A former student of Shukohov had defected to the US in 1930 but the secrets he took with him came from the USSR. The defector named Vladimir Ipatieff[15] was given credit for finding an economical way to create high octane gas in 1930 for the capitalist war mongers, yet he was educated in the Soviet Union and much of his research remained behind when he defected. That research was put to good use and little Anna Mezhlumova[16] reproduced his process. Now high octane gas was being stockpiled for future use.
Another example would be when the MiG Design Bureau became aware of the German Ta 183 project in 1944 they emulated the parallel process Sergo pioneered for copying and improving others designs. They started work on what would become the MiG 15. This ground breaking jet fighter could be operational in May, 1947. A frightening thought for the US bombing effort.
The jet engine that would be paired with MiG 15 was itself a product of this parallel process along with the Wasserfal missile and its guidance system. These were incredible feats of intellectual theft but all is fair in love and war and this was definitely not love.
Sergo had tried to convince Stalin that the B29 program should be emulated as well but he was not convinced. The resources were not there for all of these projects and defensive weapons systems took precedence over offensive systems such as the atomic bomb and the B29. For now Stalin’s emphasis was on keeping what he had gained and using the resources of Western Europe to rebuild the motherland. Time and time again it was the motherland and its peoples who paid for the actions of the West. This time it would be different.
Georgie was a big part of this undertaking. Georgie was something of a prodigy in his own right. He was a fixer and could scrounge for anything and strong armed anyone to get the job done and more importantly to get the job done right.
Beria produced the secrets. Sergo produced the vision, ideas, qualified people and the process. Georgie produced results. Together they made a very strange but effective cabal, a cabal that Joseph Stalin seemed to be comfortable with… for the moment.
Chapter Eleven:
Personal Stories
The little creature stood on its hind legs and sniffed the air. Since it was for all practical purposes blind this was one of the ways it could tell which direction food or sex was. This of course was all it cared about. Unlike the humans that had invaded its’ creek bed.
Humans actually killed each other over ideas. Our little creature had no ideas so it only fought for sexual advancement and sometimes over territorial needs. Basic survival. Human leaders were able to convince their people and to make them believe that their very survival was in danger, even from people thousands of miles away. Then when in a combat situation far from home your very survival and that of your friends, was indeed in danger. So you fought the other human beings. Human beings who would probably be very kind to you in other circumstances. Other human beings who just wanted to plant a garden and to raise their families. Unfortunately for millions of other people and billions of other living creatures a few humans have the ability to convince themselves and then others that their ideas were worth fighting and dying for. Not them mind you, no they never seemed to go off to war, but others… always others.
The leaders of the humans were very good at making the soldiers believe that others wanted to take their wife or home when in fact the vast majority of your supposed enemies did not. Humans have imaginations that can be filled with fear but not so our little creature.
Yeorgi made up for his bad eye by having excellent hearing. Besides you only needed one good eye to be a good shot and Yeorgi was that. He was the best sniper in the 363rd and had 27 kills so far in these cursed mountains. What caught his attention was a sound he hadn’t heard since he was 11 in the Caucuses where he stayed with his grandparents for 3 summers from ages 8 to 11. Those were good times.
The sound he heard was kind of a cross between a violin and a hand drill going through wood. The only thing that made that sound that he knew of was a desman. How could this be? This furry creature was almost blind. It was basically a swimming mole complete with long snout large clawed paws for digging and swimming and in the desman’s case a long scaly tail that aided greatly in swimming like a muskrat. Desmans are rare in Russia. So rare that the government has banned their killing since the 1920s. But that sound was definitely a desman. There can be no other animal that sounds the same.
He had to find out. The sound obviously came from the creek to the southwest. First I’ll look with my scope he thought. Inch by inch he scoured the shoreline from his vantage point. There were many parts he could not see of course. No desman from this site. He signaled his spotter that he had to take a leak. Parts of the creek were in plain sight of the enemy snipers so he had to be careful but he had to find out of that noise was a desman. Imagine far from home and to hear that sound from his childhood. He used to watch the silly creatures for hours as they swam and dove for grubs and worms. Basically sightless yet able to function quite well using their whiskers and nose. Could they really be here in these mountains they call the Pyrenees. Two places on earth the Caucuses and the Pyrenees so far apart yet so similar.
The other day a member of the command staff encountered a bear and was severely wounded when the animal charged. Imagine coming all the way to Spain to die by bear claws. Come to think of it he better be careful to not die trying to find a swimming mole of all things. There is was again. He heard the distinctive sound near that mound of sticks. Time for patience and observation. This is not the time and place to go sticking your head up trying to find a childhood memory.
Oh shit here comes my spotter looking for me.
“What are you doing comrade? There are Spaniards to kill. You look too happy for war. What have you found?
“Nothing yet but heard a sound I haven’t heard since I was a boy in the Caucuses. The only creature that I know that makes that sound is a desman. They are rare back home and I can’t imagine them being found here as well.”
“What do they look like?”
“They look like a big mole that can swim.”
“You mean they are blind?”
“Yes.”
“I would like to see this.”
“We’d better get back. The Maior will shoot us for looking for a swimming mole.”
“Perhaps he would be curious as well.”
“I am not going to find out… wait… there… see by the dead bush. Yes there it is. It’s a desman! I can’t believe it!”
“I see it too… it’s pretty ugly. See how it rears up to sniff the air. How does it survive? It appears to have no eyes at all from here.”
“They usually come out at night but I suppose all the explosions and strange smells have confused them.”
15
The Life of a Chemist: Memoirs of Vladimir N. Ipatieff By Vladimir Nikolaevich Ipatieff
16
Chemical Abstracts, Volumes 96-105 American Chemical Society. Chemical Abstracts Service
17
Hutterer, R. (2005). Wilson, D. E.; Reeder, D. M, eds. Mammal Species of the World (3rd ed). p. 303