looked np. “The first echelons of our main ground attack force are deploying now.”
“Excellent.” The Russian president focused his binoculars on the distant opening to the vallev. Small specks appeared there, moving fast and spreading out across the rolling, open ground as the)’ drew nearer. They were tracked scout cars, BRM-ls, mounting 73mm cannons, missiles, and machine guns.
Behind the scurrying reconnaissance units came masses of heavier armor
T-90 tanks armed with 125mm main guns. The 1-90, clad in explosive reactive armor and equipped with 1R jammers and anti-laser aerosol defenses to defeat enemy anti-tank missiles, was a significant upgrade of the older T-72.
Designed to reflect combat lessons learned during the seemingly endless war in Chechnya, it was the Russian army’s most modern battle tank. New com-puterized fire control systems and thermal sights gave the T-90’s main gun range, accuracy, and firepower that was almost equal to that of the American M1AI Abrams.
Dudarev smiled to himself, watching the formations of tanks maneuvering at high speed down the vallev. Western intelligence believed most of Russia’s T-90s were deployed in the Far East, facing the People’s Republic of China But the West’s vaunted spy agencies were wrong.
Since gaining control over the Kremlin, the ex-KCB officer had worked hard to rebuild and reform his nation’s dilapidated armed forces. Thousands of corrupt or lazy or politically unreliable officers had been sacked. Dozens of poorly equipped or poorly performing tank and motor-rifle divisions had been ruthlessly disbanded. Only the best formations were kept in the army’s order of battle. And more and more money from Russia’s growing oil revenues had been spent on making sure this smaller force of elite divisions was far better-paid, better-equipped, and better-trained than the massed conscript armies of the old Soviet Union.
Dudarev glanced at his watch. He tapped the colonel lightly on the arm.
“Time to go, Piotr,” he murmured.
Kirichenko nodded. “Sir!”
As they turned to go, the generals nearest to them snapped to attention and saluted.
Dudarev wagged a teasing finger at them. “At ease, gentlemen,” he said.
“Remember, no formality is necessary. After all, I am not really here. Nor have I ever been here. According to the Kremlin press office, I am off on a short holiday, spending a day or so at my dacha outside Moscow.” A humorless smile creased his thin lips. He turned and motioned toward the dozens of tanks and tracked BMP-3 infantry fighting vehicles now rumbling through the vallev below them. “Nor is any of this really happening. Everything you see is no more than a dream. WINTER CROWN is only a paper drill, a mere headquarters map exercise. Correct?”
The assembled senior officers chuckled dutifully.
Under the terms of various conventional arms treaties Russia had signed, all of its large-scale military maneuvers were supposed to be announced weeks and even months in advance. WINTER CROWN was a flagrant viola-tion of those agreements. None of the foreign military attaches stationed in Moscow had been notified. And every element of the exercise itself had been very carefully timed to ensure that U.S. spy satellites were not overhead whenever the thousands of troops and hundreds of vehicles involved were actively maneuvering across the snow-covered fields and forests.
The same exquisite timing and elaborate security measures would soon be employed in other major exercises scheduled around the periphery of the Russian Federation, near the borders of Georgia, Azerbaijan, and the break-away Central Asian republics. Anyone asking inconvenient questions about these intensive battlefield rehearsals would be informed that Russia was simply conducting “special antiterrorist training” for its rapid deployment forces.
By the time the deception became obvious, it would be too late. Far too late.
With Colonel Kirichenko close at
“Excellent.” The Russian president focused his binoculars on the distant opening to the vallev. Small specks appeared there, moving fast and spreading out across the rolling, open ground as the)’ drew nearer. They were tracked scout cars, BRM-ls, mounting 73mm cannons, missiles, and machine guns.
Behind the scurrying reconnaissance units came masses of heavier armor
T-90 tanks armed with 125mm main guns. The 1-90, clad in explosive reactive armor and equipped with 1R jammers and anti-laser aerosol defenses to defeat enemy anti-tank missiles, was a significant upgrade of the older T-72.
Designed to reflect combat lessons learned during the seemingly endless war in Chechnya, it was the Russian army’s most modern battle tank. New com-puterized fire control systems and thermal sights gave the T-90’s main gun range, accuracy, and firepower that was almost equal to that of the American M1AI Abrams.
Dudarev smiled to himself, watching the formations of tanks maneuvering at high speed down the vallev. Western intelligence believed most of Russia’s T-90s were deployed in the Far East, facing the People’s Republic of China But the West’s vaunted spy agencies were wrong.
Since gaining control over the Kremlin, the ex-KCB officer had worked hard to rebuild and reform his nation’s dilapidated armed forces. Thousands of corrupt or lazy or politically unreliable officers had been sacked. Dozens of poorly equipped or poorly performing tank and motor-rifle divisions had been ruthlessly disbanded. Only the best formations were kept in the army’s order of battle. And more and more money from Russia’s growing oil revenues had been spent on making sure this smaller force of elite divisions was far better-paid, better-equipped, and better-trained than the massed conscript armies of the old Soviet Union.
Dudarev glanced at his watch. He tapped the colonel lightly on the arm.
“Time to go, Piotr,” he murmured.
Kirichenko nodded. “Sir!”
As they turned to go, the generals nearest to them snapped to attention and saluted.
Dudarev wagged a teasing finger at them. “At ease, gentlemen,” he said.
“Remember, no formality is necessary. After all, I am not really here. Nor have I ever been here. According to the Kremlin press office, I am off on a short holiday, spending a day or so at my dacha outside Moscow.” A humorless smile creased his thin lips. He turned and motioned toward the dozens of tanks and tracked BMP-3 infantry fighting vehicles now rumbling through the vallev below them. “Nor is any of this really happening. Everything you see is no more than a dream. WINTER CROWN is only a paper drill, a mere headquarters map exercise. Correct?”
The assembled senior officers chuckled dutifully.
Under the terms of various conventional arms treaties Russia had signed, all of its large-scale military maneuvers were supposed to be announced weeks and even months in advance. WINTER CROWN was a flagrant viola-tion of those agreements. None of the foreign military attaches stationed in Moscow had been notified. And every element of the exercise itself had been very carefully timed to ensure that U.S. spy satellites were not overhead whenever the thousands of troops and hundreds of vehicles involved were actively maneuvering across the snow-covered fields and forests.
The same exquisite timing and elaborate security measures would soon be employed in other major exercises scheduled around the periphery of the Russian Federation, near the borders of Georgia, Azerbaijan, and the break-away Central Asian republics. Anyone asking inconvenient questions about these intensive battlefield rehearsals would be informed that Russia was simply conducting “special antiterrorist training” for its rapid deployment forces.
By the time the deception became obvious, it would be too late. Far too late.
With Colonel Kirichenko close at
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