dirtpoorchris

If you are going to fight Russians in an American city then just spray paint all the freeway signs in your county. They will never get there.

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America. God is wearing black.

repeter

Unless by sheer chance, or luck. That might actually work, because they might go backwards, and kill their own men.

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Veni. Vidi. Vici.
-Gaius Julius Caesar
The Only Thing to Fear is Fear Itself.
-Franklin Delano Roosevelt

Livebythesword

It means the only two fist fights I've ever lost were a Russian and a Big Native American.

Lerxst

So in other words your comments were made more out of bravado and very limited personal experience than as a general characterization. Because that's what it came across as. I think it's possible that their ethnic background had little to do with it as I've met many Russians and have a large number of native American relatives who simply don't fit your description.

How about the Thai? Or maybe an Aussie? I hear they're pretty tough.

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Step into my office....

Real Talk

Effective in the sense that their strategies would seem extremely situationaly useful to various military contexts.
When someone takes this long to lose to a superpower, I take their tactics seriously.
Im not saying this means I think their strategy was overall correct. Thats a broader question. But in terms of running the strategy theyve run (protracted armed resistance), theyre relatively (to what most would use) effective tactics.

Onion Eater

Welcome to Hell! - Fiction


"Rapidity is the essence of war: take advantage of the enemy's unreadiness, make your way by unexpected routes, and attack unguarded spots." – Sun Tzu

“The principle Chechen city defense was the ‘defenseless defense.’ They decided that it was better not to have strong points, but to remain totally mobile and hard to find.” – Timothy Thomas

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Susan Kignak sat at the counter of Archie’s Sport Fishing and Scenic Boat Tours thumbing through a three-day-old newspaper. She had already read it, but there was nothing else to do, so she read it again. Archie only had one boat out. There was no work for them until it got back.

The Navy continued to blockade the Strait of Malacca, trying to starve the Chinese of oil. Ahmadinejad made more grandiose announcements from his bunker somewhere in Iran. Qatar burned – the photos from there were awful. No matter how much we bombed the Iranians, they never seemed to lose interest in pummeling poor Qatar with more missiles. General Motors was presenting another restructuring proposal to Congress, trying to explain how, with 5% of the market, they were going to repay the $100 billion that the government had now loaned them. Paul Krugman was talking up President Obama’s latest stimulus package in the editorials – this one was sure to lift us out of recession. Blah, blah, blah.

It was all old news. Today was New Years Eve, 2011, and the paper had advertisements for all the big parties at the nightclubs around town. But Susan and her husband Jacque intended to spend a quiet evening at home together. They weren’t into partying. The same could not be said of their sixteen-year-old son, Jake, but he too was going to be spending the evening at home whether he liked it or not.

Snow drifted down outside, blanketing Anchorage, dark already at 3:00 P.M. At this time of year, they only got six hours of daylight. All that darkness was depressing – and the fog didn’t help either. The television and radio stations had been down for three days and there had been no newspapers delivered in that time. It was just as boring as ****!

“Quite a storm,” Susan thought, though in the back of her mind there was a nagging suspicion that something more than just that was going on. It had been quite a storm. But Anchorage had seen storms like this before. None of those storms had shut down all the TV and radio stations – even the AM stations that she never listened to were off the air.

“Hey, come out here and listen to this,” said Archie, from the door.

“What? It’s a secret?” asked Susan, “Zee valls av ears?”

“No. There’s a sound out here. Come outside and listen.”

Reluctantly, Susan pulled her heavy overcoat on and donned her beaver-skin cap – Jacque couldn’t afford to buy his wife a mink one – and went outside. She listened and there was a sound. A sporadic booming noise came out of the fog. It sounded like it came from far off the coast, though in the heavy fog she couldn’t be sure.

“What is it?” she asked Archie, who was peering intently through a pair of binoculars.

“Oh ****,” he said.

And then Susan saw it too. A ship – a battleship – appeared through the fog. It was on fire. Even through the mist she could see flames all along its deck. The little gun in its turret up at the front was firing at something. Suddenly, in a flash of light, a missile was launched from the burning ship and streaked off into the distance.

“That battleship, they’ve had an accident,” she said, “They must have accidentally ignited their powder magazine or something.”

“It’s not a battleship,” said Archie, who had been in the Navy when he was a young man, “It’s a guided missile destroyer – Arleigh Burke Class – probably the Milius, out of San Diego. I heard that they were in the area. I don’t think that fire is an accident.”

The ship, now clearly visible, was listing severely towards its starboard side. Black smoke poured out of a gaping hole in its hull. It turned slowly towards the coast and, a minute later, ran itself aground about a mile from Archie’s Boat Tours.

“I’d better get home,” said Susan, “My husband will be worried about me.” And without another word, she ran to her snow mobile and started the engine.

“That wasn’t an accident. Oh ****. That wasn’t an accident.” Susan kept repeating to herself as she bounced over the snow drifts. “That wasn’t an accident.”

“There was an accident,” announced Susan, as she burst into her living room, “A battleship – I mean, a destroyer – its powder magazine…”

Her husband and his best friend Bill were crouched on the floor in front of what appeared to be two giant up-side-down microphones. At least that’s what they looked like to Susan. They were tubes with a bump on one end like the head of a microphone and an odd bipod thing on the other end. But if it were a microphone, it would have been propped up the other way.

The two men were reading instruction manuals. Jacque leapt up and kissed her. “I’m so glad you’re here. I tried to call Archie, but the phones are down. The CB doesn’t work either – it just screeches – I think they’re jamming the radios. So I waited here for you.”

“What’s going on? What are those things? Where did you get…? Who is jamming the radios?”

“They’re Dragon – actually, Super Dragon – anti-tank missiles. Sarah Palin gave them to us.”

“But… What? Sarah Palin? The governor? What’s going…?” Susan stammered.

“She was standing at the front gate to Fort Richardson with whole pallets full of Dragons. The Army uses the Javelin now, but they’ve got lots of Dragons stockpiled. Palin is handing them out to anybody who will help her fight the Russians.”

“The Russians? The Russians are here? In Anchorage?”

“Yes. They’re here. They’ve invaded,” said her husband and, suddenly embarrassed, he added, “Um… I didn’t get you one – um – I forgot to ask Sarah.”

“But I’ve never fired… I’m not even trained – I mean – I guess they come with instructions? But…”

Realizing that she was babbling, Susan shut her mouth and breathed deeply through her nose.

“Where’s Jake?” she asked.

“He’s with his hockey team. Coach – er – Sergeant Armstrong commanded a Bradley Fighting Vehicle in Iraq, back in 2003. The soldiers at Fort Richardson let him have an extra one that they weren’t using. He’s training the boys in how to crew it.”

“The Army has a lot of equipment and vehicles stockpiled in Alaska, but few personnel – everybody has been sent to Iran,” Bill added, apparently feeling that Susan’s puzzled expression implied that more explanation was necessary.

Susan stood in her living room trying to visualize her son and his fellow Wolverines in combat. “It’s not a video game,” she wanted to tell him; “You can’t just hit the ‘play again’ button if you get killed.” But she guessed he knew that.

“I’ll get my rifle,” she concluded, “I’ve fired rifles all my life. I bought a set of Sniper Flash Cards on the internet. I’m really more familiar with… I mean, I’d rather… than these missiles.”


Visit Welcome to Hell! to read the rest of the story.

BTW The OP is just an outline. If you follow the link you will find a more detailed discussion of tactics for urban combat.



Lydmila Pavlyuchenko killed 309 enemy soldiers and officers, including 36 snipers.

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Website: www.axiomaticeconomics.com

Motto: Critiques and rebuttals are how science advances.

justone

This is the thing nobody wants to know in the West. There was no culture. Stalin was openly training snipers and paratroopers to take over Europe, but in the West they saw it and they still see it as some kind of a Russian sport/culture like baseball in the US.

justone

And?

And?


‘’Fallujah suffered extensive damage to residences, mosques, city services, and businesses. The city, once referred to as the "City of Mosques", had over 200 pre-battle mosques of which 60 or so were destroyed in the fighting. Perhaps half the homes suffered at least some damage. Of the roughly 50,000 buildings in Fallujah, between 7,000 and 10,000 were estimated to have been destroyed in the offensive and from half to two-thirds of the remaining buildings had notable damage.[16][17]
Nevertheless the battle proved to be less than the decisive engagement that the U.S. military had hoped for, some of the nonlocal insurgents were believed to have fled before the military assault along with Zarqawi, leaving mostly local militants behind. Subsequent U.S. military operations against insurgent positions were ineffective at drawing out insurgents into another open battle, and by September 2006 the situation had deteriorated to the point that the Al-Anbar province that contained Fallujah was reported to be in total insurgent control by the U.S. Marine Corps, with the exception of only pacified Fallujah, but now with an insurgent-plagued Ramadi[22][23]’’

Russians basicaly leveled Grozny and moved in tank tandems, as the US did in Fallujah, the difference was that Russians not only achieved but also held to the objective.






1. So, if US Marines sign a contract and are paid for the service they are all mercenaries? This is what we hear from the college and universities professors in the US all the time, I don’t think it is worth of my time to address such a delirium.
2. And what, Russian draftees (non-contratcnics) are not alcoholics? Alcoholism in Russia and in the Russian military is some kind of an exclusive to contractnics?

Clueless as usual.



Clueless as usual. Contractnics are a part of Russian military. They are volunteers and do not have to be veterans.


It is a kind of our boys’ thing. Some of us just like it. We do boxing because we like it, believe it or not. Especially when we are 18- 20 years old. We take risks, we want to be brave, strong, fast etc. Indeed Russia widely employed special operation forces – Spetsnaz in Chechnya. They - physically and morally - are the best of the best, the ELITE, the ones all boys want to be like.
It also happens that some seriously think that criminals and Muslim terrorists are evil, some are not going to apologize to Muslims for Beslan and take it quite personal. It also happens that that some take pride in making the fight against these evils to be their job, profession. It is such a psychological thing like patriotism, Mother Russia etc. There is such a breed even in the US, there are Americans who are not willing to apologize to Muslims for 9/11 and to ask Muslims to forget as they have forgotten 9/11. There is such a breed who are not willing to forget, who are proud to be US Marines for instance, who are proud to be Americans. I can even name a few on DP. Spetsnaz selects such people, trains them and takes the few who has been able to go through the training. They are elite, like Navy Seals in the US military, for an example.

But alcoholism may be a part of qualification:

What can you do, - it is Russia, Muslim habits of smoking, sniffing and injection are not very popular there.





It does not have to be a stash, sometime a few bottles of vodka may buy your way through.

Agent Ferris

wolverines!!!!

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No. No. That wasn't funny. You see, I'm not making myself very clear. Funny is like this: Not funny is like this And right now, I'm not like this I'm like this

So, earthlings! Um... basically, end of the world.

Onion Eater

There were two wars in Chechnya. The Chechens won the first war and, five years later, lost the second war.

So the tactics that I describe, based on the First Chechen War, were both effective and, strategically, successful. In that war. To expect field commanders to make tactical decisions based on what might happen in a second war five years hence is unrealistic. One fights the war one is in.

At the Second Chechnya War we read:

The low estimate was 93,000 Russian troops and there may very well have been as many as a quarter of a million. And this is against 15,000 to 50,000 civilians, most of whom were non-combatants who had been too old or sick to leave.

Against such odds, no amount of tactical acumen is going to help one prevail.

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Website: www.axiomaticeconomics.com

Motto: Critiques and rebuttals are how science advances.