He went over to the command JSU, he needed to radio back quickly, the GRU battlefield intelligence people needed to look at this bunker as soon as they could get here. Meanwhile there was another block to be attacked and counter attacks to be driven off. The work of a Frontniki never ended.
Parliament House, Canberra ACT, Australia
The staff were good, quiet and discreet. They'd brought a buffet meal in without disturbing the meeting and made sure everything was in order. Drinks had been served, the food was suitable - there was even a cheesecake for the Thai Ambassador. But even the staff were being distracted by the television news showing the Russian assault on Kalmykia - or New Schwabia as the German occupiers called it. It was a mark of how the world was changing as well; the newsreel footage was barely 12 hours old. The Russians had flown it straight from the front for distribution to the rest of the world, to show that the liberation of the last stretch of their homeland was in progress. Also to show them the price Russians were prepared to pay for the defense of their homeland.
Being able to watch a battle while it was still in progress was a new experience. Sir Martyn Sharpe didn't fully grasp what he was seeing; he was a politician and an economist, not a soldier. Prime Minister Joe Frye was better placed, he'd served as a ranker in the Australian Army and he was appalled by the way the Russians were paying with flesh and blood to chew through the concrete and steel of the German defense line. The Ambassador was watching with the calculating interest of a professional soldier evaluating the military of another country.
“How do they do it Ma'am?” Sir Martyn was almost afraid to ask, as if the answer would transfer him into the images on the screen. “How does anybody do it? How did you do it?”
“This is why it is wise to have men as soldiers Sir Martyn. One day, there comes a time when we have to run straight at a machine gun, and it is best to have those around who think that is a good idea.”
“Oh.” Then a long pause “Ohhhhh.” As the meaning sank in. The Ambassador's eccentric ideas on feminism sometimes took a little getting used to.
“How would I do this? Much the same way I think. There are not so many options in trying to break through defenses like this. The Americans would, of course, drop a number of their atomic bombs on such a line and remove it from the earth but we do not have that choice. The Germans have had twelve years to build that defense line and breaking it will be costly no matter how it is done. A more interesting question is what Model plans to do about this. He has many options and none of them are very good.”
The television news ceased showing the film from the Russian battles and switched to domestic news. The lead was, of course the funeral of Sir Gregory Locock and the other victims of the Hood bombing. The Ambassador briefly wondered what was really in Sir Gregory's coffin then indulged herself in the self-centered luxury of trying to spot herself in the news film. Prime Minister Frye and Sir Martyn were doing the same; television was still enough of a novelty to make the game exciting.
Behind them, the serving staff grinned at the sight of the high and mighty behaving like normal people. The film switched to shots of the three Indian warships in Melbourne. They had their foremast yards slanted to port; the mainmast yards sloped to starboard and lines hanging from them and over the sides. The newsreader explained that this was called “Scandalizing the Rig” a mark of the deepest mourning and respect. He noted the last time this had been done was when the death of Queen Victoria had been announced almost sixty years earlier.
With the novelty of the television news over, the meeting resumed. The funeral of Prime Minister Locock had provided an admirable excuse for a quiet, low-key meeting of the three. There was due to be a public conference of the heads of state; President Nehru of India, General Sarit of Thailand and the Australian President in a few days time which promised to be a complex and difficult period of negotiations. Therefore, it was wise for the three people present today to decide on the eventual outcome before it all started. The Ambassador elegantly licked crumbs of cheesecake off her fingers.
“I have some good news I think. Over the last few days there have been a series of attacks on our border villages near Burma. None of the attacks were successful, although the villagers have taken casualties defending themselves. In passing, Prime Minister, we would like to buy some more of the excellent water-buffalo you are now breeding here. Those villages lost heavily in the attacks and their water buffalo are an important part of village life. Sadly they were very vulnerable to mortar fire.”
“There will be no need to buy them Ma'am. Your villagers lost their friends, family and possessions fighting on behalf of us all. The least Australia can do in return is to donate the livestock needed to replace their losses.”
The Ambassador nodded in grateful acknowledgement “We learned many things from these incidents. Almost all the weapons we captured are Japanese supplied and are quite modern.
Although the attackers claim to be the Shan States Army, we have inspected the dead and have reason to believe many are Japanese regular troops. We have taken prisoners and their interrogation leads us to think that some are Burmese nationalists, others are Chinese. Our LLRP forces tracked the retreating enemy units across the Border in Burma and then, sometimes, as far back as China. So, we have a positive identification on our enemy now.
“More good news is that the Japanese themselves appear to have an insurgency problem. Their attempt to take over Vietnam and Laos has not met with local support and attacks on Japanese possessions and personnel are growing. An organization called the Vietnamese People's Liberation Army is claiming responsibility for these attacks.”
All three were smiling, they were well aware that the VPLA was a Thai-run counter-guerilla operation.
“The Japanese have made matters worse by installing a brainless dolt named Nguyen Tat Thanh as their puppet ruler there. The man is a doctrinaire communist and is determined to force his ideology on the local population; I believe he is very unpopular.”
Idly Sir Martyn wondered if that meant Nguyen Tat Thanh, whoever he was, had already met with a regrettable accident or was about to depart the world in some other manner. Then he remembered his first lesson in the ghastly business of revolutionary warfare, kill the competent, allow the incompetent to live. Nguyen Tat Thanh would be safe.
“The bad news is that the insurgency effort in Burma has been much more successful than in our country. There are areas of the North where the SSA is in virtual control. We believe the time is approaching when they will ask the Japanese for assistance in maintaining peace and security. And that will, of course, lead to a Japanese occupation.”
The Ambassador reached out and helped herself to another slice of cheesecake while Sir Martyn rolled the thought around in his mind. “The best option would be for us to get in first would it not? To have our own peacekeeping force there so that there is no excuse for Japanese intervention.”
Frye picked up the idea and ran with it. “Sir Martyn, Madam Ambassador, May I make a suggestion? It would be foolish to deny that the assassination of Prime Minister Locock was intended to cause a rift between Australia and the rest of the Triple Alliance. What better way to show the world, and those who planned that appalling crime, that they have failed by sending an Australian peace-keeping force to Burma? Say, a division of troops, maybe two.
“That would provide a telling demonstration that we will not bend the knee to terrorists nor allow them to dictate our national policy. Madam Ambassador, how urgent is this matter? How much time do we have?”