[Matt Wiser]

And the final assault is about to go in....


0405 Hours: Soviet Headquarters, Brownsville

General Chibisov entered the Operations Room. He'd been awakened only a few minutes previously, and despite Marshal Alekseyev's orders to be awakened at 0400, the Chief of Staff knew that the Marshal needed sleep, much more than he or the rest of the staff did. Chibisov decided to let Marshal Alekseyev get some more rest, before waking him. He went over to the map, and found the deputy operations officer. “Anything new?” Chibisov asked.

“No, Comrade General, nothing. We've gotten regular updates from the various headquarters, but so far, nothing unusual.”

Chibisov nodded, and looked at the map again. “I don't like it at all,” he said. “Powell is up to something.”

“Yes, Comrade General, but what?” the staffer replied.

“That is a very good question,” Chibisov said as General Dudorov came into the room. “General,”

“Comrade Chief of Staff,” Dudorov said. “Where's the Marshal?”

“He needs his sleep. Let him sleep in for a while longer. If nothing's happening, I'd rather let him sleep some more.” Chibisov said.

Dudorov nodded. “Yes. And so far, nothing is happening?”

“Not even at sea,” Chibisov replied.

Then one of the phones rang, and a staffer took the call. “Comrade Chief of Staff, it's South Padre Island. Some of the obstacles on the beach have been blown up,” the man said.

“Beach obstacles?” Dudorov asked. “That means there's going to be a landing.”

“Or simply a diversion,” Chibisov commented. “Where, exactly?”

“On the southern tip of the Island, Comrade General,” the staffer said.

Chibisov turned to Dudorov. “Now something's happening. I'll go wake the Marshal.”

Dudorov nodded agreement, as Chibisov went to Alekseyev's office. He knocked, and then entered. “Comrade Marshal?”

Alekseyev opened his eyes. “Hmm. It's you, Pavel Pavlovitich. What time is it?”

“0410, Comrade Marshal. You needed some more sleep time, Though it was only ten minutes, I'm afraid. But something has happened, and it may be nothing, or the prelude to something.”

Alekseyev stood up. “I'll shave first. Then go to the operations room. You can tell me then. And get Colonel Sergetov.”

Chibisov nodded and left the office. Alekseyev quickly shaved and took care of his morning routine, then went into the Operations Room. He found Sergetov there, waiting. “Comrades,”

“Good morning, Comrade Marshal,” Sergetov said.

“Now, what's happened?”

Chibisov took a pointer. “Someone, not quite a half-hour ago, blew up some of the beach obstacles on South Padre Island. Obviously it was a SEAL operation, but for what purpose?”

Alekseyev nodded. “Either a landing is planned, or there's the first diversionary action. Either way, they're coming ashore. Today.”

“It looks that way, Comrade Marshal.” Chibisov said.

Alekseyev turned to Sergetov. “Inform General Andreyev. Tell him it's coming. Today.”


0420 Hours: Brownsville/South Padre Island International Airport.

General Petrov left his office, and went outside to find his engineering officer. Operations were planned to resume at first light, and he wanted a runway status update. On the way to the engineers, he noticed the number of wounded had grown. And he knew full well that there was no way all of them would get a ride out. Still, we have to try, he thought. And so it has come to this: the American adventure is in its final throes. If he'd had his way, there would have been an honorable way out months earlier, but since no one had been interested.... Still, he was a professional to the end, and he would do his duty.

Petrov came to the engineers, and found his engineering officer. “Well, Colonel? Runway status, please.”

“Comrade General,” the man replied. “I've got crews out, repairing last evening's craters. Two craters, one each at two runway junctions. Both should be finished by 0500.”

“Very good,” Petrov replied. “And the drop zones?”

“Being checked now, Comrade General,” the Colonel said. “So far, nothing. But the check's only half finished. My men are dead tired, as you know, and things aren't going as fast as they usually would.”

Petrov nodded. “I know, Comrade Colonel. But ask your men: Would they rather be tired or dead?”

“Point taken, Comrade General. We'll get these runways finished by 0500. A foreign-object sweep, then we'll be ready for operations.” the SAF colonel replied.

“Very good. Keep at it,” Petrov said.

The SAF man nodded as Petrov left to return to the Operations Room. He stopped to check the aircraft status board: two An-26s had been trapped overnight, and would leave first thing as soon as the runways were declared safe and ready. Also leaving would be an Il-76, and that Libyan AF C-130. How that plane had managed to get in and out without being shot down by either side was something that amazed him, but he decided not to ask. Maybe it's the fact that it's the last thing the Americans would expect, he thought. Then his communications officer came to him. “Comrade General, the first aircraft have left Cuban fields. We should have the first aircraft making drops at 0700.”

“Excellent, Major,” Petrov said. “You should also be thinking about the destruct bill: if worse comes to worse, how fast can you destroy your codes and classified materials?”

“I've got a couple of burn barrels prepared, Comrade General. It won't take long, I can promise you,”

“Good. Because it's likely that today may be our last day here. Be ready to implement the destruct bill at any moment.” said Petrov.


0445 Hours: 76th Guards Air Assault Division/47th Tank Brigade, East of Brownsville, Texas.


General Andreyev was meeting with his regimental commanders, as well as with Colonel Sergei Glavchenko, the commander of the 47th Tank Brigade. Andreyev looked over the officers, and he'd served with the airborne officers ever since the beginning of the war, with the drop into Colorado. Now, it was down to this, and what might very well be the last day of the war-in this part of North America, anyway. Glavchenko, he only knew by reputation, but he'd carved out a name for himself as a hard-charging armor officer, who'd also been a little reckless at times, especially in the early days, but now...it wasn't recklessness that was needed, but caution.

“So, that's it, Comrades. We're now on full alert, and our task is simple: halt any inland progress of a Marine landing for as long as possible.” Andreyev said.

Colonel Suslov, who led the 234th Guards Air Assault Regiment, nodded. “And where do we deploy, Comrade General?”

“Right now, we haven't been released. There are two possible landing sites: the first is on South Padre Island, though that's not likely due to the fact that the Queen Isabella causeway is rigged for demolition, though a SEAL operation to disarm the charges can't be ruled out.” Andreyev remarked.

“And the second?” Colonel Mikhail Ivanov, who had the 236th Guards Air Assault Regiment, asked.

“Right here, at the eastern end of Highway 4,” Andreyev said. It's more likely to be a landing site, due to the beach, and a good road leading away from the beach.”

Andreyev's intelligence officer spoke next, “Those tidal flats and lagoons will help, Comrade General.”

“They're still within range of Naval Gunfire, and our task is to hold them outside the range of those battleship and cruiser guns,” Andreyev replied. “I think we can assume that we're headed along Highway 4, as South Padre Island is not a likely landing site.”

Colonel Glavchenko noted the area, “Not much room to maneuver, Comrade General.”

Andreyev nodded. “True, but right now, there's not much choice. The Americans will choose the landing site, but we'll choose the battlefield. Here, just as the beach area, along with the tidal flats and marshes end, and more solid-and defensible terrain, begins.”

“Has the Navy done anything?” Colonel Suslov asked.

“Not much: there's a coastal-defense missile battalion with four launchers, and they've had minefields, but those are mainly to protect the shipping channel,” Alekseyev replied. “And Comrades, the beach itself has but a single battalion defending it. And of all the possibles, it's a penal battalion.” Alekseyev said, allowing that bit of information to sink in.

“A penal unit?” Major Nikolai Boborov, who commanded the 235th Air Assault Regiment, asked, dumbstruck.

“Yes, Comrades,” Andreyev said. “And I imagine that they'll hinder the Americans for all of a half-hour, at the most. Longer if the guard company hasn't taken to its heels.”

Andreyev's officers nodded. It had happened before: a penal unit left to hold an impossible situation, and had not resisted hardly at all. “That, Comrade General, won't be a surprising development,” Suslov remarked.

“Yes. Right, then: Suslov, your regiment is divisional reserve. Boborov, you and Ivanov are up front. The 235th is on the left side of Highway 4, 236th on the right. And Colonel Glavchenko, your brigade is right behind the 234th. Be prepared to pass through and counterattack on my order.” Andreyev said. “Any more questions?”

“Just one, Comrade General,” Boborov said. “What's our ammunition state?”

“One unit of fire for all heavy weapons, and two days' worth of small-arms and other infantry weapons. That's it.” Andreyev said. “All right, if that's it, get back to your units, and be ready to move.”


0510 Hours: 4th Guards Tank Army Headquarters, Harlingen, Texas.

General Golvoko went to the door of the warehouse the command vehicles were parked in. He looked towards the east, and saw the first hint of light beginning to appear on the horizon. He nodded, and went back inside. Soon, he knew. And he knew that he'd best wake General Suraykin. He walked over to the command vehicle, and knocked on the hatch. Then he opened it. “Comrade General?”

Suraykin stirred in his sleeping bag. “Oh, Golvoko. What's the time?”

“It's 0510, Comrade General. You needed some more sleep, so forgive me for not waking you earlier.”

Suraykin got out of his sleeping bag, and climbed out of the vehicle as Golvoko got out of the way. “One thing that all generals seem to have: a chief of staff who's more like mother hen. No matter what army they're in.”

“Quite so, Comrade General.” Golvoko reported. “So far, things are quiet, all along the front.”

Suraykin nodded as he went to shave. “That won't last. Once dawn breaks, they'll be coming at us, and it won't be long before we'll be unable to stop them. Have breakfast waiting in the operations section, and brief me then.”

Golvoko nodded as Suraykin went to shave and brush his teeth. Then he came into the operations section and checked the map. “So far, not a thing?”

“They have been quiet since late last night, Comrade General,” Golvoko reported. “Minor patrol activity, and in the more urban areas of Harlingen, there's been continued sniper activity as well.”

Suraykin nodded as a breakfast of bread, cheese, a boiled egg, and tea, was served by his orderly. “Anything else of note?”

His air force liaison spoke next. “We'll be getting some helicopter lift in,once it's light enough, Comrade General. Mi-8s for the most part. And a maximum effort by Frontal Aviation as well.”

“And the airlift?” Suraykin asked.

“Some drops, but most of what we can expect is going to be by helicopter. For as long as they're flying.” the Air Force man said.

“And with the American fighter activity, that won't last,” Golvoko observed.

“One thing at a time, Comrades,” Suraykin noted. “Their fighters can't be everywhere at once, and I'm sure our helicopter comrades will do whatever they can to support us.” He turned to the air force man. “Will they be taking passengers out?”

“Yes, Comrade General.”

“All right, then.” Suraykin turned to his staff. “Get a list of all those who absolutely can't fall into enemy hands, all of you. Have them ready to leave on those helicopters. And do it fast.”

Heads nodded. Then the phone rang, and Golvoko answered. “Comrade General, it's General Nikonov at the airport.”

Suraykin swallowed a piece of cheese and took the phone. “Yes? When? All right, Nikonov, do your best, and I'll get whatever the Air Force can spare up to you.” He hung up the phone.

“Comrade General?” Golvoko asked.

“They're coming. The 7th Armored Division is starting to move.”