And all this done secretly. The staff work alone had been a masterpiece of subterfuge, involving the setting up of a shadow HQ well away from this one. And all drawn from ex-staff officers he had combed out of the punishment battalions. At least forty senior staff officers had been found in the ranks of those outfits, and with them all the clerks, mapmakers and Intelligence staff he could want.
The secrecy so essential to his plan had been guaranteed by using those men. He had made their lives better, guaranteed they would indeed live longer than they would in the ranks of the penal battalions. An offer none had been able to refuse.
And the closest anyone had got to spoiling all that had been the dolt Pritkov, stumbling across a piece of paper that should not have even been here, let alone where he could find it. Too late for him to do any harm now though, Zucharnins’ men and their captive shield were on the march. By the end of the day he would have achieved the breakthrough that the High Command had been so eager to see but were too stupid to manage them selves.
Time after time they had forced him, usually before he was ready, to throw his division against the NATO defences of the cities. And that with second rate, reserve and untrained infantry, mostly with minimal armoured support. Such attacks went against the doctrines that had made the Russian army so successful in the Second World War. Cities swallowed army’s, diluted any assault until instead of progressing many kilometres every day a full strength division of fourteen thousand men would regard another couple of streets captured as good progress in the same twenty-four hours.
He wished he could be with that first assault wave. He could picture it. The sky torn by sheets of flame as the rocket salvos roared overhead. The dashing scout cars hurling forward to unleash their anti-tank rockets against NATO tanks and bunkers and the battle taxis exploiting every hole in the defences, dropping their troops to tackle difficult objectives. And at the heart of the attack the giant 152 and 210mm tracked assault guns blasting any strong-points.
Best of all, his infantry moving forward, propelling the lines of refugees before them and all that with virtually no fire being returned, the NATO forces falling back, abandoning everything, unable to retaliate for fear of slaughtering the ranks of the civilians.
For them it would be a death march. To keep them going the Russian troops would show no mercy.
The infantry and the accompanying refugees had traversed only a third of the way to the NATO line and already there was the crackle of gunfire as mopping up parties shot those who couldn’t, or wouldn’t keep up. Many of the people were wearing shoes never intended to be more than fashion accessories. As their footwear disintegrated so they began to hobble and finally to collapse with the pain inflicted by thorns and stones. The quick-witted tore off an item of clothing and wrapped strips around their bleeding soles. More slumped down, sat and waited as the sound of gunfire came nearer.
Old people suffered first, and the most. Unable to keep up they gradually fell back through the marching ranks until they were caught and killed by the military police units.
Linda carried one child on her back, dragged another two by their hands or their clothes, what ever it took to keep them moving and ahead of the trailing killers. She had risked falling back through the first twenty or thirty ranks from their original position near the front. Now they were in the midst of the Russian soldiers and she worked hard to ensure they lost no more ground.
Many of the civilians had not benefited from the tons of food delivered the previous day. A huge quantity, it had still not gone far among the mass of refugees. The younger men, the thugs, crooks and black marketers had grabbed a disproportionate amount, taking whole cases of canned goods that would have fed several families. The absence of drinking water had been worse. The cans of lemonade and other gassy drinks had only served to make people thirstier and now dehydration was making many ill and the numbers increased rapidly.
She had to drag the children aside as a squadron of armoured personnel carriers surged through the ranks close by. Their thrashing tracks caught several whose lack of hearing or inattention gave them no warning. It was a terrible sight as bodies were first thrown down and then lifted and smeared against the armour by the thrashing tracks.
Most sprouted weapons, from ports down their sides, from squat turrets with stubby guns surmounted by missiles and with heavy anti-aircraft machine guns on the turret tops. In many cases Russian infantry had boarded their hulls and now clung to any projection as they rode in to battle. Frequently they cheered as they saw the remains of run-down victims sprayed out behind them.
The whole was a scene from hell and Linda knew it was going to get worse, far worse.
Admiring himself in the gilded cheval mirror he’d recently had installed in his office Lieutenant General Grigori looked at himself He turned first left and then right, admiring the new uniform. How he longed to have the new insignia sewn on. He knew he would be able to do so soon enough, but in the meantime he had to cultivate patience, still more patience. It was only a matter of time before General Zucharnin would do something to put himself in serious disfavour with the Kremlin and then he would get his step up to command the front, his long deserved promotion.
Captain Pritkov was announced by his clerk and Gregori grunted, indicating for him to enter. This was annoying, the boy seemed to be forever running to him with valueless snippets of gossip. Usually he had already heard them from elsewhere anyway, but it didn’t do to discourage him. Who was to know when he just might come up with something really useful?
“General Grigori. There is something I think you should know.”
“Calm down, get your breath first.” Good God, the fool had been running. By so flagrantly drawing attention was he trying to get a fresh line of gossip going? One that would not be to his advantage. “So what is so urgent.”
“This.” With a trembling hand Pritkov held out a sheaf of crumpled type written papers.
With an experienced eye Gregori flicked through the sheets and offered them back.” What of it. It’s a summary of recent supplies to some units, likely an infantry division”
“It don’t exist.” Pritkov could not keep the excitement out of his voice. “This information came by mistake to Head Quarters. It should have gone to HQ in the Bayreuth district.”
“Don’t be silly. All we have up there are some worn out infantry battalions undergoing training and being bought up to strength. They don’t even have an HQ of their own, they are run from here. If they were run as in independent command it could be done with one staff officer and a couple of sober clerks. If you could find them.” Grigori smiled, pleased with his little joke. “You think some one is opening a large black market cash and carry?”