"Our special ops don't have enough experience."
Cole grinned. "We can take your kids along on some of our operations. It won't be hard to learn."
"Oh, yes, the legendary Bartholomew Coleman can say that, the man who single-handedly stopped a civil war in America by pinpoint operations against enemy supply depots."
"I was defending my country against people who wanted to take away our democracy. That's what you'll be doing, too. Believe me, your men will do whatever it takes to learn what we have to teach them."
Bohdanovich nodded, but he still wore the sad, fatalistic expression that almost everyone in the Ukrainian military always had.
"And you'll have secure supply lines through Poland and Romania," Cole added.
"Will we?"
"They're allies," said Cole. "And I can assure you that President Torrent will keep his word."
"President Torrent will keep his word, I believe you," said Bohdanovich. "But will the Poles and Romanians? Once Russian tanks start to roll across borders, they'll all be terrified of offending the giant."
Cole leaned back. "Well, that's what this is all about, isn't it?" he said. "Everybody's so afraid of Russia. You and the Estonians and Lithuanians are talking tough but Russia is hoping that everybody will panic and back down and they can take back the whole empire without firing a shot."
"It worked in Georgia."
"It sort of worked," said Cole. "And it sort of didn't."
"The Georgian government does what they're told."
"But Ukraine and the Baltic states and all the Muslim republics are still independent. Georgia made you warier."
"The first time Russian troops cross a border, everybody's a coward."
"Do you mean that?" asked Cole. "Is that a serious assessment of your own government's likely response if, say, Estonia gets attacked?"
Bohdanovich thought about it for a while. "I don't know," he said. "They all talk about springing to the attack if Russia is the aggressor against one of the little countries—that's our plan, our policy—but the Russians know that. They probably won't roll the tanks, they'll just cut off the oil to Estonia, and then as long as the oil is still flowing to Ukraine we'll be frozen in place, we'll do nothing, and Estonia will cave in, and then we'll cave in, one by one."
"Like dominoes," said Cole.
"I'd like to think that at some point my country will stand and fight. Even if it's only in the western hills of Ukraine, and even if it's a hopeless war and we stand all alone. But I don't know."
The waiter came up to the table. "Anything else?" he asked in Ukrainian.
"Vodka," said Bohdanovich.
"Not for me," said Cole in Russian.
The waiter looked at him coldly.
"He's American," said Bohdanovich. "He never learned Ukrainian."
"Do you have Coca-Cola?" asked Cole in English.
The waiter smiled and left.
"Colonel Bohdanovich, you have to look at this rationally. Why is Russia pushing things with all their neighbors?"
"To restore the empire," said Bohdanovich. "The democracies are prospering and Russia is the sick man of Europe, even with all their oil. The Russian people are angry, population is shrinking, life expectancy is going down, Russia is a mess. So their fearless leader bullies the little countries, the ones that used to be part of the empire, and the Russian people feel proud again, they remember the big soviet empire. Nobody riots or goes on strike, nobody kills the fearless leader and takes over the government."
"And if they can get Ukraine and the Baltic states back into the empire," said Cole, "they think it might jump-start their economy."
"No, they're not stupid," said Bohdanovich. "They know that it's our freedom and independence that make us prosperous, and when they get us back into the empire it will all go away. The Russians don't want to steal our prosperity, they want us to be as poor and miserable and drunk and sad as they are."