Eagle, I don't want to form an alliance anymore.

Yaruzelsky finally made his move.

Overnight, the army and militia seized all telephone exchanges, radio stations, and television stations across the country. Solidarity leaders were arrested in their sleep, and curfews and bans on assembly were imposed simultaneously. Thousands were detained within days, Solidarity was declared an illegal organization, and Poland was placed under martial law.

Moscow breathed a sigh of relief.

Brezhnev called Yaruzelsky to congratulate him in a "friendly tone" and promised economic assistance. But the West's reaction was swift and fierce—on December 23, Reagan announced economic sanctions against Poland, and a few days later the sanctions were expanded to the Soviet Union, on the grounds that Moscow bore "serious and direct responsibility" for the repression in Poland.

On Christmas Day, Brezhnev communicated directly with Reagan via the US-Soviet hotline—the very image of the leaders of two superpowers discussing the fate of an Eastern European country on Christmas Day is the best illustration of the absurdity of the Cold War.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

1981 thus came to an end.

If Slava were to summarize the Soviet Union in one sentence, he would say: This empire stands at the crossroads of its military peak and political decline, and the distance between the two is shrinking at a visible rate.

Militarily, the Western Exercise 81 demonstrated to the world the unprecedented strike capability of the Soviet armed forces. NATO analysts wrote in their assessment report that the Warsaw Pact's steel torrent was almost unstoppable on the Central European battlefield. American and Western European strategists were even seriously discussing whether to pre-plant 141 tactical nuclear bombs at the Fulda Gap to stop the Soviet advance—this crazy plan itself demonstrated their despair in the face of conventional forces.

But beneath this suffocating veneer of military power, everything is loosening.

The Soviet economy had been mired in stagnation for nearly a decade. Light industry was being drained dry by the military-industrial complex, and the shelves of state-owned stores were becoming increasingly empty while queues were growing longer. Soviet troops were bleeding every month on the Afghan battlefield, and the Mujahideen controlled nearly 80 percent of the country. The United States had just approved a $3.2 billion military aid package for Pakistan, which meant more Stinger missiles and more coffins for Soviet soldiers.

The martial law imposed in Poland only temporarily put a stop to the instability in Eastern Europe; the steam was still rising. Negotiations on intermediate-range nuclear forces were deadlocked, and Reagan's military spending was increasing by tens of billions of dollars annually, leaving the Soviet Union in a difficult position of neither following nor refusing to comply.

Inside the red walls of the Kremlin, a 75-year-old man was rapidly approaching the end of his life. In the last few months of 1981, Brezhnev rarely appeared in public. When he did attend events, he needed assistance to walk a few steps, forgot his words after speaking a few sentences, and his hands trembled so much that he could not write properly when signing documents.

With Brezhnev about to meet his mentor, trembling with fear, every ambitious man now sensed the impending transfer of power.

Chernenko stayed close to Brezhnev, trying to portray himself as a "faithful successor to the Brezhnev line." Grishin and Romanov each cultivated their own networks, while Andropov—who had served as chairman of the KGB for fifteen years—was carefully walking a tightrope under everyone's watchful eyes.

Slava watched all of this from the edge of the game, sometimes feeling like someone invited to the chessboard to observe the game, who, though not yet qualified to pick up a piece, could already see the whole picture.

Andropov was teaching him to read chess. Every late-night conversation, every intelligence briefing handed to him, every question asked by the old man was him telling him: Watch, remember, think clearly—one day you will need to play chess yourself.

Andropov didn't just focus his efforts on Slava; he knew his illness wouldn't allow him to last much longer, and he was also constantly looking for new young cadres. It was in this year that Slava finally met Gorbachev.

In fact, Slava had thought many times about whether to persuade Anton not to groom Gorbachev, but he thought that if he wanted to reform and face a wide range of conservatives, he would have to accept more allies. Besides, Gorbachev could also be influenced by him. What if he had successfully turned Gorbachev to his side in the past few years?

...

One night in late December, Moscow experienced its heaviest snowfall of the winter, turning the entire city white overnight.

Director Nian was organizing files on the table behind Slava: "What are your New Year's wishes?"

"I hope Andropov's kidneys can hold up, at least until I can take over his care."

"I'm asking about your wish, not his."

Slava thought for a moment: "I hope that the people of this country will have to wait in line less next year."

Director Nian stopped what she was doing, looked up at him, and her rose-red eyes appeared exceptionally soft in the warm light of the desk lamp.

"That's much harder than organizing a military exercise."

"That's why it's called a wish, right? What if a bearded Santa Claus suddenly grants my wish tonight?"

"You might as well hope that this bearded man is a return of Marx."

The snow continued to fall outside the window, covering the rooftops and streets of Moscow, the trees and power lines, the tram tracks and the lines that had already dispersed in front of state-owned stores.

And so 1981 came to an end.

written request for leave

As the title says, I'm taking a regular train home today. It'll be a 15-hour journey, ending at 7:30 PM. I'll update tomorrow.

Just got back from visiting someone in the hospital, updating at midnight.

As the title says, my dad's tumor recurred, and the surgery went wrong, turning a minimally invasive procedure into an open abdominal surgery. I've been taking care of him all day. I'm washing up and resting now before starting to write. I should be able to post a chapter tomorrow morning. I'm very sorry.

Chapter 18 A disgrace...

Slava's long-awaited opportunity finally arrived in 1982.

In this year, Britain and Argentina were about to go to war over a small island in the South Atlantic. The waning British Empire, after suffering from the independence of many colonies and the torment of high inflation brought about by Thatcher, finally ushered in a critical moment in history.

The British government was on the verge of collapse that year, and the Labour Party's dissatisfaction with Thatcher's government had reached its peak. It was Britain's narrow victory in the war that gave Thatcher a breather, allowing her reforms to take effect before collapsing prematurely.

Before this, inflation in Britain had already reached 20%, and the British slackers of later generations started complaining and calling for rejoining the EU when inflation was less than 5%, little did they know that their rather tolerant older generation had no objections when inflation reached 20%.

Those who actually had objections had already been sent away by Thatcher's cavalry company and the British police.

...

It was still snowing in Moscow at the end of March.

Slava had been staring at the KGB intelligence briefing on the table for a full hour—"Assessment of Recent Military Movements of the Argentine Military Government," dated March 25, 1982.

The Argentine military government is preparing a military invasion of the Falkland Islands (known as the Malvinas Islands by the British) with a window of opportunity in early April.

Slava put down the briefing, got up, and walked to the window.

He had been waiting for this war for a year. This was one of the classic cases in Cold War history, discussed endlessly by countless military enthusiasts and political commentators. The narrative of Britain's 8,000-mile expedition, its victory against overwhelming odds, and Thatcher's re-election through this campaign has been told to death.

But that's not necessarily the case now.

He picked up the phone and dialed Director Nian's number: "Have you seen the briefing from Argentina?"

Director Nian's voice came from the other end of the phone: "I saw it, what are you thinking?"

"I was thinking about whether we could take this opportunity to bring down Britain."

To understand what the Falklands War meant for Britain, one must first understand what kind of country Britain was in 1982: a patient undergoing intense labor, on the verge of dying on the operating table.

When Margaret Thatcher won the election and entered 10 Downing Street in May 1979, she inherited an economy that had been plagued by the "British disease" for two decades.

Britain in the 1970s experienced two oil crises, persistent stagflation, the rise of trade unions, and the Labour government's inability to cope. In 1975, the inflation rate soared to a post-war high of 24.2 percent, barely managing to be brought down to 8.3 percent by 1978, but economic growth almost stagnated and unemployment continued to rise.

The winter of 1978-1979—later known as the "Winter of Discontent"—sent garbage collectors went on strike, hospital workers went on strike, truck drivers went on strike, and even gravediggers went on strike, leaving corpses unburied and rotting in morgues. The whole country looked like a machine breaking down, every part screeching and grinding.

Thatcher's prescription was simple yet drastic: monetarism.

She controlled the money supply to suppress inflation, even at the cost of economic recession and mass unemployment. Upon taking office, she immediately raised interest rates to a postwar high of 17 percent, doubled the value-added tax from 8 percent to 15 percent, and simultaneously cut public spending and social welfare.

The effect was immediate—but not a good one.

Inflation did not immediately fall but instead surged to 18 percent in 1980. This was partly due to the impact of the second oil crisis, and partly due to her own doubling of the value-added tax, which directly drove up prices. The economic recession caused by her austerity policies was severe—GDP experienced negative growth for two consecutive years in 1980 and 1981, the worst economic recession in Britain since the Great Depression of the 1930s.

What does it mean when the unemployment rate doubles?

From 5.4 percent in 1979 to over 10.7 percent in early 1982, unemployment surpassed three million—the first time since the Great Depression of the 1930s. The old industrial areas of northern England and Wales were devastated, with steel mills closing, coal mines cutting production, and shipyards laying off workers, leaving an entire generation of blue-collar workers in the dustbin of society.

And how did Thatcher deal with these striking workers? The weakness and compromising nature of the bourgeoisie were never reflected in the suppression of the workers' movement. In any case, someone had to sacrifice for this reform, so the workers just had to suffer a bit more.

In March 1981, 3 economists published a strongly worded open letter in *The Times*, criticizing Thatcher's economic policies as destructive and misleading, and demanding that the government change course. Thatcher responded at the Conservative Party conference with her famous quote, which has since been quoted countless times:

"You want me to turn around? Turning around is your business. This lady won't turn around."

She didn't change course. But by the spring of 1982, her poll numbers had plummeted to the lowest point in Conservative history. Whispers were circulating within the cabinet about whether a change of leadership was necessary; the Labour Party was far ahead in the polls, and Thatcher would undoubtedly lose if an election were held then.

Massive riots erupted across England in the summer of 1981—Toxster in Liverpool, Brixton in London, and Hansworth in Birmingham—unemployed young people clashed with police in the streets, cars were set on fire, and shops were vandalized. Thatcher's government deployed riot police, which appeared on television to be waging war against its own people.

This was Britain in the spring of 1982: a country where inflation had just begun to decline but had not yet taken effect, a country where unemployment was at its highest level since the war, a country where the prime minister's approval ratings had plummeted, and a country where social contradictions had intensified to the point where they could erupt at any moment.

The pain of reform was still at its worst, and the fruits of reform—inflation finally being brought under control below 5 percent and the economy recovering—would not appear until 1983.

What if we suffer another military defeat during this window of opportunity?

...

Slava presented the proposal to Andropov one evening at the end of January.

The location was still that unassuming reception room, Georgian black tea, two oranges, and the curtains were drawn. Andropov's complexion had been noticeably poor lately, and the swelling in his face was more severe than last month, but his energy remained terrifyingly focused—Slava sometimes felt that the old man was fighting against his body purely through willpower.

“The Argentine military government is about to take action against the Falkland Islands, Comrade Chairman,” Slava pushed the intelligence briefing in front of Andropov. “It will probably happen in early April. I think this is a good opportunity.”

“I know,” Andropov picked up the briefing, glanced at it, and put it down again. “The Buenos Aires station reported it three days ago. Galtieri and his ilk are desperate—their domestic economy is collapsing, inflation is out of control, and they are being besieged by the international community for human rights issues. They need a ‘patriotic war’ to divert attention.”

Thatcher was also desperate and had no choice but to gamble on the fate of her country, just like Japan did.

“Wasn’t Britain Japan’s teacher back then? What father acts like son?” Slava said. “You see Britain’s current situation—unemployment is over 10%, Thatcher’s approval ratings have plummeted to an all-time low for the Conservative Party, and there are people in the cabinet plotting to replace the leader. If Britain loses the Falklands War—”

“I don’t think Britain will lose,” Andropov interrupted him, his tone certain. “While the British Navy is no longer the size it was in the Victorian era, it still has the capability to launch an expedition 8,000 miles to recapture a small island. Argentina’s army is poorly trained, poorly equipped, and has a chaotic command system—the problems you saw in Iraq are even more severe in Argentina than in Iraq.”

Britain is now a cornered beast, and even though it is very weak, the fighting power of a cornered beast is greater than we imagine.

"It's nothing more than a last gasp. The British people's patience and determination have been worn down by five years of inflation and high unemployment. Now the British people want peace, and the British government doesn't want to fight. I think the situation is very optimistic."

Slava said while drinking his tea.

"Argentina is not without means to threaten the British fleet. What if they have more Exocet missiles? And we can also provide Argentina with a little 'support,' as the Americans certainly did. They wouldn't stand by and watch Britain lose; they must have provided intelligence support to Britain as well."

Americans did it too.

Andropov looked at him without saying anything.

Slava knew he had Andropov's attention focused—the Exocet missile was the French Dassault AM39 air-to-ship missile, and Argentina had only purchased five from France before the war, to be used with five Super Étendard attack aircraft. Historically, it was these very five missiles that sank the British destroyer HMS Sheffield and the supply ship HMS Atlantic Conveyor, almost changing the course of the war.

What if Argentina had fifteen or twenty submarines instead of five? What if Argentina could also learn the movements of the British fleet? What if they could even use this opportunity to ambush British aircraft carriers with their submarines?

It's important to understand that Britain only has two aircraft carriers left, and the newest one is still under repair. If Britain were to sink one of these carriers, it would be very difficult for them to take over a small island thousands of kilometers away.

“My idea is this,” Slava said after considering his options, “What we need to do is provide Argentina with two things through third-party channels: first, intelligence—our reconnaissance satellites can continuously track the position and course of the British task force, and this data is more valuable than gold to the Argentine Air Force; second, weapons—Exocet missiles, which can be transferred through France or other channels.”

“The French may not cooperate,” Andropov said. “Mitterrand stood with Thatcher, and now France has frozen arms exports to Argentina.”

"The official freeze is in place, but French arms dealers may not necessarily comply. Dassault has long-standing commercial interests in Argentina, and French technicians are still in Buenos Aires helping Argentina debug the Super Etnaval weapons system. If someone puts pressure on the French through unofficial channels—for example, by implying that if they don't cooperate, the Soviet Union will cause trouble in some areas of French concern—it might soften their stance."

“You mean extorting the French? That’s a feasible idea.” Andropov nodded.

"Hey, Mr. An, don't call this extortion, we call this an exchange!"

France had many interests in Africa that required Soviet cooperation. Mitterrand had been in power for less than a year and needed to prove he wasn't a puppet of the United States. If we gave him a way out, allowing him to continue publicly supporting Britain while 'accidentally' letting a few missiles slip out through the back door, he might accept it.

Besides, how many times have France and Britain betrayed each other? It's a long-standing historical tradition.

Andropov leaned back in his chair, his fingers interlaced on his stomach, his gaze fixed on a point on the ceiling.

"So what is your ultimate goal?" he suddenly asked. "What effect do you want to achieve through this? What benefits will this bring to the alliance? Explain your views in detail."

“It would force Thatcher’s government to collapse,” Slava said, “or at least plunge Britain into deep internal chaos and make it unable to take care of itself. Think about the state of Britain now—three million people unemployed, riots raging, Thatcher’s approval ratings at rock bottom—if you add a military defeat on top of that, the domestic pressure would tear Thatcher’s government apart. The Conservative Party would either have to change its leader or call an early election. Either way, Britain would be in political turmoil for the next year or two and wouldn’t have the energy to cooperate with Reagan on the international front against us.”

What about NATO?

"NATO will certainly be impacted. Britain is the second largest pillar of NATO, and if Britain reduces its commitment to NATO due to internal crises—even temporarily—Reagan's plan to deploy Pershing II missiles in Europe will face even greater resistance. Moreover, the Falklands War itself could create rifts within NATO—Western European countries will begin to question the reliability of the United States as an ally, since the United States is now trying to mediate rather than unconditionally support Britain."

The West's reaction is unlikely to be entirely directed at us, because we are merely forcing the current British government to collapse, not launching a communist revolution in Britain, which would easily provoke the United States.

Andropov thought for a long time, so long that Slava began to wonder if he had fallen asleep.

“Your analysis makes sense,” he finally said, “but you’ve overlooked a risk—if Britain had lost the Falklands War, Thatcher might have indeed fallen, but her successor might not have been more advantageous to us.”

If Labour comes to power, they might be more moderate on nuclear disarmament, but tougher on economic sanctions. And you underestimate the British reaction to military humiliation—don't forget the lesson of the Suez Canal, a defeat that led to Britain's complete withdrawal from the Middle East within a decade, but also brought it closer to the United States.

"After the Suez Crisis, Britain did indeed lean towards the United States, but that was because Britain believed that only the United States could protect it. The Falklands War was different—what would the British think if the United States had not stood firmly by Britain's side in the Falklands War? They would think, 'The Americans can't be relied on in a critical moment.' This kind of rift in the alliance is more destructive than the military defeat itself."

Andropov's lips twitched slightly.

“If we mess this up, the risk will be too great. The alliance is already under too many sanctions because of the Poland issue, and we can’t afford to take any more risks.” He frowned, carefully considering Slava’s proposal and weighing the risks and gains.

"The West can exist without its alliances, but the alliances cannot exist without the West. If we cannot achieve independence and self-reliance, we will be held hostage. If we are not held hostage today, we will be held hostage tomorrow. As for the excuses for holding us hostage?"

“If you want to find fault, you can always find a pretext,” Slava advised.

Andropov stood up, took a few steps, and then stopped. His back was more hunched than it had been a year ago, but he still exuded a heavy weight as he stood there.

“Alright, I agree with your plan—partially. I will discuss this with some comrades later, and if it proves to be highly feasible, I will propose the plan to Brezhnev.” He turned around.

"Intelligence support is possible. I'll have the satellite reconnaissance department adjust its orbital parameters to increase the frequency of coverage over the South Atlantic. But we won't directly intervene in terms of weapons; it's too easy to be traced. I'll have people try other channels, acquiring as much as we can. This matter must not leave any trace of direct Soviet involvement!"

He walked to the door, opened it, and prepared to leave, but paused on the threshold.

"There's one more thing."

"Please speak."

"Do you know what you're doing?" Andropov looked at him, wanting to make sure the young man clearly understood what the choice he was about to make meant.

“I know,” Slava shrugged. “If it succeeds, some British will die because of it. Every extra Exocet missile is equivalent to a British warship that gets hit and dozens or hundreds of British lives.”

"I hope you will always understand what you are doing and what the cost is."

Andropov looked at him for three seconds, nodded, and left.

After the door closed, Slava sat alone in the reception room for a long time. The tea had gone cold, and no one ate the oranges. Outside the window, the Moscow night was deep, with no moon, only the lights on in the windows of a few distant buildings.

Director Nian came in at some point, sat down opposite him, picked up an orange, and started peeling it.

"President An agreed?"