The Soviet-Swedish War - Part III
Yegor Legachev, Andropov's successor, acknowledged in 1992 during his second six-year term as General Secretary of the Soviet Union that ordering additional airstrikes on Sweden was an "error," a remarkably soft choice of words considering the strategic debacle that the events of late on October 28th and then on the 29th would prove to be for the Soviets and mark an irreparable blow to their prestige that saw their hold over their Eastern European satellites steadily erode into the early 1990s over the remainder of the decade. The second wave of Soviet aircraft, both fighter-bombers and tactical bombers with escorts, that crossed the Baltic from Estonia, Kaliningrad and East Germany was intended to step up the pressure on Swedish forces by not merely attacking the vicinity of Karlskrona but executing what Ustinov had assured his colleagues would be a "decapitating" strike on the vast majority of Swedish military infrastructure with carefully-chosen targets going beyond radar stations and airbases in Scania to include the entire island of Gotland, rail and road bridges across most of Sweden's industrial belt, air bases near Linkoping and Uppsala, and even army commands at Kungsangen near Stockholm and Revingeby near Lund. For the time being, Ustinov elected not to send additional air assets across Finnish airspace to attack Sweden's northern air and army bases or electrical infrastructure carrying power from hydroelectric dams across the mountainous, rugged north, but he did at 1700, just as Soviet planes entered Swedish airspace and prepared to attack, request that the Soviet embassy in Helsinki demand from President Koivisto military consultations within three hours time.
The first wave of Soviet attacks had been small and relatively precise, and had broken through largely thanks to the element of surprise and that much of the
Flygvapnet had not yet been scrambled, but also not destroyed yet on the ground. Six hours later when the second wave arrived, however, the third-largest air force in Europe was very much airborne and its pilots furious and ready to prove their mettle. Over the course of the ensuing two hours, the Soviet planes did do serious and genuine damage both to the Swedish planes and to Swedish infrastructure, in particular those flights intended to strike at rail and road chokepoints and bridges, but at an enormous and humiliating cost. In particular, over the skies of Gotland, the Swedish Air Force was supported by the Navy, and in total over thirty Soviet planes were shot down, many into the sea without a visible bailout by a pilot, while the crucial radar installations and frontline runways on Gotland were left largely intact. While airfield and army command infrastructure around Uppsala was badly damaged and one of the runways at Sweden's main civilian airport at Stockholm-Arlanda was successfully cratered, the second wave failed most of its first and second order objectives other than shooting down close to a fifth of the Swedish Air Force, though a disproportionate number of pilots bailed out and survived than on the Soviet side, where somewhere approximating a hundred planes, including heavy bombers, were downed.
The losses for Sweden were, to put it mildly, staggering, but the bloody nose suffered by the Soviets was worse. This was an air force that was intended to support the mighty Red Army in rolling over hapless and supine NATO forces across Central Europe at will should the balloon ever go up; in two fights during the same day, the Soviet Air Force had been fought to an effective draw, if not worse, by little Sweden. As darkness fell over Western Europe and Soviet planes flew home to lick their wounds and regroup, and Sweden's tired pilots were given a temporary reprieve, the Politburo met again to consult and decide on a further course.
Andropov and his allies such as Legachev and, surprisingly, Grishin argued against further attacks. The Soviet Union's point had been proven, Sweden had been thoroughly punished, and it was time to step back and be satisfied. Clear in Andropov's grim advocacy for a stand-down was that the two attacks had clearly not gone according to plan and that the Soviets were embarrassed enough already; it was politically and ideologically inconvenient to admit such a thing publicly, especially after only one day, but everyone in the room in the Kremlin that night understood the subtext.
Ustinov's counter was strongly subtextual in its drawing upon history as well, calling upon those present to "recall Barbarossa was not countered in one day," a hilariously exaggerated accounting of Swedish capabilities. Ustinov pushed for a sustained, round-the-clock bombing campaign of Swedish military installations and critical infrastructure for the next seven days, a suggestion that only Chernenko seconded but appalled most everybody else. The consensus emerged, thus, of another attack the following morning once the Baltic Fleet was in place to act in support, concentrated again on Gotland, coastal installations and this time the considerable network of air hangars and bases across Sweden's isolated north that served as a sort of national redoubt, this time crossing Finnish airspace to do so. Andropov begrudgingly agreed, but it did not escape the back of his mind that one more attack may be all the Soviets were able to muster before NATO became even more involved...