the question. I know better than you that the strategic correlation of forces does not yet decisively favor us. When our antiballistic missile system is fully in place, perhaps then — but not yet.”
The General Secretary thought it time to take a hand in the discussion. “What are you proposing then, Andrei?” He kept his tone friendly, even solicitous.
“That we maintain the supply of advanced armaments that we are presently providing, provide spare parts, and replace combat losses.”
“Why should we provide any help to them?” one member objected. “They didn’t provide us with any warning of their actions.”
The defense minister stared at the man. “We must continue to help them for the same reasons we sent assistance in the first place. If we do not bribe Kim’s regime with weapons and assistance, he will look to the Chinese for support. North Korea will move into the Chinese sphere of influence, and comrades, the last thing we need is a Chinese ally on our border.”
He let that sink in, and then continued, “Comrades, I do not believe the North Koreans can win a modern technological war without our support. They know that, and once they are totally dependent on our stream of weapons, we can dictate any terms we choose. We will control them.
“While we must increase our own support to Kim, we can help them reduce the flow of supplies to the puppet South Korean regime.”
The foreign minister raised a finely sculpted eyebrow. “And just how do you propose to do that?”
“By putting pressure on the Japanese. The Americans need their airspace, airfields, and ports to ship supplies and reinforcements to South Korea. A strongly worded diplomatic note to Tokyo protesting their intervention in this Korean ‘internal struggle’ might force the Japanese to assert total neutrality. And that would choke off the American resupply effort.”
The General Secretary asked, “You think a diplomatic note would have that much effect on the Japanese?”
“Yes.” The defense minister’s lips creased into an unpleasant smile. “If it were accompanied by intensive air, sea, and naval infantry manuevers off their coast.”
He shrugged. “Who knows? Perhaps we could even offer to return the Kuril Islands to them?” That raised smiles around the room. They had been seized by the Soviets at the end of World War II and held by them ever since. They would never willingly give it up.
“Go on, Andrei. We’re listening.” The General Secretary leaned forward in his chair.
“Well, we could also provide the North with useful military intelligence on U.S. movements in the Pacific. RORSAT data. That sort of thing.” The defense minister’s eyes fixed on a small aircraft symbol attached to the map near Pyongyang. “And finally, Comrade General Secretary, we could ‘allow’ our MiG-29 instructors already in North Korea to serve as ‘volunteers’ and participate in the air battle. That kind of tangible support would count for a lot with our little yellow comrades. It would certainly give our crews some valuable combat experience.”
The foreign minister frowned. “Comrades, with all due respect to the defense minister, I said this was madness before and I say it is madness now! We are on the verge of a new long-range arms agreement with the Americans — an arms agreement on terms favorable to us. This is not the time to reignite the Cold War!”
One hand smoothed his tie, half-unconsciously. “And even more importantly, the Western banks are only now again starting to lend us the money we need. It took us nine years to repair the damage we suffered for intervening in Afghanistan. We should not repeat that folly now.”
Heads nodded gravely around the table, the KGB director’s among them.
The General Secretary turned to his defense minister. “Well, Andrei? What do you have to say to that?”
“That my friend, the foreign minister, is wrong. That he is shivering at shadows.” The defense minister brought a heavy fist crashing down on the table, making some of the older Politburo members jump. The gibe about Afghanistan must have cut deep, thought the General Secretary.
“The Americans are weak-minded, forgetful fools. They won’t dare link your precious arms talks with South Korea. And even if they did, they’d soon be back at the bargaining table. Their own internal politics will see to that.”
That much was true, the General Secretary admitted to himself. The American capacity for self-delusion never failed to amaze him. He pondered the matter while the debate raged on around him, back and forth across the conference table.
Not all of the defense minister’s arguments were wholly convincing, but the General Secretary had been intrigued by the possibility he held out of greater trade and technology transfers with the new Asiatic economic powers. Trade and new technology that would speed the work of revitalizing the Soviet economy.
He tapped a fleshy finger reflectively against his chin. The Asian countries, while economic giants, were military pygmies. Once stripped of American protection, they’d be easy enough to keep in line with a judicious mix of outright pressure, internal subversion, and fancy diplomatic footwork.
The thought pleased him and he studied the other men around him through slitted eyes.
In this matter the Politburo’s own factional politics were fully as important as the facts of the matter. And judged in that light, realism dictated a decision in favor of the defense minister. Despite all the General Secretary’s efforts, his position remained tenuous — dependent on a shifting coalition of votes. The armed forces were a crucial part of that coalition. They’d supported his reforms so far, believing they would lead to greater military strength in the future. If he thwarted their will now, how long would their support last?
Not long, he judged. The General Secretary nodded to himself. Together he and the defense minister had enough votes to force a consensus from the Politburo — despite the foreign minister’s objections.
The Soviet Union would support its “fraternal socialist neighbors” in North Korea.
But something nagged at his thoughts. Another factor that would have to be evaluated. Ah, yes. China.
He reminded himself to ask the KGB and GRU to step up their intelligence-gathering operations in Manchuria. It might even be worth another diplomatic push to ease tensions with the revisionist bastards in Beijing. It didn’t seem likely that the Chinese would be able to do much to influence events in Korea, but there wasn’t any point in risking an unpleasant surprise.
The General Secretary turned his attention back to the ongoing debate. Although he now knew which policy he would follow, it was still important to observe the formalities.
The Premier of the People’s Republic of China walked deep in thought across the windswept pavements of the Forbidden City. A security detachment trailed along behind him, shivering in the winter cold.
The Premier had no doubt that most of his bodyguards hated these slow, seemingly aimless, noontime strolls through the squares and palaces of the old Imperial compound. But he found them useful. They gave him time by himself to think.
Of course, they also served another purpose. They demonstrated his relative youth and good physical condition. Many of the others in the ruling Politburo were well past their prime. Some, including his two chief colleagues, the president and the Party’s general secretary, were either past or closing on eighty.
By itself, his youthfulness gave him no great advantage. Despite over forty years of Marxist rule, the people of China retained a traditional veneration for the elderly and automatically ascribed the virtue of wisdom to them. In fact, that attitude toward age had even insinuated itself into the Party. And the Premier had to admit to himself that he shared some of that peasant reverence for the old — despite the years he’d spent in the Soviet Union training as an engineer and administrator.
Still, this daily demonstration of good health acted as a reminder to his colleagues and younger members of the administration that he would be around for years to come — long after the first generation of the Revolution was dead and buried. And that was useful. It gave him an edge in the fierce internal struggles that often racked the Party out of public and foreign view.
Though that edge had most certainly not shown itself during the morning’s debate on Korean policy, the Premier reminded himself as he turned a corner and began climbing the steps toward one of the Forbidden City’s magnificent inner courtyards. Behind him, one of his bodyguards slipped and skidded on a patch of ice hidden among the cobblestones of the walkway. He ignored the man’s stifled curses and muttered apology.
No, he thought, this morning’s Defense Council meeting to adopt China’s position on this mad North Korean adventure had been even more of a hidden wrestling match than such meetings usually were — with all the participants circling watchfully, waiting for that one opening that could lead to victory.
