Opening Moves

He knew what information was in the man’s hand before the breathless report tumbled out.

Now he could give Makarenko his three days and maybe, just maybe, grow old with his grandchildren.

The entire GKO and the now fully involved STAVKA were assembled, and had spent a long afternoon and evening reviewing the military plans, hearing the refinements, the enforced changes and the myriad of problems that accompany mobilising two large military forces in as secret a way as possible. Marshall Zhukov was also present, Vasilevsky being absent because of the distances and time scale involved.

Three new reports had just taken everyone’s attention, but were now resolved. The first information, namely the location of the French symposium, was welcomed but not everyone saw it as essential in the way that Stalin did. None the less, no one was foolish enough to question the General Secretary’s pet project.

The second was a portfolio of photograph’s and a short movie reel depicting American and British armoured vehicles attacking Russian troops in Berlin, set against a backdrop of recognisable landmarks. To be used as part of the international justification if required, no one would be able to tell that the vehicles were in fact lend-lease and Soviet manned, or indeed that the photographs were already a week old.

Thirdly, and of greater concern, was the shooting down of another British Mosquito reconnaissance aircraft over Soviet territory.

The diplomatic channels would soon be buzzing and Molotov was already on his way to his office to prepare soothing and placatory messages, promising to investigate and punish the offenders. Of course, there would be an advisory to keep away from Soviet airspace included. The Mosquito had been deliberately shot down, as it was about to wander over a sensitive assembly area in Northern Germany. Whilst these areas were cunningly concealed there were no chances taken. The two-man crew would be returned to the British once the remains had been recovered.

The meeting had been going for some five hours and there now seemed to be nothing of note left to discuss or decide upon.

Except for one small matter.

Stalin stood and tapped his pipe upon his table to call order, sending a few sparks across the paperwork and maps near his right hand.

“Comrades, we have laboured long and hard to ensure that our plans are the best they can be, and to ensure success in this great venture.”

The stem of his pipe swept the room in an expansive gesture.

“We can all be proud of the service we have done for the party and Motherland.”

He locked eyes with Zhukov.

“So now we must decide whether we draw back from the path we have planned or if we proceed with all our might.”

To the casual onlooker it could have seemed that Stalin was indeed undecided but no one there believed other than he was committed to the attack and was merely trying to detect weakness around him.

“Zilant-4 preparation will take three days,” He held Makarenko to his word on that, “And nothing else we have discussed here today will take more than a few hours of staff work to resolve.”

“Our timescale is on track. The secret forces for Diaspora and Kingdom39 are either in place or en route. Our new allies are also prepared and committed.”

His voice started to grow in volume and power of delivery.

“There will be no better time; no period when we are stronger and none where they are weaker.”

He acknowledged Beria with an uncharacteristic hand on the shoulder.

“Comrade Marshall Beria’s agents have removed the immediate threat of the American atomic research project.”

Stalin moved slowly around the room as he spoke, making eye contact with each and every man in turn.

“The capitalists are soft and war-weary. They do not have the stomach for further losses.” Behind him, Zhukov paled unnoticed.

“They are burdened with refugees and prisoners. The German state is on its knees and will never be more easily destroyed for ever than it can be now.”

Returning to his position at the head of the table, he turned and relit his pipe.

“So I say we must not let this opportunity pass, or we will be judged poorly by history. We must not be judged to have been found wanting.”

Puffing gently on his pipe, the General Secretary sat down and waited, observing the strange spectacle of a group of powerful men exchanging looks in total silence. His observations of their collective behaviour in those few seconds confirmed his views on who had and who did not have the stomach for what was to come.

Beria, as was usual, was the next to speak.

“The reasoning is as sound now as it was when we first started this enterprise.” His face turned to Stalin as he drew himself almost to a position of attention. “I, for one, will not be found wanting by history Comrades. I say go.”

Bulganin was next.

“Comrades, our planning is perfect, our maskirova excellent. Their weakness at its height. The Rodina would never forgive us if we held back now.”

And then a steady procession of positive words until only Zhukov had not spoken.