Here was evidence of that she had been able to influence the GKO on an extremely important matter, one on which even Zhukov himself had not been able to get movement.
The Marshal looked at his CoS and laughed.
Zhukov’s laugh was infectious, and so Malinin joined in.
“Balls of steel, Mikhail. I swear it, that woman has balls of steel.”
A knock on the door brought the pair back to earth, their serious side emerging, as the newly promoted Major Viktor Serebryakov strode in and sprang to the attention position in front of Zhukov’s desk.
An immaculate salute started proceedings.
“Comrade Marshal. Thank you for this great honour, and it has been a privilege to serve under you. With your permission, I will leave now.”
“You may, and thank you for your service, Comrade Mayor. You deserve this. I wish you good luck.”
The door closed behind the Major, ensuring he did not hear Malinin’s snort of derision.
“Chekist bastard.”
The then-Captain Serebryakov had been present during the discussion between the two senior officers and Colonel of GRU Nazarbayeva, and was the obvious source of Beria’s knowledge.
His transfer to command a rifle battalion in one of the 1st Baltic’s rifle corps placed him in harm’s way and, more importantly, where he could do no more damage with his reports to the NKVD.
“Now then, Comrade, let us get this windfall sorted before they change their minds!”
Another knock on the door, timed to the second, gave each man a moment of thought that just such a thing had happened.
The messenger left.
The new directive from the GKO dealt with Phase Three.
Zhukov acted decisively.
“Get this sorted out immediately,” he indicated the order regarding the integration of POW’s, “Inform Novikov, Tolbukhin, Chuikov and Yeremenko that I wish them to present themselves here by 1300hrs tomorrow.”
Malinin made his customary notes.
“Ask General Pekunin to be here for 1800hrs today.”
Removing a hand-written note from his drawer, Zhukov grinned mischievously.
“Please ensure that this is forwarded, ‘eyes-only’, to Mayor General Kudryashev, Chief of Staff of the 4th Shock Army.”
Unusually for Malinin, he was slow to grasp the matter.
Sensing his CoS’s confusion, Zhukov spoke softly.
“Just letting Comrade Kudryashev know what he is getting.”
Malinin immediately understood.
‘Serebryakov, the treacherous shit.’
“Right, Comrade, let us get to work!”
Chapter 87 – THE PAST
Unfortunately, this earth is not a fairyland, but a struggle for life, perfectly natural and therefore extremely harsh.
General Molyneux had moved the Corps Headquarters back to Strasbourg the previous week, releasing the Hotel Stephanie to Group Normandie. With only the Group Staff, the hotel was spacious and uncrowded, more than suitable for purpose.
The Soviet assaults had outflanked some legion units, forcing withdrawals or minor adjustments to the line, but mainly there had been little advance on the Legion front, the two larger assaults being dealt with bloodily by Camerone and 16th US Armored Group respectively.
Despite the successes, the group present in General Lavalle’s office was subdued.
Lavalle, Knocke and Pierce had sat impassively, listening to Bittrich, as he read aloud an official document that had been handed to him by the last occupant of the room, a French Army Major from the Military Police.
Bittrich finished, and carefully folded the document, proffering it to Lavalle.
A shake of the head refused the damning paperwork, and it was offered back to the Major who had presented it.
Lavalle waited whilst the man returned it to his tunic pocket, and then addressed him directly.
“Of course, we will comply with the requirements of that order, Commandant. If it is as stated, then he will get what he deserves. If not, then a fair trial will establish his innocence. We can do nothing now; it is out of our hands.”
The reaction of Knocke was all-important here, and Lavalle watched him carefully.
“I agree, Sir.”
Clearly, Lavalle need not have been concerned.
He shifted his gaze to the next man in line.
Pierce was unequivocal.
“General Lavalle, if he did this, then I will shoot him myself, Sir.”
He had already canvassed Bittrich’s opinion, as the police Major had arrived some time beforehand.
“Then let’s get it over with. Commandant, if you please.”
The Military Policeman nodded, immediately opening the door.
“Colonel Lange?”
Karl-Gunther Lange strode in, recovered from his injuries, and recently promoted to full Colonel.
Lavalle sat stiffly in his chair and accepted Lange’s formal salute.
“Colonel Lange, with regret, I am relieving you of your command, effective immediately.”
Lange went from curious to furious in an instant.
“What? Why? What have I done? You can’t do that!”
Knocke silently sought, and received, permission to act.
He sprang out of his chair.
“Achtung! Stillgestanden!”
Lange automatically snapped to the attention.
“Standartenfuhrer Lange. You will surrender your pistol to me, now.”
The hand was imperious, demanding immediate compliance.
Lange’s Walther was handed over in an instant.
“Stand at ease. Now, please listen to the Sturmbannfuhrer.”
Knocke deferred to the French officer, who opened the document and read aloud in perfect German.
“Colonel Karl-Gunther Lange, you are under arrest for your alleged part in the murder of two French citizens, Father Leblastier and Father Lebarbanchon, and the killing of nine wounded United States paratroopers of the 82nd US Airborne Division at Graignes, Normandy, France, on or about the 11th June 1944, whilst you were serving with the 17th SS Division.”
There was more, much more, but the military policeman wished to be on his way with his prisoner.
Lange looked at Bittrich, then Knocke, seeking their understanding and support.
Both men had fought a fair war, without excesses, and their support was not forthcoming.
Although, perhaps, they did both understand.
“These things happen in war, the heat of the moment, it happens,” he appealed to Bittrich, “You know that, you know that!”
Bittrich responded with uncharacteristic contempt.
“No, actually, Lange, I don’t.”
Lavalle encouraged the MP with a wave of his hand, and Lange was taken away.
The four officers sat in uncomfortable silence, Pierce being the most uneasy, as he had come to respect the quality of his former enemy, and had suddenly been reminded that some of them may have a past for which they should be held accountable.
Lavalle tried to break the moment.
“Regrettable, gentlemen, highly regrettable.”
Pierce responded.
“Why, General Lavalle? That he’s been arrested here? Now? Or that the whole damn business happened in the first place?”
Christophe Lavalle went to speak but held himself in check, noticing Knocke turn to the American officer.
“Everything is regrettable, General Pierce. The war, the deaths, the injuries, everything. But if Lange has done this thing, then he must stand accountable for it, for without such cleansing, Germany will not stand tall and proud again.”
Knocke shook his head.