tc.thebearandthedragon-第163部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


horrid　packaged　foods　himself。　He　had　a　staff　to　taste…test；　after　all。　Peng　lit　an　after…dinner　smoke　and　enjoyed　a　small　sip　of　rice　wine。　It　would　be　the　last　of　those　for　a　while；　too。　His　last　pre…bat　meal　pleted；　Peng　rose　and　donned　his　tunic。　The　gilt　shoulderboards　showed　his　rank　as　three　stars　and　a　wreath。
　Outside　his　mand　trailer；　his　subordinates　waited。　When　he　came　out；　they　snapped　to　attention　and　saluted　as　one　man；　and　Peng　saluted　back。　Foremost　was　Colonel　Wa　Cheng…Gong；　his　operations　officer。　Wa　was　aptly　named。　Cheng…Gong；　his　given　name；　meant　〃success。〃
　〃So；　Wa；　are　we　ready？〃
　〃Entirely　ready；　rade　General。〃
　〃Then　let　us　go　and　see。〃　Peng　led　them　off　to　his　personal　Type　90　mand…post　vehicle。　Cramped　inside；　even　for　people　of　small　size；　it　was　further　crowded　by　banks　of　FM　radios；　which　fed　the　ten…meter…tall　radio　masts　at　the　vehicle's　four　corners。　There　was　scarcely　room　for　the　folding　map　table；　but　his　battle　staff　of　six　could　work　in　there；　even　when　on　the　move。　The　driver　and　gunner　were　both　junior　officers；　not　enlisted　men。
　The　turbocharged　diesel　caught　at　once；　and　the　vehicle　lurched　toward　the　front。　Inside；　the　map　table　was　already　down；　and　the　operations　officer　showed　their　position　and　their　course　to　men　who　already　knew　it。　The　large　roof　hatch　was　opened　to　vent　the　smoke。　Every　man　aboard　was　smoking　a　cigarette　now。
　
　〃Hear　that？〃　Senior　Lieutenant　Valeriy　Mikhailovich　Komanov　had　his　head　outside　the　top　hatch　of　the　tank　turret　that　posed　the　business　end　of　his　bunker。　It　was　the　turret　of　an　old…ancient…JS…3　tank。　Once　the　most　fearsome　part　of　the　world's　heaviest　main…battle　tank；　this　turret　had　never　gone　anywhere　except　to　turn　around；　its　already　thick　armor　upgraded　by　an　additional　twenty　centimeters　of　applique　steel。　As　part　of　a　hunker；　it　was　only　marginally　slower　than　the　original　tank；　which　had　been　underpowered　at　best；　hut　the　monster　122…mm　gun　still　worked；　and　worked　even　better　here；　because　underneath　it　was　not　the　cramped　confines　of　a　tank　hull；　but　rather　a　spacious　concrete　structure　which　gave　the　crewmen　room　to　move　and　turn　around。　That　arrangement　cut　the　reloading　speed　of　the　gun　by　more　than　half；　and　didn't　hurt　accuracy　either；　because　this　turret　had　better　optics。　Lieutenant　Komanov　was；　notionally；　a　tanker；　and　his　platoon　here　was　twelve　tanks　instead　of　the　normal　three；　because　these　didn't　move。　Ordinarily；　it　was　not　demanding　duty；　manding　twelve　six…man　crews；　who　didn't　go　anywhere　except　to　the　privy；　and　they　even　got　to　practice　their　gunnery　at　a　duplicate　of　this　emplacement　at　a　range　located　twenty　kilometers　away。　They'd　been　doing　that　lately；　in　fact；　at　the　orders　of　their　new　manding　general；　and　neither　Komanov　nor　his　men　minded；　because　for　every　soldier　in　the　world；　shooting　is　fun；　and　the　bigger　the　gun；　the　greater　the　enjoyment。　Their　122…mms　had　a　relatively　slow　muzzle　velocity；　but　the　shell　was　large　enough　to　pensate　for　it。　Lately；　they'd　gotten　to　shoot　at　worn…out　old　T…55s　and　blown　the　turret　off　each　one　with　a　single　hit；　though　getting　the　single　hit　had　taken　the　crews；　on　the　average；　2。7　shots　fired。
　They　were　on　alert　now；　a　fact　which　their　eager　young　lieutenant　was　taking　seriously。　He'd　even　had　his　men　out　running　every　morning　for　the　last　two　weeks；　not　the　most　pleasant　of　activities　for　soldiers　detailed　to　sit　inside　concrete　emplacements　for　their　two　years　of　conscripted　service。　It　wasn't　easy　to　keep　their　edge。　One　naturally　felt　secure　in　underground　concrete　structures　capped　with　thick　steel　and　surrounded　with　bushes　which　made　their　bunker　invisible　from　fifty　meters　away。　Theirs　was　the　rearmost　of　the　platoons；　sitting　on　the　south　slope　of　Hill　432…its　summit　was　432　meters　high…facing　the　north　side　of　the　first　rank　of　hills　over　the　Amur　Valley。　Those　hills　were　a　lot　shorter　than　the　one　they　were　on；　and　also　had　bunkers　on　them；　but　those　bunkers　were　fakes…not　that　you　could　tell　without　going　inside；　because　they'd　also　been　made　of　old　tank　turrets…in　their　case　from　truly　ancient　KV…2s　that　had　fought　the　Germans　before　rusting　in　retirement…set　in　concrete　boxes。　The　additional　height　of　their　hill　meant　that　they　could　see　into　China；　whose　territory　started　less　than　four　kilometers　away。　And　that　was　close　enough　to　hear　things　on　a　calm　night。
　Especially　if　the　thing　they　heard　was　a　few　hundred　diesel　engines　starting　up　at　once。
　〃Engines；〃　agreed　Komanov's　sergeant。　〃A　fucking　lot　of　them。〃
　The　lieutenant　hopped　down　from　his　perch　inside　the　turret　and　walked　the　three　steps　to　the　phone　switchboard。　He　lifted　the　receiver　and　punched　the　button　to　the　regimental　mand　post；　ten　kilometers　north。
　〃This　is　Post　Five　six　Alfa。　We　can　hear　engines　to　our　south。　It　sounds　like　tank　engines；　a　lot　of　them。〃
　〃Can　you　see　anything？〃　the　regimental　mander　asked。
　〃No；　rade　Colonel。　But　the　sound　is　unmistakable。〃
　〃Very　well。　Keep　me　informed。〃
　〃Yes；　rade。　Out。〃　Komanov　set　the　phone　back　in　its　place。　His　most…forward　bunker　was　Post　Five　Nine；　on　the　south　slope　of　the　first　rank　of　hills。　He　punched　that　button。
　〃This　is　Lieutenant　Komanov。　Can　you　see　or　hear　anything？〃
　〃We　see　nothing；〃　the　corporal　there　answered。　〃But　we　hear　tank　engines。〃
　〃You　see　nothing？〃
　〃Nothing；　rade　Lieutenant；〃　Corporal　Vladimirov　responded　positively。
　〃Are　you　ready？〃
　〃We　are　fully　ready；〃　Vladimirov　assured　him。　〃We　are　watching　the　south。〃
　〃Keep　me　informed；〃　Komanov　ordered；　unnecessarily。　His　men　were　alert　and　standing…to。　He　looked　around。　He　had　a　total　of　two　hundred　rounds　for　his　main　gun；　all　in　racks　within　easy　reach　of　the　turret。　His　loader　and　gunner　were　at　their　posts；　the　former　scanning　the　terrain　with　optical　sights　better　than　his　own　officer's　binoculars。　His　reserve　crewmen　were　just　sitting　in　their　chairs；　waiting　for　someone　to　die。　The　door　to　the　escape　tunnel　was　open。　A　hundred　meters　through　that　was　a　BTR…60　eight…wheeled　armored　personnel　carrier　ready　to　get　them　the　hell　away；　though　his　men　didn't　expect　to　make　use　of　it。　Their　post　was　impregnable；　wasn't　it？　They　had　the　best　part　of　a　meter　of　steel　on　the　gun　turret；　and　three　meters　of　reinforced　concrete；　with　a　meter　of　dirt　atop　it…and　besides；　they　were　hidden　in　a　bush。　You　couldn't　hit　what　you　couldn't　see；　could　you？　And　the　Chinks　had　slitty　little　eyes　and　couldn't　see　very　well；　could　they？　Like　all　the　men　in　this　crew；　Komanov　was　a　European　Russian；　though　there　were　Asians　under　his　mand。　This　part　of　his　country　was　a　mishmash　of　nationalities　and　languages；　though　all　had　learned　Russian；　if　not　at　home；　then　in　school。
　〃Movement；〃　the　gunner　said。　〃Movement　on　Rice　Ridge。〃　That　was　what　they　called　the　first　ridge　line　in　Chinese　territory。　〃Infantrymen。〃
　〃You're　sure　they're　soldiers？〃　Komanov　asked。
　〃I　suppose　they　might　be　shepherds；　but　I　don't　see　any　sheep；　rade　Lieutenant。〃　The　gunner　had　a　wry　sense　of　humor。
　〃Move；〃　the　lieutenant　told　the　crewman　who'd　taken　his　place　in　the　mand　hatch。　He　reclaimed　the　tank　mander's　seat。　〃Get　me　the　headset；〃　he　ordered　next。　Now　he'd　be　connected　to　the　phone　system　with　a　simple　push…button　microphone。　With　that；　he　could　talk　to　his　other　eleven　crews　or　to　regiment。　But　Komanov　didn't　don　the　earphones　just　yet。　He　wanted　his　ears　clear。　The　night　was　still；　the　winds　calm；　just　a　few　gentle　breezes。　They　were　a　good　distance　from　any　real　settlement；　and　so　there　were　no　sounds　of　traffic　to　interfere。　Then　he　leveled　his　binoculars　on　the　far　ridge。　Yes；　there　was　the　ghostly　suggestion　of　movement　there；　almost　like　seeing　someone's　hair　blowing　in　the　wind。　But　it　wasn't　hair。　It　could　only　be　people。　And　as　his　gunner　had　observed；　they　would　not　be　shepherds。
　For　ten　years；　the　officers　in　the　border　bunkers　had　cried　out　for　low…light　goggles　like　those　issued　to　the　Spetsnaz　and　other　elite　formations；　but；　no；　they　were　too　expensive　for　low…priority　posts；　and　so　such　things　were　only　seen　here　when　some　special　inspection　force　came　through；　just　long　enough　for　the　regular　troops　to　drool　over　them。　No；　they　were　supposed　to　let　their　eyes　adapt　to　the　darkness。。。　as　though　they　think　we're　cats；　Komanov　thought。　But　all　the　interior　battle　lights　in　the　bunkers　were　red；　and　that　helped。　He'd　forbidden　the　use　of　white　lights　inside　the　post　for　the　past　week。
　Brothers　of　this　tank　turret　had　first　been　produced　in　late　1944…　the　JS…3　had　stayed　in　production　for　many　years；　as　though　no　one　had　summoned　the　courage　to　stop　producing　something　with　the　name　losif　Stalin　on　it；　he　thought。　Some　of　them　had　rolled　into　Germany；　invulnerable　to　anything　the　Fritzes　had　deployed。　And　the　same　tanks　had　given　serious　headaches　to　the　Israelis；　with　their　American…　and　English…built　tanks；　as　well。
　〃This　is　Post　Fifty。　We　have　a　lot　of　movement；　looks　like　infantry；　on　the　north　slope　of　Rice　Ridge。　Estimate　regimental　strength；〃　his　earphones　crackled。
　〃How　many　high…explosive　shells　do　we　have？〃　Komanov　asked。
　〃Thirty…five；〃　the　loader　answered。
　And　that　was　a　goodly　amount。　And　there　were　fifteen　heavy　guns　within　range　of　Rice　Ridge；　all　of　them　old　ML…20　152…mm　howitzers；　all　sitting　on　concrete　pads　next　to　massive　ammo　bunkers。　Komanov　checked　his　watch。　Almost　three…thirty。　Ninety　minutes　to　first　light。　The　sky　was　cloudless。　He　could　look　up　and　see　stars　such　as　they　didn't　have　in　Moscow；　with　all　its　atmospheric　pollution。　No；　the　Siberian　sky　was　clear　and　clean；　and　above　his　head　was　an　ocean　of　light　made　brighter　still　by　a　full　moon　still　high　in　the　western　sky。　He　focused　his　eyes　through　his　binoculars　again。　Yes；　there　was　movement　on　Rice　Ridge。
　
　So？〃　Peng　asked。　〃At　your　mand；〃　Wa　replied。
　Peng　and　his　staff　were　forward　of　their　guns；　the　better　to　see　the　effect　of　their　fire。
　
　But　seventy　thousand　feet　over　General　Peng's　head　was　Marilyn　Monroe。　Each　of　the　Dark　Star　drones　had　a　name　attached　to　it；　and　given　the　official　name　of　the　platform；　the　crews　had　chosen　the　names　of　movie　stars；　all　of　them；　of　course；　of　the　female　persuasion。　This　one　even　had　a　copy　of　the　mov