Arctic Wind

Chapter 15 Decisions

Ivan Olevski, President of Belarus, stared at the messages in his hands. The Allies were now at the border with Belarus and the Swiss Ambassador had brought a message from the Allied leaders asking what his intentions were. “Allied forces are now at your border. We do not desire to bring the war to your country; however, we are ready to do so. If you wish for Belarus to be a neutral in this war, all Russian troops must leave. Any desiring to surrender, may do so, however those desiring to continue fighting have two days to leave Belarus before we enter. Allied forces will enter the country beginning in forty eight hours. The Allied nations are at war with Russia. Our intentions are to cross your country in this effort. Your decision will determine if we come through as friends or as enemies. Please relay your decision via the Swiss delegation,” he read aloud.

He lifted the other message and also read it. “This one is from Borodin. ‘Nothing is to be left which may benefit the Allies. Burn and destroy everything in their path. Your troops must help your fellow Russians holding the line against the aggressors,’” he read. Olevski threw the message on the floor. “The fool thinks he’s Stalin. Of course he wants to bring back scorched earth, because it’s our earth that will be scorched. He started this war and wants our citizens to pay for it,” he spat. He turned to his defense minister. “Do they have any chance of turning this around?” he asked.

The Defense Minister shook his head. “The way I see it, there is none. They are getting desperate. Look at this,” he said handing over a small device.

“What is this?” Olevski asked.

“It is a dosimeter. It’s used to measure radiation. They have started handing these out to all the troops,” he said. “It can only mean one thing.”

Olevski looked at the device in horror. “Scorched earth. Only in this case he’s ready to ignite a whole world. This has made up my mind.” He turned to the Swiss delegate. “Thank you for bringing this to us. Please let the Allied commanders know Belarus is neutral and will not oppose their advance through our nation. Please ask if they can send a delegation to discuss things further with us,” he said.

I will be happy to do so,” said the delegate. Please feel free to use our consulate in anything that can bring about peace,” he said as he shook Olevski’s hand and left the room.

Olevski turned to his Defense Minister again. “Get with your people. Make sure our people are ready. Then inform our Russian troops they must either surrender to the Allies or leave Belarus within forty eight hours. But offer this as an alternative. They can transfer to Belarus control and become a part of our army if they desire. That may be a better alternative than either surrender or continuing the fight,” he said.

Olevski looked back at the others. “Now let us send a response to our former Russian friends,” he said.

“Neutral?” cried Borodin. “He has lost his mind!” he screamed. “Where are our troops?”

“They have told them to leave Belarus within forty eight hours. We want them to stay, of course, but if they do, the Belarusian Army will begin attacking us as invaders. We don’t have the men to retake Belarus and keep the Allies back,” said General Alexev. “On the other hand, bringing our troops back to our borders will give us more time to get ready for this thrust. Even if we must use our weapons in Belarus, it should not delay us much in the long term. Let them come back. It will take time for the Allies to come through and time is something of value to us,” he said. “When the weapons go off, our men will be rested and ready to move to France,” he said.

Borodin thought for a minute. The use of their tactical nuclear arms in Belarus would be fit punishment for this betrayal. “I agree. They will learn not to betray their allies,” he said.

“Thank God,” said Hammond. “This just gave us several hundreds of miles of advance without casualties,” he said. “Now what’s this other information they shared with us?”

“Sir, the Russians are handing out these to all their troops,” the Swill delegate said as he handed over the small device.

General Pol recognized it immediately. “It’s a radiation dosimeter!” he exclaimed. “They don’t hand these out unless they are planning to use nuclear weapons!”

Hammond hung his head. “You’re sure?”

Pol held it up and looked through it. “There’s no doubt. Roger, we need to find out if they are distributing these across the entire front or only one place.”

“I was told it was everywhere in Belarus,” said the delegate.

“What can we do about this?” Pol asked.

Hammond thought for a moment. “We let the world know what we know,” he said. Walking over the communications center, Hammond got in front of one of the satellite sets and punched in a number. In a few seconds, a face appeared.

“White House Center, Major Jackson.”

“Major, this is Admiral Hammond, I need to speak to the Boss.”

Jackson recognized Hammond on the screen. “Hang on, Admiral. I’ll let the President know you are on the line,” Jackson said. He left the screen and Hammond looked over the device in his hand. In a few minutes the President sat down in front of the camera. “What’s up, Roger?”

“It’s serious. You ever see one of these?” Hammond asked as he raised the dosimeter in his hand toward the camera.

“Can’t say as I have. What is it?”

“According to General Pol, it’s a Russian dosimeter. He says they would only distribute these if they were expecting a nuclear attack. Since we aren’t planning one, it only means they are. I am told it is being distributed all across Belarus,” Hammond said.

“Damn! How can we protect our troops from something like this?” asked the President.

“That’s why I called. I think we fight this in the world court,” he said.

“The court in the Hague would take forever, we…”

“No, not that court. I mean the world media. What if we let them know about this. We let everyone know what is about to happen. Include Radio Free Europe and Voice of America. The world backlash would be tremendous. It may even trigger a response in Russia itself,” Hammond explained.

The President thought a moment. “I think you’re right. When do you want to do this?”

“Let’s do it now. We don’t have time to waste. For all we know they may be detonating one as we speak,” Hammond said.

“Then why not right now? I’ll get the Press Corps in the Media Center. I can introduce you and you tell them what we know. I’m sure they can take it from there,” the President said.

“I’m ready. Might want to let Howie know so he can be there plus anyone else handy.”

The President turned to someone off camera and began barking orders. In minutes Hammond was put on hold while they transferred his call to the media’s briefing room upstairs. It took ten minutes to get the men and women gathered up and ready and to alert the media outlets that there was an important message coming from the White House.

Precisely five minutes later the President walked to the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming on such short notice, but it has come to our attention that the Russians are about to escalate this war. I have asked Admiral Hammond to speak to you about this,” he said.

The television screen came to life and Admiral Hammond looked out over the people in the press room. He held up the dosimeter. “This is a pocket dosimeter. It is used by Russian troops to measure how much radiation they receive in a nuclear attack. It is currently being distributed to every soldier on the Russian front.” There were gasps in the room.

“To us, this indicates that the Russians are planning to possibly use tactical nuclear weapons in the European Theater of Operations. It has been the policy of the United States never to use such weapons, however, we have also maintained that if such weapons were used against us, we had the right to retaliate with our own weapons of mass destruction. This is not something that the Allies desire to happen, however if the Russians use them, we may have no choice. We all deplore the use of such weapons and I can assure you that the Allies will never be the ones to initiate their use. We urge the Russian government to rethink what they are doing and to keep such weapons in their bunkers. If deployed, the consequences could be catastrophic for them and the Russian people,” Hammond concluded.

The President stepped forward again. “This information was received only minutes ago. My staff is even now contacting Allied leaders to let them know of what we feel is a dire circumstance. We are hoping that the world population will join us in deploring this action. To the Russian people, we are sharing this with you so that you know how serious this is and can do something about it. The consequences may be more than anyone can bear.”

“Mister President, does this mean they will use strategic missiles against us?” asked a reporter.

“We don’t know. Anyone thinking about using nuclear weapons in any form could be capable of almost anything,” the President said.

“Admiral Hammond, what are you doing to protect our troops?”

“There’s not much we can do. I have ordered the distribution of our nuclear, biologic and chemical gear, but that only goes so far. Coming to you is our best defense. The world needs to know what is happening and you are the best means for this. Please let everyone know. We hope this may change some minds,” Hammond said.

The conference lasted only a few minutes more, then with the termination of the signal, Hammond sat back and let out a long breath.

Pol looked at the man. “You think it will work?”

Hammond looked up at him with tired eyes. “Let’s pray it will,”

Marshal Pusko stood before the graduating class for new conscripts. Their training had been cut from eight weeks to just one month. A large number of men and women back from the front had been mixed in so the new conscripts could get a better feel for what they would be up against and prepare themselves. Unfortunately, most of the veterans were in no mood for training, much less taking these green recruits back to the front. Where it was hoped this new idea would inspire the younger recruits, all it did was make them angry and unmotivated.

Pusko stood in the large assembly hall and looked out over the assembled men and women. He could actually care less about their motivation. He needed them at the front, but he felt a rousing speech might help. “Soldiers of the Motherland. You are the pride and hope of our nation. Russia is now engaged in a war against the aggressive efforts of the European allied nations and the United States. They would enslave our Russian peoples and force us to bend to their will. They would sweep in and take away the great heritage and history that is Russia. They would take away from us all the things we have strived to do in our new Russia. But we will not let this happen! You are the ones who will thwart their efforts and aims. Tomorrow you will begin your journey to take back what is ours and preserve the Russia we all know and love. You will join your brothers and sisters in arms to drive the Allies away…”

The shot echoed through the large assembly hall and Pusko suddenly stopped speaking. A growing red stain appeared in the center of his chest as he looked down in amazement. Pusko tried to speak, but nothing but blood came from his lips. He slumped and dropped to the floor as the men on the stage tried to get out of the way. Several more shots were fired and a number of officers on the platform were killed.

Now everyone in the hall began scrambling for the doors. There were screams and shouts as the people stampeded in every direction. Outside, several batches of new conscripts were huddled outside a building when they saw the doors to the assembly hall fly open and people cascade out. Most didn’t stop running. Security police appeared in their vehicles and made their way inside. It was too late. Pusko was dead along with the commanding general of the base and several senior officers. Searching the building, the security teams found nothing except a printed notice urging the soldiers to revolt. Next to it was one of the printed notices of the day’s event. Pusko’s name had been marked through.

The Patriarch looked over the message and let out a sigh. “Evil would destroy the world,” he said softly. He looked up at the young priest who brought the message. “You are sure this has happened?”

The young man nodded. “Yes, Holy Father. It came from someone we trust in the military and has been confirmed by another trusted son. Even the American radio station has been proclaiming it to the world. I believe the Americans are crying out to our people not to let this thing happen,” he said.

The Patriarch nodded. “Please sit, my son,” he said offering a chair. The young priest sat down and noticed the Patriarch go into prayer. He bowed his head and remained silent. After a few minutes the Patriarch stirred. He looked at the priest and saw his questioning face. He then smiled and placed a hand on the young man’s arm. “It is always good to pray before making a decision,” he said. “Now, go and rouse the staff. What you are hearing on the radio, I believe is the voice of God. Our Father is telling us it is time to act. We must get the word to our people. We meet in Moscow Monday next on Red Square. I will be there to lead our flock beginning at nine a.m.,” he said determined. “That should give everyone time to be ready.”

“But Holy Father, they are looking for you,” he said in a concerned manner.

Again the Patriarch smiled. “And they shall find me. The church shall rise up and I will be there with our people,” he said softly. “Now go and make preparations.”

The young priest scurried from the room as Patriarch Gregory sat back and closed his eyes. Once again he felt the warm glow of satisfaction as it coursed through him. God was calling and he and all Russians of Faith would answer that call.

The special trucks pulled into the nuclear weapons storage facility with heavy guards. They were met at the gate and escorted to bunker number 12 where the artillery weapons had been stored. Already the large caliber guns had been sent to the border for use. The shells were the last piece of the plan to blast a corridor through the Allied lines and make their way to the English Channel. The men were tired and on edge. The Allied aircraft were everywhere and none of them even expected to make it this far. Each truck had arrived via a different route to avoid attention. They had been on the road for several days without stop except for fuel. There would still be another 24 hour drive just to get the shells to their destinations.

The arsenal personnel were taking their time. No one ever wanted to handle these weapons. The thought of dropping one was unthinkable, even though their superiors had told them it wouldn’t go off. The first truck backed up to the large heavy steel door and the lift gate was hydraulically lowered. The men stepped back.

Two men went forward with sets of keys to unlock the bunker. First there was a combination lock, which was dialed in, then two men tried to insert their keys. For some reason, the keys wouldn’t fit in the hole. Checking again, the men tried several times, but nothing worked. Upon closer inspection, it appeared there was something in the keyhole itself. One of the men pulled out a small penknife and tried to pry the object out. A small piece of semi-clear plastic chipped off into the man’s hand.

“It’s epoxy,” he exclaimed.

An officer ran forward and examined the chip and the two locks. “We have to get this open,” he said firmly.

“Colonel, this is ten inch thick armored steel. The hinges are on the inside. It would take a welder over a week just to cut through it, much less open these doors. Perhaps we should try another bunker,” one of the men suggested.

The men and trucks went to bunker 23. The same epoxy was in those locks as well. The colonel jumped in his car and went around to all the adjacent bunkers. They too had been epoxied shut. He returned and ordered his men back to the administration building. He called the arsenal at Zhukovka where another stockpile of the shells was stored. After a quick check, they found the same thing had happened there as well. It would be a while before Russia would be able to access its tactical weapons.

The large 8-inch guns used to fire the shells were having their own difficulties. Spring was in the air and the melting snow and rains turned some of the roads into soup. That in itself was not so much of a problem as the people. As the weather had warmed, the people along the borders had decided they needed to leave their homes to escape the coming battles along the border. There was no fuel for their cars or trucks, so they had loaded their belongings onto wooden carts, fashioning them out of whatever rolling stock they had. Like pictures of refugees from the Second World War, the people began filling the streets and highways in long lines headed away from the border. The elderly and small children rode the carts with baggage and a few sticks of furniture while the others walked, pushing the carts along the way. There were so many people they clogged the roads in each direction. Trucks pulling the huge guns had to stop. To leave the road meant getting into the mud and getting bogged down till summer. So the trucks stopped, hoping that by evening, the lines would go away. It didn’t happen. The people didn’t want to get into the mud either, so they camped on the hard surface of the road. Allied planes saw the artillery pieces, but left them alone. They weren’t going anywhere and there was no desire to harm the people fleeing for their lives.

After a week of what the Americans called ‘brainstorming,’ the group elected Petyr to write the manual on drone operations. There was only one problem. Although Petyr had become quite fluent in speaking and reading English, writing a technical manual in the language was a little beyond his capabilities. Instead, he wrote the manual in Polish. The deadline was approaching, so Petyr spent forty eight hours fleshing out the document. By the time he was finished, the manual was some fifty pages long, not including the photos, diagrams and other graphics.

After sending up a request for a translator, a young American was detailed to the office. He didn’t make a great impression. His uniform looked like he had slept in it, and his attitude matched the uniform. Ricks and Petyr had been sitting in the office going over last minute selections for the graphics when the corporal entered the office, slapped down a small stack of books and said, “Okay, I’m your translator. What do you guys need me to do?” You could tell by his attitude that he could care less for the job.

Petyr looked over at Ricks and shrugged. Ricks returned to his work while Petyr motioned toward the computer where the manuscript had been stored. “We need to have this manuscript translated from Polish to English so that it can be distributed to the Allied armies. I need you to get this done by day after tomorrow,” said Petyr.

The corporal looked the document over. “Fifty pages? In two eight hour days? Whose brilliant idea was to write this thing in Polish anyway?” he groused.

Petyr looked at the man. “It makes no difference. Get it done in the time frame we set out,” he said calmly.

The corporal turned in his seat and looked at the screen. “See if he gets it in two days. He’s not even an American,” he muttered under his breath.

Ricks heard the remark and was about to say something when Petyr opened up. He reached down and jerked the seat back so the man was facing him. That was when Ricks found out that Petyr had picked up a lot of extra language while working with the Americans.

“Corporal, I didn’t ask you, I told you. You are talking two eight hour days, well I’ve been writing this shit for forty eight hours straight. So you better have that complete in two days or I’ll shove my boot so far up your ass it will leave in imprint on the back of your tongue,” he growled.

The corporal turned and began working rapidly as Petyr turned and grinned at Ricks. “Now I guess I can go get some sleep,” he said.

Ricks held up his hand. “Hang on a few minutes. A friend of mine is coming down and wants to meet you,” he said.

Petyr’s eyebrows lifted and he gave a tired look. “I may not stay awake.”

There was a knock at the door and Roger Hammond stepped into the room. Both men came to attention and saluted, but Hammond extended his hand to Ricks. “Good to see you, Master Sergeant.”

Hammond turned and saw a stunned look on Petyr’s face. He smiled and extended his hand to him as well. “You must be Sergeant Kursov,” he said. “We’ve been hearing a lot about you.”

Petyr shook his hand, still too stunned to speak. “Yes, sir, I’m Petyr Kursov,” he stammered.

“Thanks for working so hard on this project. Have you met General Pol?”

Pol had followed Hammond into the room. He was gratified to see a very professional looking young man standing before him. “Sergeant Kursov, you have made the Army of Poland proud,” he said.

“Me?”

Pol almost laughed. “You’ve turned out to be one of the best people we have in the drone program. You have been an effective leader and have come up with a number of innovations on the use of military drones. We especially like your ideas on taking prisoners. I hope you got that down in your operations manual,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” said Petyr.

“Good. Now, while the Admiral and Master Sergeant talk, let’s sit down for a few minutes,” Pol said. He led Petyr to the opposite side of the room and sat in two seats. “Sergeant, I know you have only just turned eighteen, but I was wondering if you had plans for after the war,” Pol said quietly.

“Well, sir, I wanted to go to the university. I am interested in biology, but after all I’ve been through I am thinking more about becoming a doctor. After all this killing, I feel like I need to do some healing to make up for it,” Petyr said.

“That is a fine thing,” said Pol, “but might you be interested in staying in the Army? We might be interested in making you an officer.”

“I’m not sure, sir. I appreciate the offer, but I also have someone I want to marry. I don’t know if I could give my career the kind of attention I have to give it now.”

Pol smiled. That was an answer far above a mere sergeant. “Just remember that in peacetime, the work is not nearly as intense. Besides, the Polish Army has doctors too. Think about it and let me know. If you decide to stay, I can make sure all your education is taken care of,” he said.

“I appreciate that, sir.”

Pol reached into his pocket. He handed over two rank insignia for Technical Sergeant. “Now put these on. You are doing an amazing job. When this is over, come and we will talk,” he said with a smile.

Petyr stared at the two stripes on the insignia. He was already far above what he thought he would achieve. This would mean more authority and more pay — something that would come in handy when he returned home. “Thank you, General. I wasn’t expecting this, but I really do appreciate it.”

“You do our nation proud, Sergeant. I am glad to have you with us,” Pol said.

The two got up and went back over to Hammond and Ricks who were joking about past experiences. Hammond looked up and grinned. “General, are you ready?”

Pol nodded and Hammond and Ricks stood. Pol turned to Petyr. “Come to attention,” he said.

Hammond came forward and produced a rectangular box from his uniform pocket. “Sergeant Petyr Kursov. It is my distinct honor to make this presentation to you on behalf of your native Poland. For conspicuous service in the war against Russia, Poland awards you the Meritorious Service Medal. You are being singled out for your unwavering devotion to duty, skills demonstrated in a new kind of warfare, namely ground support drone operations, your superb abilities in leadership and your ability to grasp difficult situations and find intelligent and unique solutions in stressful combat situations. You have earned the admiration and respect of your superiors and fellow soldiers alike. Your actions are consistent with the highest standards of the Polish Army. We congratulate you on a job extremely well done,” Hammond said as he pinned the medal on Petyr’s chest. “In case you are wondering, your recommendation for this medal came from the officers over you, not just because you are the friend of this guy over here,” he said nodding towards Ricks. “When General Pol told me about you, I asked if I could make the presentation myself. I am proud to have you serving with me,” he said as the two turned to pose for a photograph.

After a few more pleasantries, Hammond and Pol left the room to return to their headquarters in the next building. Petyr sat in a chair and looked at the medal on his chest. In a moment he looked up at a grinning Ricks. “But I didn’t do anything special,” he said.

“Oh yes you did. I remember when we got started and you jumped right in, helping when needed and teaching some of the slower trainees so they would be ready. I remember you making suggestions along the way to make things run a little better. I remember watching as you led platoons of people into densely packed areas and clearing them out for our troops to follow up. I watched as you worked with others who were having problems dealing with what we were doing. These are things a much more senior person might do. They are things even officers do. These kinds of things get noticed. I noticed them and I know the Colonel noticed since he often mentioned them to me. That’s why I ask you for help. That’s why I like hanging around with you. You are special, Pete. Don’t worry about it, just keep doing it,” he said. “Now, the Admiral just told me about a great seafood place. If you can hold off sleep for another hour, we’ll go eat a bite, then you can sleep for three days if you want.”

Petyr laughed. He shook his head. “It’s too much to take in. It’s also got me wired up. Let’s go eat,” he said.

Ricks slapped him on the shoulder and led the young man out the door.

Borodin sat down opposite Marshal Phillipe Andropov and studied the man. After Pusko’s assassination, Andropov had been the unanimous choice to be his replacement. He had never been one of Borodin’s insiders and he had a reputation of being totally honest, but he also had a reputation of getting a job done. Borodin needed that now more than anything. A drink was offered, but declined. Borodin had forgotten that the man didn’t drink at all. He might not have even been Borodin’s choice, but he needed the Army support and Andropov was their favorite. It helped that his great grandfather had once been the head of the Soviet Union. He sat, resplendent in his uniform as Borodin looked through his service files. “Your record is impressive, Marshal Andropov. I appreciate you wanting to meet with me privately so that we can get acquainted,” Borodin said.

“As leader of our nation you deserve to know your commanders so that you will know how we might act and how we may serve. In this case, I also wanted to tell you of some of my concerns. That way you can understand my reasoning,” Andropov said calmly.

“I understand fully and hope we can agree on a course of action for this war. As you know, my orders continue to be to advance our army at any cost to the English Channel and to assimilate all of Europe under our control. Are you ready to carry this out?” asked Borodin.

“I will always follow the orders of the head of our government,” said Andropov with a grin. “I still have grave concerns, which I am sure you also carry. At the present time, I am afraid we may not be able to achieve our goals. The technology of the Allies has been extremely troublesome. Our troops are frightened of their drones. I ordered the issue of shotguns to some of the troops to attempt to down some of these drones, but it would have to get very close for this and so far this has been ineffective. When we use automatic rifles we get some success, but because they use them in teams, we may get one, but another will kill the shooter before we can get another. At night it is impossible. The Allied aircraft and ships appear to be using some sort of stealth technology we do not understand. They appear to be invisible to radar. The only way we can be successful in an attack is to get close enough to see them, but by then, they have effectively eliminated the strike force in its entirety. Even their ground units seem to have this technology. But most telling is their ability to know when we move things around. They see our convoys, troop movements, air strikes, tank movements, everything we do. As a result we are attacked unmercifully. When we press in an attack, we meet little resistance, then suddenly get attacked from a different direction, or they meet us with such devastating force, our units are torn apart,” he said listing off each problem. Andropov stopped and grinned. “Of course you know all this and I do not wish to seem defeatist, but it just means we must be smarter at what we do. For example, I have ordered all supplies be delivered by individual truck. They no longer travel in convoys. As a result, our supplies are getting through. A few trucks are hit, but the rest make it. I also ordered the use of civilian trucks. The Allies won’t bomb them because they think they are feeding our population. They are a caring bunch,” he smirked.

Andropov shifted in his seat. “I have ordered everything to travel camouflaged. Guns are transported in what looks like school buses along with troops. Trains look like they are empty, but are carrying a half load with what looks like an empty car on top. Our troops are dug in ten miles behind the lightly manned front lines. That way we know when the drones are in the air and can take shelter. These are just some of the ways we are getting things ready for the final push into Europe. I also ordered the remaining naval personnel to be given rifles and sent to the front. The fleet is gone anyway, so we may as well use them where we need them. I am doing the same with some aviation units. This should give us the people we need to get the job done. Because we no longer have use of our tactical nuclear forces, we will hit them with overwhelming firepower, then follow up with our tanks. It is the only way we have to get the job done. It will be costly, but should work,” he said to Borodin.

Borodin sat back in his seat. “This is a good plan. You seem to be thinking outside our conventional ways. That is good. We will need that to achieve victory. Since you think they are watching, I assume it is with satellites. How do you plan on eliminating this threat?”

Andropov sighed. “It is not within our capability as yet,” he said. “Everything we send up gets destroyed before reaching its orbit. I am told we are working on it, but that will take time. This is why I am using deception to achieve our goals. It is cheaper and still effective in the short run,” he said.

Borodin slid a stack of papers across his desk. “I read your estimate on our total loses so far. I must admit I was unaware it was that extensive.”

“I am afraid Marshal Pusko was not totally up front with you when he made his reports. I am more conservative and believe you need to know so that you can make better decisions. Russia is in trouble and steps must be taken to get her out of this situation. You need to know that I am here to serve my country. I will do whatever is in my power to save her and restore her to glory. Of that you can be sure,” he said proudly.

Borodin nodded. He liked this man and for the first time in months began to see hope. He got up from his desk. “Continue with your plans, Phillipe Ivanovich. You have restored my confidence in the Army. How soon before you strike?”

“Just a few days. Most of the supplies are already in place and I am now getting the rest of the troops where they need to be. This effort will change Russia forever,” Andropov assured him.

“Good, very good,” said Borodin as he escorted the man out of the office.

“In new just released, Polish authorities have captured a Russian field agent who admits that the Russian government sent agents into surrounding nations to stir up the populations just prior to the war. Robert Cartman has more,” said the host, Pamela Mason.

The image shifted to a small holding room where a man sat at a dark table. He had only one arm and was wearing an orange jumpsuit. Anton Bugayev sat looking at one of the men in the room. His face was haggard and his beard had several days of growth. There were bags under his eyes indicating he had been up for some time. He spoke in Russian with a text translation at the bottom of the screen.

“The plan was always to stir up rage against the seated government against our Russian people,” he said almost proudly. “My job was to do this in several large cities. It started in the Ukraine and moved to each of our former allies. My last job was in Poland.”

“Did this involve killing innocent people?” asked a voice from off camera.

“Yes, we did whatever it took. The whole purpose of this was to incite riots in each city. What better way than to have someone supposedly shot by local police,” Bugayev said with a grin. There was something about his face and voice. There was a drowsiness in his speech and actions. This became obvious when he sat back and laughed. “You people are so gullible. You have become so soft you cannot even tell when you are being manipulated. You should be strong like Russians. We never get taken in by such things,” he said.

The image switched to a reporter standing in front of a prison. “Russian agent Anton Bugayev was captured by Polish authorities after a demonstration in Krakow where he shot and killed three people and wounded two more. At the time, the incident fanned the flames of dissent by ethnic Russians for local authority. While the government was concentrating on this event and others throughout Poland, Russia invaded, starting the Third World War. Officials here say Bugayev and his fellow agents were part of an overall plot to weaken the Polish government just prior to their initial invasion. They say this further proves Russia had been working for years toward ultimate European control. In all, officials are telling CNN there have been four other agents captured and are saying the same things. I guess this is shaping up for an interesting war crimes trial. Pamela.”

The image returned to Atlanta and the CNN headquarters. “Any indication who all may be involved, Robert?” the Mason asked.

“Pamela, it’s obvious it goes all the way to the top, but we have received information from some sources that this was also backed by major business leaders in Russia who were anxious to expand their business efforts throughout at least Europe. If so, that would go into areas well outside their government,” said Cartman.

“I’m sure we will be learning more as we press further toward Russia. In other news…” Mason continued as she moved to another story. The broadcast was being run both on television and via the radio where broadcast stations were sited all along the German border. For the first time, Russians were able to hear one of their own agents tell of what their government had done. Bugayev had spoken of gullibility. Now they felt the shame for some of their own.

“Is everything ready?” asked Hammond.

“We roll in two hours,” said Dortmund. “Moynahan is at the front and has spoken to the Belarusian government. There’s no fear of those remaining Russian troops doing anything. Most asked to join their army. The planes from the United States are already on their way and will hold and refuel over Germany. Everything goes at once,” he said.

“What about the civilians?”

“They have been leaving the border areas for a week. Most homes are empty and we know where the soldiers are hiding. We will try and leave the homes alone, but if there are soldiers about, we may have no choice,” said Pol.

Hammond nodded and thought a moment, then looked at the assembled officers. “Once again we enter the breech, dear friends. Launch Operation Arctic Flames as scheduled,” he said.

Two hours later, a massive bombardment began along the Russian border with Belarus. Artillery and aircraft pounded a one hundred mile strip in the province of Smolensk. It wasn’t the kind of bombardment you saw in old war movies. This one hit preselected targets in a precise order to prevent any additional resupply and to take out all hard positions. At the same time, the Turkish Army continued northward past Volgograd and the American Marines struck out, crossing the Ukranian border into Russia. In the east, General Bryant was back aboard a train. Vladivostok had fallen and now he was heading west. Well over three million tons of ordnance was scheduled to be dropped on Russian lines before the drones went in. Then the bombardment would move further eastward on the way to Moscow.

Iowa eased into Naples and made her way to the large shipyard, Cantieri del Mediterraneo. The ship was in need of some repairs to two of her shafts. The long high speed chase in the Black Sea had been rough on some of the old parts and two shaft bearings and a thrust bearing needed attention. Three months at sea took its toll on the crew as well. They were looking forward to some liberty in Naples. People lined the shoreline to watch the great ship come in. Italy had a winning stake in this one and they were savoring the pride they felt. Women waved and the children pointed in awe. Then the ship’s band began to play and all along the waterfront people began dancing and cheering. This was the American ship they had heard about. To have it in Naples was a thrill. It almost guaranteed everyone would have a great time that night.

Jeffers watched from a position on the bow. Boats and his crew were there ready to handle the lines and there wasn’t much for him to do, but it beat sitting in his office. Looking out over the city it seemed to be almost a living thing. He could imagine what it might be like ashore, but tonight he didn’t feel like going out on the town. He had been having a rough time sleeping since that day on the America when he watched his friend die. In his dreams, Jeffers saw Evan leave to run back into the flames on the ship to pick someone up and drag him to safety. There was an explosion and Jeffers would jerk awake in his bed. Evan always had a smile on his face, and he always went back in. For some reason Jeffers couldn’t get that image out of his mind. He had talked to Doc Dickerson about it, but there wasn’t much Doc could do but let him talk it through and then prescribe some anti-depressants, which Jeffers refused. Luckily, the dreams didn’t affect his work. Things were going well.

Jeffers looked back toward the bridge. Below the ship’s ribbons, was a large panel displaying all of Iowa’s achievements. Jeffers had remembered how ships used to paint symbols on the side to indicate the numbers of planes shot down and ships sunk. His people had recreated the same thing, except this one spanned a period of nearly ninety years and four different commissions. It clearly showed Japanese planes and ships, but Jeffers included all the shore bombardments from the Pacific to the Black Sea. At the end were two broken ships in Russian colors along with a couple of aircraft. The entire display was thirty feet long. It would be interesting to see people’s reactions.

Later that evening after a walk around the deck, where he could hear the music and excitement in the city, Jeffers turned in. In the darkened cabin his thoughts once again turned to Evan. As he sat in his bed, he looked over and saw the dim outline of Evan’s guitar. He wasn’t too sure now that he could take it back to his family. Thinking of Evan was becoming too difficult. But he had promised. He was deep in thought when a fragrant smell came through his cabin. He finally recognized it as the smell of fresh cut roses. He smiled. Who would be bringing roses onboard the ship, he thought. The fragrance hung in the air and suddenly Jeffers felt very sleepy. His eyes fluttered closed as his mind drifted to other things. Jeffers fell into a deep sleep which would remain with him the rest of the night.

The sun began to rise on what would be a clear, sunny day. Red Square was surprisingly empty for a Monday morning. Policemen waved through some of the few government cars still on the street and people began filling the huge square. At first the police didn’t think much about it, but the people didn’t seem to be going anywhere. There were more of them too. Many began to congregate in the center of the square and just talk among themselves. Children were with their parents and in some instances, people greeted each other warmly. By 8 a.m. people seemed to be pouring from almost every side street. Like the others, the gathered with the crowd in the center of the square.

A few of the police tried to talk to some of the crowd, but they were ignored. As the mass grew, the police began to panic. Calls were sent out for help, but for some reason, none came. Instead, the officers were told to do nothing but help if needed. Not understanding this change, they simply moved back and let the crowd grow.

By 9 a.m., there were 200,000 people in Red Square with more filing in. Yet the crowd was quiet. There was talking, but no shouts and no aggressive behavior. It was as if people were on a holiday.

At 10 a.m., the square was full. Almost on que, someone began singing the old hymn “Oh Lord, Save Thy People.” It was a favorite, which had been used by Petyr Ilyich Tchaikovsky to start his 1812 Overture. At first it was only a few people, then the sound grew until over 300,000 voices lifted it into the air. Work in the city stopped as the hymn was sung and more people looked down from office windows and from other buildings.

At the end of the hymn came another sound. Nearly one hundred Russian Orthodox monks, dressed in black robes, began singing the old chant, “Let my Prayer Arise.” They began filing out of a smaller street into the square. The people moved to each side, giving the monks room. Many of the monks swung incense burners, filling the air with the smells and smoke. Others carried holy icons or crosses. Soon the people in the crowd began singing along. Once again, the old hymns filled the air on Red Square.

Suddenly there was a shout as people saw Patriarch Gregory dressed in his finest gold robes step into the square. As he walked, he offered blessings to the crowd. Many fell to their knees as he passed and the crowd became overcome in happiness at seeing their Patriarch safe and sound.

In the center of the square someone set up a portable loudspeaker system and hooked it to a battery. The trail of monks and the Patriarch made their way there singing hymns and gesturing to the people. The speakers were set high on a pole. There was a small box set up beside it. The Patriarch stepped up and looked over the crowd and he held up his hands for silence.

The Patriarch led the crowd in prayer before addressing them. “Children of God, today we being His voice to those who run our government. His voice fills our hearts. His voice rings in our ears. It tells us what they are doing is wrong! It tells us that you may no longer rule our hearts and minds. In the name of our God, you must step away from your posts and leave. In the name of our God you are beyond redemption until you do so. If you do not, I declare you excommunicate from the Church of our Mother Russia and condemned. In the name of our God, I command the gates of the Kremlin be opened. We, the free people of Russia wish to enter!” he shouted.

The crowd let out a yell and began moving toward the main gates to the Kremlin. The Patriarch stepped down and moved with the people. To their utter amazement, the gates opened.

Borodin heard the singing from his office. One of his aides burst into the room and told him of the crowd. Angered, Borodin called for the Army to restore order. He tried to work, but the sound of the hymns filled the air. In a few minutes there was a knock on the door. Marshal Andropov entered the room.

“What are you doing about the crowd in Red Square?” demanded Borodin.

“It is being taken care of,” said Andropov. “I have finally gotten all my people into position and we are ready to move. I have also taken steps to end the bombardment that has been going on for two days. When you are ready, I will give the orders,” he said.

Borodin smiled. “Then give the order. I want things to happen now,” he said firmly.

Andropov saluted and turned and gave an order through the door. Two squads of soldiers suddenly entered the room with their weapons facing Borodin. Borodin looked in horror as Andropov pulled his pistol and pointed it directly at him.

“You may recall I told you I would do all in my power to save our nation. Now I shall. You are under arrest. You will be taken to Butyrka prison where you will be held on charges of crimes against the Russian people. Do not resist, or I will shoot you myself,” Andropov ordered.

“Have you lost your mind? I am President of Russia! You cannot arrest me,” shouted Borodin.

Andropov barked an order and a strait jacket was forcibly placed on a protesting Borodin. A gag was placed in his mouth and he was led to the window to see that the gates of the Kremlin were open and the crowd was gathering inside. He saw the Patriarch move to the steps of his building and silence the crowd for a moment.

“They are waiting for us,” said Andropov.

The soldiers dragged Borodin down the halls from his presidential office and down the main staircase. The front doors were thrown open and the crowd erupted as the men pulled a resisting Borodin past the Patriarch and into a waiting vehicle. Andropov stepped beside the Patriarch and watched him leave, then turned, knelt, and kissed the Patriarch’s hand. The crowd erupted in joy, gathering around the men until the Patriarch once again called for quiet.

“People of Russia, I am Marshal Andropov, in command of the Russian Army. We have overthrown our dictatorial leader and have assumed the responsibility for the state. Today I have called for the Duma to reconvene. I am asking for general elections so that we may reestablish a representative government of the people in Moscow. Once this is done, that government will once again rule our nation. I am also contacting the Allied powers so that we may bring this unholy war to an end.”

The crowd let out a cheer and it took several minutes before they quieted again. Andropov continued. “Fellow Russians, I ask your help. We have been led down the wrong road for a long time. It will take time to get things going again. We are going to do what we can to bring civilization back to our nation. Power needs to be restored and our businesses rejuvenated. I will not rest until we have brought every person who has led us to war to justice. Until then, reach out to your neighbors and friends. Let us solve our problems together. Let us build Russia into a place of prosperity for all. Let us go to work,” he said. Then he began to sing another song. It wasn’t their national hymn, but something much older. The crowd immediately recognized it as the old Imperial Anthem, except instead of singing ‘God save the Tsar,’ he sang ‘God Save the People.’ Smiles spread around as others picked up the notion and began to sing. It was a new day in Russia and the people were in control.

“Admiral!” shouted one of the officers. He was pointing to a news broadcast. The room got quiet and the sound was turned up. It was a crowd of people singing. Hammond recognized the song, but not its significance. The label said it was inside the Kremlin in Moscow.

“My God, that’s the old Imperial Anthem,” said Dortmund.

The announcer began to speak over the music. “Just a few minutes ago President Borodin was seen being taken away in a strait jacket. The officer is identified as Marshal Philippe Andropov, a relatively unknown player in the Russian Army’s hierarchy. He is standing beside Patriarch Gregory of the Russian Orthodox Church. In a brief statement to the crowd he stated that the Army had taken over the government and they were calling in the Duma, something that hasn’t happened since Borodin assumed full control. He pledged to restore order and services in Russia and told the crowd he was contacting the Allies to put an end to this war.”

Hammond turned to his staff. “Order an immediate cease fire on all fronts. Everyone hold their positions. Contact the Russian government and offer to meet at a place near the border. Let them know we are initiating a truce in order to negotiate a cessation of this conflict,” he ordered.

Hammond turned to his supply coordinator. “Harry, we will need to get food, fuel and power to as much of Russia as we can, as quickly as we can. If this is legit, we just changed from an army to one big nonprofit. See what you can do to get some things rolling,” he said.

The men and women began rushing to telephones and issuing orders. Within minutes all bombardment of areas inside Russia ceased. The front lines became silent.

Everyone had been watching the news feed. No one knew it was being provided by a CIA asset who had been provided with a small camera and battery operated satellite feed. Most had predicted that the demonstration would be met by violence. No one had expected that Borodin would be arrested. The image of him being led out of the presidential office in a strait jacket had stunned everyone there. They were even more stunned when a military man, in uniform, had stepped up to take control.

The phone rang in the situation room and a staff member answered it. On a separate monitor Hammond’s face appeared. The President tapped a button at his seat. “Admiral, did you just see this?” the President asked.

“I was going to ask you the same. I have ordered a cease fire on all fronts for now. Since this new guy, Andropov, wants to talk, I am going along. I need some advice though. Since I’ve never handled a surrender before, I need a little input,” he said.

“Have you received any word on when or where it will take place?” asked the President.

“Not yet, but I’m hoping it will be shortly.”

“Well, just use your best judgment. I’m not sure I trust them yet. This is happening way too fast. I felt sure we would be well into Russia before anyone even hinted at talking,” said the President.

“I agree, but we need to get some sort of coalition to determine what the terms will be. I have my ideas, but this is a job for the politicians, not me,” said Hammond.

“Let me hear your ideas.”

Hammond sat back in his chair. “Well, first off, we make it an unconditional surrender, at least at first. We can soften it to fit their situations, but demand those responsible, war crimes stuff, etcetera and so on. I want to hear their perceived needs and then act accordingly. Somehow after this, I get the feeling they won’t be demanding much. I don’t recommend an occupation. That didn’t work in the last big one. I also don’t recommend we simply leave them alone. The vacuum both politically and socially, would be a disaster. I would recommend we only send in teams to help restore their power, water, food, you know, basic needs. Maybe send in some of the international teams to help get the place back to normal. The fewer military types in there the better, but we make it clear that we are just along the border and ready in case of trouble. I figure the first meeting will be a good time to hear their thoughts and then we make our plans. That way I can keep everyone informed and we can make the final decisions together,” he said.

“That’s a good start. I will get with the other leaders and try to hash out what we want the post war world to look like. Just be ready to join in when the fir starts to fly. In the meantime, get the meeting established and we will go from there,” said the President. “Are you going to meet with them personally at first?”

“Yes. At this point, I want them to feel a little more comfortable. Military to military might work a little better, especially if this Andropov is involved.” Hammond was interrupted as a piece of paper was handed to him. He read it quickly. “Interesting. Andropov wants to meet in Smolensk tomorrow. He requested a truce to begin immediately. There are more details, but that’s the main point.”

“Then go with it, Roger. Talk to the man while I sound out the other leaders. Then we can make decisions,” the President said.

Naples exploded when they heard the news. Despite the fact that no surrender had been made, the Italian government acted as if the war was over. People emptied the shops and cafes, pouring into the streets. They danced, and celebrated from midday on into the evening. The Iowa sailors were swept up into the celebration. They found themselves kissed by everyone from beautiful teens to elderly women. Bottles of wine were thrust into their hands and everyone was invited to meals with other happy citizens.

Jeffers decided to walk out into the city to enjoy the festivities. The days were warmer now but his dress blues still felt comfortable in the offshore breezes. All around him were people drinking, singing and having an amazing time. On occasion, someone would throw confetti out of an upper window and it would rain down on the people in the streets below. Several sailors passed by with young women on each arm. One tried to salute but couldn’t because the girl was holding his arm so tightly. Jeffers grinned at the young man and returned the salute anyway. After an hour of roaming the streets, he found a small restaurant and went through the front door. It was already full of people but the owner showed him to a small table to one side.

Once seated, Jeffers scanned the room. The restaurant was much quieter than the streets outside. The patrons were talking with each other and enjoying their meal. The interior was dimly lit and the walls were plastered and decorated with grape vines with an overhead trellis that allowed the artificial vines to fall down toward the tables. In some places, the vines had made a natural separation between sections of the room. The tables and chairs were older, but solid, adding to the ambiance of the room.

Seated next to Jeffers was a man who looked familiar. He couldn’t place him, but knew the face from somewhere. He was dressed in civilian clothes, but had a haircut more in line with a military member. He was looking at a menu, then glanced up and their eyes met. A look of surprise came over his face. It quickly turned to one of interest. He put down the menu.

“If I am not mistaken, we have seen each other,” the man said in English.

Jeffers smiled slightly. “Yes, but I can’t recall when,” he said.

The man suddenly smiled broadly. “You were standing on the bridge of the American ship, America. There were fires burning around you, but you asked me to be your guide,” said Captain Michael Hufnagel as he extended his hand and introduced himself.

Jeffers remembered the lone figure on the bridge wing of the German Frigate who stood by to help the stricken ship. “Rod Jeffers. It’s good to meet you, Captain,” he said.

Hufnagel invited him to join him for dinner and Jeffers moved to his table.

“You know, during that whole time I felt like you were the only one really trying to help. I really had my hands full,” Jeffers said.

“I could tell. We wanted to help, but my fire equipment wouldn’t reach that far. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to rescue your crew from a sinking ship,” Hufnagel said. “When I saw you were alone on that bridge, I felt like I had to go back aft just so you could see me.”

“I did. I also saw you motion when we made a couple of turns. I can’t tell you how much it helped,” Jeffers said.

“Glad to do it. I was relieved when I saw the repair team come up and take you and the others down. We ended up leading the ship for another twelve hours until they got some rudimentary navigation systems going. But what are you doing here? The America didn’t pull in, did she?” Hufnagel asked.

“No, I was on Admiral Hustvedt’s staff. Shortly afterward I received orders to the Iowa as a department head,” Jeffers said. “We are in getting some maintenance done.”

Hufnagle sat back and smiled. “USS Iowa,” he said wistfully. “I actually was aboard way back in 1989. I even got permission to stay with her for a short period of time. But those were my younger days. I’m sure those guys are long gone. There was this one guy named Patnaude that used to have those guys jumping.”

Jeffers grinned. “Patnaude, huh? Well, you and I are going back to the ship after dinner. I’m sure Boats would be glad to see you.”

Hufnagel got a surprised look. “He is still aboard? That can’t be!”

“Most of the crew is made up of veterans who have continued to maintain and man the ship during conflicts. They were there during the Korean War and are back again. There may be several people aboard you knew,” Jeffers said.

“Let’s eat then and go back. I’d like that,” Hufnagel said with a grin.

The meal was excellent. It consisted of several courses with various meats prepared with different sauces along with pasta. He wasn’t sure of the names, but it was delicious. Returning to the ship, they walked down to the Deck Office. As usual, Boats was there kicked back in his chair with a coffee mug in his hand, shooting the breeze with some others. When Hufnagel entered a grin came over his face. “Well I’ll be damned if it isn’t my favorite German. It’s been a long time there Huf,” he said as he stood and shook his hand. Everyone sat down and swapped sea stories for more than an hour. At one point, a few calls were made and others came in, including the Chief Engineer. Hufnagel and Dan Kimberlain had become friends while he was aboard. Even Captain Rhodes came down.

“Damn, this is getting to be old home week,” said Rhodes as he shook Hufnagel’s hand.

“You are a captain?” Hufnagel asked. “The last time I saw you, you were a petty officer.”

Rhodes laughed. “And you were just a lieutenant. Now look at us. I’m in charge here and you are getting glory for sinking the two Russian corvettes that attacked the Lincoln. Nice work Mike,” he said.

“That was you?” asked Boats. “Shit, I must have trained you right.”

The men laughed and resumed their sea stories. The session finally ended near midnight when everyone bid their farewells.

Jeffers felt better than he had in weeks. Too keyed up to go to bed, he made his way to the O-10 level, the highest deck on the ship just below spot one. From that height he could look out over almost the entire city and even across the bay. The breeze was refreshing and the view something people would die for. He caught a whiff of flowers in the air that seemed to relax him even more. If they were right, the world was at peace once again. He felt elated that he had survived the war and would go home, but it still had a hollow feeling. Although he was sleeping better, he was still bothered by the loss of his friend. But something had changed. He felt he could return the guitar and talk to his family now. Evan had always wanted him to meet his family, especially his sister. He chuckled at how Evan kept trying to push him on her. But he often talked of his family and Jeffers had wanted to meet them one day. It was too bad about the circumstances.

Jeffers looked down on the waterfront. Along the wall he saw a young couple turn to kiss each other. They stood and embraced despite the fact that hundreds of people were walking nearby. Oh, to not have a care in the world, he thought. The fragrance of roses was in the air again. Jeffers felt his cares lift and his shoulders sag. He silently wished the couple the best of the world as he made his way down to his stateroom. He would sleep well again tonight.

Hammond wasn’t sure what to expect. All his training was in warfighting, not in diplomacy. But here he was about to meet with the leader of Russia. The previous 24 hours had been one phone call after another from different leaders wanting concessions from the Russians. The French were demanding complete disarmament and reparations for the war. The Poles not only wanted reparations but military occupation in several places. “Let them see what it feels like,” said the Polish President.

Interestingly it was the German government that urged Hammond to work more closely with the Russians. “Change them from within,” said the German Prime Minister. They favored a helping hand and more open relations. Every country wanted something different. President O’Bannon finally said just to use his best judgement and get something on paper. With so many demands, there was no way to get it all down and accepted. The Russians might want to continue the war just so they wouldn’t have to try and meet them. At least he knew the President would back him.

They met in a conference room of the beautiful old town hall. Hammond was surprised when he, his stenographer and interpreter entered the room and only Andropov and one other person were there. He stood resplendent in his uniform with a smile and outstretched hand.

“Admiral Hammond, I am so glad we can meet today,” Andropov said in perfect English.

“Yes, indeed, Marshal Andropov. I hope we can end this war,” Hammond said.

“My hopes as well. Shall we be seated?”

The two men sat in two comfortable chairs beside the fireplace at the end of the room. Hammond dismissed the interpreter and the two others opened notebooks and began taking down what was said.

“If I may, I would like to make this a little easier,” said Andropov, opening the conversation. “I have been named the interim President of Russia until new elections are held in three months, so whatever we decide will be binding on our part,” he said. “After some careful thought, we would like to unconditionally surrender to the Allied powers and the United Nations. This war was not of my making and we in Russia have suffered greatly from those who started it. Only peace can allow me to care for my people and to get our country moving again. Toward that goal, I offer to turn over to you any person deemed to have been a part of the start of this war. I also open our records freely so that your people can gather any evidence for atrocities. In some cases, such as former President Borodin, Russia requests we be allowed to try them first. I feel it would be important for Russians to demonstrate they know and understand justice and are willing to carry it out. Once we have conducted our trials, we will be happy to turn over these same people for your own justice.”

“I would also ask that we be allowed to bring all our forces back within the borders of Russia. My intentions are to reduce our armed services to only two divisions of men and equipment. We no longer wish to be considered a superpower, but simply a member of the European nations. I feel that this rush for power has been much of the cause for this war and we cannot afford to do this to our people any longer. The Allies are free to station forces within Russia if you wish. Unfortunately, I feel we cannot pay any substantial reparations at the present time since we must now rebuild our entire infrastructure and take care of our people. I would ask your forbearance on that point,” Andropov said.

“Lastly, because we came within a breath of using nuclear weapons, I ask that the United Nations remove Russia’s nuclear stockpile to a safe place so that it may be dismantled. I never want to come that close again,” he said.

Andropov looked at Hammond almost pleadingly. “You see, we never want this to happen to our people or the world again. My country has lost over three million of its children in this war. We have seen how terrible war can be. It had touched us at our own doors. Please help us make sure it never happens again,” he pleaded.

It was the sincerity in his face that moved Hammond. He had already touched on most of the points many of the European leaders had made. That was when he took the que from what MacArthur had done in Japan after the war. He leaned forward. “President Andropov. No one deplores war more than those who must fight it. That is why it is best that we, as military men, should find the ways to end it in the right way. I accept your terms on behalf of your country. I only ask that you work with me to rebuild your nation so we all can prosper. Yes, we must seek justice for those who have committed these crimes against humanity, and yes, it is fitting that Russia be the first in this process. We can work out the details later. Yes, I agree in a withdrawal of forces. I will bow to your judgement on the post war size of your military, however, I do urge you to maintain a sufficient force to protect your borders and defend your nation. I believe we can work closely with you in that regard. However, I do not believe it would be wise to permanently station troops in Russia. It would be wiser to work with you to restore your services and assist you in setting up a government which meets your needs. What troops we may send in would be there to serve your needs, and not to oversee your efforts. However, I do demand that Russia provide at least one hundred billion dollars a year in reparations. Those reparations will be placed in a fund to be used by your government to restore Russia’s infrastructure and to serve your people. In that way, all of us will be served,” said Hammond.

“President Andropov, all Europe asks is to live in peace and harmony. Instead of the antagonism we have all lived with for decades, wouldn’t it be more beneficial for us to work together in both trade and special projects so that all our people are better off? So let’s try this. I pledge to try and get our European leaders to help bring Russia back to its people. Let’s dedicate ourselves toward rebuilding and then working as partners in the future,” Hammond said.

“One other thing I would ask, can you send some advisors so that we may form a new constitution? It is obvious the last one doesn’t work well, otherwise we would not have so much power in one individual,” Andropov said.

“That should not be a problem. One thing I might suggest is that you personally address the United Nations with this and your plans. It might ease any dissention and calm fears. I think you might be surprised at how much support you might get. As a matter of fact, perhaps you and I should meet with each of the European leaders and talk about what we have said here today. We need them to feel as if they have had a say in our decision and can get onboard. Would that be acceptable?” Hammond asked.

“I agree. I am willing to make the time, although there is a lot to do right now,” said Andropov.

“I know, but in the long run it may be worth it,” said Hammond.

“I agree to everything you say. What else must Russia do?”

Hammond chuckled. “I’m sure there are many who would like you to do a lot of things right now. But let’s end the war first. We can work out a lot after that is done,” said Hammond.

Andropov stood and offered his hand. Hammond stood and accepted it. “Then as of now this war is over,” said Andropov.

“It is over,” said Hammond.

A photographer and videographer were summoned and the handshake was done again for the sake of the cameras. By that time a document of the meeting was drawn up. In front of the cameras, Hammond and Andropov signed it.

This is reporter Chris Murrow in Smolensk. You are watching as the Supreme Allied Commander, Admiral Roger Hammond signs the formal surrender with Russian President Phillipe Andropov. The two men met today and agreed to an unconditional surrender of Russian forces. The Third World War is officially over. We have a copy of the document. In it, Russia surrenders unconditionally. They will withdraw all troops to within their borders and will take their armed forces to a much smaller level. They will immediately turn over anyone who was responsible for these crimes against humanity for a trial. They will renounce their superpower status in the United Nations and are turning over their entire nuclear stockpile to be dismantled. Troops will not be permanently stationed in Russia as had been done in Germany and Japan after the Second World War, but assistance teams will be sent in to help the Russians to rebuild their national infrastructure that had been devastated during the war. Russia will pay an additional one hundred billion dollars a year in war reparations; however those reparations will be set aside for that rebuilding and to help Russia get back on its feet. One additional move will be for President Andropov and Admiral Hammond will visit all the European leadership to discuss what was agreed to today and to garner support from all the Allied nations. He will also address the United Nations at some point in time in the future. Those are some of the most lenient conditions I can imagine, but as one leader told me, it gets the war over. Tom.”

“Yes indeed, I am sure there are many who would like to punish the Russians far more than this,” said Tom Donner in Atlanta.

“True, but I believe Admiral Hammond may have found a more palatable way to end the war. If you recall from history, occupation forces are costly and leave a bitter taste in the mouths of those who lost the war in Germany. Notice there was a stress on sending people to help rebuild. That is more like what MacArthur did after the war. There was also a short paragraph stating that the Russians would form a new constitution. If it is patterned after what happened in Japan, we may find that in the long run, Russia will become one of our greatest allies. Back to you, Tom.”

President Steve O’Bannon sat back in his chair and laughed. “This will really piss off the French and Poles,” he said to his Chief of Staff. Do we have a copy yet?”

“Any time now. Roger is having a private meeting with Andropov. As soon as he gets out, he will be calling us,” said Butler.

“Okay, then let’s get out some sort of statement supporting Roger and the surrender. I’ll go on tonight and give an address to the people. Since we aren’t going to have troops stationed there, let’s make plans to bring most of them home. Let’s send some ships and supplies into the various Russian ports to help these people out. What troops we need to help out can stay, but if they’re not needed, bring them home. Get hold of State. Send a formal invitation to Andropov to come and visit. If we’re going to follow Hammond’s plan, might as well get started on it,” he said with a grin.

“No problem,” said Butler as he handed over a set of papers to the President.

“What’s this?” the President asked.

“Oh, something else to make your day,” Butler said as he left the room.

Glancing down, O’Bannon’s face spread in a wide smile. It was the approval of Congress to award three people the Medal of Honor. One was a friend, the second was a young naval officer, and the third was a Navy chaplain he also knew.

It started with music. Someone on the American side turned up a boom box with a rock band playing. A few minutes later some Russian soldiers emerged from the woods on the other side of the field. They began walking toward the Americans. None carried a weapon. A few Americans stepped from their side and walked toward them. They met in the middle and shook hands.

A few more soldiers on each side appeared. Soon the small field was full of young men and women shaking hands, talking and gesturing. Some sat in the grass and just talked. No one knows who gave the order, but a mobile kitchen unit began bringing food and equipment into the field. It didn’t take long before the air was filled with the smell of food cooking. Further down the road another kitchen set up, then another.

Claire Richardson walked across the field and entered the Russian camp. Finding her counterpart, she shook hands and invited him and his troops for a meal. The two walked together back to the field and sat in some hastily set up camp chairs near the kitchen.

When ready, soldiers from both sides got in line to eat. For the Russians, it was the first hot meal they had for three weeks. By the end of the day, new friendships had begun and the horrors of war were left far behind.

Hammond and Andropov sat down for lunch together. Hammond had been impressed as Andropov related what had been going on prior to deposing Borodin. Andropov had been a part of the intelligence arm initially, but had been selected to lead the armaments procurement and later the nuclear weapons branch. When asked why that effort had not happened, Andropov had given a sly smile. “I sealed all the double locks with epoxy. We all knew those weapons were not the answer. We knew it would take months to get all the doors open. Afterward, there was no time for trying to find out who did it. By that time, Pusko had been assassinated and they needed someone to take his place. I was the one selected because the Army knew the war had to end and that I had no political aspirations.”

Andropov was much like Hammond. Married with one little boy, he had not wished to assume any power of sorts, he just wanted to serve his country. Luckily his accomplishments had caught the eye of his superiors and promotions followed despite the fact that he didn’t play the political game most of the other officers did.

Hammond began liking the man. He was smart. He didn’t jump to conclusions and he was totally dedicated to his country.

“You know, while in the intelligence branch I was stationed at Vladivostok just to watch how you Americans did things in Korea. I was surprised at how versatile you could be. The idea of bringing back older assets was brilliant. But I also saw that you worked closely together and were able to work around problems. That was why I was against going to war. I knew we could not really measure up in that regard. We tend to be rigid,” Andropov said. “We could also tell how effectively you used the signals from your spy satellites.” He stopped a moment and reached into a satchel he had with him. “By the way, you may want to share this with your government,” he said. “It is why we shot down your Eyeball satellite early in the war,” he said.

Hammond almost choked. He knew about Eyeball. But what was this about shooting it down? He chose to downplay it. “Now, now, we are getting to know each other. I’ll pass it along, but no business right now,” he said with a grin.

Andropov smiled. “Well played, my friend. You are right, no business. Let’s see, after I was transferred to armaments I had to find ways to replace all the things you were shooting up,” he continued.

Hammond didn’t hear much. In his mind he was worried about what he had heard. This called for a phone conversation with the President.