THE SIBERIAN WAR- POLAR THUNDER
NOTE: I do not own any real or imagined characters in this story.
Please people, READ AND REVIEW!!!!
SAKHA, SIBERIA
Commodore Victor Kolsov stepped off the An-124 into the cool wind.
To his left, he saw a company of Rifle troops tumble out of the holding deck. Their captain marched out and began organizing them for another trip to the south, which is why several trucks pulled up to take them to a train station.
"Commodore Kolsov?"
Kolsov turned to see a Navy captain. The Captain saluted and said, "If you will follow me, sir."
Kolsov picked up his bags and walked behind the Captain to a covered jeep.
The jeep was driven to a military base outside Sakha.
Kolsov was escorted past some barracks to the commandant's office. The two exchanged salutes and sat down. "Kolsov," said Air Force Colonel Boris Plotov, "I have been instructed to provide you with transport to a certain island to our north."
Kolsov gave a small smile. So, the rumors were true.
"I will place an An-74 at your disposal. It was no bother; the flight carries supplies to a weather station up there." Kolsov nodded and left the Colonel's office.
KOTEL'NYY ISLAND, NORTHERN SIBERIA, FOUR HOURS LATER
The plane arrived at a short air strip on the northern part of the island. Kolsov was wearing his long coat and winter hat. The group made it's way to a small building on the end of the strip. Within there stood a man in a sweater, smiling broadly with cups of hot cocoa on a tray. Kolsov shivered a little and took in the interior of what must have been the weather station. It sure looked the part. Computers were covering one wall. A small screen showed radar blips. The sweater-wearing fellow shook Kolsov's hand. "Pleased to meet you, Commodore. I am Professor Vladimir Milinsky, in the service of his Imperial Majesty's Armed Forces." Kolsov smiled. He knew it!
The Professor guided Kolsov to a nearby bookcase. The professor reached for a book titled "Gagarin: touching the sky." The professor pulled out this book and the entire bookcase slid aside to reveal an elevator. The two stepped inside and the doors closed. The elevator began moving down. The professor said to the Commodore, "This is an especially proud moment for us, sir. For sometime now, my team has worked on five new Typhoon class submarines, the like of which no one has ever seen!" The doors opened to reveal a group of men working at computers and charts. There was the mumbling going on that one might expect from such a group. The professor gestured for Kolsov to follow him through a door on the other side of the room. The door opened onto a steel balcony, with stairs leading down to a concrete platform, alongside of which were five massive submarines. Another team of workers was buzzing around the subs, loading torpedoes, welding on more plates and that lot.
"These submarines," said Professor Milinsky, "are propelled not by the common propellers of other subs. Nyet, they are driven by two powerful jet engines, rendering it silent to sonar and making it the fastest sub in the world. And the torpedoes are the newest in our Navy!" He gestured over to the rather short torpedoes that were being loaded on. "They are able to pierce the thick armor of ships and other subs. They are controlled by a computer on the sub, and you are able to track them and direct them to your target even if they spin like a top! The torpedoes are also mechanically loaded so you will not have to have as many crew members on board as you would on other ships."
Kolsov couldn't help smiling. He knew what he was sent here for, to take command of a new class of warship.
"You will be pleased to know that we have selected crew members and captains in advance. They are ready to ship out whenever you are."
Kolsov was silent as he watched the teams of workers some more.
"We ship out tomorrow at 1400 hours. Before that, I wish to address them."
"Yes, Commodore," answered Milinsky. He went off to deliver the instructions. Kolsov's hands gripped the railings as he smiled, like a schoolboy with a new toy. "With this mere flotilla," he said to no one but himself, "I will bring the Japanese Navy to it's knees!"
AMUR PROVINCE, SIBERIA
Darien shivered at what he was seeing. A supply depot/hospital unit had been raided by a group of Kamov-50's. The helicopters had strafed the tents with bullets and rockets from their pods that hung from their wings. The attackers had fled back to their base about two hours before, but their surprise attack was still visible. Tents were burning or ripped open. Many wounded had tried to crawl out of their burning shelters. Some had made it, others were buried under the burning tarps or were killed by the rockets and bullets. Now, medical personnel from a battalion held in reserve had arrived to try and save some of the wounded. Beside him stood General Nohitomo. The two both wore camouflage uniforms. Nohitomo asked, "Who is the commander of this regiment?" "Colonel Yasaki Gotohi, sir." Nohitomo shook his head sadly. "Court-martial him. He should know better than to place wounded soldiers with vital supply depots." Darien jotted down the order quickly into a small notebook. The two began walking around the destroyed area.
"I understand the Russian's reasoning for this attack,"
"You do, sir?"
"Yes, Captain. You see…the Russians have a long and bloody history, 30% of which has been spent at war. They remember when the Germans came and took their land, their food, their children, their lives…
So the Russians feel they must attack savagely. They have no good feeling for an enemy. As far as they are concerned, this tragedy is our fault, because we placed these troops so close to a strategic point."
Darien nodded in understanding. The General clasped his hands behind his back and looked out over the ruined camp.
"Come, Darien; I need a drink," said the 2nd Army's commander.
And the two men climbed into the General's jeep and drove off.
BELOGORSK, SIBERIA
General Lakov scanned the map. He felt giddy. The Eastern Theater now had some 2.9 million men under it's command. He wished to thank the Emperor by presenting him with a great victory. It was then that his attention turned to the Siberian coast and Sukhalin. If he reclaimed Sukhalin and a long chain of islands that had been occupied by Japanese marines, he would have bases from which to bomb Japan. But he would have to draw Japanese attention away from these strategic places. He saw his chance with an advancing Japanese force marked as the 5th Army. This force was hugging the coast and simultaneously reaching out toward parts of Sakha Autonomous Province. The Japanese had used an entire armored corps to drive into Sakha and had left their southern flank covered by the 4th Army, which had had two tank divisions stripped away to help the 2nd Army's drive west. The 4th Army was the key! But even in it's weakened state, it could fight off an attacking force by slowing it down with artillery until help arrived from one of it's neighboring armies. So Lakov would have to strike with speed and overwhelming force. He looked at his papers to see who was in the area. The 2nd Shock Army. He grinned, it looked like Destiny had given him an unexpected gift. And it was called Operation: Arctic Storm
KOTEL'NYY ISLAND, NORTHERN SIBERIA
Commodore Kolsov held a microphone attached to a loud speaker to his lips and addressed the assembled troops.
"My friends! Fate has once again smiled upon Russia! These subs will not be forgotten like the subs of the Great Patriotic War! No, the names of these great vessels will be blessed for years to come! This is the time for the Russian Navy to take it's place as a major part in our nation's history. They may sneer at the memory of the Tsushima, but they will tremble at the mention of this glorious flotilla, led by my flagship: Polar Thunder!"
The sailors cheered. The professor shook the Commodore's hand eagerly. Kolsov turned back to the assembled submariners and barked "To your posts. We leave in an hour!"
Polar Thunder slipped out of the cavern that had been her home. She went out through an underwater opening and began her way to the Pacific, followed by her sister ships: Ushakov, Stalingrad, Pskov, and Ivan the Terrible. Their jet engines sped the flotilla across the Arctic sea, toward the front.