upon thousands of tanks ready to roll across the border. I wonder if he’d be proud to know that forty years later, I’m sitting across from a Russian tank unit that might roll across my position.”
SFC Luke Childers was the Second Platoon Sergeant for Nemesis Troop. He had 46 soldiers he was responsible for, and one 2nd Lieutenant to mentor into hopefully becoming a great officer and military leader. His father would have been proud to see his son serving his country, if he hadn’t passed away in his fifties from a heart attack.
Nemesis Troop advanced to a small copse of trees, not far from the main highway where they also had a good commanding view of the E40 highway, which led to Kiev. If the Russians were going to launch an attack towards Kiev, they would have to pass through this area.
Once they had arrived at their position, the platoon immediately began to get their positions ready. They dug several fighting positions, setup camouflage netting for the vehicles and posted two listening posts on the far sides of each flank. In addition to the anti-tank missiles on the Stryker’s, they also had four Javelin launcher positions setup in the tree line. Their battalion commander had also assigned four soldiers from the Forward Support Troop which provided them with direct access to the regiment’s Paladin self-propelled 155mm artillery battalion. The forward observers immediately began to plot several pre-positioned artillery plots so if the Russians did show up, all they had to do was radio in the pre-determined positions which was significantly faster than trying to plot the enemy positions while under fire.
As the fog began to clear with the rising of the sun, Sergeant Childers thought he heard something, a soft sound of engines starting up in the distance. Suddenly, the birds in the trees down in the valley below them took to the air. “The noise came from a thicket about two kilometers in front of our position,” thought Luke. “Something scared those birds.”