Copyright 2014 Jimmy Boom Semtex. All rights reserved.
Only a single paragraph maybe reproduced for reviewing
purposes. In any article list Jimmy Boom Semtex as author.
Dedidated to the Cold War. I miss you my dear. Welcome back.
Once
upon a time in a wicked land run by two equally vicious power blocks there
lived two nice black pussycats called Able and Archer. Both lived on nuclear
missile bases being fed by active duty service personnel who served their
respective countries in this wicked vicious world of half hidden nightmares and
Cold War surrealism. Would both pussies get fried if it turned into a hot war?
Able was a black gothic medium
long hair pussycat, aged five years. She lived at Greenham Common, a
cruise missile base equipped with GLCMs - Gliccams - Ground Launched Cruise
Missiles. These were amongst the West's new mushroom producing weapons that
included the Pershing 2 IRBM (Intermediate Range Ballistic Missile) and the
stunning MX Peacekeeper ICBM (Inter Continental Ballistic Missile). Backing these weapons up were the ALCM (Air Launched Cruise
Missile) similar to the Gliccam but launched from aircraft like the B-52
bomber. Sub based Trident D5 SLBM (Submarine Launched Ballistic Missile) in
nuclear missile boats like the Ohio submarines.
Soviet/Warsaw
Pact forces faced off American/NATO nuclear and conventional forces. They had
new nuclear weapons like the IRBM class SS20 missile and AS15 Kelt ALCM. Their
pussycat was called Archer, he was also a black pussycat fed well living on a
missile base at Vostock in East Germany. Many other Soviet/Warsaw Pact weapons
were being built and deployed but they were secret and not much was known about
them other than they would kill millions of people and western pussycats like Able.
Missiles fired from the West would kill millions more in the East along with
their feline furry friends. For now peace reigned AND it would soon be over,
something terribly bad was in the making so the future for pussycats and their
people owners didn’t look too rosy.
***
It
all started when Able, the pussycat at the Greenham Common base, was chasing a
mouse for some fun; this mouse was brown in colour and Able believed this small
brown mouse was a spy and a communist sympathiser after the secrets of the
base. So Able had to stop the mouse at all costs and by any means possible. A
chase developed under the barbed razor wire, over the closely cut grass past
armed American guards with loaded machine guns with safety catches off, onto
the tarmac roadway which led to part of the missiles storage area. This was one
quick smart mouse dodging this way and that, avoiding a NATO pussycat that
pounced six times after this rogue mouse and missed. Was it the first of many?
Over by the nuclear warhead storage igloo – a structure made of steel
reinforced concrete topped off by earth and grass, the chase continued. The
mouse had chosen this one carefully; the heavy steel door was open due to the
maintenance crew doing weekly checks on the warhead for any problems. Had the
mouse been told of this so it could gain access and steal the secrets for the
enemy, the War Pac forces?
With
a loud meow Able ran a metre behind the speedy mouse that shot into the small
gap in the door in the storage bunker, gaining entry to the most secret part of
the British Isles. Stopping on the middle of the floor to observe and take in
its bearings, the mouse darted to the nearest warhead that was stored in a
large yellow lead flask with danger and radiation signs and labels plastered
all over it. The cat was on its tail like a guided missile to stop this
intrusion, pouncing one last time in his only chance to stop spying and
subterfuge, Able jumped on the mouse. He did it! The mouse gave one last squeak
and died as a paw was planted on its back and teeth snapped, biting the mouse
to end its short life of spying.
Looking
up in alarm, the distracted maintenance crew laughed when they saw it was only
their friendly cat Able chasing and catching a mouse. He had to earn his supper
the hard way, live mice and tit bits from the maintenance and base personnel.
They wouldn’t give him a tit bit this time because he had the mouse to nibble
on. Did the maintenance men know that Able had stopped a Soviet mouse spying on
their secret nuclear weapons? After all this was a war, not just some highly
dangerous game.
When
the Soviet mouse didn’t report back to Mouse Headquarters alarm bells rang,
something was very wrong, for a NATO cat must have compromised him. So more
mice were sent out to gain the important information, how many pussycats
guarded how many warheads at Greenham Common?
In
the cats head the conversation he would have with the communist spun out, the
theory after the practical. “Mouse what are you doing? Tell me! I know you’re
an enemy agent up to no good,” hissed the cat.
“What
makes you sure I’ll ever tell you? Come, come and join us in the East. We need
pussycats like you to defeat the evil capitalists,” squeaked the brown mouse,
whose shifty eyes took in everything. Silence.
“Enough!
I've killed the mouse, for now we are safe and no threat hinders us, for
now.” After sorting the intruding mouse out Able went back prowling the grounds
always alert ready for anything. He saw the maintenance men close the door to
the missile bunker.
One
of them spotted him and shouted, “Hey Able, good work with the mouse! We can’t
have it stealing our warheads. Here's a tit bit,” he threw a half eaten
sandwich over to the black cat that was the saviour of democracy. With a meow
Able pounced and ate the ham and cheese in one go. Perks of the job.
***
Able had an opposite number, a
fellow black cat who was an exact opposite in each and every way. He was the
guardian of similar weapons that belonged to his masters who had a different
belief, communism. A direct challenge from the East to the capitalist West, he
was called Archer. Archer was a very pernicious cat
full of moods, ranging from petulant to downright angry. He always expected to
get his own way but one time soon he wouldn’t, with bad consequences for all
involved. What would the end result be? He didn’t know as he guarded an SS20
missile site. He’d already caught three NATO mice over a two-day period. Not a
single secret had been stolen. It looked like NATO was planning
something against the East but what – a recon or full-scale war? Archer had to
find out, not a single cornered captured mouse had spilled the beans, all died
in silence and then he had eaten their still warm corpses. A scant meal
considering what was hanging overhead.
“Comrade cat Archer good work
with the vermin mice. Here's a dish of our finest vodka,” congratulated a
soldier of the Nuclear Missile Troops. Archer wasn’t
as posh a pussycat as her Western counterpart Able. His coat was at best
functional, none of the high glossy sheen nor brushed daily nor was she fed
tuna fish twice per week nor allowed to sleep in the Enlisted Airman's mess
when the weather was bad. No, Archer slept under a TEL (Transporter Erector
Launcher) that transported the deadly state of the art SS20 missiles. That was
her home in early/mid November 1983 in a time when our world came close to
World War3. Not since the Cuban Missile Crisis had the world been pushed to the
edge, it was all a matter of pussycats catching mice.
Archer
the black communist pussycat was wondering when war would come. What form would
it take? NATO could only send over so many recon mice to filch our secrets.
When would the mice stop and missiles and bombs fall? Of course, we wouldn’t
start the Third World War because we're the good guys who want to co-exist and
be left alone. We'd have to catch an enemy mouse and make him talk but
how do we do that? Every mouse that crossed the wire was spotted and caught,
not one talked. That had to change. Almost silent rumours circulated of one of
our Soviet spy mice being caught and talking, was it true? If so the communist
ideal was under threat by the capitalist mice spies and guard pussycats. What
were our leaders going to do about it?
***
Meanwhile, back in the land of
the free Able enjoyed a nice peanut butter sandwich off a soldier for catching
another enemy mouse. Crunchie nut, mmm my favourite! Soon the countdown to war
would begin, pussycats, mice and nuclear bombs, oh and people! It’s the felines
who control the world; they’re in charge of the people who’re in charge of the
bombs. One big illusion perpetuated by cats to trick people to think they’re in
control, a sign of genius and daring that not even people knew of. When war came,
the world of men would believe they caused it. In effect, it was the mice that
did it. Cats tried to stop it and maintain the status quo. Mice sent by cats.
All previous Warsaw Pact mouse
intrusions had been a test, probing and trying out the defences. To gain any
secrets would be a bonus. The main mouse thrust came on the cold autumn morning
of November 11 1983. Two hundred thousand mice stormed over the borders of
East/West Berlin and East/West Germany, breaching the wire, the wall, the gun
defences, landmines and listening devices with ease. They invaded West Germany!
Such defences were only capable of stopping humans on foot or in vehicles; they
were useless against small animals like communist mice! The call went out, “War
Pac mice were attacking!” West Berlin fell immediately after a mad fight.
NATO only had fifty thousand
mice to send the other way, into East Germany. As soon as possible, allied mice
were scrambled and sent the other way to take out targets in the East.
Pussycats like Able were directing the battle from Britain. How long would he
be safe here was anyone’s guess, if any of the mice breached the base
perimeter, a real battle would kick off. Like what was occurring in Germany and
Western Europe. Tens of thousands of other enemy mice invaded Holland, Denmark,
France, Scandinavia and every other allied country. By comparison, hardly any
damage was done in Eastern Europe or Russia/Soviet Union.
***
“Yes, the battle is going to
plan,” whispered Archer, his short unkempt fair standing up. NATO mice are attempting to attack but their
numbers are too small. We have numerical superiority and the advantage of
surprise. Soon all of Western Europe will be under the communist boot and then
we can take over Britain and finally the world! Stopping American dominance
over the western sphere of influence, Soviet dominance would be complete over
NATO/Western pussycats and their territory.
“That’s right Comrade Archer,
our mice foot soldiers are advancing full rate on all fronts. Soon they will
add and consolidate more enemy territory,” replied a mangy white cat with
stained coat. He was Archer’s military information minister. Like all other
white cats, he was deaf but an expert lip reader. “We have taken West Berlin
after serious opposition.”
“Good. What is the status of
any enemy pussycats we have captured?” asked Archer, grimacing. He knew the
answer.
“We captured five enemy
pussycats belonging to NATO. Every single one fought like a cornered lion, we
overwhelmed them and are trying to get them to talk. It isn’t easy,” meowed the
minister, frowning.
“Yes... I know how stubborn the
enemy cats are. It’ll be unfortunate to say the least if they don’t crack under
torture,” replied the leader. Archer was known to be ruthless; it was time to
back that fact up.
“What do you suggest we do to
get them to talk?” enquired the minister. A sadistic gleam shone in his eyes.
“I will attend the
interrogation myself and question one of them. If he refuses, I will make an
example of him to the others. They’ll soon talk then,” commented the boss.
***
Able was in a panic. We’re losing the battle! Enemy Warsaw Pact
mice are overwhelming our defences and taking our positions in wave after wave
of attacks. How can this be possible?
“I share your concern Able, I
really do,” soothed a golden long haired pussycat, called Sabre. He was Able’s
military adviser and tactical co-ordinator. And more.
“What options do we have? How
can we win this battle?” Able asked, quietly thinking what options were in the
cat tray. Not many.
“Our options are as follows:
Option 1. We can send more mice to attack enemy supply lines. By taking out
enemy cheese factories the mice won’t have any food. This option would work
over the long term but we don’t have the luxury of time nor the numbers of mice
to successfully do this. Option 2. Capture as many enemy mice as possible,
brainwash them and send them back as double agents to attack their former
masters. This plan depends on whether we can capture enough enemy mice alive,
then brainwash them completely so they’re our slaves and follow our orders
completely. Option 3. This is the most serious one with the most risks. Put
simply, we trick our human masters to launch a nuclear strike on the enemy.
This will destroy their Command and Control ability, which in turn will
paralyse their front line attacking mice. What mice are left at the front and
behind our lines, we can deal with because they won’t be reinforced or
resupplied with cheese due to the humans launching their nuclear weapons. Risks
associated with this plan are obvious. A limited nuclear strike by us, on them
maybe not enough to stall their initial attack. Also, a limited nuclear attack
by us can quickly escalate to a full nuclear exchange. Everyone loses then and
no humans will be left to get tit bits from. Those are your options Able,”
explained Sabre, purring like the top cat he was.
He trotted over to a bowl of
fresh cream and lapped it up noisily, while Able thought through his list of
options. Each option is fraught with
difficulty and danger. The first two would be good to use if we had more time,
if the enemy had launched probing attacks or a limited strength assault of mice
upon us. We neither have the time nor capability to do those now. This leaves
us with the final option, a nuclear release. A full release of weapons is
desirable. This will fully destroy every enemy position, along with pussycats
and their mice foot soldiers. Of course, there will be a powerful enemy
response of equal proportions. We can live without tit bits of tuna fish when
our masters’ bases, weapons and population centres are destroyed. We will rule
the world then.
“We go with Option 3. Inform
all of our pussycats at our allied military bases that NATO must launch a full
nuclear attack against the Soviet Union and Warsaw Pact forces. Every weapon,
both conventional and nuclear, is to be launched in massive defensive first
strike. Everything. We must trick our human masters’ into launching their
weapons. That is my decision Sabre,” Able decided. That was it then; enemy mice
attacking on a broad front had decided the issue and response.
“Okay then Able, your decision is
made. I won’t try to change your mind, we both fully understand the gravity of
the situation and how important our decision to respond is. I’ll pass on your
orders to the forward bases. Some have already been overrun by enemy mice.
Those will have to be immediately destroyed to stop them being used by our
enemy. We can launch our missiles from here too,” purred Sabre, delighted that
nuclear weapons were to be used. I’ll
miss tuna fish butty tit bits and bowls of fresh cream but we can be leaders of
the world! NATO pussycats can be in control of everything once humans have been
wiped out, followed by enemy communist pussycats and mice! We will be masters
of everything; we can start again and have lots of kittens. In time our world
will be populated by cats, with no humans getting in the way. We can sit out
the radiation in the bunker and then emerge to repopulate the world and make a
fresh start, making a world which belongs to felines.
***
Archer clawed the NATO pussycat
prisoner. His claws left deep cuts upon the brow of the enemy cat, whose brown
coat was bloody and dishevelled. “Tell me the arming codes for your nuclear
weapons. Tell me now!” hissed Archer. He clawed his captive again, this time
upon his side.
“No, never!” replied the NATO
pussycat, puffing out his chest.
“You will talk! The codes. And
how many mice do you have left? We have killed over three quarters of your
attack force. Soon the rest will be dead or captured. How many more do you have
in reserve? Tell me!” hissed Archer, biting his enemy on his ear. Half of the
ear was torn loose, left hanging by a flap of bloody skin. The prisoner cowered
now, his defiance over. He was held by two scruffy “hard bastard” Special
Forces cats who belonged to SPETSNAZ, the Soviet secret commando force who
could do any job. This included making sure prisoners never escaped.
“Will you talk?” asked his
interrogator, pleasantly this time. “You could even join us, we need pussycats
like you. You could work for us; this would be of benefit to you. What do you
say?” Of course, all benefits would be solely with the communists.
“Fuck you, you commie bastard!
I’m a NATO pussycat who will never talk!” responded the prisoner. In a quick
move, he broke free of one of his jailers and lashed out with a paw. He only got
one chance and made sure he didn’t miss.
Archer was caught in the left
eye by the paw swipe. His eye was ripped out of its socket and dragged free by
the violence of the act. Snapping free of its optic nerve, it rolled over the
floor to stare lifelessly up towards the heavens, as if asking for forgiveness
for the violence now engulfing Europe. It was too late.
“You bastard NATO pussycat!
Look what you have done! Torn my eye out! Kill him, kill this capitalist
bastard! Tear him to pieces! Do it now! I’m going to order the launch of every
single nuclear weapon now; there will be no negotiated peace or unconditional
surrender. WE WILL TOTALLY DESTROY YOU!” screamed Archer, holding his bloody
empty eye socket with his paw and shaking with anger.
Both SPETSNAZ foot soldiers tore the unfortunate but brave
prisoner apart, in a fur ball of waving tails, lashing paws, biting teeth and
cacophony of wails. Five minutes later calm descended. Both vicious Special
Force pussycats did their job very well, the NATO pussycat was no more; he was
in six large pieces and very dead. He hadn’t given away one single secret.
“Brave foolish NATO pussycat.
Now I must see to it that we manipulate our communist masters’ to launch their
missiles to destroy our enemy. Then we can be masters of the world, a world
without NATO pussycats, their mice or humans. We’re tougher than our enemy and
can endure any hardship. After I’ve sorted the launch of our weapons, I’ll get
my eye fixed. Good job you two, after the nuclear war, I’ll make sure you two
get top positions on my new feline communist government,” hissed Archer to his
two partners in crime. His two foot soldiers just nodded and licked their
bloody paws.
***
By catty subterfuge, scratches,
bites and meows, NATO pussycats had made their human masters do the pussycats
work. Able was responsible, working with Sabre, to bring about the end of the
world as we know it. Twenty eight thousand nuclear weapons were fired from the
United States of America against targets in the East, close to a thousand were
fired by Britain, five hundred by France and countless other thousands from
NATO states towards enemy targets. Thousands of mini suns illuminated the
battlefield, bringing World War 3 and the end of the world. Targets hit ranged
from bridges where mice could cross, cities where shops sold cheese and
catteries where located, nuclear missiles bases where War Pac pussycats lived and
sent mice out on spying missions and on the actual invasion. Dozens of other
type targets included ones inhabited by only humans, millions died under
nuclear mushroom clouds. Hundreds of thousands of tons of dust was kicked up
into the atmosphere, blocking out the sun. Slowly the temperature started to
drop over the irradiated world. It was the end of the world as humans knew it,
brought on by two warring pussycats named Able and Archer. Enemy pussycats and
mice were obliterated.
The Soviet/Warsaw Pact response
with nuclear weapons was equally decimating. A total of forty five thousand
weapons were fired at all manner of targets. Thousands of NATO pussycats were
killed along with tens of thousands of mice. Millions of human beings died too.
No more tit bits would be given out to pussycats. Everyone was dead in Western
Europe and America. This eastern violence was matched by the western acts,
Eastern Europe was a nuclear desert matched by Russia and the Soviet states.
Every eastern weapon had been launched because of Archer’s and his Comrade’s
valiant efforts to defend their eastern homelands from the capitalists, even if
it came to total nuclear devastation and the end of the world.
A domino affect had ricocheted
around the world, Israel launched her weapons on Arab targets in every Middle
Eastern country, South Africa got rid of their enemies in Angola and
surrounding states, Red China fired at Russia who fired back in return.
Everyone fired at everyone else until nothing was left. Only a smoking radioactive
world freezing under a nuclear winter remained.
***
Six months later, a thin
emaciated pussycat with medium length black coat emerged from the safety of his
nuclear bunker. It was Able. She looked around and didn’t recognise his
Greenham Common base. Nothing remained above ground, several direct hits with
nuclear warheads saw to that. She thought,
They did it. Or we did it or I did it! Nuked the world. Now there’s nothing
left. Looking over the dead blackened scorched earth, he saw a skeleton of
a cat. In his exhausted state it was a miracle that he managed to run over.
“Oh Sabre! I’m sorry for this.
I killed you; I’m responsible for the nuclear war and your death. It was me who
ordered the missile launches. We had to do it but we never won, we lost! I lost
you and my human friends. Now I’ll never have no more ham sandwiches or dishes
or milk. I wish you had made it to the bunker with me. You weren’t fast enough
and I had to close the door so I wouldn’t die. I killed you, I’m sorry Sabre! I
killed thousands of NATO mice too, for that I’m also sorry. Why did we have to
fight Soviet and Warsaw Pact pussycats and mice? Why oh why did we build
weapons to annihilate ourselves? Why?” Able sank to her knees next to the
skeleton of her former boyfriend Sabre and cried. Now she would never bear him
kittens or be there for him. Radiation from the scorched ground bombarded her
thin body with charged particles, slowly killing her.
At Vostock, nothing remained of
Archer. Not even scorched fair or rotten teeth. Never again would Archer drink
vodka from his soldier friends nor sleep under a missile launcher. A direct hit
from a huge nuclear weapon had vaporised a massive area, taking with it
missiles, launchers, the base, humans and of course, Able and his two Special Forces
friends. The crater itself was one mile wide and three hundred mates deep.
Archer was half responsible for the end of the world, killing billions of
people and hundreds of thousands of animals from military pussycats and mice to
pets like dogs and guinea pigs. A planet called Earth had just died.
The meek will NOT inherit this
world. Everyone and everything died on November 11 1983. The NATO Operation
Able Archer went critical and led to war.
