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Book One World War Three 1946

Book One World War Three 1946
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Monday, May 25, 2015

Teach a Man to Fish

The Fisherman was out on the lake as always catching the species of trout that only lived in this body of water. The waves were only a couple of inches without any white caps and the sun was shining bright and clear, which was unusual for this time of year. It was about 20 degrees Celsius and just a beautiful fall day to be out fishing. The Fisherman appreciated the weather but he would have been out all day anyway. He was floating on a pristine lake in Armenia, Lake Sevan to be exact, and today he was being disturbed.

Frequently now the capitalist bombers passed over a couple of times a week but they were so high and there was nothing to bomb here, that it was only the noise they made that was out of the ordinary. He had gotten used to them as had the fish he was certain.

He was floating just a mile off the coast from the old monastery when he heard the first of what was to be hundreds of trucks. The monastery had been closed for many decades but the buildings were still upright and strong. The ghosts of the warrior monks who defended the land for centuries keep most away.

These trucks were of a newer model and different make than the few he has seen in his life and they were full of soldiers; soldiers of the Red Army who looked to be on their way to a major battle and not just an excursion into the hinterlands of the USSR. This would be an unusual invasion route into the Turkish lands he mused. I guess if you want to catch an enemy unaware you do the unusual. Yet here they were and he was sure that they would try and catch his fish.

Lake Sevan was 78 km long and 58 wide and he had rowed every inch of it. He had heard that it was 95 meters deep as well placing it as one of the largest lakes in the world and it was located 1900 meters high surrounded by mountains. All in all it was one of the most beautiful places on earth but the Fisherman knew no other so to him it was just home. He fished to live and lived to fish, selling his catch to another who came to him in a powerboat and bought what he could not eat. Most of the time he was paid in kind and that is what he preferred. Salt, thread, cloth, line, hooks, all things he needed to survive and to keep his boat afloat and his small sail patched. He was being taken advantage of by the men in the power boat but he did not care of even knew this was the case.

He probably did not even own the land his shack was on but no one knew who did so by default he did. If you found an empty piece of land, you lived there and it was then it was yours until you died and someone else came along. Men like him did not have families. He did come from a family he recalled but was on his own since the age of 10. A fire or pillaging band of bandits had taken his family as far as he could remember which was not much about that time. A modern clinical diagnosis would be “repressed memory” and be concerned. He just never thought about it and lived to fish instead.

What was happening on shore became annoying as well as alarming. The trucks were disgorging hundreds of soldiers near the Monastery. I suppose it was a natural draw for someone not from the area. That was the annoying part. The alarming part was that other trucks were headed for his hut. Most of what he owned was in the boat with him including all he needed to survive but he remembered he left his good knife, extra fishing line, his winter store of fish and the painting in there. It would set him back a full moons worth of extra fish to replace them by trading with the men in the powerboat and who knew when he would be able to catch enough to replace his winter stores.

The book was where he found it wrapped in cloth and wedged very safely between two boulders. No one would find it and if they did it was not very appealing. That’s partially why he just kept it hidden. He could not read and the few illustrations were of the “Ascending Jesus” and were not very well done in his mind. He had seen a photograph once and was much impressed with that but not with this admittedly old book full of scribbles and squiggly lines and bad hand drawn pictures that didn’t even look as real as the photograph he had seen when the men in the powerboat had shown it to him.

He hated to fish on the ice. He has seen too many fall in when you were too hungry in the spring to take precautions on the thin ice. He had seen too many mistakes made by relatively smart men.

He could only assume that the soldiers were on their way to fight the Turks. There was certainly nothing else to fight here. He did not know who he pitied more, the soldiers who were about to die in a foreign land or himself who would go hungry this winter. Luckily he knew of another hut that he could claim. Its occupant had died the last moon. He had already staked a claim on it using the tried and true methods of the area but it was on the other side and farther away from his favorite fishing spot. He would have to spend twice the amount of energy getting there and back and during the winter the lake did not always freeze all the way over so he might have to go to his other less fertile fishing spots.

He began to curse the soldiers. Maybe if he killed a couple over the next few nights they would leave. No… they would try and hunt him down. They would not succeed but that would make him use up much needed supplies and who knows they just might get in a lucky shot and wound him. He was not afraid of dying but he was afraid of being shot and waiting to die while in pain.

No he would have to bide his time and wait to see what they did or were going to do here. His hope was that they were just passing through on their way to fight the Turk.

Wednesday, May 20, 2015


Zhukov was intrigued with the idea of invading the Turk, the Ottoman Empire, the former scourge of the south and the peoples who had terrified many generations of Russian children. He was going to avenge the Byzantine empire and once again bring Constantinople into the sphere of civilization once again.

Individually the Turk was a formidable fighter but collectively he was a disaster. He expected to eliminate the Amerikosi airfields that were being used in Turkey to be over-run in as little as 45 days once the assault started. Constantinople’s walls would be no impediment to a modern army as they had been for thousands of years first to keep out the Mongol, then the Turk and finally the west.
The art of war had progressed too far for the old walls to withstand a 122mm shell or a 46 ton tank. The Soviet soldier was the undisputed master of city warfare so he expected little trouble in first by-passing and then eliminating any resistance there. With the Turk no longer in control of the Bosphorus or collectively the Turkish straits and the Black Sea fleet could start to harass the British and Yankee boats that have so far plagued his plans. That Sergo character had promised to unleash his missiles if a worthy target presented itself and he had more conventional weapons ready to fight the B-29, Shooting Star and RAF Meteor. It was some kind of new jet that would bring superiority to the VVS over the skies of the battlefield.

He just wanted the pesky boats gone. He had seen the devastation they had created near Le Havre and now had to take detours to bring his forces to bear on the Turk. He had to stay a good 30 miles from the shore of the various seas in the area for fear of intervention by the naval forces of the imperialist pigs.

The irony of Sergo not using the missiles on the ships was that the guidance system was initially designed to target ships. His fear of an unexploded warhead falling into the hands of NATO was somewhat warranted but not enough to allow the Western navies the unfettered freedom they possessed currently. That would have to be addressed especially when his forces got closer to the Levant and the Suez. Sergo’s missiles would have to be used for what they were designed for.

As he stared at the line of tank transports and train loads of forces crawling along the mountain roads from his command car in his armored train he suddenly turned and his aide quickly came to his side knowing that something was about to occur that meant his life was about to change. He knew his Marshal very well and the twitching of the jaw always meant something significant was about to happen.

Zhukov spoke in the low rumble that was his trademark for beginning an important statement. It forced you to get closer even knowing that the volume and pitch that frequently came would physically force you to take a step back. But that initial beginning made you lean in close knowing what was to come and what was to follow. It was an effective technique that had never failed Zhukov nor failed to frustrate and intimidate his subordinates.

The aide knew by now that the first few sentences were more of a stalling tactic while the Marshal collected his thoughts for verbal communication. Kind of like clearing your throat or a platitude filled welcoming statement about how pleased he was to be in your company. Zhukov did not use platitudes so he unconsciously used the technique he had developed over the many years of commanding men, commanding them to give their very lives for an idea and in sometimes great numbers.

Finally the essence of the order came to the fore and the aide did not need to lean in to hear it.
“Bring Konstantine to me. He is the one who has been working on masking the true nature of the Stalin’s Fire missile’s guidance system.”
“Of course comrade.”

The aide thought to himself, that was not what I expected. What is that old fox up to now? He was never bored in this position. The marshal’s other aide had made it through the war against the Nazis only to be killed by a stray bullet from an unknown source while standing next to Zhukov while he was touring the newly captured city of Berlin. He was in the right or wrong place at the right or wrong time depending on your point of view and had been ordered to step in and be the marshal’s aide. Luckily he was a natural and Zhukov had no complaints that he knew of.

He quickly walked the length of the train and entered what had easily become the most disorganized mess anyone had ever seen that was the command car of the undisputed master of maskirovka. A man no one ever heard of or knew existed.

The master of deception had his back to the door and did not turn around when the compartment was bathed in sunlight and cold air.
“Close the door and what do you want?” He muttered without even turning around. “Marshal Zhukov will see you now comrade. I will lead you to him.”

Konstantin slowly turned and without hesitation or argument and literally dropped what he was working on, thus causing a metallic crashing noise which filled the compartment and immediately started to move towards the front of the train. The aide did not look to see what was dropped but was once again struck by the empty eye sockets and the emaciated face of this master of deception. The man was obviously totally blind yet was able to function at an incredibly high level of proficiency as long as he was in the train or confined area. One tour around any area feeling with his feet and hands and it was ingrained in his memory. Unless something was moved by someone else, he could move with alarming speed that belied his blindness.

Found abandoned on the steps of a hospital in Moscow he was born without eyes and his anophthalmia was very acute. He barely even had eye sockets. Zhukov’s aid had the duty of researching the past of anyone who came in contact with the Marshal. In his research he had found that Konstantin was amazing from birth in his ability to use his other senses to overcome what would be a crippling deformity to others. Possibly his lack of sight made it easier for him to fool others who had relied so heavily on sight. Whatever the cause he was indeed a master of maskirovka and responsible for many of the decisions Zhukov had made in this realm of smoke and mirrors.
As usual Konstantin led the way barely feeling his path. Everyone knew when he was coming and made way by clearing a course through their space for his transverse. You never wanted to be the cause of accidentally inflicting harm on this man.

They reached Marshal Zhukov in less time than it took the aide to originally traverse the length of the train. Konstantin did not stop and all knew that he was not to be stopped. They marched right up to the marshal and then waited to be addressed. The marshal was busy with another matter but immediately stopped the conversation and greeted Konstantin warmly. This always surprised the aide and made him a little jealous. But then again he had never saved Zhukov’s life or the lives of hundreds of thousands of soviet soldiers either. As Zhukov hugged Konstantin
the aide could tell that he was averse to this particular kind of greeting and he thought, maybe that is why Zhukov does this to him.

As usual Zhukov started out speaking in his rumbling bass voice to draw Konstantin in but Konstantin did not fall for the bait as usual. They had been through many a challenge together and knew each other’s ways only too well. Finally the Marshal came to the point after articulating it in his mind.

 “Konstantin old friend, what has been done to mask the true nature of the Stalin’s Fire missile guidance system?”
“Comrade Zhukov, we have done any number of things per Sergo’s orders and a few of our suggestions have been used as well. We have “provided” the NATO intelligence service with a number of opportunities to avail themselves of dummy units. So far they have only retrieved 2 out of twelve presented to them. The rest have gone unnoticed where they have remained so as to not increase suspicion.

Of the two actually reaching the NATO scientific staff both would have appeared to be guided by the German Fritz X system or the FuG 230 system. We are sure the NATO scientists have received and tested these units. We know they are still baffled and are unsure as to why their jamming techniques have not worked so far when they obviously have worked in the past. The only possible flaw in this plan is that it does defy physics so they will eventually discern that it must be a ruse. It has bought us valuable time to strengthen other weapons and strategies.

Zhukov moves to the center of the rail car and crosses his arms.
 “The time is coming where we will need Stalin’s Fire to rain down on NATOs boats. It is coming soon. It will mean the difference between winning the war and defeat. NATO is free to roam the oceans and strike at us where they will. We now have the means to stop this. We now have the weapon we need to sweep the oceans clean of capitalist war machines and fill the void with our own. Mark my words Konstantin the time is coming and coming quickly. We will need Sergo’s acquiescence on this matter in order to convince Comrade Stalin and the STAVKA. Stalin’s Fire must be used and soon and that is where your special talents come in Konstantin. You must come up with the ultimate maskirovka just in case the a warhead falls into NATO’s lap like the enigma machine or the so called Battle of the Beams. We have to make them believe that when the real solution does present itself to them that they reject it out of hand.”
“It is pretty unbelievable in reality so that maybe not as hard as you think. At this point we do not want to even get them thinking down the same path as the real solution. Possibly something like the enigma machine or some rudimentary computation device to throw them once again off the obvious path that they have ignored could be used. We will give them so many clues that they will not know which ones are pertinent.

Sergo is so concerned that they will discover the truth yet he will not tell anyone how to defeat the system he is using. He claims it is very simple but no one else seems to know what he
is thinking and how to effectively counter it. We do have to plan on there being someone in what remains of the capitalist world who can think like Sergo. It would be foolish for us to think otherwise.
So far it has been a common fault of the Amerikosi who seem to think that they have invented everything and no one else can match their accomplishments. It is to our advantage to keep them thinking this way.”

“Da, you are correct Konstantin. We must keep using the power of maskirovka for a few more months until we are totally caught up to the Amerikosi and Limeys. Their sense of superiority is a great advantage to us because it blinds them to the real possibilities of a communist system. It is to our advantage to keep them thinking we are the blunt, dumb instrument of Stalin who only know the hammer and sickle and couldn’t possibly equal them in the sciences. The longer they believe that trope, the longer the time we have to defeat them.

“When we finally are “allowed” to use the system for its original purpose, we will not have to worry about the NATO boats anymore. There is no reason that the system cannot be placed on the German V2 rocket as well. At a distance of 320 km it will far out range those guns that have kept us from the coasts. They will no longer be able to supply islands like Britain or bring their tanks from across the seas. What good will their factories be if they cannot land machines or provide the fuel to run them. If we stop their navies we will stop them from invading the motherland and our new jets will meet them in the skies. We just needed the time to breath after our destruction of the Nazi pigs. We are now ready to once again defend ourselves.

First we have to push the Amerikosi farther away from our oil fields, further away from our homes, further away from our families. Maybe then they will leave us alone. We need to conquer the Turk and then drive them out of the Mediterranean. We need to close both ends of that sea. We need to destroy the Suez Canal and take Gibraltar from the British but first we need to take the airfields from the Turks and expand the perimeter. Then our planes must keep us safe while we rebuild once again.“