Red Army

"Some remarkable similarities, actually. Every one of our formations in contact is screaming for more tank main gun ammunition and more artillery rounds. The level of consumption seems almost impossible. It appears that we've even won several engagements by default. Nothing left for the tanks to do beyond ram each other or pull off."

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"Our transport?"

Chibisov's bearing slumped almost imperceptibly, a reluctant shifting of the spine under an uncomfortable load. "We must find ways to reduce its vulnerability," he answered. "Our major lines of communication have been hit repeatedly, and to serious effect, by NATO air power. The organization of traffic is extremely difficult, and it's especially bad at the Elbe River crossing sites."

Malinsky looked troubled. "How bad?"

"Quantitatively? Acceptable thus far. But over a longer period, our hauling capability could be . . . painfully weakened."

"Painfully?" Malinsky repeated, smiling despite himself. "That's rather a theatrical expression on your lips, Pavel Pavlovitch."

Chibisov reddened. The experience of warfare on this scale, and at this level of intensity, had surpassed the careful vocabulary of the General Staff Academy in its expressive demands. Raw numbers might have aided his effort at communication, but the battlefield reporting was uneven, and Chibisov instinctively could not bring himself to trust all of it.

Trained to report empirical data with unerring precision, he found himself struggling to report impressions, tonalities, and elusive feelings that insisted on their own importance now.

"NATO's air power," Chibisov resumed, "has shown more resiliency than anticipated. While we have achieved several impressive initial successes, the forces confronting CENTAG in the south appear to have bogged down, and the outcome of the air battle remains to be decided. If we achieve decisive superiority within forty-eight hours from now, our capability to support the ground offensive will remain at least marginally adequate. Should NATO intensify its deep strikes on our support infrastructure, however, we will experience sustainment problems within three days. It's very frustrating, really. The chief of the rear is going mad.

He has the ammunition. And the fuel. As well as sufficient vehicles to move bulk supplies at this time. But attempting to link them all up and get the trucks and supplies to the right place at the right time is proving extremely difficult. Realistically, Comrade Front Commander, if the first day is like this, while we're still on the plan . . ."

"And we'll continue to adhere to the plan," Malinsky said firmly. "The tactical units and the formations can fight with what they have. The one thing that we cannot sacrifice, the one thing that is in critically short supply, is time. This is the hour when plans come into their own."

Malinsky sat erectly, but his voice became intimate and direct. "If I could spare you, Pavel Pavlovitch, I'd send you forward to take a look for yourself. It's an astonishing thing. Despite all of the theory and the 151

Ralph Peters

calculations, the endless tinkering with the tables and norms, I don't think any of us was quite ready for this. It's all . . . so fast." Malinsky slowly turned his head, a tank turret sweeping the field. "I couldn't change the plan now, no matter how badly I might want to. Oh, we can adjust details. But there's no time for, no possibility of, anything greater." His eyes shone out of the darkness. "The speed of the thing, Pavel Pavlovitch. The speed and the power. It makes the Hitlerite blitzkrieg look like a peasant horse and cart." The front commander paused for a sip of tea, but Chibisov knew from the intensity in Malinsky's face that the old man didn't really taste it.

"I don't know," Malinsky went on. "We looked at it all in such, detail . . . perhaps in too much detail. We examined the questions of mechanization and the impact of new weapons and technologies on the dialectic. We surveyed road networks and studied means of communication. We delved into automated support to decision-making and struggled with the issues raised by radio electronic combat. But somehow, we haven't done a very good job of putting them all together. What would you and your mathematician comrades say, Pavel Pavlovitch? That we haven't written the unifying algorithm? But perhaps it was unwritable. At least the enemy doesn't appear to have done any better than we have. In fact, they appear to have done considerably worse." Malinsky leaned forward, suddenly, lifting a hand, then a lone finger, as if to admonish Chibisov. But the old man was addressing an absent audience now.