NW Front : Kanningrad to Minsk.
Central Front – Minsk to Kiev
Sth Central Front – Minsk to Rostov
Caucasus Rostov to Orenburg
Aral Sea Region (border with Iran and China)
Semipalatinsk Front – Karaganda to SE map edge.
NE Map – Arctic Front
China – Vladivostok to Map Edge West.
Rassi, or Rasputin as his mother called him whenever he was in trouble as a child, sped thru the checkpoint with barely a glance left or right. His vehicle was well known and the Spetnatz insignia guaranteed him almost unlimited rights. Drawing deeply on his last American contraband cigarillo he contemplated the likelihood of surviving another battle let alone another war. “Fuck the Americans and those rich lazy Euros. Eastern Europe was our by right of conquest. “ He said to no one. The Motherland and the people of Russian deserve better than this. Evicted from our lands, economic ruin and now we are hard pressed inside our own borders awaiting the murderous growling A10’s, the bombers and the almost indestructible M1 American tank. Angrily his knuckles twisted the steering wheel under his powerful grip. He drove on, heedless to danger fueled by a desire to stop the Westerns he raced to his objective.
[Kazakhstan] SemiIpalatinsk Front
Igor, was tired of war in all it forms. He had seen most of them, none he thought agreed with him in the slightest. Since the early 80’s he had fought Polish, Czechs, Eastern Germans and yes even Russians. The 3 day stubble was not regulation. But then again nor were his Western black market Timberland boots. Soooo much more comfortable and useful than his Army issue Tankers boot.
Igor was relegated to a virtual backwater. Not because he had refused to shoot his own people. Not because he had shot his political officer. Rather he was one of the few left who were capable of independent thought AND achieving the Politburos goals, a maverick but a useful one in the Political classes eyes. His Class 1 Army was at ease at the moment. They had been rushed here to this over farmed, nuclear testing ground ass crack because apparently, 20 divisions of Chinese were on the border ready to attack.
Igor’s gaze traversed the countryside from the roof of the 3 story hotel one more time. “Why he thought? What the fuck is here?” The rails passed thru here, there we no major urban centers for 100’s of miles and no resources worth 2 nobbles of goat shit…Of which there was an abundance.
Something else must be afoot he surmised. His recon elements had seen some of the rag tag Chinese divisions. Foot soldiers. Slow.
Slow but resilient.
His men could be anywhere in a week, these foot slogging slants would take 2 weeks to cover 100 kms.
It mattered not. He would kill all of them. He would shed as little of his men’s blood and he would preserve what little was left of the Rodina. He would not, however, kill his fellow Russians nor suffer fools. The feeble afternoon sun warmed his chill bones, slowly he nodded off to sleep on the rooftop balcony unaware that war was soon upon him yet again.