This is a contribution to the “1985: Under an Iron Sky” background by Thomas Gaul, old Grognard and reader of my “The Next War – Operation Attila” AAR.
Time: June 01, 1985
Place: Deep in the secret bowels of the Krelim, KGB section
Comrade KGB Colonel Vianello signed with the contentment of a well stuff pig. The meal, wine (vodka also, of course), and cigars of the late night repast were the justifiable reward for all the hard work he and his team had put into the war plans for the coming destruction of the Capitalist-Neo-Fascist NATO powers. As such, his team and especially himself had earned this splendid feast. Yes, the workers might have to worry about a poor harvest but, after all, some of the masses were more equal than the other masses and as such should not have to worry about such mundane matters as the price of bread. When victory came, as it must, there would be plenty for all. Just plenty more for him.
All was in readiness. The plans, down to the most minute detail of mis-information given to the corrupt Western media had been prepared. Logistical, propaganda, rail movement plans, strike sights, airdrop zones, training, reserve call-ups, and all the thousand and one details that constituted the greatest military operation in history were all completed. Victory to the Glorious Socialist State was assured!
And, to himself only, Comrade KGB Colonel Vianello allowed himself his secret smile, the one he let no one, not the party elders, not his children, his wife or even his many mistresses see. For, though anything other than complete victory was inconceivable, it was the nature of the KGB to conceive even the inconceivable.
The “plan”, which, of course, would become “his” plan when it overran Europe, with the inevitable errors easily able to be fobbed off on incompetent underlings (some of whom might have to be shot as “wreckers” if it was an especially bad error) was never complete without the secret “out” clause he built into all his plans.
Not for nothing had he been nicknamed “The Survivor”* by his KGB colleagues. Just as his father had survived the Stalinist purges, his grandfather the Cheka before the Revolution, and some distant ancestor Napoleon’s invasion, so he too knew how to ensure his continued existence. Even if the inconceivable happened and somehow, no doubt through the failings of others, the “plan” failed and the Capitalist swine rolled into Moscow, he had a plan. With a grin he believed his British mistress might call “the Chesire Cat grin”, invisible to all, he patted the paper hidden inside his boot. Such an “insurance policy” was worth its weight in decadent capitalist gold.
- *Those associates who had instead referred to him as “The Weasel” had long since been identified and sent to the Gulag or developed a severe and fatal case of lead poisoning.
I just got my copy in the mail today and I am very impressed! I think the counters are some of the most well designed I have seen in a wargame. They far surpass my previous favorites in GDW’s The Third World War and, having gone through the rulebook on first pass, I am hopeful that this game will play better than TWW as well. I am looking forward to seeing where this game (series?) will be taken after Norway/Sweden. Well Done!
Thank you Meluft!
Except for “1985: Deadly Northern Lights”, we still don’t have a well defined idea about future expansions. As usual, too many things and too little time 🙂
To KGB Colonel Vianello if you wish it. Another installment in the career of “The Survivor”
Time: A couple weeks after the beginning of the war against NATO Neo-Fascist Capitalist exploitors.
Place: KGB Colonel Vianello, private office, secret KGB location deep within the Kremlin
KGB Colonel Vianello sat deep in contemplation. His keenly honed sense of danger, which had served him so well in the arcane and deeply complicated, interwoven, manuvers of Party, KGB, and Kremlin politics, was going into overdrive. The meeting of the Committee for Review of Analysation and Planning, headed by General Beriaski, had just been completed and all was in flux.
The war itself was fluid, as all military situations were in the beginning. Some successes, some less than that. The launching of the preemptive strike to deter NATO agression had struck the Capitalist Swine hard and viciously. The beauty of “The Plan”, his Plan, or at least the parts that had gone well, had been acknowledged by all. Normally, this would be the time when he would be basking in the glow of the accolades, taking credit for the goals reached, pinning the failures on the less talented or less well connected.
And yet, and yet….. There had been an admittedly major shortcoming. The amount of ammo, supplies, oil, replacements, spare parts, etc…. had been vastly underestimated. Reports of glorious Soviet advances had been soured by major and (in KGB Colonel Vianello’s mind) strident and schrieking complaints from the frontlines about “running out of essential materials”. Demands had been made for war materials that were simply not available.
Questions were being asked. Worse, investigations were being launched. Talk was that “heads would roll”. Such talk was treasonous but there it was. But, far, far more dangerous was what would actually be found. And, most important of all, who would be blamed.
KGB Colonel Vianello knew, that, of course, he was not to be blamed. After all, if the troops on the line were wasteful, was that his fault? Who could have known what the demand would be for war materials? And, alright, perhaps some of his “side deals” with black market weapons dealers had contributed to the shortage, but, truly, could a few SAMs, tanks, AKs, have made that much of a difference? No, such things were not to be foreseen.
But, there were those (secret Fascists in the Colonel’s mind), who would demand answers. And inquiries. And, in extreme cases, shootings. In dealing with fanatics like the generals, who bayed like hyennas when they did not have enough material, who failed to understand complicated logistical matters, anyone, even someone as dedicated and true as KGB Colonel Vianello, could fall victim to revisionists. He had made enemies, and, killed most of them. But some may have survived.
Abruptly, KGB Colonel Vianello came to a decision. Slowly, he reached into his boot, into the secret compartment where “the paper” was concealed. He reached over to his desk, complete with the new, glorious Soviet computer, stolen from the decadent Capitalists (such a decision like this could not be trusted to the typing pool) and began to enter the “numbers”.
His plan within a plan would begin now.