The plan that his staff had prepared for the next day's operation pleased Uvarov immensely. Frustrated after a pointless and totally nonproductive visit to the Libyans' Cyrenaica headquarters, Uvarov had stormed into his operations center and sat on his stool, speaking to no one, gazing only at the map board.
Unlike the map he had studied in the Libyan command post, the one before Uvarov sang to him like a well-composed piece of music. The neat, curved lines, arrows, circles, and symbols danced an eloquent ballet across the face of northern Libya. With the timing of a master choreographer, the operations officer had managed to bring together the various components of the army, synchronizing them, combining them, blending them into a composition that flowed from their assembly areas around Al Gardabah to the sea at Al Burdi. Though musicians would blast his comparison of the operations overlay before him with the work of Tchaikovsky, the work of his staff sang to him in a way only a professional soldier would understand and appreciate.
In a few hours the Soviet 24th Tank Corps and one Cuban motorized rifle division, the 8th Division, would begin to move along two separate routes. The other Cuban division would remain in place to play a role in the deception plan. More to the point, however, was the fact that there was insufficient motor transportation available to the front to keep more than the tank corps and one division supplied. Crossing the line of departure at exactly 0700 hours the next morning, the tank corps would move in a bell formation, one tank brigade in the lead and on each flank. The center of the bell would be occupied by the motorized rifle brigade, followed by the artillery battalion and supply column. Further to the south and a little behind, the Cuban division would do likewise.
By striking well to the south, Uvarov could bypass Egyptian units protecting the flank of the main Egyptian force while keeping his forces uncommitted. This, combined with a steady pace, would allow the Egyptians to see the danger and move. Uvarov hoped, and expected, they would move east, back across the border. If they did, he would pursue, but at a respectable distance and without pressure. What an accomplishment, he thought, to be able to achieve your objective without fighting. The epitome of the master stroke.
Uvarov's operations officer, however, was also a realist. The plan included contingencies operations that would allow Uvarov to wheel the tank corps due north toward Tobruk and into the Egyptian rear if the Egyptians decided to stand fast. Another option would allow the tank corps to drive for the sea and cut off any Egyptian units that decided to stay in Libya. Though he had no intention of doing so if it could be helped, Uvarov's front was prepared to fight.
From behind him a hand came down, holding a cup of tea. Twisting his head and looking up, he saw Neboatov. Smiling, Uvarov took the tea. "You are fast becoming an adept aide. Again I have been blessed with the right man at the right time."
Neboatov smiled. "Comrade General, I must confess. Your aide is a coward."
Uvarov turned in his seat, then motioned for Neboatov to sit next to him in a chair where the chief of staff normally sat. When he was comfortable, Uvarov leaned forward. "So what is so special about you? I am also a coward."
Neboatov watched the general as he sipped his tea.
Uvarov let his thought hang for a moment, then continued. "Look — look at that plan." Uvarov waved his right hand at the map without breaking eye contact with Neboatov. "That, my good major, is the plan of a coward. I have no intention of fighting the Egyptians."
Neboatov looked at the general, then the map, then back at the general.
Uvarov continued. "If I can do my duty without fighting, I will do so. We all, in our hearts, pray that we can do that. Deep down in each of us is a coward striving to get out."
Seeing that the general was really talking to him, Neboatov let go. "Last night, when I came in, I was finished. I knew that if you told me to go out there again, with another unit, ours or a Libyan, I wouldn't be able to. Even now I don't think I could. I have been too lucky. Too many of my men and friends have died at my feet. I do not want to join them. If you had told me to go, I would have refused, consequences be damned."
Uvarov smiled. It was an understanding smile, like one a father gave his son. "No man is expected to be a hero every day. No soldier is expected to willingly march into every battle ready to die. We are not like that. The party and the state can demand that we close with and destroy the enemy, but they cannot take our hearts and minds out of our bodies. No, Major, you are not a coward. You are only a man who had been asked to do more than any man should. In time, your wounds will heal. They will leave scars, but in your own time you will heal and be ready to do what you know is right." Uvarov paused and straightened up in his seat. "I make it a habit of picking only the best men to serve me. You are no exception." ^ Uvarov stood up; Neboatov jumped up at his side. "Now, if you would be so kind as to refill my cup. Then, tell the chief of staff that I want one last update on the enemy situation before we turn in for a few hours' sleep." Neboatov had turned to accomplish his tasks when Uvarov stopped him. "And Major, see if you can find some cakes to go with our tea."
Chapter 13
Paradise is under the shadow of our swords. Forward.
Standing in the door of the communications van, the commander of the 2nd Rocket Battalion looked at his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. Except for the soft glow of critical gauges and indicators, the van was as dark as the surrounding night. Looking up at the black, predawn darkness, the Libyan major couldn't even see the camouflage net that covered the van less than five meters from where he stood. Letting his arm slowly fall to his side, he was glad that it was almost over. Timing, this morning, was everything. The Soviet Cosmos reconnaissance satellite was just dropping over the horizon to the east. It would be thirty-five minutes before the American KH-14 surveillance began to move over the horizon from the west. Though the satellite wouldn't be able to stop the major from accomplishing his mission, the chief of artillery and rocket troops had stressed the importance of deploying, launching, and dispersing without being observed by anyone. Even if the major didn't understand the reasoning, he understood the order. And it was time to execute it.
Moving back into the van, the major closed and secured the door, then turned on the red light. To a young lieutenant sitting at the communications console, he gave the order to move the transporter-erector-launchers, or TELs, into position. Standing behind him, he watched and listened as the lieutenant picked up the phone and turned the hand crank. The lieutenant listened for the three firing battery commanders to respond. Each firing battery controlled four TELs, each TEL having one SS-21 surface-to-surface missile. When the commander of a firing battery came up on the line, the lieutenant in the van told him to stand by for orders. When all the commanders were on the line, the lieutenant issued the order to deploy and prepare to launch. He then held the line until the commanders, in sequence, had acknowledged. Finished, the lieutenant replaced the phone into its cradle, turned to the major, and reported that all missile sections had been notified of the order, had acknowledged, and were complying.