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is divisional mander； and also； it seemed； to the theater intelligence coordinator； some colonel named Tolkunov。 That chap； he'd discovered； was very concerned with his personal safety； always urging him to stay close…but not too close…not to be spotted； and to avoid bat of any type。 His job； Tolkunov had told him at least once every two hours for the last day and a half； was to stay alive and to keep his eye on the advancing Chinese。 He wasn't supposed to so much as injure one little hair on their cute little Chink heads； just stay close enough that if they mumbled in their sleep； to copy down the names of the girlfriends they fucked in their dreams。
Aleksandrov was a young captain； only twenty…eight； and rakishly handsome； an athlete who ran for personal pleasure…and running； he told his men； was the best form of exercise for a soldier； especially a reconnaissance specialist。 He had a driver； gunner； and radio operator for each of his tracks； plus three infantrymen whom he'd personally trained to be invisible。
The drill was for them to spend about half their time out of their vehicles； usually a good kilometer or so ahead of their Chinese counterparts； either behind trees or on their bellies； reporting back with monosyllabic ments on their portable radios； which were of Japanese manufacture。 The men moved light； carrying only their rifles and two spare magazines； because they weren't supposed to be seen or heard； and the truth was that Aleksandrov would have preferred to send them out unarmed； lest they be tempted to shoot someone out of patriotic anger。 However； no soldier would ever stand for being sent out on a battlefield weaponless； and so he'd had to settle for ordering them out with bolts closed on empty chambers。 The captain was usually out with his men； their BRM carriers hidden three hundred or so meters away in the trees。
In the past twenty…four hours； they'd bee intimately familiar with their Chinese opponents。 These were also trained and dedicated reconnaissance specialists； and they were pretty good at their jobs； or certainly appeared to be。 They were also moving in tracked vehicles； and also spent a lot of their time on foot； ahead of their tracks； hiding behind trees and peering to the north； looking for Russian forces。 The Russians had even started giving them names。
〃It's the gardener；〃 Sergeant Buikov said。 That one liked touching trees and bushes； as though studying them for a college paper or something。 The gardener was short and skinny； and looked like a twelve…year…old to the Russians。 He seemed petent enough； carrying his rifle slung on his back； and using his binoculars often。 He was a Chinese lieutenant； judging by his shoulderboards； probably mander of this platoon。 He ordered his people around a lot； but didn't mind taking the lead。 So； he was probably conscientious。 He is； therefore； the one we should kill first； Aleksandrov thought。 Their BRM reconnaissance track had a fine 30…mm cannon that could reach out and turn the gardener into fertilizer from a thousand meters or so； but Captain Aleksandrov had forbidden it； worse luck； Buikov thought。 He was from this area； a woodsman of sorts who'd hunted in the forests many times with his father； a lumberjack。 〃We really ought to kill him。〃
〃Boris Yevgeniyevich； do you wish to alert the enemy to our presence？〃 Aleksandrov asked his sergeant。
〃I suppose not； my captain； but the hunting season is…〃
〃…closed； Sergeant。 The season is closed； and no； he is not a wolf that you can shoot for your own pleasure； and…down；〃 Aleksandrov ordered。 The gardener was looking their way with his field glasses。 Their faces were painted； and they had branches tucked into their field clothing to break up their outlines； but he was taking no chances。 〃They'll be moving soon。 Back to the track。〃
The hardest part of their drill was to avoid leaving tracks for the Chinese to spot。 Aleksandrov had 〃discussed〃 this with his drivers； threatening to shoot anyone who left a trail。 （He knew he couldn't do that； of course； but his men weren't quite sure。） Their vehicles even had upgraded mufflers to reduce their sound signature。 Every so often； the men who designed and built Russian military equipment got things right； and this was such a case。 Besides； they didn't crank their engines until they saw the Chinese doing the same。 Aleksandrov looked up。 Okay； the gardener was waving to those behind him； the wave that meant to bring their vehicles up。 They were doing another leapfrog jump； with one section standing fast and providing over…watch cover for the next move； should something happen。 He had no intention of making anything happen； but of course they couldn't know that。 Aleksandrov was surprised that they were maintaining their careful drill into the second day。 They weren't getting sloppy yet。 He'd expected that； but it seemed that the Chinese were better drilled even than his expectations； and were assiduously following their written doctrine。 Well； so was he。
〃Move now； Captain？〃 Buikov asked。
〃No； let's sit still and watch。 They ought to stop at that little ridge with the logging road。 I want to see how predictable they are； Boris Yevgeniyevich。〃 But he did trigger his portable radio。 〃Stand by； they're jumping again。〃
The other radio just clicked on and off； creating a whisper of static； rather than a spoken reply。 Good； his men were adhering to their radio discipline。 The second echelon of Chinese tracks moved forward carefully； at about ten…kilometer speed； following this opening in the forest。 Interesting； he thought； that they weren't venturing too far into the adjoining woods。 No more than two or three hundred meters。 Then he cringed。 A helicopter chattered overhead。 It was a Gazelle； a Chinese copy of the French military helicopter。 But his track was back in the woods； and every time it stopped； the men ran outside to stretch the camo…net around it。 His men； also； were well…drilled。 And that； he told his men； was why they didn't dare leave a visible trail if they wanted to live。 It wasn't much of a helicopter； but it did carry rockets…and their BRM was an armored personnel carrier； but it wasn't that armored。
〃What's he doing？〃 Buikov asked。
〃If he's looking； he's not being very careful about it。〃
The Chinese were driving up a pathway built ages ago for an unbuilt spur off the Trans…Siberian Railroad。 It was wide； in some places five hundred meters； and fairly well…graded。 Someone in years past had thought about building this spur to exploit the unsurveyed riches of Siberia…enough to cut down a lot of trees； and they'd barely grown back in the harsh winters。 Just saplings in this pathway now； easily ground into splinters by tracked vehicles。 Farther north； the work was being continued by army engineers； making a path to the new gold find； and beyond that to the oil discoveries on the Arctic Coast。 When they got that far； the Chinese would find a good road； ready…made for a mechanized force to exploit。 But it was a narrow one； and the Chinese would have to learn about flank security if they kept this path up。
Aleksandrov remembered a Roman adventure into Germany； a soldier named Quintilius Varus； manding three legions； who'd igno