Russia at war 1941-1945

"interventionists" in the Civil War; even so, one of them asked, was I really absolutely sure that Hess's proposals had been turned down? They were, obviously, not quite sure yet of either Britain's or America's disposition.

Outside, it had been a "white" night throughout. The fir trees on the steep sandy banks of the river were silhouetted against the brief twilight. There were lots of mosquitoes about.

After a couple of hours' sleep we were taken in motor-boats some distance up the river and then by car to an airfield. At 6 a.m. the sun was already high in the sky. Blades of grass and wild flowers were swept by the wind as we walked to the plane. It was a

luxurious giant Douglas, and for three or four hours we flew over what looked like one vast interminable forest. Then, at Rybinsk, we crossed the Volga and, after flying over some more thickly populated country, we reached the outskirts of Moscow.

On the face of it, Moscow looked perfectly normal. The streets were crowded and the

shops were still full of goods. There seemed no food shortage of any kind; in Maroseika Street, I walked that first day into a big food shop and was surprised by the enormous display of sweets and pastila and marmelad; people were still buying food freely, without any coupons. In their summer clothes the young people of Moscow looked anything but

shabby. Most of the girls wore white blouses, and the men white, yellow or blue sports shirts, or buttoned-up shirts with embroidered collars. Posters on the walls were being eagerly read, and there were certainly plenty of posters: a Russian tank crushing a giant crab with a Hitler moustache, a Red soldier ramming his bayonet down the throat of a giant Hitler-faced rat— Razdavit' fascistskuyu gadinu, it said: crush the Fascist vermin; appeals to women—"Women, go and work on the collective farms, replace the men now in the Army! " On numerous houses the front pages of that morning's Pravda or Izvestia with the full text of Stalin's speech were stuck up, and everywhere crowds of people were re-reading it.

All sorts of peculiar things were happening: I saw the last issue of Bezbozhnik, the

"godless" paper; it was entirely devoted to indignant denunciations of the Nazi persecutions of the Protestant and Catholic Churches in Germany! Clearly, Stalin was working for the greatest unity among the Russian people, and anti-religious propaganda had completely vanished since the war had begun. However, the Bezbozhnik's volte-face was a bit blatant, and, in fact, this was to be its last issue. It was closed down "owing to paper shortage". Instead, Emelian Yaroslavsky, the "anti-God" leader, was publishing pamphlets like The Great Patriotic War, in the best nationalist tradition, which they were now selling on bookstalls.

Partly perhaps as a result of Stalin's warning against spies and "diversionists" there was a real spy mania in Moscow. People seemed to see spies and paratroopers everywhere. The British army N.C.O.s who had travelled with me from Archangel had a most unpleasant

experience on that very first day. From the airfield, they had gone to Moscow in a lorry, together with the Mission's luggage. At a street corner they had been stopped by the militia; puzzled by the unfamiliar British uniforms, a crowd had gathered round them and somebody had said "parachutists", whereupon the crowd had grown angry and

vociferous. So the N.C.O.s had to be taken off to a police station, where they were finally rescued by an Embassy official.

Everyone was being asked for papers on all kinds of occasions, and it was absolutely essential to have these in order, especially after the midnight curfew, when a special pass was required. Speaking anything but Russian aroused immediate suspicion.

Auxiliary militia-women were particularly keen. I remember walking with Jean

Champenois [The Agence Havas correspondent in Moscow who joined the Free French

in 1941.] along Gorki Street at sunset, when suddenly a militia-woman pounced on him shouting: "Why are you smoking?" and ordered him to put out his cigarette at once; she thought he might be signalling to German aircraft!

All day long, soldiers were marching along the streets, usually singing. The opolcheniye movement was in full swing; during those first days of July tens of thousands of men, many of them elderly, volunteered, appearing at assembly points—such as the one

opposite the house I lived in, in Khokhlovsky Lane—by the hundred, all carrying small bundles or suitcases. After being sorted out—and partly rejected—they were sent to

training camps.

Apart from that, the mood in Moscow still seemed reasonably calm. People could still be seen laughing and joking in the streets though, significantly, very few talked openly about the war.