FOREWORD Read online

  “You will do what you must, my friend. I am a humble messenger, charged only to relate the policies of my government, not to make them. Russia places enormous value upon its relationship with the United States. We are grateful for your efforts - however much in vain - in brokering negotiations with Ukraine. We understand what a difficult predicament you are in, particularly given the European Union’s friendly stance towards Kiev. But we must not allow this incident to trigger a crisis that could have grave consequences for both of our great nations.”

  Copeland took a moment to analyze Lukin’s words. The first part of his statement was an impassioned plea to the United States not to disregard the cordial, if extremely wary, relationship that had been forged between Moscow and Washington since the Cold War. What interested the Secretary of State, however, was the implicit threat embedded in Lukin’s final sentence. Grave consequenceswas a term generally used by diplomats only when one nation was threatening war against another. The Russians were telling the US to keep their noses out, Copeland realized. Or else…

  He needed urgently to get to a telephone, even though the unseen eavesdroppers had probably already alerted anybody of any consequence in Washington.

  “Stay near a phone Alex. I’m certain we’ll be talking soon.”

  “I hope so, Bradley. I really do.”

  With that brief exchange, one game drew to a close, and another began. Only a few of the participants understood the rules at this stage - fewer still the objectives - and none of them could have predicted how the game would unfold, much less how it would end.

  PERSPECTIVE: OCTOBER 1999

  An Analysis of Russia in the European context by Dr Lewis Stein

  Part II: Causes and Effects

  CIA Directorate of Intelligence - Eyes Only

  Although, for all intents and purposes, the Balkan situation - in particular that in Kosovo - has apparently been resolved, there is still potential in this region and several others for a flare up involving NATO and the Russian Federation.

  For the makings of a crisis in this region, we should perhaps begin by looking at Russia itself. Next year sees the first Presidential elections of the post-Yeltsin era; perhaps the most important event since the collapse of the Soviet Union. With Russia’s economy and social structure verging on total breakdown, there is a dangerous vacuum that could easily be filled by a range of populist candidates, the most extreme of whom have threatened to wage nuclear war against the west if NATO’s expansion reaches Russia’s frontiers.

  History teaches us that in times of adversity, Russia has a habit of turning to strong, charismatic leaders, who by definition are often extremist, their policies tending to play to the fears of a desperate people. Russian democracy is at an infantile stage in its development, and party politics as we in the west might understand them are still an alien concept to most Russians. Hence the emergence and prominence in the State Duma of extremist parties with a powerful patriotic agenda that strikes a chord with the electorate. Many of these organizations comprise only a handful of individuals, but that makes them no less dangerous. After all, the Nazis and the Bolsheviks only started with a handful.

  So what has this to do with NATO? I believe the answer to that is found in the paranoid nature of Russia’s extremist element. As we almost learned to our cost (and indeed still may do) in Kosovo, a strong bond exists between Russia and its fellow Slavs in Serbia. Many ordinary Russians and, indeed, elements of the political elite were disgusted at Yeltsin’s decision to cooperate with NATO in its eviction of Serb forces from Kosovo.

  This disgust is primarily caused by a lingering distrust of the West. Many Russians see NATO as a threatening force whose influence is now expanding to their own frontiers (ask any Russian what they think of the proposed NATO membership of Poland, the Czech Republic and Hungary). This sentiment is exacerbated by the symbolism of Russia betraying its ancient allies to a long-standing enemy. In a sense, Russian distrust of NATO is understandable, for Russia is a nation with a long history of being invaded from its western frontier. Certainly, such fear is no less irrational than was western fear of Communism during the Cold War, particularly in the context of NATO’s recently stated aim of becoming a global reaction force.

  Should the Russian people elect a leader who shares these sentiments and is prepared to act upon them, the Kremlin may well feel compelled to take action to quell the perceived NATO threat. Certainly, the election of a nationalist - if not extremist - Russian President would send tremors throughout southeastern Europe. NATO members such as Turkey and Greece are likely to fear Russian supported ethnic insurgency and may call upon their NATO allies for military support. That would serve only to further antagonize Russia, who may see such a move as sufficient justification for its own form of military intervention.

  A consensus is developing within Russia that the west, although still perceived as omnipotent in terms of its ability to project power, is fundamentally weak in many other respects. This consensus adheres to the theory that Western governments are driven by public opinion, which in turn has been colored somewhat by low-casualty “Nintendo” wars such as those in Serbia and Iraq. Many Russian political leaders and commentators believe that NATO would balk at the prospect of a conflict that could see massive casualties. They are also aware that we still harbor a quiet fear of Russia’s perceived might. It is interesting to note that the Russian Government has done nothing to placate these fears. As why should it? NATO’s fear is Russia’s most valuable bargaining chip.

  Russia has been economically and socially humiliated in many ways. It has suffered these ordeals with grudging dignity. But the prospect of losing its status as a Superpower may well be the final straw. A future Russian leader might choose to test NATO’s resolve. And, with Russian troops already in the Balkans – albeit in a peacekeeping capacity – southeastern Europe may well provide the perfect stage for him to do so.

  IV

  RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

  “There are some people that will be deterred by the fact that we have nuclear weapons… But those people are the folks we can deal with anyway”.

  Gen. Charles Horner, Commander of U.S. Space Command, July 1994

  THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON D.C.

  One of the more popular misconceptions of government is that bureaucracy always prevents things from being accomplished. In normal times, there might have been some truth to this notion. But these were not normal times, and in a crisis of this magnitude, even the most pedantic of bureaucrats knew what to do and how to do it swiftly.

  Within minutes of Copeland’s call to the White House, President Mitchell had gathered his senior military and political advisors in the Situation Room; a converted bomb shelter in the basement of the White House. Unlike the popular celluloid image of a vast cavern filled with electronic gadgetry and big screens, the Situation Room was actually little more than a small, nondescript office, adjoining a state-of-the-art communications center that enabled direct contact between the President, other Heads of State and US military commanders around the globe. The room was, of course, completely soundproofed, and the communication lines were subject to the most impenetrable encryption systems the National Security Agency had been able to devise.

  Yet none of this hi-tech wizardry enabled the President to contact his Russian counterpart. President Pushkin, so his personal secretary was claiming, was “out of location”. She would not say where exactly, and that made the atmosphere in the Situation Room - which was already tense enough to smell - even worse. It was extremely rare for a leader of one nation not to take a call from another, particularly at a moment of such grave tension. Either Pushkin was deliberately eluding the American President, or he was simply giving America the finger. Or was something else going on? Mitchell wondered. What are we missing here?

  Each person in the room had their own private telephone and a black leather-bound file containing briefing documents that had been hurriedly compiled by high-ranking officials at the DoD an
d NSA. Mostly, everybody in the room had spent the first few minutes of the crisis scanning the documents within the file, trying to come to terms with what was happening. The problem was that there was no precedent for a situation like this, and so the standard procedures for a nuclear crisis – mostly designed during the Cold War – were largely theoretical in nature, and most of the authors of those procedures were now either dead or retired.

  “I suggest increasing our alert status to DefCon Four,” General Westwood declared, breaking the silence. He had just arrived at the White House from the Pentagon, his driver having broken every traffic law in order to make the journey in record time. Fortunately, the roads had been quiet, given that the public still knew nothing about the unfolding crisis. That would change, Westwood knew.

  Mitchell was still wearing a tuxedo and bow tie. He had received the message from Copeland during a State Dinner for the new President of Tanzania, a charming individual with the terrific smile of a man who had just achieved his life’s ambition and would shortly return to his country to deal with those who had opposed his ascension to office. Mitchell already regretted the three glasses of champagne he’d consumed. He stared at Westwood with puzzlement, still convinced that this was all a surreal dream. The implications of Copeland’s message hadn’t yet sunk in. History was about to be made - if one could be clinical enough to think of a nuclear attack in such terms - and the President didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Nuclear weapons were about to be used in anger for the first time in over half a century and here he was, supposedly the most powerful man in the world, impotent to do a damn thing about it.

  He took no more than a couple of seconds to consider the General’s suggestion. “I don’t want to do anything that might aggravate matters,” he stated. “This is still a localized situation. I would rather do nothing than risk a confrontation with the Russians at this stage.”

  “What’s our official position?” asked Reynolds. Military situations made the chief of staff uncomfortable. Although he was a proficient political operator – some said the most capable for many years –he’d never served in uniform and therefore wasn’t certain how to deal with people who had. That gave him a sense of not being in control; a sensation he didn’t like very much at all.

  “We don’t have one yet,” the President admitted, momentarily on comfortable ground. “I don’t want a word of this leaking out until we know for sure what we’re dealing with. There’s still a chance that they might call this thing off.”

  Returning to the real issue at hand, Westwood leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Sir, the Russians have already told Mr. Copeland that they expect us to increase our alert status. It’s purely a precaution, nothing more, for us to do just that. And it’ll send out the strongest possible signal to the Russians how we feel about this. We’ve been at DefCon Four more often over the years than you might think.”

  “Yes, well this is a rather unique situation, isn’t it General?” Mitchell snapped. Westwood sank back in his chair, reproached.

  “This certainly explains why the Russians are pulling their troops back so quickly.” That insight came from Paul Nielsen, referring to the Russian retreat from the Northern Ukraine.

  “Getting out of the whorehouse before it gets raided,” Reynolds added dryly.

  “Marion.” The President’s tone was almost apologetic for having bitten Westwood’s head off a moment earlier. “Tell me about delivery systems. What can we expect?”

  “The Russians have a roughly equivalent arsenal of tactical nukes to ours, sir,” Westwood reported. “They’ve still got a small stockpile of low yield artillery shells, yielding between five and ten KTs. We can’t be certain how many of those are operative.”

  “KTs?” Reynolds raised a quizzical eyebrow.

  “Kiloton,” the Chairman elaborated without looking at the Chief of Staff. “But DIA thinks they’ll be aiming to take out the Ukrainian heavy armor and infantry units that have been giving them so many problems. Those guys are pretty thinly dispersed; that’s just the way they fight. So, to make it worth their while, the Russians will probably use something a little bit more extravagant.”

  “Such as?”

  “Short range Air Launched Cruise Missiles with a probable yield of anywhere between twenty and a hundred KTs. That’ll create one hell of a mess,” he added as an afterthought. Westwood, like many military officers, thought of nuclear weapons as nothing more than a necessary evil. He found their purpose utterly abhorrent, having little to do with the real business of war.

  “Do the Ukrainians have the ability to retaliate?”

  “No sir,” Westwood explained. “A few years before the war started, control of all Russian ICBMs and IRBMs on Ukrainian territory reverted to Moscow. The IRBMs were abolished in any case, under the terms of the 1997 INF treaty, and most of the ICBMs in Ukraine were scrapped under START-II. All that remained were a few SS-11s, but they were pulled out of Ukraine when the war started. So, no sir, they don’t have any nuclear capability of their own.”

  “Well, that’s something,” the President grunted. Out of the corner of his eye, Mitchell noticed the Secretary of Defense shift uneasily in his chair, but he thought little of it.

  Reynolds fired the next question. “What sort of civilian casualties can we expect?”

  Westwood pursed his lips, making some quick mental calculations. “Where target units are in proximity to population centers, a lot of people are going to die. At least two of the likely target units – the Ukrainian 4thand 6thMechanized Tank Brigades – are encamped in towns with a combined population of about 30,000.”

  “Jesus.” The President winced, raising a hand to his mouth and looking as if he’d been slugged in the stomach with an iron crowbar. 30,000 people! My God. He pictured them going about their everyday business, the war something of a distant abstraction to them now that the Russian forces had beaten a hasty retreat. They would be blissfully unaware that, in less than an hour, their lives were going to end in a millisecond of incandescent white light. It provided scant consolation to him that while this happened, he would be sitting in an underground shelter over 10,000 miles away, listening to the play-by-play as if it were a spectator sport. What if it were Chicago or New York about to be vaporized? Would the loss of life be any less significant? No, of course it wouldn’t. Human life is still human life, regardless of what language it speaks and what beliefs it has. It occurred to him that, in some respects, the main difference between war and sport was that in war, you buried the guy who finished second. Thinking crazy stuff, Ed, he told himself. A combination of shock and exhaustion had caused his mind to drift, and the President was aware that he was finding it difficult to focus on the issue at hand.

  “Sir,” Nielsen was saying, “I concur with General Westwood’s suggestion that we go to DefCon Four. Particularly given Pushkin’s reticence to even discuss the matter.”

  Mitchell glanced at Reynolds, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. The chief of staff had never professed to be an expert on military affairs, but his instincts were usually impeccable. With what he’d heard so far, the increase in alert status seemed logical enough. This was one occasion when he was prepared to let somebody else take the initiative. After all, this was hardly an everyday occurrence, was it? And for once, Reynolds admitted to himself that he was somewhat out of his depth.

  “What precisely does that involve?” the President asked.

  Westwood offered the explanation. “Different things for different units, sir. Submarines, by the very nature of their operations, are permanently at DefCon Two. There’ll be little effect on the boats already on patrol, but those in dry-dock will put to sea as soon as they can. Elsewhere, DefCon Four involves wide dispersion of forces in case of nuclear attack. Leave will be cancelled for officers until the crisis is over. The ACC’s B-52, B-1 and B-2 bomber wings will be scrambled. ICBM facilities will be put on Combat Alert Status. Strategic Command’s E-6 Looking Glass plane will take off
from Tinker in Oklahoma. As for our ground based units…”

  Reynolds cut the General off. “What about the evacuation of dependents from possible military targets?” His niece was married to a USAF pilot at Barksdale AFB, Louisiana. Suddenly, he was beginning to understand just how dangerous this situation could be.

  “Not at Four, sir,” Westwood told him. “Besides, we don’t want to create too much panic just yet.”

  The President still thought that any sort of reaction at this early stage of the crisis was futile. After all, the US wasn’t under attack, was it? Why escalate things unnecessarily? Then again, he wasn’t a military officer, whereas Westwood was. He had known the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs long enough to know that he wasn’t the type to overreact, but the General clearly seemed concerned that the President should be doingsomething…

  “Okay,” he told Westwood, his tone edged with reluctance. “Do it.”

  The General punched a button on his private telephone. Within seconds, he was patched into the National Military Command Center at the Pentagon.

  “Dick, it’s Marion Westwood.”

  “Yes sir,” replied the Major-General who was currently the NMCC’s senior watch officer.

  Westwood came straight to the point. “NCA has orderedPancake House .”

  There was a short pause. The US had not been at DefCon Four for many years, but the Major-General at NMCC had heard about the sudden retreat of Russian troops from Ukraine - if not the latest revelation about an imminent nuclear strike. He managed to put two and two together. “What gives, sir? Is this to do with Russia?”