“At your command, Vladimir Vladimirovich.” The Defense Minister bowed his head as he said it.
Komarov gathered up his papers. “I’ll work the briefing into your program for tomorrow morning. I also suggest we warn this group for an on-call meeting to review developments once the plan is initiated.”
“Agreed. And I’ll see you in the gym this evening. Now, I have a helicopter to catch.”
1100 hours, Wednesday, May 10, 2017
“SIT DOWN, PLEASE.”
General Sir David McKinlay, the Deputy Supreme Allied Commander Europe, or DSACEUR as he was called, entered the conference room with a pronounced limp. A gray-haired Scot, he proudly wore the distinctive Lovat Green trousers of the Royal Marines with his shirtsleeve order. He might be a four-star general, but the vagaries of the British military system meant he continued to wear his Royal Marine uniform, much to the confusion of his allies. Indeed, he recalled with amusement the Portuguese general who had asked him, on the day he had replaced a crimson-trousered cavalryman, if British generals were allowed to invent their own uniform. Vive la difference, he thought as he looked around the room, and McKinlay certainly did not fit the usual mold for such a senior British general.
He had come up the hard way and was commissioned from the ranks. A former Navy rugby prop forward, he was mustachioed, bulky, if not a touch overweight—but battle-hardened as befitted a veteran commando. He looked older than his fifty-seven years and spoke with more than a hint of his native Falkirk accent. He was a man who saw things as they were and unless there was a compelling reason otherwise, and those instances were rare, he believed it was usually better for everyone in the long run if he told it as it was.
After over two years in post at Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe, known as SHAPE, he had a good feel for the idiosyncratic world of NATO and the political and diplomatic complexities of high command. In addition to that, in common with most senior Royal Marine officers, he had impressive credentials as a commander up to brigade level. Indeed, his two DSOs from Iraq and Afghanistan bore witness to his extensive combat experience, as did the prosthetic he wore to replace his right leg, amputated above the knee as a result of an IED strike in Helmand province ten years earlier.
This morning McKinlay was in the chair for his boss, Admiral Max Howard, the Supreme Allied Commander Europe, the SACEUR. A strong-minded and politically savvy US Navy Admiral, Howard was currently in his personal plane over the Atlantic, en route to a Congressional hearing in Washington. SHAPE’s other four-star general, the Admiral’s Chief of Staff, General Kurt Wittman, a politically well-connected Luftwaffe logistician with no operational experience, had been called back to Berlin. That made McKinlay the senior general there that day and the man on the spot.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, taking his chair at the head of the table, “please proceed.”
But he got no further.
“Excuse me, sir.” Group Captain Jamie Swinton, his Principal Staff Officer, or PSO, was at his shoulder. “We’ve just had a call from SACEUR’s comms team. He is still mid-air, but wants to talk to you immediately. We’ve fixed up for you to take a call on the Tandberg VTC in your office in five minutes.”
“Thanks, Jamie. I’ll be with you right away. Ladies and gentlemen, I do apologize and I know how much work has gone into preparing this briefing. Please proceed, Skip,” he said, turning to Major General Skip Williams, the Deputy Chief of Staff, Operations, a crew-cut, hawk-faced, athletic-looking young American major general, who wore the Screaming Eagle insignia of the 101st Airborne Division as the combat patch on the shoulder of his battle fatigues. “You take over and backbrief me later.”
“Sure thing, Sir,” said Williams.
With that McKinlay stood up and stumped out of the room with the Group Captain.
Five minutes later, he was back in his office and seated behind the desk installed by the very first DSACEUR, Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery. His Royal Air Force PA, Sergeant Lorna Bevan, first brought him a mug of the Scottish Breakfast tea to which he was addicted, and then ensured that the American-provided Tandberg secure VTC—Video Teleconference—system was up and running and that he was connected to SACEUR’s comms team.
“Dave, are you receiving me?” Admiral Max Howard’s finely drawn features, the thoughtful face of an Ivy League historian rather than a war-fighting admiral, filled the screen. “Things are moving fast in Ukraine and we may lose comms, so I’ll be brief.”
“Go ahead, SACEUR,” said McKinlay.
“Dave, I’ve just heard from my European Command HQ that a group of Americans are missing in Kharkiv. They were part of the training team sent to support the Ukrainian army and it looks as if they have been kidnapped by Russian Special Forces. We expect the Russians to put them on TV any moment now, claiming that they are US Special Forces, captured after crossing the Ukrainian border into Russia. Even worse, it looks as if one of them was killed trying to escape.”
“Hell, this is bad news,” responded McKinlay.
“It is. I’ve tried to brief the NATO Sec Gen,[2] but I can’t get through to either him or the Chairman of the Military Committee.[3] At present this is a US-only issue, but we can expect the Russians to claim it is evidence of NATO aggression.”
“I’ll get on to the Chairman of the Military Committee soonest and be ready to brief Sec Gen… But it would be useful to know the US line.”
“I’ve talked to the White House,” said Howard. “The President has accepted my advice that we show strength and, in fact, is all for going on the front foot. I hear the Brits are talking about pulling out their trainers, but the US is not going to back down in the face of Russian provocation like this.
“I’ve persuaded the President that the US should not overreact, but we will provide reconnaissance and surveillance top cover for all trainers deployed in the field in support of the Ukrainians as protection for our people. We’ve also agreed pretty robust defensive rules of engagement. More than that, the White House is tasking the US Permanent Representative to put a motion to the North Atlantic Council, the NAC. We want to agree a NATO training mission to Ukraine to demonstrate Alliance solidarity in response to this Russian attack on US soldiers. I want you to be ready to brief the concept and planning we’ve already discussed.”
“Roger to that, SACEUR. I’ll talk to the Chairman of the Military Committee now and will also touch base with the US ambassador before the NAC meeting.”
“Thanks, Dave. I’ll aim to get back just as soon as I’ve testified over—”
And with that the screen went blank as communications were lost.
Group Captain Swinton, who had been monitoring the call from a remote set, stepped into the office. “Sir, I understand the news has got through to Brussels and the Sec Gen has called an emergency NAC meeting this afternoon at 1400. They’re expecting you to brief the training mission plan. The planning team are stood by now to take you through the briefing they’ve prepared.
“Sec Gen and the Chairman of the Military Committee would like to see you at 1330 for a chat before the NAC. Sergeant Jones is stood by with the car and police escort for 1230. And we’ll make sure there’s a sandwich in the car.”
2
The NATO Secretary General (Sec Gen): invariably a distinguished international figure who is responsible for leading the North Atlantic Council (NAC), the decision-making body of NATO, coordinating the effective working of the Alliance and leading the NATO staff. The current incumbent and his predecessor are both former prime ministers of their respective nations.
3
The Chairman of the Military Committee (CMC) is NATO’s senior military officer and the principal military adviser to the Secretary General and the North Atlantic Council. He also directs the daily business of the Military Committee, a body made up of senior officers from all NATO members and responsible for providing advice on military policy and strategy.