Stuck In Chechnya

By Paul Quinn-Judge/Ingushetia

A chill mist hung over southern Chechnya late last week, bringing fresh misery to masses of refugees huddled in muddy camps and to many thousands of Russian troops hunkered down in jerry-built bunkers. But the vaporous air lent aid and comfort to the ghostlike Chechen guerrillas, who are successfully using stealth and guile to turn the tide of the war.

At least for now. Over the past two weeks, the rebels' hit-and-run tactics have managed to check the Russians' juggernaut offensive, inflicting politically humiliating attacks on Russia's superior forces and politically damaging body counts. Even if Russia has regained control of the battlefield, the guerrillas have melted away to plot new surprises. Acting President Vladimir Putin's confident prediction of imminent victory--and his triumphal glide to the presidency in March--is slipping toward the Chechen quagmire.

Until a few weeks ago, when Russian troops reached the outskirts of the provincial capital of Grozny, Chechen fighters had been strangely inactive. Moscow's generals attributed their unhindered progress to brilliant new tactics. When the advance bogged down around Christmas at the outskirts of the capital--where the besieging forces have remained ever since, pulverizing the city but making little progress--Moscow put an optimistic gloss on the situation. Through the tame media, Putin declared that everything was proceeding according to plan. Russian forces have made a "breakthrough" in the campaign, reported Defense Minister Igor Sergeyev. The defenders of Grozny are disorganized and panicking, the Russian command announced.

In fact, the Chechens were just biding their time. Last week guerrillas came out of nowhere to raid three important towns. Creeping into Argun, mixing with local residents, attackers assaulted Russian troops occupying buildings in the town square, killing 10 or 20 before ferocious return fire drove them off. In Shali, hundreds of rebels brazenly encircled the Russian military commandant, demanding he hand over his troops' weapons and clear out. The Chechens blocked a base on the edge of the town, so when Russian armor tried to deploy in support of their comrades at headquarters, they were pinned down. In the ensuing melee, the Russians hit back with ground-to-ground missiles, and dozens of people were killed--raiders, according to the Russians; civilians, according to local residents.

The embarrassing raids caught Moscow off guard and forced commanders to shift troops besieging Grozny to the new threat. If the rebels' purpose was to shake Russian confidence, they succeeded. "It's not clear where they came from," said Major General Sergei Makarov, commander on the eastern front. "They just popped up among the civilians." General Victor Kazantsev blamed his troops' "tenderheartedness" and "groundless trust" in Chechen civilians. The response from Moscow made it clear that the top brass had been stung. Defense Minister Sergeyev sniffed that the attacks were "perfidious."

But such assaults should not have surprised Russia's generals. Any book on the last war would have told them that the rebels would eventually raid occupied towns to show that no part of Chechnya was secure. Any book would also have told them the attackers would head straight for military headquarters to cause maximum humiliation. In the case of Shali, the guerrillas had even announced they were coming back. Before abandoning the town last December, recalls Isa Madayev, chief of administration in a small town next door, the rebels warned they would return if there were any Russian abuses. Early last week, more than 50 young Chechen men were summarily rounded up in the town, said Madayev. "So no one was surprised when the fighters came back."

The coordinated series of attacks bore all the hallmarks of Aslan Maskhadov. Ineffectual and indecisive as Chechnya's President, the former Soviet army colonel is a formidable tactician in wartime. Unlike many of his field commanders, who are fighting for Allah or because it is the thing they do best, Maskhadov views the struggle as a way of forcing the Russians back to the negotiating table, where he wants to win recognition of Chechnya's independence. He is waging a classic guerrilla struggle, aimed at public opinion and the political elite in Moscow. The objective is to undermine Russia's confidence that its war aims can be achieved, by embarrassing the leadership and inflicting an intolerable degree of pain.

Putin knows that the one thing that can kill public support for the war is body bags; they destroy his promise of a low-casualty victory. Though neither side is telling the truth, Russian casualties are plainly mounting fast and becoming harder to hide. Late last week the military admitted that 742 soldiers have died since Caucasus military operations began last August. Two weeks ago they acknowledged 465 dead. Even by those highly suspect statistics, Russia has suffered almost 190 deaths in the past two weeks. In fact, the total war tally is almost double the official figures, a source told TIME: around 1,300 dead, 300 missing in action, 80 or so kidnapped and 5,000 wounded.

In response, Russian generals lashed out as their Chechen adversaries hoped. From now on, Moscow announced, no Chechen male between the ages of 10 and 60 would be considered a refugee. They would be subjected to checks, and those suspected of "terrorism" would undergo further verification in detention centers. In the last war, these "filtration centers" were notorious as places of torture and death. This measure outraged the West, and Moscow quickly backed down. Now only males from 15 on will be subject to checks.

The pain on the battlefield was preceded by confusion in the corridors of power. Two days before the attacks, the Russian government declared a cease-fire for reasons it could not quite explain. Then the Kremlin announced that two top, hard-line field commanders in Chechnya were being replaced. Then they said the generals, Gennadi Troshev and Vladimir Shamanov, were not being replaced, just rotated back to their previous posts.

Military sources say the two generals had been removed for objecting to the cease-fire. A Russian observer of the military told TIME that Shamanov, known for an abrasive tongue, was particularly vehement: he reportedly declared that "no lieutenant colonel will ever stop me in Chechnya." Former kgb Lieut. Colonel Putin's response was swift: he removed him. But faced with an uproar in top military circles, he backed down--halfway.

A fierce critic of Moscow's policy, neighboring Ingushetia's President Ruslan Aushev believes Putin is heading toward disaster. Russian generals have learned nothing, he told TIME last week. Troops lack the motivation to fight a long war, and "tanks and artillery solve nothing here." Sure, the massive men and materiel Russia is throwing into the war should eventually prevail--for a time. Moscow has committed 140,000 men to crush the revolt of a Chechen population hovering around 100,000. Sooner or later, Russian troops "will get into Grozny and raise the flag," says Aushev. "But what then?"

Last week's raids help answer that question. They serve to remind the Russians of a very nasty reality about wars in Chechnya. Capturing a town does not make you the victor. It makes you the target.

--With reporting by Yuri Zarakhovich/Moscow

With reporting by Yuri Zarakhovich/Moscow