Ustinov's Law

Under Yanayev's half-intimidation, half-enticing pressure, poor Vietnam had no choice but to agree to buy fifty "Monkey Edition" T-72 tanks—the export version, of course. This shameless forced deal was so brazen that even Pavlov couldn't hold back. "Is it really necessary to be this ruthless?" he asked, sighing. "After all, they were once comrades."

Yanayev shrugged off the criticism with a cold smile. "That's how it works. If you're not a gangster, you won't be one of the five permanent members of the UN Security Council. China isn't buying our ships right now, but if they don't act when Vietnam places a big order, the Vietnamese will be grateful. Believe me, the world's changed. Class friendship is dead. Only the strongest fists rule."

He leaned back, eyes sharp. "Look at Britain and the U.S.—enemies and partners at the same time. France has wandered off on its own since de Gaulle. What we need is to tighten ties with our southern neighbor, China, and push back against these shameless upstarts who want to remake the world."

For the Soviet Union, sacrificing the interests of smaller allies like Vietnam and India was a small price to pay for closer ties with China—and for profit.

No sooner had the Vietnamese deal been sealed than the Indian Ministry of Defense sent military officials to Moscow, eager to inspect Soviet arms and place their own orders. Yanayev knew India had recently ordered Type 85 tanks from Pakistan—an insult that had inflamed tensions. Now India wanted Soviet tanks to bolster its armored forces.

Yanayev had long viewed India as a wealthy but naïve buyer, and these transactions were best left to the Ministry of Defense. He warned Defense Minister Yazov, "Remember the Ustinov Law. Be generous with prices to India? No. Cut them down and make them grateful."

Yazov nodded, understanding the unspoken rule: when India came knocking, they were to get a steep bill.

The Indian delegation included Defense Minister Kapoor and Deputy Chief of Staff Prakash. After last year's purchase of Tunguska air defense systems—high-quality, reasonably priced—India was eager to expand its Soviet arsenal. This time, the Soviets offered both the export and the original T-72 tanks.

When the delegation saw the price gap—over four times difference—they balked.

"What's going on?" they demanded, holding up the price list.

Yazov smiled, perfectly at ease. "There are natural differences. Both tanks have steel-fiberglass-steel composite armor, but the export turret is cast steel instead of composite. The original's software and fire control are more advanced. Fire extinguishing, defense systems, automation—export versions are simplified to save costs."

"You get what you pay for. Still think the original is too expensive?" Yazov's blunt honesty left them speechless.

Prakash stepped in to smooth things over. "The prices will come down with bulk orders."

"Yes," Yazov added, "like the Mi-17 helicopters sold to China. The official price was five million dollars, but we negotiated it down to two million. Quantity is a military secret, though. I hope you understand."

With reassurances in hand, the delegation toured the tanks. The original T-72 model was undeniably superior, along with other hardware like BMP-3 IFVs, Shilka SPAAGs, and SAM-11 Buk missiles.

The Indians expressed admiration and interest, especially in the upgraded systems.

"Everything's negotiable," Yazov said with a sly grin. "We'll give our respected Indian friends the best discounts—if you're willing to talk price over a few drinks."

After days of visits, the Indians finalized their list—though the Soviets declined their request to see MiG-29 fighters, citing export restrictions. The Indian side left satisfied; never before had they bought original Soviet weapons at such reasonable prices.

Deputy Chief of Staff Prakash was quietly pleased, but little did they know, the Soviets had laid a trap. The "cheap" arms sales were a lure: only when India could afford an order of 500 original T-72s would the Soviets really start negotiations.

Yazov watched the complacent Indians with quiet amusement. "Russians aren't just terrifying on the battlefield," he thought. "At the dining table and the wine table, they are rough, cunning Soviet bears."