an extraordinarily zealous officer. Why don't we go over to the planning hut and take a look at the target again? See if we can pinpoint where to make your attack, and which areas to avoid."
"Yes, Sir, that would help. Although we don't know..."
The Colonel cut him, "No, Captain, it's not we who don't know, it's you who is unaware of the latest developments. The Cubans are already on the way, a squadron of tanks, T-72s."
"On the way to Palmyra? But, I thought they were supposed to train the Syrians to fight on their own."
"The plan has changed. Our superiors have decided to make Palmyra a priority target. Once you've completed your ground attack, I have a squadron of Hinds, Mil24s, to seek out targets of opportunity. When we're reasonably sure ISIS has taken a good hammering, Major Rostov goes in with his men."
"Into Palmyra? ISIS has many troops in the city. They'll outnumber him."
Demidov gave him a wintry smile. "They may do, but he won't be alone. The T-72s will act as his armored support and mobile artillery should he need it. We're going to give ISIS a bloody nose, Semyonov. This is the start of the big fightback. The word from Moscow is Assad is already preparing to sign a number of contracts. The purchase of billions of dollars of military equipment is at stake. Together with major projects to rebuild the country when the war is over."
"Yes, Sir."
Assuming there's anyone left alive after ISIS has wiped out most of the population.
"Good. Let's take a look at those targets. See if we can't spare the schools and medical facilities. Even though it’ll leave them for ISIS to butcher and destroy."
Semyonov knew the Colonel was right. Doing nothing wasn't an option. It would leave the initiative with ISIS. Yet he was also wrong, as was this entire combined arms operation. After his six Sukhois had carried out their raid, the Hind gunships would almost certainly shoot up anything that moved. Then Rostov's savages, together with the efficient and implacable Cuban tankers, would finish off anything still left standing, or alive, guilty or innocent, ISIS or civilian.
What a way to fight a war. Maybe I should have taken up a career as a physician, as my parents wanted me to, except that wouldn't let me fly my wonderful aircraft.
Once again he sighed.
It is going to be a long war, and very painful. Aren't they all?
* * *
They were known as Light Strike Vehicles, LSVs. The frame buggies were used for fast hit-and-run style raids and scouting missions. Although not popular with the Army brass, Special Forces found them invaluable for their type of behind the lines asymmetric warfare. There were three of them, already painted in sand colored desert camo. Each sported an M2 .50 Browning machine gun on a pedestal.
"Any idea of the top speed?" Talley asked Brooks. In his head, he was working out how that last engagement would have gone down if they'd had fast, reliable attack vehicles.
"One hundred and thirty kph, so they tell me, at least on a decent surface. Less off road, but these babies will ride the rough ground like they're flying."
"We ate the dust of their Land Cruiser last time out, Admiral."
Brooks smiled. "These things eat Land Cruisers for breakfast. Top speed isn’t much different, but their speed over rough terrain is unbelievable. They weigh less than a thousand kilos, so they ride easy over soft sand."
"How come you're giving them to us?"
"Charlie Platoon is not here yet, so I reckon you should take them. I'll try and fix up for three replacements; although Brussels is gonna go ape. We're supposed to be making all kinds of budget cuts, yet these things cost a fortune. The spec includes the most modern sophisticated electronics fitted inside the LSVs. Communications, navigation, fire control, you name it, and it's in there. It's all ruggedized, desert proofed, so you'll be in the driver's seat the whole time." He stared at Talley, "Well? You want them, or stay with the Land Rovers?"
He