Russia at war 1941-1945

—on the continued danger of a German invasion of England; on February 25 it reported another Hitler speech promising more victories over the British, but again, as on January 30, there was no mention of the Soviet Union. And then the trouble in the Balkans started in real earnest. On March 3, Andrei Vyshinsky, Deputy Foreign Commissar, informed the Bulgarian Government that he "disagreed" with its decision to let German troops enter Bulgaria "to protect peace in the Balkans". "On the contrary," Vyshinsky said, "we consider that this measure will merely extend the area of conflict to the Balkans, and the Soviet Government cannot, therefore, support the Bulgarian Government's policy." This was blunt enough; it was, in fact, the first open and official clash between Soviet and German interests.

There were now German troops in Hungary, Bulgaria and Rumania. But on March 27

there was a popular uprising in Belgrade against Yugoslavia becoming a German satellite with the connivance of its rulers. A group of officers, with General Simovic at their head, had organised the coup, which took place two days after Premier Cvetkovic and his Foreign Minister, with Prince Paul's blessing, had signed in Vienna an agreement joining the Tripartite Pact between Germany, Italy and Japan. The Simovic revolt aroused great popular enthusiasm amongst the Serbs and incensed Hitler.

Thinking no doubt that the Germans would still "reckon" with the Soviet Union, and obviously unaware of Hitler's decision to invade Yugoslavia, the Soviet Government

hastened to conclude a Friendship and Non-Aggression Pact with the new Yugoslav

Government. Significantly, it did not dare propose to Yugoslavia a Mutual Assistance Pact which would have committed Russia to immediate military action, should Germany

attack. Stalin and Molotov were wrong if they thought that such qualified support would frighten off Hitler.

On April 5 the Friendship and Non-Aggression Pact was solemnly signed in Moscow in

the presence of Foreign Minister Simic, Ambassador Gabrilovic and two of his assistants on the Yugoslav side and Molotov, Stalin and Vyshinsky on the Russian side. Less than twenty-four hours later the Germans invaded Yugoslavia and the Luftwaffe dropped

thousands of bombs on defenceless Belgrade. On April 7, Pravda carried on its back page, and in unspectacular type, a TASS message from Berlin saying that Germany had

declared war on Yugoslavia and Greece and that the German Army had started military

operations against these two countries. The massive bombing of Belgrade—Hitler's

revenge for the "unheard-of" affront he had suffered—was played down—even though, as time was to show, Yugoslavia's gallant revolt and tragic resistance providentially delayed the invasion of Russia by a few weeks.

There was no official Russian reaction to the German invasion of Yugoslavia. All the Soviet Foreign Commissariat dared to do in the next few days was to instruct Vyshinsky to inform the Hungarian Ambassador that "the Soviet Union could not approve of

Hungary's attack on Yugoslavia".

On April 11 the Soviet press reported Churchill's speech saying that, for several months past, the Germans had concentrated large armoured and other forces in Bulgaria, Hungary and Rumania. But it refrained from any comment and, for the next few weeks, it reported in a routine and "objective" kind of way the Germans' progress in Yugoslavia, Greece and Crete. There were no lamentations over the tragic fate of the Yugoslavs with whom a Friendship Pact had so recently been signed. A showdown with Hitler seemed inevitable; Stalin's and Molotov's one aim now was to put off the evil hour—at any price.

Chapter IX THE LAST WEEKS OF PEACE

In Soviet novels and films produced both during and since the War, the news of the

Invasion of June 22, 1941 is often represented as a complete surprise. "Life was so peaceful and happy, and we were preparing to go on holiday when suddenly, on that

lovely Sunday..." Oddly enough, that is precisely what happened to a great many ordinary Soviet citizens, who had been conditioned for years into thinking that the Red Army was the finest army in the world, and that Etitler would never dare attack Russia. Others, more sophisticated, reacted the way the hero of Simonov's novel, The Living and the Dead did:

"It seemed that everybody had been expecting the war for a long time and yet, at the last moment, it came like a bolt from the blue; it was apparently impossible to prepare oneself in advance for such an enormous misfortune." But the politically minded people in Russia must have known for some time that the danger of war was immense, and there

can be no doubt that the invasion of Yugoslavia must have deeply shaken both Stalin and Molotov.