“How so, Nazarbayeva? I think you reach too far. They fought for their homeland, and did so tooth and nail. We lost thousands of our soldiers in those last weeks… thousands!”
Nazarbayeva waited patiently as the NKVD boss’s voice rose in volume to make his point.
She waited for the echo of his last words to die away before continuing.
“Between us and the Allies, the German was on his knees, both militarily and industrially. They were spent physically and yet, as you observe, made our Army pay a rich price for the victories all the way to Berlin, Comrade Marshal.”
She looked around, suddenly aware that those around the two sparring intelligence officers had moved imperceptibly away, creating an area of isolation.
“This new force will be differ…”
“Rubbish! They will be the same old Germanski. Tough but beatable.”
He waved a hand to dismiss further comment from Nazarbayeva and turned to Stalin, expecting the General Secretary to move the conversation forward.
Stalin merely waited silently, almost inviting Nazarbayeva to continue, which she did with an air of authority that cut through Beria’s self-assurance in an instant.
“No, they will not be the same old Germanski, Comrade Marshal. These Germanski are well equipped, have had time to recover their fitness, and are now supported by the mightiest logistical machine in the history of war. They have had a wave of reinforcements, soldiers captured at a time when their quality was better than the old men and boys that manned the barricades in Konigsberg and Berlin.”
Beria was white with fury at being so publically challenged, but felt impotent in the face of Nazarbayeva’s words.
“We will not just be fighting them either, Comrade Marshal, but also their new Allies… our old Allies… and whilst some of them are of limited value, none of our military commanders here will tell you anything but that we should not underestimate any of them.”
There was a low mumble from the Front Commanders and the few present who had commanded Armies in the recent combat, a mumble that left no doubts as to the truth behind her words.
“These Germans will be the very worst sort. Fit, competent, well armed, well supported, and well-motivated, Comrade Marshal, and we cannot… must not underestimate them.”
Stalin decided to rescue his man.
“I don’t believe that Comrade Beria was dismissing them, Comrade General. Whilst your interpretation is sound, both of your views have merit. Now, let’s continue.”
Nazarbayeva, in line with her discussions with the NKVD Deputy, pushed harder.
“Comrade General Secretary, I view it as absolutely essential that we consider these new German divisions as a considerable threat and…”
“Enough!”
Everyone jumped at the punched words.
“Enough.”
Although he spoke softer the second time, the Soviet leader’s eyes burned into the GRU General’s head.
“Your views are noted, Comrade.”
Stalin left no room for manoeuvre and invited Beria to continue.
Nazarbayeva looked around the room, seeking some sort of support and found none.
She stared at Zhukov, who was examining some paperwork with exaggerated intent.
Unable to help himself, the balding Marshal made eye contact with Nazarbayeva, who recognised a microsecond of resignation before he looked away again.
Beria finished and others took up the reins, offering their own facts and figures for the pot.
And so it went on, until a loud rapping brought every sound to an end.
Stalin, momentarily staring in disgust at his broken pipe, discarded it without another thought and gently rubbed the table where he had struck it repeatedly, and with a little too much strength.
“Enough. We can continue to guess at Capitalist intents until the snows come again. Let us focus on what we intend to do to them. Comrade Marshals, outline Operation Uragan.”
Zhukov, Konev and Novikov came together in front of a concealed map. The commanders of the 1st Baltic and 1st Red Banner, Bagramyan and Malinovsky, moved to the left side, ready to provide specifics on their own forces’ roles. Opposite them, Marshals Rokossovsky and Yeremenko were similarly ready to provide deeper insight into their operations.
When the cover was removed, Europe sprang into view, a Europe covered with arrows of different colours and thicknesses, all of which ran east to west.
Uragan had two main parts. The first was designed to sweep through Northern Europe, splitting the Allied armies away from the coast and their main capacity to reinforce and resupply.
The second was in Central Europe, and was designed to pull in as much of the Allied army as possible, defeating it closer to hand, rather than extending their own tenuous lines of supply even further,
Zhukov outlined the major offensive that would break the Allied forces in a war of attrition.
The basics were short and impressive, but before he went further into the plan he ceded the floor to Bulganin.
In an address that was enthusiastically endorsed by both Beria and Molotov, Bulganin explained how a war of attrition could only inevitable end in Soviet victory, as heavy casualties and losses, supported by political agitation in the home countries of their enemies, would break the political will of the notoriously fickle administrations in the so-called democracies. By destroying any public support for the continuation of a war that would, by the time the agitators had done their job, be seen as trying to rescue the former Nazi Germany from paying its rightful dues, the discontinuation of hostilities would be inevitable, especially if the Soviet Union confirmed no threat to the British Empire, the United States or any nation of significance that could stand in the way of a ceasefire.
Then, once peace had settled across Europe, other ways would be found to develop the Communist dream.
As political plans went, it was simple and achievable, and depended on nothing more than the Red Army’s capacity to inflict heavy casualties upon the Allies and, as only a worrying few thought, the Red Army’s capacity to absorb further huge punishment.
Novikov was enthusiastic over the role of the Air Force, and how a concentration of available assets over the spearhead formations would give the ground troops a protective umbrella under which to work.
Weather would be good for low-level operations across Europe for the foreseeable future of the attack, the forecasters predicting a summer as warm and dry as the previous winter had been cold and wet.
The briefing went on, with impressive lists of air and ground forces committed.
By the time the meeting concluded, minds were reeling with the amount of information, and most were also buoyed by the thought that victory was still achievable.
And they now had a time and date to work to, the moment when the Red Army would roll forward in earnest once more.
0800 hrs, Thursday, 28th March 1946.
Feeling very much invigorated by the last glass of vodka, Lieutenant Colonel Wyachaski of the 1st Polish Army spotted the statue of Copernicus, the landmark he relied on to find the nondescript cellar, especially when he had consumed slightly more than his limit.
A small sign was the only indication that anything of value was to found at the bottom of some steps.
‘Greim’s’
Descending the stairs immediately opposite the modest statue, Wyachaski was greeted with by a warm and inviting atmosphere, in which soft music and aromatic tobaccos played a pleasant part, but not as much as the lovely ladies who were prepared to share a drink and, occasionally, more with the right man.
After kissing the proprietress on both cheeks, he was ushered to his normal booth and a bottle of vodka arrived, all without words or gestures.