Chapter 200 |
< World War II - The Choice (4) >
May 31, 1941
US East Coast, New York – A building owned by the Workers Party of the United States (WPUS)
At the time when Wilhelm II’s health was worsening.
Leon Trotsky, a titan of communism on par with Stalin, was reading the newspaper, trembling.
“The Soviet Union, collapsing? It can’t be, it can’t be….”
The European war situation was making headlines daily: the Soviet Army, defeated by the French-Finnish Allied Forces in Finland, had suffered another crushing defeat by the German-Polish Allied Forces in Poland, surrendering all occupied territories, and the Allied Forces had begun to push into Belarus and Ukraine.
With a full-scale uprising erupting in Ukraine and the Soviet Army failing to properly respond to the cooperating Allied Forces, so-called military experts in America claimed it was only a matter of time before the Soviet Union collapsed against the Allied Forces.
Trotsky felt a wave of vertigo and slumped into his chair.
Trotsky looked at a worried Martin Abern with a despondent face.
He was the only person left whom Trotsky would acknowledge as a comrade, albeit a lesser one.
All the others had left, either due to the division of the Fourth International or because they had grown tired of the arrogant and eccentric Trotsky.
He was already past his mid-sixties. He himself felt that he did not have much time left.
Nevertheless, he had undertaken the time-consuming act of planting the seeds of communism in America because of his faith that the Soviet Union would stand firm.
To him, communism was an ideology that could never fail.
Lenin. It was the nation built by his comrade, his teacher, the spiritual pillar of communism.
Under Lenin’s red flag, Trotsky had forged a ragtag mob that could hardly be called an army into the birth of The Red Army.
“Stalin, that damned devil bastard, has thrown Lenin’s and my union into the gutter….”
Stalin and the bureaucracy, whom Lenin had so warned against, ultimately drove him and the true Leninists out, corrupting the Soviet Union.
The Red Army, which Trotsky had painstakingly built, was butchered in Stalin's grasp and was now collapsing before the Allied Forces.
“This can’t be, it can’t be….”
The Soviet Union was Lenin’s and his pride, the glory of communism.
Although it had degenerated into a degenerate workers' state due to the greedy paranoiac Stalin and his corrupt followers, Trotsky had never once imagined that the Soviet Union would collapse.
Martin Abern looked at Trotsky with pity before hesitantly opening his mouth.
“Teacher. The response is dwindling, and the movements of the FBI (Federal Bureau of Investigation) are unusual.
It would be best for you to hide and wait for the next opportunity….”
When the effects of the seemingly successful New Deal Policy wore off and the aftermath of the Great Depression seemed to revive, the protests that began in New York spread like wildfire, gaining momentum.
However, when the protests turned into blatant praise for communism, the rejection shown by the American people was greater than they had anticipated.
Many of those who initially gathered were people who, worried that social security policies would disappear amid their hardships with the Republican Party taking power, had come expecting an atmosphere similar to that of the Bonus Army.
While there were not a few workers who began to immerse themselves in communism thanks to the agitation of the Workers Party of the United States and the harsh reality, just as many felt repulsed by the increasingly strong communist color of the protests and left in droves.
To make matters worse, as the American economy showed signs of recovery and the new Willkie Administration announced the continuation of relief measures for workers, the number of participants in the months-long repetitive protests began to decrease.
Both Trotsky and Abern felt it instinctively.
The momentum of the communist protests in America, which seemed like it would grow forever, had reached its limit and was now waning.
But still—
“…The next, opportunity?”
Trotsky’s beard trembled. His voice shook as unsteadily as his beard.
“When?”
Will he even be alive for the next opportunity?
“Is there even a next opportunity?”
If the Soviet Union collapses before then, and thus a communist nation disappears from this earth.
“This might be the last chance.”
Wasn’t communism itself, to which he and his comrades had dedicated their lives, meeting its demise?
Trotsky was terrified of that thought.
“…We must, rise up.”
“Teacher, that’s too reckless!”
“When Comrade Lenin first started the revolution, everyone said the same thing. For now, the aftermath of the Great Depression remains.
For now, the Soviet Union still exists. For now, the desire for communism still remains in the hearts of American workers!”
Trotsky’s illusion that a gradual communization of America was possible was shattered by the harsh reality and the seemingly imminent collapse of the Soviet Union.
“We must make a choice. Rather than be forgotten having left nothing behind, we must leave the name of communism, of revolution, in America, even if we fail.”
All that remained for the old man once called the best brains of the Soviet Union was desperation and impatience.
-
June 3, 1941
The capital of America, Washington D.
C. - The White House
American President Wendell Willkie was sitting in his office, talking with Vice President Charles L.
McNary.
“Wilhelm II is dead.
They say the funeral will be held in Germany.”
“I see.
We’ll leave the related matters to the embassy.”
The conversation about Wilhelm II’s death between the two men ended there.
The death of the war criminal and defeated emperor of the last great war held little more value than that to America.
More important to them was the situation on the Asian Front, that is, the entire Pacific Ocean.
“That damn Empire of Japan is having the time of its life.”
“The yellow monkeys don't know their place, President.”
Having secured the Indochina Peninsula, Malaya, and Indonesia, the Empire of Japan was now vigilantly watching India.
Germany, the de facto leader of the Allied Forces, was busy dealing with the Soviet Union, and the combined fleet hastily dispatched by Britain and the Netherlands, whose own feet were on fire, had to retreat in disgrace after losing several auxiliary ships in a preliminary battle.
The Empire of Japan, having sunk the Australia-New Zealand fleet and then won a preliminary battle against the Royal Navy's main force, was drunk on its own greatness and indulging in self-praise.
And throughout this entire process, they were constantly grating on America’s nerves by sailing back and forth in the waters off the Philippines, which lay between the Japanese homeland and the colonies they had seized.
“How much longer do we have to just watch those damn bastards!”
“Not much longer now, President. Fortunately, the economy is recovering.”
“That is a relief.”
The first thing the Republican Party did after taking power was to revise the Neutrality Acts to stimulate exports for economic recovery.
America, which until then had only cautiously exported fuel, trucks, food, and raw materials (claimed to be for civilian use), began to sell weapons to the Allied Forces outright.
A few months later, the American economy began to revive.
America’s vast industrial power, which had been groaning from a lack of demand, began to surge powerfully and run again as it enjoyed a war boom, and America quickly began to escape the aftermath of the Great Depression as if it had never happened.
“The anti-war faction, including Senator Taft, even suggested secretly exporting weapons to the Soviet Union and Japan to prolong the war boom.”
Willkie let out a hollow laugh at Vice President McNary's words.
“That's out of the question.
We are Americans before we are Republicans, and America is the firmest foothold of freedom in the world. We cannot help the oppressors.”
“You are right, President.”
The mood between the two men was relatively good.
“Mr. President! Urgent news!”
Until a report from the OSS (an American intelligence agency, predecessor to the CIA) was delivered.
Willkie’s face, which had been reading the report with a puzzled look, contorted into a deep frown, and just as McNary’s face began to frown as well after Willkie handed him the report, Willkie spoke.
“…Please summon the Chief of Staff of the Army.”
-
The Chief of Staff of the U.S.
Army, George C. Marshall, gave a sharp salute as soon as he entered the President’s office.
“Welcome, Chief of Staff. May I call you George?”
To Willkie's attempt at showing familiarity, Marshall replied with a stiff face.
“My apologies, President. Please call me General Marshall.”
“…Welcome, General Marshall.”
Embarrassed, Willkie nevertheless called Marshall closer and showed him the OSS report.
Marshall read the report with an utterly calm expression.
The workers' protests that had been going on for nearly half a year in America had naturally drawn the nation’s attention, and the U.
S. government had long since confirmed that this was the work of the Workers Party of the United States and Leon Trotsky.
Nevertheless, the reason Willkie had continued to let this situation unfold was because the entire nation remembered the Bonus Army incident.
A protest staged by World War I veterans, who were suffering from the hardships of the Great Depression, demanding early payment of the compensation promised by the government.
That protest, staged by veterans who had simply dedicated themselves to their country in order to survive, ended in an unprecedented disaster where the army, commanded by MacArthur, trampled civilians with cavalry and tanks, following the disgraceful conduct of a government that failed to handle it properly.
MacArthur was demoted to the Philippines and driven from the American mainland, but the aftermath swept through the American political scene.
Even though this time it was not really veterans but dangerous commies and the workers they agitated who were protesting, a government that had miraculously risen in Germany across the Atlantic was claiming to be the Guardian of Freedom.
It was thus difficult for America, which had prided itself as a paradise of freedom, to choose to mercilessly suppress civilian protests again.
After calmly reading the report, Marshall slowly put it down.
“We can no longer let this be, Mr.
President.”
“Regrettably, that is so.”
So Willkie's choice was to focus on restoring the economy and guaranteeing workers' rights, waiting for the protests to naturally die down.
Hardliners within the Republican Party criticized Willkie's actions as passive, but in reality, the scale of the protests was steadily decreasing, bearing its own fruit.
But when Trotsky’s impatience led to a situation on the verge of an armed uprising, they could no longer just stand by and watch.
Willkie felt as if a fishbone was caught in his throat.
‘If only this had happened during Roosevelt’s time.’
Thinking that, he was soon seized by the shame of his own cowardice.
As a politician, he had respected Roosevelt to some extent, but his situation of being unable to indulge in self-praise for winning the presidential election continued to torment him.
“As you know, General Marshall.
That crowd of protesters has already begun to arm itself, and there is a high risk of a major disaster if we try to handle them with the police.”
Marshall nodded with a stiff expression.
“A wise decision, Mr. President.”
“We need the Army's help. But with everyone remembering the Bonus Army incident, I worry if there’s anyone who would volunteer for such a role.”
Marshall thought for a moment before answering.
“There is a suitable person, Mr.
President.”
Willkie slowly closed his eyes.
In the end, he had to choose.
“…I will trust the Army.”
At the President's decision, Marshall saluted without hesitation.
-
June 4, 1941
Southern Soviet Union, near Kiev
“What is this? We came back to fight for our motherland….”
“Damn it, I don’t even know if our families are safe.”
Enrique Líster watched his grumbling subordinates with hazy eyes before raising his head to look at the sky.
The sky was just as clear as it was before the decision to surrender in Poland.
He and his subordinates, handed over to the Soviet Union in a prisoner exchange with Germany, were thrown straight into the place where Polish and German POWs had been imprisoned.
And then they had to be interrogated by the NKVD in turns.
As a general officer, he could have demanded special treatment, but Líster chose to remain by his subordinates' side instead.
“General, we’ll be able to return to the front lines, won’t we?”
At his adjutant Nikolayevich's question, Líster managed an awkward smile.
“We should.”
In fact, he had roughly expected it would turn out like this.
Unlike the ignorant enlisted men and junior officers, he had already experienced suppression during the Great Purge.
But expecting it in his head and actually seeing his subordinates thoughtlessly chatter about how the food and treatment in the German POW camp were better, while the NKVD and political officers glared at them coldly, were on completely different levels.
It was meaningless for Líster to try and restrain them after belatedly grasping the situation.
In the end, what was bound to happen, happened.
In the center of everyone's attention, the political officer declared.
“Despite the suspicious circumstances surrounding you comrades, the Soviet Union has decided to retract the punishment of your families.”
“Oh, ooooh…!”
“Ah, thank you, thank you!”
The political officer looked down arrogantly at the subordinates who were overjoyed with emotion.
Líster stared coldly at the political officer.
A generous decision? The reality is that the families of 700,000 surrendered soldiers would number in the millions.
They couldn’t possibly throw them all into the Gulag even if they tried.
“Furthermore, the generous General Secretary Comrade has given you comrades who once turned your backs on the Union a chance to wash away your dishonor.
You comrades will be assigned to the Shtrafnoy Battalion (Penal Battalion) and will have the glory of becoming the vanguard of the Great Patriotic War to defend the Union!”
The joyous atmosphere among the subordinates turned icy in an instant.
There was no one who didn't know about the penal battalions.
Units sent out to die openly, with barrier troops attached to prevent them from fleeing or surrendering, without any proper equipment or anything.
“C-Comrade! Spare us!”
“A penal unit? We came back to fight for the Union!”
The clamoring voices of his subordinates held no value to the political officer.
“G-General! W-What should we do?”
His adjutant Nikolayevich, who had been devoted to him even as a prisoner of war, asked, pale as a sheet, but there was nothing Líster could do.
As Líster clenched his fists tightly, the political officer approached him.
“Comrade Enrique Líster.”
When Líster glared at him, the political officer twisted the corner of his mouth in displeasure and spoke.
“General Comrade Georgy Zhukov has said he will pardon you, comrade, as a special exception and grant you command authority of a new unit. Be grateful for the mercy of the General Comrade and the General Secretary Comrade, who have given you this special opportunity in high regard for the loyalty and ability you have shown the Union.”
Líster ground his teeth so hard they audibly gnashed.
“Are you telling me to save myself while my subordinates are thrown into a penal unit, comrade?”
The political officer’s answer to Líster’s question was resolute.
“Then shall I report that your loyalty to the Union is no different from those reactionaries who abandoned the motherland and decided to surrender?”
Líster was at a loss for words.
As he stiffly turned his head, Nikolayevich and his subordinates, now nearly in tears, sent him pleading gazes, seeing him as their only lifeline.
“…Comrade. I am loyal to the Union.
So are my men. Let me meet the General Comrade, I will directly…”
But Líster's plea meant nothing to him.
The political officer’s answer was resolute.
“Choose, comrade.
The penal unit, or a transfer?”
Líster felt his mind go completely white.
As his whole body trembled, the words of Dietrich Schacht flashed through his mind.
-I could have disobeyed orders when I realized the war was unjust, or fled from the criminal regime to escape abroad. If I had, I surely would have been free from committing such sins.
The Germans would not have been sacrificed in the civil war I started. Perhaps my heart would have been at ease.
Only in this moment did he truly understand the meaning of that choice.
Líster turned his creaking face to look at his adjutant, Nikolayevich.
Nikolayevich, who had silently followed him through crushing defeat and a life as a POW, was shedding tears.
“G-General.
I know it’s not your fault. I know, but even so….”
He finally collapsed to his knees.
“I don’t want to resent you, General.
Please don’t make me resent you….”
The adjutant’s tearful plea was the signal for the subordinates to start begging.
“General, please save us!”
“General!”
“Don’t abandon us!”
Líster slowly, very slowly, turned his gaze back to the political officer.
The political officer was extending a hand to him.
-But in return, I would have had to powerlessly watch my country commit even more atrocious evil. I would have had to live an empty life, turning a blind eye to the sight of that country ultimately driving even those precious to me to ruin.
Líster clenched his jaw so tightly it felt like his molars would break.
When his homeland of Spain collapsed, he had not done everything he could.
He had certainly fought with all his might, but he lacked the resolve to give up on himself.
He had been filled with arrogance, scoffing at the foolish government that only repeated its divisions and holding the other utterly incompetent generals in contempt.
As a result, he lost his homeland.
If he does nothing, it will be the same this time.
To change this, this damn situation.
I cannot end here.
Líster took the political officer’s hand.
He turned his back on the blood-soaked screams and pleas coming from behind him.
“…I am grateful for the generosity of the General Comrade and the General Secretary Comrade for giving a chance to me, who has disappointed the Union, comrade.”