I loved Icon but Forsyth (here) . . .could be my new favorite book. The problem is that my old favorite book was Red Storm Rising (here) . . . an amazing book about war with Russia.
Why do I love Russia and Russian Wars so much? I can tell you now . . . for both Red Storm Rising and Icon the reason I liked those battles in the books was that they featured tanks. I don't even like tanks. I was in the infantry. We practiced with tanks and I hated them. We got to ride and drive one once . . . thought it was ridiculous. We even took a group picture while riding on one in the desert. Thought it was silly when I took it . . . still think it's silly. My colleagues didn't, but I did. I felt constricted and cumbersome. So why do I like tanks when I read about them in a fictional war with Russia? Who knows.
The book I'm reading now is the same. Command Authority. It's not as good as those other two, but wow. . . Russia is intriguing.
The flag of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics flew high above the Kremlin in a rain shower, a red-and-gold banner waving under a gray sky. The young captain took in the imagery from the backseat of the taxi as it rolled through Red Square.
The sight of the flag over the seat of power of the largest country in the world jolted the captain with pride, although Moscow would never feel like home to him. He was Russian, but he’d spent the past several years fighting in Afghanistan, and the only Soviet flags he’d seen there had been on the uniforms of the men around him.
His taxi let him out just two blocks from the square, on the north side of the massive GUM department store. He double-checked the address on the drab office building in front of him, paid his fare, and then stepped out into the afternoon rain.
The building’s lobby was small and plain; a lone security man eyed him as he tucked his hat under his arm and climbed a narrow staircase that led to an unmarked door on the first floor.
Here the captain paused, brushed wrinkles out of his uniform, and ran his hand over his rows of medals to make certain they were perfectly straight.
Only when he was ready did he knock on the door.
“Vkhodi!” Come in!
The young captain entered the small office and shut the door behind him. With his hat in his hand, he stepped in front of the one desk in the room, and he snapped to attention.
“Captain Roman Romanovich Talanov, reporting as ordered.”
Command Authority - Clancy, Tom.
