Soviet Organ

After delivering his stirring speech, the troops—ready and eager—rushed toward the front line. Meanwhile, Yanaev was to be escorted to a safer rear area under heavy guard. For caution's sake, General Rogionov insisted on accompanying the General Secretary all the way to the airport, vowing not to return to the base camp until Yanaev was safely on board.

Rogionov understood all too well that his own reputation and future depended on Yanaev's safety. Any harm that befell the General Secretary would mean the end of his military career.

Seated in the bumpy jeep, Yanaev reviewed the frontline report Rogionov had just submitted. With methodical concern, he asked, "Comrade Rogionov, is logistics keeping pace with the army's advance? Are those in the logistics department causing you any trouble?"

"No," Rogionov replied firmly. "Supplies have reached the front in time, ensuring the soldiers don't go hungry. I appreciate your concern, General Secretary. The timely distribution of winter gear also helped the troops survive the harsh cold."

"That's good," Yanaev nodded, satisfaction evident. "During the First Chechen War, the logistics were plagued by corruption. Supplies were sold off, forcing Russian troops to face a well-prepared enemy in dire conditions." He added coldly, "I told Arkhipov that if the frontline reports missing supplies or finds anyone reselling military goods, and the evidence is clear, they are to be executed immediately—no military court."

Rogionov was struck by Yanaev's calmness, as if discussing routine matters. "There really were insiders who took such risks, but after Arkhipov was shot, it never happened again."

Only now did Rogionov realize that the army's smooth logistics were a direct result of Yanaev's determination.

"You focus on the front," Yanaev said meaningfully. "I'll handle logistics. Corruption runs deep in the military. War exposes all. It's time to cleanse the rot." His words hinted at sweeping reforms. First, reestablishing political commissars against opposition. Then drastically cutting forces in the Far East. Now preparing to root out traitors. While suppressing heretical factions and consolidating power, Yanaev was reshaping the army's image and reclaiming public trust.

Rogionov understood: Yanaev's insistence that the army belonged to the Soviet Union and its people wasn't mere rhetoric. The general secretary—high in rank yet modest in manner—had earned his respect.

"By the way, General Rogionov," Yanaev added, setting down the report, "this war must be decisive. The Chechen armed forces must be annihilated in Grozny. We cannot allow them to escape into the northern mountains to regroup or launch terror attacks."

"That won't happen, General Secretary. I'll wipe out all the rebels," Rogionov vowed gravely.

Satisfied, Yanaev smiled and said, "You're currently special operations commander of the Caucasus Military District, but after this war, a surprise awaits you."

The promise lit up Rogionov's face. He knew Yanaev meant the post he'd long coveted: Commander-in-Chief of the Caucasus Military District.

"I won't disappoint you. I'll fight a war worthy of victory," Rogionov declared.

As Rogionov escorted Yanaev away, the final brutal battle for Grozny loomed. Before launching the last offensive, Soviet armored forces surrounded Grozny's suburbs. The cornered Chechens, with no way out, prepared to make a desperate last stand behind fortifications.

The rebels had laid roadblocks and buried anti-tank mines to halt the Soviet advance. Behind them lay Grozny—no escape route.

The well-equipped, resolute Soviet troops advanced steadily. The city ahead was the final prize, and they were determined to claim it.

The prelude to the final battle sounded.

The famed "Soviet Organs"—Hail and Storm rocket launchers—were ready. Newly delivered rockets and artillery shells bolstered the frontline armor's confidence to expend their full arsenal. The launchers were densely arrayed, targeting the last rebel strongholds near Grozny.

"All units, listen up: rocket launchers fire! Use all rockets!" the commander ordered into his radio.

At the command, the rocket launchers roared to life, their blasts like thunderous organ pipes. Each rocket left a blazing trail, shooting skyward like fiery fireworks. These same launchers, victorious at Naurskaya, now rained destruction on the beleaguered Chechen forces.

Buildings exploded in succession, debris and dust swallowing fleeing fighters. Shilka self-propelled guns were reduced to scrap, and T62 tanks vanished into smoke and ruin. From above, countless yellow streaks lit rebel positions with unerring precision, each followed by cataclysmic explosions that turned the town to rubble.

The bombardment lasted mere seconds, leaving a sudden hush over the frontline.

Observers reported total destruction of insurgent armored units. At once, the commander ordered armored forces to advance. Simultaneously, SU-25 attack jets and Hind helicopters from the nearby airstrip took to the skies to support the infantry.

With the SU-25—renowned for its rugged reliability—deployed, the Soviet army's advance would no longer be so arduous and slow.

Although the armored forces had been decimated, a significant number of Chechen rebels still refused to lose their fighting spirit. They took cover in ruined buildings, firing cold, calculated shots at the soldiers advancing in close coordination with infantry and tanks. Occasionally, rockets streaked through the air, aimed at the Soviet armor. Yet the SU-25 attack jets and MI-24 helicopters, hovering at low altitude nearby, soon made the rebels pay dearly for their defiance.

On a rooftop, three rebels celebrated their latest success—a Western-supplied TOW anti-tank missile had just overturned a T-72 tank. They shouted "Long live Allah!" with fierce pride. Beside them, a sniper and a machine gunner suppressed counterattacks from Soviet soldiers on both sides of the crippled tank, buying the missile operator precious time to reload.

Just as the rebel was about to fire the next missile, a tremendous buzzing shattered the air, tearing through their eardrums. Even the small stones on the ground trembled. Startled, the rebels looked up and saw a SU-25 attack aircraft hurtling toward them. Its twin 30mm machine guns opened fire, ripping holes into the rooftop. Even thick concrete walls stood no chance against the barrage—let alone three men caught in the open.

The rebels dropped their weapons in a desperate bid to escape, but it was too late. The SU-25's strafing runs tore through their bodies and ripped a huge hole in the roof itself.

From a nearby bunker, Soviet soldiers poked their heads out and saw what had been an intact building moments before now reduced to a shattered ruin.

"Soldiers, advance! Good luck out there. Over and out," the SU-25 pilot radioed before banking away to provide cover for other armored units further along the front.

With artillery and air support clearing the way, the Soviet troops pressed forward smoothly. Any militants daring to confront the "iron army" were sent swiftly to meet Allah, their will to resist utterly broken.

As the relentless advance continued, the political commissar waved the red flag high to rally the troops and used a loudspeaker to broadcast a final ultimatum to the remaining rebels.

"This is your last warning from the Soviets! Lay down your arms and surrender, or our armored vehicles will crush every inch of Chechnya and drain your last drop of blood. There will not be a single rebel left standing on this land!"