Chapter 208 |
< World War II - River of Fire and Blood (4) >
September 4, 1941
Western Belarus, Minsk – Allied Forces Garrison
Summer was ending, and autumn had begun.
Lieutenant General Andrey Vlasov, of the Free Russian Army, walked through the urban area of Minsk, which had been occupied by the Allied Forces.
Minsk is the modern-day capital of Belarus, but paradoxically, most of its residents spoke Russian, and it was a city that Stalin had painstakingly developed to be the hub city of the Byelorussian Soviet Socialist Republic.
Vlasov sneered inwardly, imagining how furious Stalin must have been to lose this city.
“General.”
“General!”
“Ah, good work. Continue to strive for the freedom of the true Russia.”
“Yes, sir!”
However, Vlasov's expression, having praised them warmly, immediately hardened as he turned his back to them and entered a building.
The situation of the Free Russian Army was extremely ambiguous.
They were currently operating under the Allied Forces to maintain public security in the occupied Belarusian territory and had also helped with Germany’s propaganda activities at their request.
However, the Allies had not yet officially acknowledged the Free Russian Army as a member of the Allied Forces.
Despite Vlasov’s repeated efforts to have the Free Russian Army formally recognized and solidify its position within the Allied Forces, he had not received any positive response.
And Vlasov was not foolish enough to misunderstand what that meant.
“General.”
“Is he here?”
“Yes.
He is waiting for you.”
Vlasov took a deep breath in front of the door and gripped the doorknob.
This meeting was a crucial opportunity to topple the Communist Party that was causing Russia to rot and to reconstruct a true Russia.
Vlasov opened the door and entered, coming face to face with the man he had struggled to get an opportunity to meet.
“My apologies, Minister. My schedule was delayed, and I’ve kept you waiting.”
“Not at all, General. I just arrived myself.”
Vlasov shook hands with Dietrich Schacht, Germany's Minister of Defense and Minister of Propaganda, and sat down.
He was a man only in his early thirties, yet no one could deny his influence on the Allied Powers’ war effort.
He was also the man who, at their first meeting, had seemed to listen intently to his passionate arguments and persuasion but, in the end, had promised nothing.
After exchanging a few pleasantries, Minister Schacht quickly got to the main subject.
“Then, could I hear the reason you requested this meeting?”
“…Minister. We can be of help to the Allied Forces, and the Allied Forces can give us an opportunity.”
Vlasov could not read anything from Dietrich Schacht’s expression. 'Considering the path this man has walked, it’s not surprising. '
“But it seems the Allied Forces have no intention of giving us that opportunity.”
“Hmm, I believe there might be a slight misunderstanding.
We have certainly requested the Free Russian Army’s cooperation in maintaining public security and assisting the German Ministry of Propaganda.”
“And our Free Russian Army is faithfully carrying out the missions given by the Allied Forces.”
At the words of Vlasov, who spoke while suppressing his emotions as much as possible, Minister Schacht replied in a slightly regretful tone.
“That is certainly true, but I have received reports of several clashes initiated by the Free Russian Army.
…It is a regrettable matter.”
Vlasov had to struggle to suppress a surge of anger.
His subordinates had indeed clashed with dogmatic communists while on public security duty.
While it could be called a failure in their public security duties, Vlasov understood his men's anger.
How could his men not be furious when dealing with those who had persecuted people who only fought for their fatherland, branding them traitors who cooperated with the oppression of the Tsar, and who were now bringing ruin upon their country?
How could they not be enraged when dealing with idiots who praised Stalin and the Communist Party while seeing such a situation with their own eyes, having closed their eyes and ears to reality?
Millions of their fellow countrymen from their Fatherland, Russia, had died in a foreign land. If they did nothing now, the Russians would continue to pile up corpses.
“…Minister. What we need is not menial tasks to clean up after the Allied Forces, but a real opportunity to contribute to the liberation of Russia.”
The frustrated Vlasov finally revealed his true feelings, but the veteran diplomat, Minister Schacht, showed no reaction.
He had maintained a light smile from the moment they met, and he spoke in a calm tone.
“I am well aware of what the Free Russian Army wants, General. But while the tasks you are currently in charge of may seem like menial jobs, I hope you understand that they are a necessary stage for your forces to prove their reliability to the Allied Forces.”
Vlasov pressed his lips together.
It sounded like a sound argument, but he had to provide some kind of solid guarantee for the subordinates who had staked their fates on him.
The Allied Forces had even halted their advance toward Ukraine and were now in a standoff with the Soviet Union, having started psychological warfare through bombing and propaganda.
Vlasov was keenly aware that Germany's propaganda, while inciting animosity towards the Soviet Union and Stalin, contained no content that promoted the Free Russian Army or mentioned the liberation of Russia.
“It makes sense that we need a process to prove our trustworthiness to the Allied Forces because we are turncoats from the Soviet Union. But we have already been branded as traitors in the Soviet Union.
I must give my trust to the subordinates who have followed me and me alone, Minister. When the Allied Forces promise us nothing, what am I to believe in to persuade the prisoners of war and instill conviction in my countrymen?”
Dietrich Schacht remained silent.
“Even on the front lines, the Allied forces are outnumbered. If you just give us a chance, we can prove our worth! It is difficult to understand Germany's intention in not giving us a chance to stand on the front lines and not even discussing the liberation of Russia, which would be most advantageous for propaganda.”
“Germany is aware of the Free Russian Army’s zeal. We are merely devising a plan to ensure that zeal is used appropriately in the right direction and are holding discussions accordingly.”
At first, he had waited, swayed by Dietrich Schacht’s rhetoric, but what had changed since then?
“As you know, Germany is a democratic nation and, at the same time, a member of the Allied Powers. I cannot decide on the treatment of the Free Russian Army by my individual will alone.”
Vlasov did not particularly trust Minister Schacht's words.
At least in Vlasov's eyes, Dietrich Schacht was the de facto commander-in-chief of the Allied Forces.
The high-and-mighty German high command, Free Ukraine, and even Poland, who was once their sworn enemy—they all consulted with him and listened to his opinion. What did he mean he couldn't decide on his own?
He may not be Germany's leader in name, but even in America, they had selected Dietrich Schacht as their Person of the Year, not their own President.
Just because he quit his position as Vice-Chancellor, that meant this man had no power to sway Germany? If that were the case, he wouldn't have been able to hold the ministerial posts of the two most important departments in wartime.
This man clearly had no intention of pushing into the Soviet Union to liberate Russia.
He should have realized it sooner, at the point when they persuaded even Ukraine, to whom they had promised liberation, to halt their advance and engaged in a standoff on the West Bank of the Dnieper.
“In any case, I have heard what you want, General.
I will convey it to the Prime Minister and the Parliament for discussion.”
“…Thank you, Minister.”
After exchanging a few more words out of courtesy, Dietrich Schacht left.
“General, how did the conversation go?”
A trusted subordinate asked after Schacht had left, but Vlasov could not say a word.
He had placed great hopes on this hard-won meeting, but in the end, it too had concluded with little substance.
After a long silence, Vlasov spoke.
“…Send a reply to New York.”
“To Kerensky, you mean? But that man is…”
“The one responsible for the downfall of Russia.”
Alexander Kerensky was the leader of the Russian Republic that briefly existed after the collapse of the Romanov Dynasty, but after numerous policy failures, he handed Russia over to the Communist Party and fled to America for asylum.
But Vlasov was prepared to pay any price to drive the Communist Party out of his fatherland, and he was resolved to join hands even with the devil, let alone Kerensky.
“Germany has no intention of liberating Russia. In that case, we have no choice but to find another sponsor.”
-
September 6, 1941
Capital of the Soviet Union, Moscow – The Kremlin Palace
Stalin's office, always neat and tidy, had become a pandemonium of scattered documents and furniture.
The Soviet Army’s Chief of the General Staff, Alexei Antonov, who had succeeded Vasilevsky after he was purged and imprisoned in the Gulag, swallowed hard.
He had never seen the General Secretary in such a disheveled state.
Stalin let out a hollow laugh.
The dignity of the General Secretary of Steel he had worked so hard to build, the Soviet Union he had created—it had all become such a mess.
“So, what is it, Comrade Chief of the General Staff? Are you saying the Red Army is on the verge of collapse?”
At Stalin's question, Antonov answered, breaking into a cold sweat.
“N-No, that is not it, Comrade General Secretary. I was simply reporting that our supplies are continuously being disrupted in this standoff, and the Allied bastards’ despicable psychological warfare is having a serious effect on the soldiers’ morale.”
'Isn't that the same thing, though?'
Stalin felt a deep fatigue as he read the report Antonov had submitted.
At his age, just shouting and making a mess of his office was exhausting.
The report clearly detailed the growing dissatisfaction among the starving soldiers who were forced to incinerate the food from the Allies’ deceptive food drops.
It also vividly described the chaos the military was experiencing as the Soviet Union's proud and symbolic military songs were being broadcast with altered lyrics criticizing the Communist Party.
And that desertions and unrest were only barely being suppressed because of the Soviet Army’s unique structure, where political officers constantly monitored the military, and on top of that, SMERSH, which he had separated from the NKVD, was watching with bloodshot eyes.
Given that he was reporting this in a situation where defeated general officers were being successively purged and even the Commander-in-Chief, Zhukov, had been nominally demoted back under Marshal Voroshilov, it meant the military was not far from its limit.
Stalin bit his lip.
“Comrade Antonov.”
“Yes, Comrade General Secretary!”
“I have tried to trust and believe the statements made by my comrades in the military.”
“O-Of course, Comrade General Secretary! Our army has, until now—”
“But the military’s opinion that we would be finished if they poured into Ukraine, and that we should defend it even if it meant giving up the Kola Peninsula, turned out to be a useless act.
Is that not so?”
Antonov swallowed hard.
In retrospect, it had resulted in a public image of just giving up the Kola Peninsula, but who could have predicted that the Allied Forces, after occupying the entire West Bank of the Dnieper, would halt their advance and wage an unprecedentedly dirty war?
Even Stalin, who said this, did not think it was Zhukov's or Antonov's fault.
He was just making it clear that, even in this situation, the responsibility lay with the military, not the General Secretary.
Stalin suddenly picked up a pen and threw it.
Antonov flinched in fright, but the pen flew not at him, but into the air, hitting the wall and falling.
“C-Comrade General Secretary…”
Antonov did not know that Trotsky was standing there, watching Stalin.
Stalin himself knew it was just an illusion.
“Speak.
Comrade. What should we do? Should we sit still and tremble, then retreat, giving up the Dnieper, for fear of collapse? Or should we launch a counterattack to stop them from pulling these dirty tricks and drive them from the land of the Union?”
Antonov could not answer immediately, sweating profusely.
Stalin gave a bitter smile. He decided to stop being spiteful to the general he somewhat favored.
“If we cross the Dnieper and launch a counterattack, what are the chances of victory? Assuming we commit to a total mobilization, including the forces under Voroshilov and Marshal Budyonny.”
“My apologies, Comrade General Secretary.
The enemy has superiority in both air power and artillery power. Even if we tried to use echelon tactics with our superior numbers, the river is in the way, and they have sufficient armored units to use as a mobile fire brigade.
Our chances of victory would not exceed 50 percent.”
Fifty percent.
And that was probably a generous estimate.
Stalin burst out laughing.
“Haha, hahaha. Fifty percent, fifty percent.
We, the Soviet Union, scrape the bottom of the barrel to squeeze out our remaining strength, for a 50 percent chance?”
Antonov was drenched in a cold sweat.
“Poland is already half-crippled, and Ukraine is barely above the level of a newly conscripted militia.
And Germany canceled their additional mobilization order, didn't they? And against them, we have a 50 percent chance?”
As Stalin spoke, he felt his own anger surging.
He didn't know what Germany was thinking by canceling its additional mobilization order.
But at least, in Stalin’s judgment, they were still facing the Soviet Union while holding spare capacity in reserve.
To him, that was the most profound humiliation of all.
What should he do?
Their intention was obvious. They were forcing the Red Army into an offensive.
The chances of victory if he launched an offensive according to their intentions would naturally be low.
But the Soviet Union had already mobilized over ten million soldiers to block Germany's occupation of Ukraine.
An army is a collective that only consumes massively without producing.
A ten-million-strong army might seem overwhelming, but just sustaining it was making the Soviet Union stagger.
Reports of severe food shortages from all regions tormented Stalin daily.
What was even more infuriating was that the food, gathered through the sacrifice of the people, wasn't even being fully delivered to the army because of the railroad bombings.
If they just continued this standoff, the Soviet Union would wither and die, crushed under the sheer scale of its own army.
And as if to mock him, the enemy was dropping food and playing seditious military songs, further fanning the flames.
Upon hearing the news that this shitty idea had also come from the Ministry of Propaganda led by Dietrich Schacht, Stalin became so enraged that he immediately ordered Dietrich Schacht’s assassination.
But Andropov and the NKVD had replied that it was next to impossible.
The NKVD in Germany was already in a weakened state after some of Beria's henchmen were exposed while being weeded out, and Germany's counterintelligence agency, the Abwehr, was openly treating Dietrich Schacht’s security as being on par with the Prime Minister’s.
So he had ordered them to kill that damn wife of his, but she only shuttled between the Government Building and the Social Democratic Party headquarters, never going out otherwise, and when she did, she was always with Dietrich Schacht.
Stalin had been told that assassinating a woman who never left Berlin, moved only within the most heavily guarded areas, and was always with Dietrich Schacht's security detail was just as difficult. He had barely suppressed the urge to order them to kill at least one of them, even if it meant sacrificing the entire German NKVD.
“Hah…”
Wither and die doing nothing, or risk a gambling offensive, trusting in the latent power of the Red Army.
As Stalin was being forced to make an unpalatable choice, another piece of tragic news arrived.
“Comrade General Secretary, urgent news!”
“Urgent news? What now?”
“Kronstadt has been attacked!”
Kronstadt. A small island right next to Leningrad and the naval port of the Soviet Baltic Fleet.
“Attacked? Kronstadt?”
That place, protected by such a powerful coastal battery and anti-aircraft gun emplacements, was attacked? Weren't their air forces concentrated on the main fronts in Belarus and Ukraine?
“A-A rocket attack! The battleship Marat has suffered a sympathetic detonation!”
Stalin felt his blood boiling.