Red Army by Ralph Peters Read Free Book Online Page B

was betting on Starukhin to pull him along.
    “Comrade Army Commander,” Chibisov said, “at present, you have received a greater proportion of the front’s allocation of virtually every type of ammunition than your comrades. You have more march routes with fewer water obstacles. You have more hauling capacity than any other army. You have more rotary-wing aircraft of every type. You have two deception battalions in support of you, as well as an extra signal battalion that came right out of the front’s hide. You have the lion’s share of the front’s artillery division, you -- ”
    “I have the best maneuver terrain” -- Starukhin cut him off -- ”and I have forty-six percent of the tactical bridging assets to cross under thirty-four percent of the projected water obstacles. Don’t play numbers with me, Chibisov. I also have the main attack, and the toughest opponents. In addition to which I expect half of the German Corps to come down on my northern flank when Trimenko gets stuck in the mud.”
    “That’s nonsense. The Germans will hold on too far forward and too long. It’s a given. And if they hit anybody, it’ll be Trimenko.”
    “A few damned aircraft, Chibisov.”
    Chibisov could tell now that Starukhin was sorry that he had initiated the exchange and that he was looking for a token prize so that he would not be embarrassed in front of his officers.
    “Comrade Army Commander, as the aircraft become available, I promise you will have priority.”
    “But I need to plan.” Suddenly, Starukhin lost his temper. “Listen, I don’t have to beg you, you little . . .”
    Say it, Chibisov thought, looking Starukhin dead in the eyes. Go ahead, say it, you Cossack bastard, say the word. Chibisov knew Starukhin better than the army commander realized. Dudorov had a finger in everything -- he was a superb chief of intelligence -- as a result of which Chibisov knew that Starukhin strongly encouraged his officers to affiliate with Pamyat, a right-wing nationalist hate group that wanted to revive the days of the Black Hundreds and to rid the sacred Motherland of Asians and other subhuman creatures, such as Chibisov himself. Oh, he knew the bully with the big cigar. His grandfathers had come for a drunken frolic in the ghetto, coming by the hundreds, to cut a few beards and perhaps a few throats, to rape the women . . . and to steal. The Slav was a born thief. And Chibisov’s ancestors, but a few generations removed, would not have resisted. They would have bowed and prayed.
    Those days were over. And the Starukhins of the world would never bring them back. Even for officers who were not Party members, such affiliations were illegal. Pamyat had even reprinted The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, the infamous Jew-baiting book of the Czarist Okhrana so beloved of the Hitlerite Germans. Chibisov needed all of his self-control now not to spit in the army commander’s face. He consoled himself with the thought that he could destroy Starukhin, if it proved absolutely necessary.
    “You were about to say something, Comrade Army Commander?”
    “Pavel Pavlovitch,” Starukhin began again, switching suddenly to the ingratiating tone that Russian alcoholics always kept at the ready, “our concerns should be identical. The Third Shock Army has a terribly difficult mission to accomplish under unprecedented time constraints. I only want to insure that we have covered every requirement.”
    He would really have to watch Starukhin now, Chibisov realized. Now and forever. In a moment’s embarrassment, they had become eternal enemies.
    No, Chibisov corrected himself, the enmity between them had merely been uncovered. The Starukhins and the Chibisovs of the world had always been enemies.
    “Comrade Army Commander, I am convinced that our concerns are truly identical. As soon as ground-attack aircraft become available, you’ll have your fair share of sorties.”
    Staruhkin looked at him. Chibisov had great faith in Starukhin’s