The war Russia waged in Chechnya in 1994–96 was fought with great dynamics and evolving strategic and tactical patterns of regular and counterinsurgency operations. It brought many military and political surprises for the participants as well as for outsiders. The war by its scale and weapons and troops involved as well as by its casualties was one of the largest European wars since 1945, second only to the Yugoslav wars. It was also one of the largest local conflicts during the last decade of the twentieth century and undoubtedly the biggest one on the territory of the former Soviet Union.
The First Chechen War of 1994–96 ended with the first Russian defeat since the Afghan War (1979–89) and the only clear military, political, and territorial defeat since the Russo-Japanese War of 1904–05. The lessons of the First Chechen War are of great importance due to the ongoing Russian counterinsurgency operations in the region. The local wars and conflicts are developing as “the most pressing security threat” to the civilized world.1 That is why an analysis of the Russian debacle in Chechnya can shed light on the conditions and characteristics of wars to come.
The decision to launch a large-scale military operation when the Caucasian winter was approaching appears to be the most obvious Russian military blunder at the very beginning of the war. In a broader sense, the First Chechen War came at the wrong time for Moscow because of the unprecedented decline of Russian power. Chechnya itself was symbolic of the fall of the former superpower. The Chechen Republic declared its complete independence from Russia in November 1991, even before the formal dissolution of the Soviet Union. Moscow never recognized Chechen independence, but the post-Soviet economic and political turmoil allowed the Chechens to survive, exploiting the unlimited economic resources almost unlimitedly and in a semi-criminal manner.
The Kremlin’s decision to crush the Chechen independence was influenced by several interdependent factors, which developed by 1994. These are as follows: first, the incompetence and irresponsibility of Chechen authorities, the almost total breakdown of law and order within the republic even in very loose post-Soviet terms, and large-scale human rights abuse. These realities as well as the unresolved status of Chechnya created the direct threat of the expansion of organized crime and terrorism beyond Chechen borders.2 Second, the increasing violent and repressive nature of General Dudayev’s regime had led to large-scale domestic unrest and then to a civil war in Chechnya with a prospective destabilizing impact across all northern Caucasus.3 Third, the disastrous fiasco of anti-Dudayev forces during a November 1994 raid on Grozny despite massive Russia’s support and its direct involvement in that military operation. This enormously damaged Moscow’s prestige in its north Caucasian provinces and created the risk of a potential chain reaction of the riots across the entire region.4 Fourth, Chechen domestic troubles could provoke the adventurous and unpredictable Dudayev to apply for support from neighboring Muslim republics and thus encourage an all-Caucasian war against Moscow’s rule.5 And last, the Russian political elite grew increasingly concerned at the instability in the Caucasus and in Chechnya—particularly where the Baku-Novorossiisk pipeline lay—undermining Russia’s vital strategic interests in the developing “Great Game” for Caspian oil.6
That is why Moscow concluded that the Chechen crisis presented a clear danger and an urgent challenge to Russian national security and it had to be resolved by military force.7 In October 1994, the Special Operational Group on Chechnya under Colonel General Anatoly Kvashnin was organized by the Russian General Staff to prepare the intervention.8 Despite well-known controversial statements from top Russian military commanders about the expected character of the operation—ranging from overoptimistic to extremely grim—it seems in retrospect that the Russian military command had failed to grasp the nature of the coming war. Instead of a rapid police action against a disintegrating rogue republic, the Russian army had to face “a quasi-Muslim, well-armed state, led by [a] committed core of dedicated fighters.”9
The creation of a competent military force was the only field in which the Dudayev regime succeeded, thanks to the huge arsenal Russian troops left behind when they withdrew from Chechnya in June 1992. By December 1994 General Dudayev had significant and effective military potential. The Chechen armed forces fell into three main organizational and functional categories: the Chechen standing army of 11,000–16,000 troops, the National Guard numbering 62,000 men, and the local self-defense forces of 30,000 men.
Additionally, the Presidential Palace, the Interior Ministry, the Department of State Security, and the Civil Defense Service had their own military formations. The Chechens also had 98 tanks (T-72s and T-62s), 150 armored vehicles (BTR-70s), and almost 300 guns and mortars. The Chechen Air Force had nearly 265 aircraft: 3 MiG-17 fighters, 2 MiG 15 UTIs, 6 An-2s, 119 L-29 and L-39 training aircraft, 2 Mi-8 helicopters, and 41 experienced pilots.10
Against these forces the Russians assembled 23,700 troops, 80 tanks, 208 armored personnel carriers, and 182 guns and mortars.11 Russian commanders were convinced that highly decentralized Chechen formations could not stand against regular forces. To complete the full circle of classic military blunders, Russian military planners overestimated their own military potential while simultaneously underestimating the Chechens’.
The state of the Russian military was deeply affected by this multifaceted and staggering crisis. A number of characteristics influenced the combat performance of Russian troops in Chechnya, including the overwhelming (on the level from 35 to 40 percent) shortage of manpower and the critical deficiency of combat ready detachments. This forced the Russian High Command to rely heavily on airborne troops as those with the highest strength levels (almost 85 percent) as well as to mix units from ground forces, marines, internal troops, and other security and police agencies from all over the country. These measures aggravated significantly interservice coordination.12 Russian troops also suffered from a critical shortage of combat training, particularly in urban and mountainous terrain. Combat training of the air force personnel also stood at a critical level, with their training level 60 percent below the necessary minimum.13 In addition, the vast majority of Russian weaponry and equipment (about 70 percent) was obsolete.14 Due to the lack of material resources many tanks (T-72s and even T-80s) and almost all attack helicopters entered Chechnya without effective protection against the insurgents’ weapons. Additionally, all Russian combat helicopters (Mi-24s, Mi-8s, and Mi-6s) were unable to operate and deploy their weapons effectively at night and in adverse weather conditions.15
The use of Russian conscripts in a domestic conflict without clearly defined political goals revitalized the Afghan syndrome, and contributed to an unwillingness to fight. Incompetence of military commanders, particularly at the beginning of the war, and widespread corruption lowered the troops’ morale even more. The Russian officer corps disagreed amongst themselves about the objectives and best manner of conducting operations in Chechnya. Compounding these already formidable problems, a number of commanders felt concern about Russia’s military unpreparedness.16 According to Anatol Lieven, some 577 officers of all ranks were believed to have been disciplined, have been sacked, or have left the army in protest against the war.17
All these ills of the Russian army overlapped during the conflict and contributed considerably to Russian military mistakes and failures at the beginning of the war as well as to their final defeat. The poor training of troops as well as obsolete munitions, and poor communications rendered the coordination between detachments in combat extremely complex. Additionally, shortage of qualified personnel precluded the use of those few precision-guided munitions that the Russian military had at its disposal, such as the new Ka-50 and Mi-28 helicopters or precision artillery shells and missiles.
Additionally, there were numerous mistakes in operational planning, which contributed to Russia’s debacle in Chechnya. “Errors in planning and direction of the campaign in Chechnya were so colossal, that they were almost criminal,” wrote Stephen Cimbala in his comprehensive study of Russia’s difficulties with small wars.18 The failure of strategic planning in the Chechen War may be attributed to a number of interrelated factors, the most important of which will be considered here.
First, the Russian intelligence community, struggling with substantial budget and personnel problems, failed to anticipate the scale of the conflict and the operational difficulties facing an army fighting in Chechnya. The Russian intelligence services were unable to employ effective special operations to decapitate the insurgent leadership on the model of the Afghan scenario of December 1979, in which Soviet forces murdered the prime minister. Additionally, they both vastly underestimated the strength of Chechen forces and overestimated the potential of anti-Dudayev opposition in Chechnya.19 Thus, the Russian political and military leadership was absolutely convinced that a large-scale military demonstration in Chechnya would be enough to restore constitutional order in the breakaway republic.
Other factors help explain the failure of Russian strategic planning. The military decision-making process, for instance, witnessed the collapse of the routine chain of command in the Ministry of Defense and in the North Caucasian Military District. There were numerous complaints within the Russian High Command about the poor state of preparedness and the overstretched condition of the Russian army on the eve of its military adventure in Chechnya.20 To solve this problem, officials created what amounted to an extremely cumbersome command structure, involving several ministries. This aggravated the already difficult coordination of services employed in, and military decision-making with respect to, Chechnya.21
Finally, the military option was dictated very much by domestic Russian politics. The strengthening influence of neo-imperialist and nationalist elements within the Russian political elite, as well as the growing trend to impose centralized control over Russia’s rebellious regions, significantly facilitated the decision to invade Chechnya.22 The lack of a proper and clear decision-making mechanism in Russia’s Caucasian policy and President Yeltsin’s struggle for survival in the mix of secrecy, corruption, and improvization of Kremlin politics contributed significantly to the fatal decision to embark on war. As one high-ranking official said: “We need a small victorious war to raise the President’s rating”—thus following the American example of quick and decisive intervention in Haiti in 1994.23 Additionally, the Kremlin felt considerable concern about the rising influence of Ruslan Khasbulatov—a long-term rival of Yeltsin within the anti-Dudayev camp.24
Thus, the dangerous and self-destructive combination of politico-military incompetence, self-deception, arrogance, poor intelligence, and chaotic decision-making propelled the poor-quality Russian army into Chechnya, where a once great European army found itself at war on the eve of a deadly Caucasian winter, when ground operations were slowed by mud and snow, and where low clouds and fog hampered effective air support by 95 percent.
The Russian army returned to ground where it had struggled with insurgents operation in mountainous conditions in one of the longest wars in Russian history. In the Caucasian war of 1817–64 Russian strength in numbers and firepower was matched by difficult terrain and by the skillful performance of Chechen guerrillas. Having learned from their initial mistakes the Russians under General Aleksey Yermolov developed a strategy of siege and total war, which led them to final military victory.25
The modernized version of the “Yermolov doctrine” should have fashioned Russian operations in Chechnya as a series of consecutive steps. These would include: a prolonged air campaign intended to disrupt the enemy’s communications, a limited invasion and occupation of the northern Chechen plains, and air bombardments and constant commando raids on the rebels’ strongholds.26 Instead, Russian strategy in Chechnya evolved from a police action and military demonstration to a full-scale blitzkrieg-style invasion, overestimating its own abilities as well as underestimating its opponents’. To counter the Russian strategy the Chechen High Command elaborated its own approach to war, based on attrition as well as on indirect action, surprise, and improvization. As Lester Grau noted: “the Russian war in Chechnya was planned as a rapid war of annihilation and became a bloody, protracted war of attrition.”27
At the beginning of the war and even before the start of open hostilities the Russian Air Force almost totally destroyed all Chechen airfields—Grozny, Khankala, and Kalinovskaya—and wiped out all 251 Chechen aircraft—military and civilian alike. This victory came easily—Chechens simply lacked effective air defense; they did not possess, for instance, radar at all. Thus, at the beginning of large-scale ground operations the Russians enjoyed complete command in the air, prompting some analysts to observe that the short and effective Russian air campaign was instrumental in preventing possible Chechen strikes on Russian territory.28 The Russian Air Force also struck Chechen strategic targets in Grozny and its vicinity, though unfavorable weather conditions reduced the effect of this bombing.
On the ground Russian troops advanced on Grozny along three axes: the Northern Task Force from Mozdok, the Western Task Force from Vladikavkaz, and the South-Eastern Task Force from Kizliar. The Russian desire to make an impressive military demonstration by moving through the population centers of border areas proved counterproductive: troops of the Western and South-Eastern Task Forces were effectively slowed and later blocked by civilian protests in Ingushetia and Dagestan. This allowed the Chechen insurgent commanders to concentrate their forces against the Russian Northern Task Force, attacking heavily armored Russian columns near Dolinskoe village with multiple launched rocket systems on December 13, 1994. Using their supremacy in organization and firepower, the Russians outmaneuvered the Chechens and managed to cross the Terek River and take Romanovskoe, Tolstoy-Yurt, and Grozny’s Severny airport. The advancing Russian troops then proceeded to execute a surprise dash from Tolstoy-Yurt to the southeastern outskirts of Grozny, capturing the second airfield at Khankala and cutting off the strategic Rostov-Baku highway and the Chechens’ chief supply routes from Argun to Grozny.
According to official estimates the battles for the northeastern approaches to Grozny resulted in 44 men killed—though the press claimed more than 500 dead, and loss of 150 tanks and armored vehicles destroyed on the Russian side. The Chechens declared a loss of 1,850 fighters and civilians and about 40 tanks and armored vehicles The civilian protests and a mobile defense enabled the Chechens to slow the Russian advance and thus to gain time to prepare the defense of Grozny. Much to the Chechens’ advantage, the Russians failed to seal the city completely due to shortage of troops.
The capture of Grozny should have constituted the culmination of the preplanned military police action the Russians had envisioned for operations in Chechnya. The order of battle and initial objectives of the belligerents therefore bears examination. The Russians had 38,000 troops, 230 tanks, 454 armored vehicles, and 338 guns and mortars. The High Command intended to crush the Chechen defense by four simultaneous armor assaults to converge from the north, the northeast, the east, and the west, to join its forces in the center of the city, seize key streets and bridges inside the Chechen capital, disarm the rebels, and finally, pacify Grozny. The key task was assigned to the Northern and Western Task Forces—to capture bridges across the Sunzha River and to secure the downtown. This apparently perfectly conceived plan suffered, nevertheless, from some significant defects: the Russians, for instance, did not possess enough infantry to support their armor columns. The plan also critically depended on the questionable ability of Russian units to coordinate their movements with one another. Moreover, bad weather and complex urban terrain closed air and artillery support to the assaulting troops.29 The most obvious blunder of the Russian plan was its ignorance of any prospects for serious Chechen resistance, with only 5,000 Russian troops assigned to the first assault.
With respect to Chechen forces, according to some estimates, at the beginning of the battle the Chechens deployed almost 15,000 troops, 50 tanks, 100 armored vehicles, 30 “Grad” Multiple Launch Rocket System (MLRS), 60 guns and mortars,30 and about 150 antiaircraft guns.31 The Chechen High Command intended to exhaust Russian troops in fierce battles, using three consecutive lines of defense in the city. The cornerstone of Chechen strategy entailed using the center of Grozny as a giant trap for the advancing Russians—to surround them, simultaneously to concentrate their own forces, and to obtain tactical and operational superiority over their opponents.
The Chechen strategy, more suitable for urban warfare, succeeded. The Russian assault on the New Year Eve deteriorated into almost complete disaster, for while Russian troops were able to break through the outer perimeter of the insurgents’ defense, in city center the Chechens surrounded Russian tank columns with weak infantry support—nearly annihilating them—like the 131th Maikop Motor-Rifle Brigade from the North-Eastern Task Force. The Russians also lost control over most of their remaining units trapped inside Grozny. Facing a desperate situation the Russians relieved and replaced the commanders of two task forces, regrouped and reinforced their troops with detachments from other military districts and from three fleets, and engaged in fierce house-to-house fighting in Grozny. Under the cover of the heaviest and most indiscriminate air and artillery bombardment the newly led Russian task forces—the Southern, under Lieutenant General Ivan Babichev and the Northern led by the energetic Major General Lev Rokhlin—joined forces in the center of the city, where Russian marines hoisted the St. Andrew naval ensign at the entrance to the Presidential Palace—the center of the Chechen defense. Undaunted, insurgents attempted to organize a new frontline along the Sunzha River and launched fierce counterattacks—but failed. By February 3, 1995, Grozny was in Russian hands, with heavy casualties suffered by both sides in bitter fighting. According to the defense minister, General Pavel Grachev, Russian losses were 534 men killed, though other sources estimated that between 1,146 and 1,800 troops were killed and wounded, with 225 armored vehicles, including 62 tanks, totally destroyed.32 Chechen losses numbered between 2,000 and 2,500 killed, and 26 tanks, 63 guns, and 40 armored vehicles destroyed.33
It was a much-needed Russian victory. Having secured Grozny, the Russians thereby occupied the political center and symbol of the Dudayev regime and gained control over strategic passes through the mountains and the Khankala Gorge into the Chechen flatlands. At the same time, the battle of Grozny gave the Chechens the opportunity to retreat in good order, regroup and organize resistance in central and southern Chechnya, and most importantly to prepare for a long guerrilla campaign. As General Dzhokhar Dudayev prophesied at the time: “The war will be very long. In my opinion it may last fifty years.”34
The final victory in Grozny did not mean the end of the war in Chechnya35; rather, the battle demonstrated to the Russians the real nature of the developing war in Chechnya. Some Russian journalists described the war as “[an] … incredibly horrible war that they have not witnessed since the year of 1941.”36 The Russian High Command was slow to adequately grasp these realities. At the Defense Ministry conference Pavel Grachev described the operation as a “special army operation” while General Anatolii Kvashnin spoke of the “real war” in Chechnya.37 After Grozny no firm Chechen frontline existed, except in the Argun-Gudermes region, and the Russian High Command over-optimistically declared the end of operations.
“After the initial bloody storm of Grozny,” noted Anatol Lieven “the ‘modern’ Russian army with its immense superiority in all the weapons needed for a decisive ‘Clausewitzian’ battle, usually tried to avoid such battles and proceeded by indirect and evasive means.”38
By the reckoning of some analysts the Russian campaign in central Chechnya from February to June 1995 constituted the most successful one of the entire war. Having learned the lessons of Grozny, Russian troops experienced hereafter a prolonged period of fighting during which they maintained the strategic initiative, actively and skillfully using their air and firepower superiority, relied on mobility and airborne assaults, and employed infantry very cautiously in order to minimize their losses.39
At the beginning of their advance the Russians massed about 200,000 troops drawn from the army plus 18,000 interior troops in and around Chechnya.40 Of these troops 55,000 were engaged in active combat. Chechen forces, numbering between 7,000 and 15,000 men, deployed 30 tanks and 15 MLRS divided into two formations: the Western Group and the Eastern Group, the latter of which formed the principal fighting force.41 Two operations during the campaign in central Chechnya stand out as most important, the first consisting of the Argun-Gudermes-Shali Operation (March–April 1995), in which the Russian Northern Task Force outmaneuvered and suppressed the Chechens—using a combined arms operation consisting of an armor advance, a forced river crossing, and tactical airborne assault—and gained control over the important railway and road routes in the eastern part of Chechnya. The Shatoi-Vedeno-Bamut Operation (April–June 1995), in which the Russian South-Eastern Task Force under the cover of a heavy artillery barrage and air bombardment managed to break through the Chechen defense lines, crushed the resistance of the insurgents’ small guerrilla groups, and captured the Bamut fortress after a stubborn siege and assault.
According to Russian military analysts, since the beginning of the war the Russians had by this stage lost more than 2,000 troops, while the Chechens had lost about 12,000 men.42 The Chechens had also lost almost all their remaining armor. Other Russian sources estimated Russian losses by September 1995 as 1,650 troops killed and 6,263 wounded, and 2 aircraft, 5 helicopters, and 400 guns and mortars destroyed. Chechen losses were 2,230 fighters killed and 5,000 wounded. Total casualties, including civilians, suffered in the war in Chechnya are estimated at 40,000.43
By the end of their successful campaign the Russians had gained control of over 80 percent of the Chechen territory and almost all the population centers of the republic. With these results achieved the High Command passed chief responsibility to the interior troops in Chechnya. General Dudayev could still count on support from 40,000 to 45,000 volunteers in the mountains, but due to the tiny territory controlled by Dudayev, Russian analysts concluded that the Chechens faced miserable prospects in continuing to prosecute the war.44 They also stressed the extreme shortage of Chechen material resources and Russia’s unassailable control of the air over Chechnya.45
This complete disintegration of organized Chechen resistance obliged the Chechens to radically alter their strategy. While the Chechen chief of staff, Colonel (later General) Aslan Maskhadov, favored the continuation of the guerrilla campaign in the mountains, the famous warlord Shamil’ Basaev chose a high-risk strategy—to take the war deep inside Russia proper, which stood vulnerable. His raid on Budyonnovsk—the hostage crisis and dramatic standstill there from June 13 to June 21, 1995—constituted the real turning point of the war. Mark Galeotti wrote at the time that the raid was the psychological “turning point, at which Moscow begins to reconsider the cost of its current operation in Chechnya and the possible virtues in negotiations.”46 There were various interpretations about the extent to which the Chechen High Command possessed genuine knowledge of the hostage-taking. Some analysts including those in Russian intelligence argued that this action was coordinated with General Dudayev.47 Shamil’ Basaev himself stressed that he and his men had lost all communications with Chechen High Command by June 1995.48 Aslan Maskhadov had learned about the raid from the television.49
In contrast to several earlier Russian peace initiatives the Kremlin felt obliged to engage in peace talks after Budyonnovsk under the pressure imposed by the ferocious threat of terrorism. From July to December 1995 negotiations between the Russians and the Chechens, including representatives of the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe participation, took place contemporaneously with continued fighting. Both sides, the Russian army and the Chechen militants alike, viewed these talks and numerous cease-fire agreements merely as an opportunity for a breathing space in which to gain time in order to regroup their forces, to consolidate their respective positions, and to prepare for a new round of fighting.
The defense minister, General Pavel Grachev, clearly defined Russian strategy in these new circumstances: “the negotiations and military operations must continue hand in hand.”50 This “Grachev Doctrine” stressed the need to combine military pressure on the separatists with the search for a political solution on Russian terms, and was obviously aimed at regaining the strategic initiative. Yet in the field the Russians found themselves deadlocked in a classic colonial war: while they controlled military posts and bases across almost all Chechnya, separatists laid ambushes along supply routes and constantly attached command and communication centers. In the course of all major military operations the Russians regularly emerged victorious—yet they failed to establish effective control on the ground. Frustratingly, federal troops were obliged to storm and occupy many towns and villages again and again.51 Difficult terrain—favorable to the separatists—made it almost impossible to seal the Chechen borders completely and cut off the supply routes of the rebels and thus isolate the theater of war effectively.52 Even the Russians’ major success—the death of General Dudayev on April 21–22, 1996, by a Russian air strike—could not change the course of the conflict, despite the limited psychological and propaganda value derived.
The military stalemate weakened the second track of Russia’s Chechen policy—the pursuit of a favorable peace settlement in the republic. The Kremlin ignored numerous proposals to save face by the unilateral de-escalation of the conflict and the withdrawal of its troops.53 The initiative proposed by some moderate Chechen politicians to demilitarize the conflict, to seek a compromise step-by-step solution on the basis of free elections in the republic, and to seek membership in the post-Soviet international association, the Commonwealth of Independent States, failed as well.54
Instead, the Kremlin tried to impose a pro-Russian puppet regime in Chechnya. Due to the lack of effective military support this strategy failed, but it succeeded in splitting Chechen society and driving Chechen politics into complete chaos. The Russian military and civilian authorities in the republic were not successful in obtaining real and solid Chechen support. The Russian authorities in Chechnya were increasingly dependent on Moscow’s protégées in Chechnya who were deeply involved in Russian domestic rivalries on the eve of presidential elections of 1996. The growing instability in Chechnya as well as the wave of terrorist attacks against some Russian high-ranking officials in the republic in September and October 1995—allegedly committed by the hard-liners within the Chechen resistance—dashed any hope for a negotiated solution of the conflict.55
Chechen strategy in this period of the war effectively integrated the military and political goals of the separatists. On the one hand, the Chechens successfully established themselves as very effective guerrilla fighters, using highly mobile operations, deadly ambushes, and surprise strikes on Russian forces.56 The guerrillas enjoyed free run of the territory outside Russian garrison towns, using their freedom to strike targets when and where they chose.57 The Chechen attack on Gudermes, Urus-Martan, and Achkhoi-Martan in December 1995 clearly demonstrated the inability of the Russian military to control the situation in the republic. The massive assault of some 1,800 separatists on Grozny between March 6 and 11, 1996—during a year of Russian presidential elections in Russia—clearly damaged Moscow’s prestige and influence in Chechnya.58
On the other hand, in order to capitalize on the psychological impact of dramatic shocks on the Russian public, the Chechen warlord Salman Raduyev undertook another large-scale raid on Kizliar in neighboring Dagestan during January 9–18, 1996. The massive Russian operation against the insurgents and standstill in Pervomaiskoe revealed a deep demoralization of the Russian army, including elite units.59 While attempting to claim the final retreat of the insurgents as a military victory, the Russian High Command, nevertheless, grudgingly admitted its inability to eliminate terrorism and insurgency in Chechnya.60
By the summer of 1996 the course of the Chechen War reached an unstable military equilibrium between the belligerents.61 To change it radically in their favor the Chechens needed to challenge the Russians openly and in a major conventional engagement. As such, the final Chechen assault on Grozny was “the most daring and ambitious operation in the twenty-month war.”62 The Russians had some 7,500 interior troops inside the city and army personnel in the neighboring military bases at Khankala and Severny. The whole garrison consisted of some 12,000 men.63 According to Russian estimates, the Chechens possessed a manpower potential about 6,000.64 The separatists planned their operation thoroughly and in close secrecy. The key to success rested with the ability of the rebels to strike the Russians simultaneously at all major strategic points in Chechnya in order to deny maneuverability to the enemy. The operational plan depended upon the high mobility from Chechen forces, the effective blockade of Russian units, and the organizing of deadly ambushes on Russians’ likely supply routes. Most importantly, the plan clearly defined the political and strategic goal of the operation—to gain control over Grozny and conclusively demonstrate Russia’s inability to win the war.65
Russian troops were completely surprised by the large-scale insurgent attack on major Chechen cities between August 6 and 16, 1996. The rebels succeeded in capturing Argun and Gudermes, infiltrated Grozny, and rapidly increased their forces from an initial approximately 500 men to 2,000 men. They isolated Russian units, cut off almost all supply routes, engaged Russian reinforcements in a series of ambushes, and gained control over the center of Grozny.66 The Russians tried to turn the battle in their favor, employing combined assault groups of paratroopers and infantry with armor and artillery support, yet they again found themselves engaged in fierce urban fighting.67
During the battle the Russians lost between 265 and 500 troops, more than 1,000 men wounded, and over 100 tanks and armored vehicles and several helicopters destroyed or badly damaged.68 The Russians had secured the kind of direct engagement with the enemy that they had been seeking for so long—only for it to end in almost complete disaster. Facing the stark reality of having to renew the war afresh with an exhausted army, the Russians were forced to conclude a truce.69 A peace agreement was finally concluded on August 23, 1996, between the new secretary of the (Russian) Security Council, General Alexander Lebed—a long-term critic of the war—and the Chechen commander-in-chief, General Aslan Maskhadov. According to the agreement, Russian troops withdrew from Chechnya and the Chechen problem would await final resolution, but both sides agreed to settle their future relations under the principles of international law, thus recognizing de facto Chechen independence.70
The complex terrain of Chechnya, including mountains, gorges, and numerous rivers rendered its territory extremely well-suited for mobile and protracted guerrilla warfare. The nature of the Russian military, in its turn, also had a profound influence on the tactical dimension of the war. First, due to the violent nature of Chechnya’s culture and history—an almost permanent state of rebellion against Russia as well as the phenomenon of continuous clan and tribal struggle and the record of the Chechens as the most rebellious people in the Russian/Soviet empire, with significant influence exercised by Islamic sects within Chechen society—this small nation developed as a staunch, fearless, and merciless antagonist of Russia. Second, the tribal traditions of the Chechens were instrumental in constructing a strong, broad-based and survivable network of guerrilla resistance. Third, the cellular clan structure of Chechen society transformed rebel formations into decentralized and highly mobile units of devoted fighters, and masters of surprise attacks and ambushes. “The social and cultural characteristics of Chechens, especially their Islamic faith and strong clan and tribal relationship made them formidable opponents fighting on their own ground.”71
All of these factors made it extremely difficult for the Russians to understand the real complexity of Chechen society and led them to a fatal underestimation of the military skills and abilities of their opponents. The Chechens, in their turn, understood the strengths and vulnerabilities of the Russian army perfectly well. Many of the Chechen military commanders had been experienced officers of the former Soviet army and managed successfully to convert Chechen societal characteristics into tactical advantages on the battlefield, developing them further in the course of the war to achieve strategic dominance.
Complete air superiority constituted the single major factor contributing to Russian dominance in the conventional realm of the fighting in Chechnya. The Russian Air Force (Tu-22 M3 bombers and Su-17, Su-24, and Su-25 ground attack aircraft) was employed to eliminate the Chechen Air Force and provide air cover and close support for advancing ground troops. Russian aviation launched massive bombardments and precision strikes on mobile insurgent formations and pockets of defense,72 while ISu-27 and MiG-31 aircraft were used on patrol missions in Chechen airspace.
At the same time, the effectiveness of the massive employment of Mi-24 and Mi-8 combat helicopters for close support was limited due to obsolete navigation equipment. This and insufficient protection enabled the Chechens to damage several helicopters as well as a few fixed-wing aircraft despite the absence of a Chechen air defense system.73 For the movement and supply of their troops Russians used various types of heavy transport planes, the IL-76, An-124-100, An-22, and the An-12, as well as Mi-24 transport helicopters.74
On the ground the Russian army employed traditional armored assaults. The Chechens, in turn, developed successful countermeasures to compensate for their adversary’s superiority in conventional terms. In major engagements with the Russians in various approaches to Grozny—in Chervlennaya, Pervomaisk, and Petropavlovskaya—the Chechens employed guerrilla “hit-and-run” tactics and ambushes, using MLRS and placing mortars and grenade launchers on tracked and wheeled vehicles.75
The battles in Grozny and other Chechen cities contributed significantly to changes in the theory and practice of modern warfare, following in the traditions of twentieth century urban combat, particularly the assaults on cities during the Second World War such as at Stalingrad, Caen, and Warsaw as well as in fighting in built-up areas like Budapest and Port Said in 1956, Jerusalem in 1967, Saigon and Hue in 1968, Beirut from 1975 to 1977 and again in 1982, and Mogadishu in 1993. Over time, Chechen tactics in their own urban engagements involved a series of mutually reinforcing elements. First, the Chechens actively exploited the numerous vulnerabilities of the highly centralized and hierarchical Russian military: their tactical inflexibility, lack of initiative, the poor coordination between their units, weak reconnaissance, and their lack of training in street fighting.76 Second, Chechen fighters grasped the importance of moving the focus of combat from the outer perimeter of Grozny to its center in order to render the Russian superiority in armor, artillery, and air power almost useless.77 Third, the Chechen defenders organized themselves into small, decentralized groups, able to surprise opposing units, break them up, and surround them.78 Finally, they exploited their extensive knowledge of the city’s terrain and infrastructure to set up deadly ambushes for advancing Russian columns by a combination of emulated Second World War urban combat and guerrilla “hit-and-run” tactics.79
An important Chechen tactical innovation was the introduction of urban combat groups divided into small, autonomous and mobile antiarmor squads in tracked and wheeled vehicles. The typical squad consisted of a grenadier armed with a rocket-propelled grenade launcher, a sniper, and a third fighter with a light machine gun. During their final assault on Grozny in August 1996, the Chechens improved the structure of their antiarmor squad and developed it as one grenadier, one to two snipers, two to three riflemen, and one machine-gun operator.80 These squads maintained close communications via portable radio transmitters and cellular phones. They effectively engaged Russian troops by striking the first and the last vehicle in armor columns, thus bringing the whole force to a halt. Then, armor destroyers usually positioned on the ground level, in second and third stories, and in the basements of buildings struck at the vulnerable parts of T-72 and T-80 tanks and BMD-1, BMP-2, and BTR-80 troop carriers. The Chechens benefited from the fact that at the beginning of the war Russian armor suffered from inadequate protection.81
The initial Russian debacle in Grozny revealed that the army was unprepared for the Chechens’ unconventional form of urban fighting.82 The Russian High Command duly introduced some tactical changes including the introduction of additional armor protection for tanks, troop carriers, and self-propelled howitzers. Some Russian observers also stressed the urgent need for elaboration of the specialized armor for urban warfare.83 In addition, federal forces ceased to employ their tactics of the large-scale advance and created battalion-level assault task forces with dedicated tank, artillery, and mortar support.84 With respect to close “house-to-house” fighting the Russians introduced small, autonomous assault groups with strong sniper support.85 The Russians also improved coordination between units and detachments down to the platoon level86 They also provided close heavy artillery support for the assault by self-propelled howitzers and used track-mounted antiaircraft guns and attack helicopters against enemy snipers on multi-storied buildings.87 The Russians also appreciated the benefits of assigning assault groups to specific sectors of the city and imposing a total blockade around it.88 While this method proved to be effective in small and medium-sized Chechen towns, some Western observers questioned its applicability to a large modern city, like Grozny.89 It should be noted, also, that the Russians were never able to seal off the Chechen capital completely during the war.
During the intense guerrilla war in Chechnya from June 1995 to July 1996 the separatists employed the effective combination of classic partisan “hit-and-run” attacks, diversions, and modernized versions of the traditional Chechen tactic of ambushes in wooded and mountainous terrain.90 At the same time, some additional features characterized the war. First, the Chechens successfully employed their strong tribal traditions and clan relationships in creating an effective network for the flow of regular and reliable manpower, ammunition, intelligence, communication, and logistics support for the guerrilla groups. Additionally, Chechen self-defense units in towns and villages closely cooperated with the guerrillas and proved very instrumental in keeping the Russians under growing pressure from fierce battles of “semi-guerrilla war,” as Aslan Maskhadov called it, in almost all population centers across Chechnya.91
Secondly, the separatists, facing overwhelming Russian military superiority, turned to large-scale hostage taking, kidnappings, bombings, and other forms of terrorism in Chechnya as well as in Russia itself. Some experts argue that in this way the Chechens have made their unique contribution to insurgency, introducing so-called military terrorism or military diversion operation. Stasys Knezys and Romanus Sedlickas explain military terrorism thus: “[An] act of terrorism which is conducted by a military force as part of an overall military campaign or for a military purpose.”92 Although Chechen terrorist acts succeeded in increasing the cost of the war for the Russian military and public as well, the question remains: to what extent were strikes on the medical installations in Budyonnovsk and Kizliar coordinated with other spheres of Chechen military activity, and subordinated to broad strategic and operational goals, rather than serving merely as spontaneous acts of anger and revenge, influenced by the criminal and brutal character of the fighting in which many Chechen warlords increasingly engaged. For example, the Raduyev raid on Kizliar and his engagement with federal forces in Pervomaiskoe in Dagestan were terribly counterproductive from the point of view of the separatists’ anti-Russian “grand strategy,” so turning the neighboring Muslim republic against the Chechen cause.93
In the course of its counterinsurgency operations the Russian military suffered heavily from its inflexibility, poor intelligence, heavy reliance on stationary military garrisons, and inability to create an effective system of control and pacification of the population.94 Moreover, the Russians were unable to prevent the guerrillas from infiltrating occupied cities and towns in Chechnya.
During the guerrilla war in Chechnya the Russians demonstrated some ability to learn from their mistakes and failures, deploying relatively well-trained light infantry units as well as special forces capable of operating in forest and mountainous terrain in coordination with artillery and helicopter gunships. In addition, the protection of army trucks was improved considerably in order to decrease Russian losses suffered by separatist ambushes and diversions.95 At the same time, as Russian operations in Pervomaiskoe revealed, lack of thorough planning and coordination as well as poor professionalism and weak combat motivation remained the ineradicable ills plaguing Russian counterinsurgency in Chechnya.
Several important features characterized information warfare in Chechnya: combat, particularly the urban form, demonstrated that the Chechens’ means of communication—portable radio transmitters and cellular phones—turned out to be far more effective and reliable than the Russian ones.96 Both sides also actively employed deception during the war. The Chechens frequently intercepted Russian radio communications and issued false and sometimes lethal orders by redirecting Russian aircraft, helicopters, and artillery against their own troops.97 The Russians, in turn, several times succeeded in using tactical and strategic deception, such as during victorious operations in Gudermes and Shali in March and April 1995, to outmaneuver Chechen insurgents. Negotiations, political campaigns, and covert action as well as military and special operations in their various combinations were employed by the Russians and Chechens alike to influence the decisions and actions of their opponents, to provoke them into unfortunate and self-destructive reactions.98
In contrast to the Russians, the Chechens used psychological operations (PSYOPS) during the war. Timothy Thomas called PSYOPS “one of the most important aspects of the war in Chechnya.”99 The separatists established strong and influential access to Russian mass media, skillfully taking advantage of the chaotic and unstable nature of Russian domestic politics, characterized by the continuous struggle between rival groups within the Yeltsin administration.100 These contacts were instrumental in a propaganda campaign, which catalogued for a surprised Russian public the numerous mistakes and failures committed during the war and launched disinformation attacks, so strengthening the unwillingness of the Russian public to support an unpopular war, in turn demoralizing the Russian military and placing enormous pressure on Russia’s policy-makers.101
The Russian army and intelligence were able to transform their technological and military superiority into a successful decapitating operation, using A-50 reconnaissance and Su-25 ground attack aircraft to eliminate the Chechen leader Dzhokhar Dudayev. There were, nevertheless, some allegations over possible Western intelligence support in this operation.102 Nonetheless, the death of Dzhokhar Dudayev did not lead to the decisive breakdown of the Chechen command and control system, due to the highly decentralized structure of the military and political organization of the Chechen resistance.
“For the first time in nearly 300 years of Russian expansion in the North Caucasus the empire was receding and its army in retreat,” wrote Carlotta Gall and Thomas de Waal on the aftermath of the Chechen War.103 Russian troops withdrew completely from Chechnya by the end of November 1996. The war losses were as follows: Russian troops: 3,406 killed; 19,783 wounded; 616 missing in action; 432 prisoners of war, with the terms of withdrawal stipulating their return to Russia; some 300 tanks and armored vehicles, 8 helicopters; and 5 airplanes destroyed. Chechen fighters suffered 15,000 killed—unofficial estimates of civilian casualties claim between 80,000 and 100,000 killed—while the war cost an estimated: $150 to $200 billion.104
The historical significance of the First Chechen War of 1994–96 is twofold. First, it was the first proper war in which the post-Soviet Russian army sought to prove itself as a reliable military force in the defense of the territorial integrity of the Russian Federation—and failed. Second, the First Chechen War as a local secessionist armed conflict shared a comparable as well as contrasting features with other local wars of the past century. In this way, as Timothy Thomas pointed out: “the fighting in Chechnya created another historical chapter in the annals of warfare that will merit study for decades.”105
In terms of Russia’s security posture in Europe in the post-Soviet era and with respect to its domestic stability as a former superpower, the defeat in Chechnya clearly demonstrated its military weakness. As the Chechen War revealed the Russian army was unable to suppress the secessionist movement within Russia’s own borders. Stephen Blank observed of Russia’s post-Chechnya posture in the Caucasus: “Russian strategy has ignored the fundamental requirement of matching its goals to its real strengths … As in the 19th Century, imperial policies serve to arrest or inhibit domestic unrest. It did not work then and it certainly cannot work now when Russia cannot even subjugate Chechnya.”106
Russia attempted to learn lessons from its experience in Chechnya. In some cases it worked; in others it did not. For example, the chaos prevalent in Russian military planning and the cumbersome and often incompetent command and control apparatus were seriously aggravated by changes of senior commanders. In 1994–96 Moscow replaced eight commanders in charge of the operation, yet with mixed results. The very fact of these changes had some counterproductive effects on troops’ morale in action.
During the war, Russian operational art, strategy, and tactics evolved, occasionally enabling the Russians to prevail over Chechen insurgents; yet the Russian military were unable to outfight the Chechens who benefited from fighting on their ground and employing guerrilla tactics. Russian military history includes several examples of successful counterinsurgencies: in Poland, in the Caucasus, and in Central Asia in the nineteenth century, and in Central Asia, the western Ukraine, and in the Baltic states in the twentieth century. Nevertheless a strong combination of Soviet-era military ills—inflexibility, lack of imagination, and lack of initiative—together with problems of the Russian military of the 1990s—widespread corruption, poor intelligence and coordination, incompetence, lack of public support, and low morale—as well as an ill-conceived and unrealistic political strategy contributed significantly to Russian defeat.
At the same time, the experience of defeat stimulated a process of rethinking about some of the Russian military’s fundamental priorities and security policy. Specifically, the character and military consequences of the First Chechen War stimulated a growing attention to the political, strategic, and military dimensions of small and local wars and insurgencies and conversely activated an interest in the Soviet experience in Afghanistan, as well as a focus of attention on Western powers’ performances in the wars in Algeria, Malaya, Vietnam, the Falklands, and Lebanon.107 The war has also proved that small wars and insurgencies are the more immediate threat to Russia’s security interests in the foreseeable future and that the country needs to reconsider and reform its military and security policy accordingly.108 The war also highlighted the poor planning and military blunders characterized by Russian setbacks at the beginning of the war.109
The scale of combat operations as well as the poor coordination of arms—infantry, armor, artillery, and air power—during the war has led military theorists to the conclusion that there is an urgent need to reconsider the theory and practical implications of engaging in special operations as the way to fight secessionist wars and insurgencies.110 In addition, some Russian analysts argue that the Chechen War has gone beyond the classic definition of “small scale war” or “low intensity conflict”; rather, they claim that secessionist wars, which threaten vital national security interests, could in future employ some elements of total war.111 Use of force, they are convinced, should follow a “Russian version” of the Weinberger Doctrine—with operations undertaken only where clearly defined national security interests are at stake, when strong political support exists at home, and where force is applied exercised decisively, with all means applied to ensure the total victory.
Experience in Chechnya suggested the need for the introduction of a new command concept for special operations and the creation of joint operational groups, to comprise of a mix of troops and forces from several ministries and governmental agencies operating according to a clear chain of command.112 Moreover, command and control over the special operation should be placed under the direct supervision of the General Staff of Russian Armed Forces.113 In addition the reorganization of troops involved in special operations must include the strengthening of the leading role of ground forces within joint operation groups, the improvement of the tactical independence of combat units with coordinated artillery, air, and helicopter support to be assigned directly to them.114 The war in Chechnya also stressed the need to create in peacetime formations in permanent readiness consisting of combined, mobile units reinforced with artillery and armor, able to engage quickly and decisively in local conflict.115
A number of other lessons emerged from the conflict in Chechnya. Experience in counterinsurgency suggested the need for the special training of troops involved in antiguerrilla warfare, with special armor provided for such troops, as well as the critical importance of isolating the theater of the campaign.116 Some Russian analysts argue that the war in Chechnya has proved the great usefulness of close and massive artillery support as well as the need to diversify it with the creation of “fire bases” and the employment of “fire ambushes” and “fire sieges,” Russian terms for the expanded use of artillery.117 In this connection the Russian military tried to learn from its Chechen experience as well as from that of the Americans in Korea, Vietnam, and the Persian Gulf. Russian military writers have admitted generally that the army had lost the information and propaganda war in Chechnya and stressed the need to disrupt the insurgents’ local command system and broadly to employ nonlethal weapons.118 The war was also a testing ground for Russian armor; tanks and armored vehicles appeared to be extremely vulnerable in urban combat. At the same time, some observers found that the use of artillery, self-propelled howitzers, and MLRS including those employed by the Chechens proved rather effective. It is clear that the development of new self-propelled howitzers has been directly affected by the urban combat experience during the Chechen War.119 The fierce battle on the streets of Grozny stressed, also, the growing value of the antitank grenade launcher in urban combat.120 While most of these changes, suggested after the war, are still awaiting implementation, their potential impact on the Russian military could be significant. One could argue that the First Chechen War began the process of transforming the remains of the Soviet army into that of the Russian Confederation.
Russian military analysts make a sound point when they stress that the main Russian blunder in the war was the misapplication of the country’s military power and the misuse of troops.121 Due to the deep crisis within the military as well as the still powerful ambitions of a nuclear superpower and its military priorities, the Russian army found itself at war with Soviet-era weapons in poor conditions, and with critically under-trained, under-paid, and under-manned troops. Stressing this point Ralph Peters concluded: “They were forced to use what they had, and what they had was wrong. Equipment designed for war in the European countryside, flawed tactics and grossly inadequate training and command and control led to disaster.”122
During the First Chechen War civil-military relations in Russia underwent considerable transformation. On the one hand, some Russian military observers, reluctantly admitting defeat, argue that the army had been denied permission to win by civilian authorities and “bad” press.123 On the other hand, “the Kremlin’s spectacular inability to formulate a clear political strategy in the war led to the disorientation and demoralization of the military, and propelled the intervention by General Lebed” to end the war despite the failure of the politicians.124
In the course of the second war in Chechnya, 1999–2009, some transformations in the Russian military performance were already in place. The Russian High Command restricted media activity during the war, recognizing that “the propaganda battle is nearly as important as the fighting itself.”125 The Russians also used air, missile, and artillery strikes in a more effective, coordinated, and destructive way than they did during the first war.126 Today, the Russian military demonstrates a new sensitivity to own losses. In addition, the coordination of services is considerably improved with a strong role played of the General Staff. Thus, changes in tactics are significant. At the same time, this “one big military experiment” in Chechnya, as Theodore Karasik called it,127 has witnessed Russia’s failure to radically modernize the army. Despite the changes in tactics the military leadership is still wedded to the Soviet strategic tradition of fighting major conventional campaigns.
The most significant contribution of the Chechen War was the lessons to be derived from urban combat and all its consequences on strategy and tactics, weaponry, training, and the organization of troops.128
The Chechens’ dogged resistance to the technologically and numerically superior Russian army also stimulated the further development of the concept of territorial defense in some Central European countries, where coordinated and diverse efforts exerted by the whole of the population are meant to render the cost of military aggression extremely high to an invader.129 For example, the small military establishments of the Baltic states are modernizing this concept in the light of the Chechen experience, turning to the idea of “total defense,” a concept that presumes active and passive resistance across the country in the event of attack.130
The international dimension of the First Chechen War, in which the Chechen cause enjoyed the active external support of the large Chechen diaspora in Moscow, Turkey, and Arab countries, as well as from some transnational Islamic organizations, revealed the future role of nonstate associations and transnational actors as possible participants in future conflicts.131 The Russian military as well as the public paid a great deal of attention to the cultural and religious side of the Chechen War, often regarding it as a struggle between Orthodox Christianity and Islamic jihad.132 Official Chechen sources described the war as “brutal military aggression of great powers against small ones under the cover of international law,” pointing to the West’s noninterference in the conflict.133
Developing this theme, the Pakistani military analyst Brigadier (Ret.) Syed A. I. Tirmazi noted: “The 1994–1996 Russia-Chechnya war was not only the result of the Russian-Chechen conflict, but also of the conflict between the Chechens and the Western world.”134 The pattern of intercultural conflict revealed by the Chechen War, as Ralph Peters noted, remains “the great nightmare” of the new century.135 The significant cultural differences between the Russians and the Chechens influenced to a great extent their performance on the battlefield. It also should be noted that, thanks to Russification, the Chechens successfully exploited their intimate knowledge of Russian weaknesses and vulnerabilities during the war. Inexperienced and unfamiliar with the local culture, Russian military commanders adapted a police action into an old-fashioned Algeria-type colonial war—and failed.
The cultural dimension of the Chechen War contributed considerably to the development of the Chechen way of war, which as Major Raymond Finch noted: “cares nothing for war’s formal rules and is prepared to use any strategy to further [its] objectives.”136 This highlights the Chechen culture of warfare as well as to almost any other determined opponent pitted against an overwhelming, technologically advanced military in an asymmetric context. These methods may be termed “military terrorism” and the “civilianization” of warfare.
The regional wars of the second half of the twentieth century increasingly affected civilians. The Chechen War, where over 90 percent of all casualties were suffered by civilians, is indicative of this trend. In contrast, the “civilianization” of war has meant an active use of noncombatants as a tool and nontraditional weapon in order to demoralize the enemy as well as to transform strategy and tactics. For example, large-scale and orchestrated civilian protests at the beginning of the operation in Chechnya led to the destruction of the Russians’ initial military plan. Chechen fighters also used civilians, including refugees, both as cover during guerrilla operations and as a propaganda tool in the information war. The Russian army was unable to meet such a challenge, and in addition to other failures and mistakes the incapacity of the Russian military to meet and respond adequately to the challenge of an intercultural contest and the Chechens’ asymmetric strategy stand as important elements in any explanation of the causes of the Russian defeat.
1. Alan Stephens, “The Transformation of ‘Low Intensity Conflict’,” Small Wars and Insurgencies 5, no. 1 (Spring 1994): 143–161.
2. “S chego nachinalas’ tragediia,” Orientir, no. 3 (1995): 29–34.
3. Galina Koval’skaia, “Nepopravimoe. Kak i pochemu nachalas’ chechenskaia voina,” Itogi, June 18, 1996, 24–26.
4. N. N. Beliakov, “Voina v Chechne–-puskovoi mekhanizm raspada Rossii,” N. N. Beliakov, comp., Chechenskii krizis (M., 1995), 37–41.
5. I. Chernov, “Krizis na Kavkaze mozhet privesti k obrazovaniiu novogo gorskogo gosudarstva,” Trud, January 24, 1995.
6. Iuri Tyssovskii, “Kaspii: shchupal’tsia chuzhikh interesov,” Rossiia, August 9–15, 1995.
7. “Chechenskii uzel. Na poroge voiny,” Izvestiia, December 3, 1994.
8. Igor Korotchenko, “Operatsiya v Chechne. Uspekh ili porazhenie rossiiskoi armii,” Nezavisimoe voennoe obozrenie, no.1 (February 1995): 1.
9. Major Raymond C. Finch III, “Why the Russian Military Failed in Chechnya,” e-version on: www.amina.com/article
10. Timothy L. Thomas, “Air Operations in Low Intensity Conflict. The Case of Chechnya.,” e-version on: www.amina.com/article/thomas_mili.html
11. Pavel Baev, The Russian Army in a Time of Trouble (Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, 1996), 143.
12. Sergei Surozhtsev, “Legenda rnaiia v Groznom,” Novoevremia, nos. 2–3 (1995): 14–15.
13. N. N. Novichkov, V. Ya. Snegovskii, and A. G. Sokolov, Rossiiskie vooruzhennye sily v chechnskom konflikte. Analiz, itogi, vyvody (Paris, Moscow: Trivola, Kholveg-Infoglob, 1995), 118.
14. Andrew Wilson, “Russian Military Haunted by Past Glories. Battle to Improve Slumming Morale and Poor Performance,” Jane’s International Defense Review, no. 5 (1996): 25–27, 26.
15. Novichkov, Snegovskii, and Sokolov, Rossiiskie vooruzhennye sily v chechnskom konflikte, 117.
16. Richard Woff, “Who’s Who in the Chechen Operation,” Jane’s Intelligence Review 7 no. 4 (1995): 158–161.
17. Anatol Lieven, Chechnya: Tombstone of Russian Power (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1998), 106.
18. Stephen J. Cimbala, Russia and Armed Persuasion (manuscript in progress, 1999), 37.
19. Novichkov, Snegovskii, and Sokolov, Rossiiskie vooruzhennyesily v chechnskom konflikte, 102–105.
20. “Grachev, Grozny and Moscow Snipers,” Jane’s Defence Weekly, January 21, 1995, 20.
21. Mariia Dement’yeva, “Operatsiia pomozdoksko-arbatskim retseptam,” Segodnia, February 15, 1995.
22. V. D. Solovei, “Voina v Chechne i rossiiskaia oppozitsiia,” Kentavr, no. 5 (1995): 39–47.
23. Carlotta Gall and Thomas de Waal, Chechnya. Calamity in the Caucasus (New York and London: New York University Press, 1998), 161.
24. “Uroki chechenskogo krizisa. Spravka o razvitii sobytii vokrug Chechni, podgotovlennaia v Gosudarstvenno-pravovom Upravlenii Presidenta Rossiiskoi Frderatsii,” Dialog, no. 4 (1995): 34–38.
25. “Kavkazskaia voina,” Voennaia entsiklopediia,Vol IX, ed. by Lieutenant General K. I. Velichko, Colonel V. F. Novitskii, Colonel A. V. von Shwartz, Colonel V. A. Annushkin, and Captain G. K. von Shultz (St. Petersburg: Tovarischestvo I. D. Sytina, 1913), 220–242.
26. Pavel Felgengauer, “Operatsiia, kotoraia ne nravitsia nikomu,” Segodnia, December 20, 1995.
27. Lieutenant Colonel (Ret.) Lester Grau, “Bashing the Laser Range Finder with a Rock,” Military Review 77 no. 3 (May–June 1997): 42–48, 44.
28. Thomas, “Air Operations in Low Intensity Conflict.”
29. Pavel Felgengauer, “Russian Campaign in Chechnya,” e-version on: www.amina.com/article
30. Krasnaia Zvezda, March 3, 1995.
31. Pavel Felgengauer, “Apocalypse Now,” Segodnia, January 5, 1995.
32. Novichkov, Snegovskii, and Sokolov, Rossiiskie vooruzhennye sily v chechnskom konflikte, 55.
33. Colonel (Ret.) Stasys Knezys and Major (Ret.) Romanus Sedlickas, The War in Chechnya (College Station, TX: Tex A & M University Press, 1999), 114–115.
34. “Dudayev Talks on War in Chechnya,” Baltic Observer, March 30–April 5, 1995.
35. Charles Blandy, “The Battle for Grozny,” Jane’s Intelligence Review 7 no. 2 (February 1995): 53–56.
36. Mariia Dement’eva and Mikhail Leont’ev, “Griaznaia voina protiv rossiiskoi armii,” Segodnia, January 17, 1995.
37. Krasnaia zvezda, March 3, 1995.
38. Anatol Lieven, Chechnya, 127.
39. Colonel Vladimir Mukhin, “Voennye uroki chechenskoi kampanii,” Part 5, Nezavisimoe voennoe obozrenie, no. 22 (November 28, 1996): 2.
40. Moskovskii komsomolets, March 18, 1995
41. Novichkov, Snegovskii, and Sokolov, Rossiiskie vooruzhennye sily v chechnskom konflikte, 75.
42. Ibid, 87.
43. Knezys and Sedlickas, The War in Chechnya, 179–185.
44. Mark Feigin, “Vtoraia kavkazskaia voina,” Novy mir, no. 12 (1995): 159–171.
45. Pavel Felgenhauer, “Strananevyuchennykhurokov,” Segodnia, June 6, 1995.
46. Mark Galeotti, “Budyonnovsk and the Chechen War,” Jane’s Intelligence Review, 7 no. 8 (August 1995): 338.
47. “Kto ne khochet mira v Chechne” (interview with the Chief Public Relations Officer of the Federal Security Service Lieutenant General Aleksandr Mikhailov), Novosti razvedki i kontrrazvedki, nos.15–16 (1995): 3; Knezys and Sedlickas, The War in Chechnya, 173; Anatol Lieven, Chechnya, 124.
48. “Terroristy pronikaiut v Rossiiu za den’gi” (interview with Shamil’ Basaev), Nezavisimaia gazeta, March 12, 1996.
49. Anjei Lomanovski, “V gorakh u chechenskikh partzan,” Novoe vremia, no. 28 (1995): 10–11.
50. Pavel Grachev, “Stavka na silu v Chechne dolzhna byt’ sokhranena” (interview), Nezavisimoe voennoe obozrenie, no. 3 (November 1995): 1–2.
51. Mikhail Korovkin and Aleksei Nemenov, “Poslednii boi? Bamutskaia operatsiia kak zerkalo chechenskoi voiny,” Itogi, July 4, 1996, 15–17.
52. Vladimir Semiriaga, “Chto delaiut pogranvoiska v Chechne,” Novosti razvedki i kontrrazvedki, no. 4 (1996): 3.
53. Aleksandrov, “Sud’ba Chechni posle vtoroi kavkazskoi voiny,” Nezavisimaia gazeta, March 14, 1996.
54. Iusup Soslambekov, “Piatyi genotsid,” Novoe vremia, no. 4 (1996): 10–12.
55. Major Konstantin Petrov, “Neprimirimye na trope voiny,” Orientir, no. 6 (1996): 11–12.
56. Major Gregory J. Calestan, “Wounded Bear: The Ongoing Russian Military Operation in Chechnya,” e-version on: www.amina.com/article/mil_oper.html
57. Galina Koval’skaia and Aleksandr Iskanderian, “Poiski mira po zakonam voiny,” Novoe vremia, no. 14 (1996): 8–10.
58. Il’iaMaksakov, “Boi v Groznom. Mnozhatsia bessmyslennye zhertvy,” Nezavisimaia gazeta, March 12, 1996.
59. Colonel Vladimir Mukhin, “Voennye uroki chechenskoi kampanii,” Part 7, Nezavisimoe voennoe obozrenie, no. 1 (January 11–18, 1997): 2.
60. “Pervomaiskoe.ekho operatsii” (press conference of the Army General Mikhail Barsukov), Novosti razvedki i kontrrazvedki, no. 3 (1996): 4–5.
61. Galina Koval’skaia, “Kapituliatsii ne budet,” Itogi, June 4, 1996, 10–12.
62. Gall and de Waal, Chechnya, 331.
63. Colonel Vladimir Mukhin, “Voennye uroki chechenskoi kampanii,” Part 8, Nezavisimoe voennoe obozrenie, no. 3 (25–30 January 1997): 2; Gall and de Waal, Chechnya, 332.
64. “Grozny—zharkii avgust-96,” Novosti razvedki i kontrazvedki, no. 17 (1996): 8–10.
65. “Krovavyi avgust,” Vainakh, no. 2 (1996/1997): 20–25.
66. “Russia Resumes Fighting Despite Election Pledge,” Jane’s Defence Weekly, August 14, 1996, 4.
67. Colonel Nikolai Astashkin, “Uzhe deistvuiut shturmovye grupy desantnikov i motostrelkov,” Krasnaia zvezda, August 13, 1996.
68. Knezys and Sedlickas, The War in Chechnya, 293–294.
69. Galina Koval’skaia, “Tonkii led chechnskogo mira,” Itogi, September 24, 1996, 12–15.
70. Aslan Maskhadov, “My khotim byt’ sub”ektami mezhdunarodnogo prava…” (interview), Novoe vremia, no. 38 (1996): 6–8.
71. Cimbala, Russia and Armed Persuasion, 43.
72. Thomas, “Air Operations in Low Intensity Conflict.”
73. Pavel Felgengauer, “U chechentsev net sistemy PVO, kak takovoi,” Segodnia, February 3, 1995.
74. Novichkov, Snegovskii, and Sokolov, Rossiiskie vooruzhennye sily v chechnskom konflikte, 115.
75. Knezys and Sedlickas, The War in Chechnya, 76–78.
76. Novichkov, Snegovskii, and Sokolov, Rossiiskie vooruzhennye sily v chechnskom konflikte, 51.
77. Anatol Lieven, Chechnya, 114.
78. Nataliia Gorodetskaia, “Rossiiskie voiska nachali bombardirovku Gudermesa,” Segodnia, February 3, 1995.
79. Knezys and Sedlickas, The War in Chechnya, 104–105.
80. Mukhin, “Voennye uroki chechenskoi kampanii,” Part 8, Nezavisimoe voennoe obozrenie, 2.
81. For details see: Lieutenant Colonel (Ret.) Lester Grau, “Russian Manufactured Armored Vehicle Vulnerability in Urban Combat: The Chechen Experience” e-version on: www.amina.com/article/mil; Novichkov, Snegovskii, and Sokolov, Rossiiskie vooruzhennye sily v chechnskom konflikte, 138–147.
82. Colonel Aleksandr Kostiuchenko, “Uroki Groznogo,” Armeiskii sbornik, no. 11 (1995): 29–30.
83. Natal’ia Gorodetskaia, “Federal’nye voiska poluchaiut podkreplenie,” Segodnia, January 17, 1995.
84. “Pamiatka lichnomu sostavu chastei i podrazdelenii po vedeniiu boevykh deistvii v Chechenskoi respublike,” Armeiskii sbornik, no. 1 (1996): 37–42.
85. Pavel Felgengauer, “Rossiiskaia armiia primeniaet novuiu taktiku,” Segodnia, January 10, 1995.
86. Colonel Aleksandr Yevtukhov, “S popravkoi na boevoi opyt,” Orientir, no. 9 (1995): 35–39.
87. Lieutenant Colonel (Ret.) Lester Grau, “Russian Urban Tactics. Lessons from the Battle for Grozny,” Strategic Forum, INSS, No. 38 (July 1995); Major General Vladimir Suzdal’tsev, “Chechenskie uroki voiskovoi PVO,” Armeiskii sbornik, no. 9 (1995): 23–25.
88. Colonel Oleg Namsaraev, “Prochesyvanie naselennykh punktov,” Armeiskii sbornik, no. 4 (1995): 35–37.
89. Anatol Lieven, Chechnya, 116.
90. Colonel A. A. Korabel’nikov and Colonel A. V. Chernenko, “Taktika deistvii partizanskikh formirovanii v tylu protivnika,” Voennaia mysl’, no. 2 (January–February 1997): 36–42.
91. Gall and de Waal, Chechnya, 289–317.
92. Knezys and Sedlickas, The War in Chechnya, 174.
93. Vitalii Tret’iakov, “Dudayev dobil Chechniu,” Nezavisimaia gazeta, January 18, 1996.
94. Oleg Blotskii, “Zapadnia sredi razvalin,” Nezavisimoe voennoe obozrenie, no. 6 (March 28, 1996): 2.
95. Lieutenant General Nikolai Kovalev, “Avtotekhnika v chechenskom konflikte,” Armeiskii sbornik, no. 3 (1996): 62–64.
96. Andrei Levin, “Voennaia razvedka v Chechne. Proschety i uroki,” Novosti razvedki I kontrrazvedki, no. 18 (1996): 7.
97. Novichkov, Snegovskii, and Sokolov, Rossiiskie vooruzhennye sily v chechnskom konflikte, 113.
98. Yevgenii Krutikov, “Kadrovyinokdaun,” Novoe vremia, no. 26 (1996): 20–21.
99. Timothy L. Thomas, Caucasus Conflict and Russian Security: The Russian Armed Forces Confront Chechnya (Fort Leavenworth, KS: Foreign Military Studies Office, 1995), 41.
100. Novichkov, Snegovskii, and Sokolov, Rossiiskie vooruzhennye sily v chechnskom konflikte, 106.
101. Major General Aleksandr Cherkasov, “Kliuch k pobede,” Orientir, no. 9 (1996): 16–19.
102. See: Wayne Masden, “Did NSA Help Russia Target Dudayev?,” Covert Action Quarterly, no. 61 (1997): 47–49; “Kak pogib Dzhokhar Dudayev?,” Novosti razvedki ikontrrazvedki, no. 18 (1997): 3.
103. Gall and de Waal, Chechnya, 360.
104. Knezys and Sedlickas, The War in Chechnya, 304; Anatolii Grishin, “Buhgalteriiavoiny,” Itogi, September 24, 1996, 23.
105. Thomas, “Air Operations in Low Intensity Conflict.”
106. Stephen Blank, “Instability in the Caucasus: New Trends, Old Traits,” Part 2, Jane’s Intelligence Review, 9, no. 5 (1998): 18–21.
107. Sergei Grigoriev, “Chechenskaia operatsiia v svete ei podobnykh,” Nezavisimaia gazeta, June 21, 1995.
108. Voennye reformy v Rosii. Materialy konferentsii (Moscow: Voenizdat, 1997), 56–57.
109. Major General V. A. Vakhrushev, “Lokal’nye voiny i vooruzhennye konflikty. Kharakter i vliianie na voennoe iskusstvo,” Voennaia mysl’, no. 4 (July–August 1999): 20–28.
110. Colonel Vladimir Kadetov, “Spetsial’nye operatsii vooruzhennykh sil,” Nezavisimoe voennoe obozrenie, no. 23 (December 26, 1996): 2.
111. Dmitrii Yestaf’ev, “Operatsiia v Chechne kak paradigm vooruzhennogo konflikta postsovetskogo perioda,” Problemy vneshnei i oboronnoi politiki Rossii, no.3 (1995): 57–84.
112. Lieutenant Colonel D. A. Prikhozhii, “Ob upravlenii gruppirovkami voisk v khode vooruzhennykh konfliktov,” Voennaia mysl’, no. 4 (July –August 1999).
113. Major General I. N. Vorob’ev, “Vzaimodeistvie silovykh struktur v vooruzhennom konflikte,” Voennaia mysl’, no. 6 (November–December 1999): 45–49.
114. Lieutenant General V. N. Maganov, “Formy i sposoby primeneniiagruppirovok voisk (sil) v vooruzhennykh konfliktakh,” Voennaia Mysl’, no. 2 (March–April 1996).
115. Colonel Iurii Tuchkov, “Ob”edinennye gruppirovki voisk i formy ikh primeneniia v vooruzhennykh konfliktakh i lokal’nykh voinakh,” Voennaia mysl’, no. 2 (March–April 1997): 30–35.
116. Colonel A. N. Khaev, Colonel N. V. Smolkotin, and Lieutenent Colonel I. F. Danilin, “Sistema sil spetsial’nogo naznacheniia. Trebovaniia i svoistva,” Voennaia mysl’, no. 6 (November–December 1999): 25–28.
117. General M. I. Karatuev, Colonel V. A. Dreschuk, “Osobennosti boevogo primeneniia artillerii v lokal’nykh voinakh i vooruzhennykh konfliktakh,” Voennaia mysl’, no. 3 (May–June 1995): 22–28.
118. V. S. Pirumov and M. A. Rodionov, “Nekotorye aspekty informatsionnoi bor’by v vooruzhennykh konfliktakh, Voennaia mysl’, no. 5 (September–October 1996): 45–48.
119. Aleksandr Shirokorad, “‘Nona’ nesravnennaia,” Voin, no. 12 (1999): 95–97.
120. Anatolii Obukhov, “Anti-Tank Grenade. Weapons of the 21st Century,” no. 35 (September–October 1999), e-version on: www.milparade.com
121. Colonel Mikhail Zakharchuk, “Uroki chechenskogo krizisa,” Armeiskii sbornik, no. 4 (1995), 44–46
122. Lieutenant Colonel (Ret.) Ralph Peters, “The Future of Armored Warfare,” Parameters, Vol. l. XXVII, no. 3 (Summer 1997): 50–59, 51.
123. Mikhail Leont’ev, “Opukhol’ okazalas’ neoperabel’noi,” Orientir, no. 14 (1996): 30–31.
124. Aleksandr Goltz, “V Chechne opiat’ zakonchilas’ voina,” Krasnaia zvezda, August 17, 1996.
125. “Can Russia Win in Chechnya,” Economist, November 6, 1999, 51–52.
126. Colonel Vladimir Bochkarev and Colonel Vladimir Komol’tsev, “Rossiiskaia ‘Buria v gorakh’. Analiz opyta boevykh deistvii v Chechne i predvaritel’nye vyvody,” Nezavisimoe voennoe obozrenie, no. 7 (February 25–March 2, 2000): 1–2.
127. Citation in: “Russia’s Failure to Modernize Army Hinders Chechen Fight,” e-version on: www.chechentimes.com/analysis/01/1000_2htm
128. Colonel V. V. Kalinin, “Novye vzgliady na boevye deistviia v gorode,” Voennaia mysl’, no. 3 (May–June 1998): 41–43.
129. Ryszard Jakubczak and Josef Marczak, Obrona terrytorialna Polski na progu XXI w. (Warsaw: Dom Wydawniczy Bellona, 1998), 17, 173–176.
130. “Defense Policy Wins a Long Battle,” Baltic Times, May 9–15, 1996.
131. Vladimir Chekalkin, “Chechnskii krizis. Politicheskie posledstviia,” Vlast’, no. 3 (1995): 23–26.
132. Arkadii Dubnov, “Voina bogov,” Novoe vremia, no. 6 (1995): 6–8
133. Amachi Gunashev, “Ot zavisimosti k nezavisimosti,” Vainakh, nos. 3–4 (1997): 21–24.
134. Brigadier Syed A. I. Tirmazi, Chechnya. Tragedies and Triumphs (Lahore: Distr. Fiction House, 1998), 244.
135. Lieutenant Colonel (Ret.) Ralph Peters, “The Culture of Future Conflict,” Parameters (Winter 1995), e-version on: www.army.mil/usawc/Parameters/1995/peters.html
136. Major Raymond C. Finch III, “A Face of Future Battle. Chechen Fighter Shamil Basayev,” Military Review 77, no. 3 (May–June 1997): 33–41, 40.