Chapter 1074: Distrust

On his original foundation of power, any political force that dared to provoke Stalin would probably have been effortlessly crushed and obliterated. After all, Stalin, in this period, could be said to be the Soviet leader with the most comprehensive control over the USSR. His tendrils had infiltrated every corner of the Soviet Union, airtight like the neurons of this vast country.

But at this very moment, Stalin felt his ruling power weakening. He felt that those opponents who in the past had not dared to even look up at him were now, at this very moment eagerly jumping out and preparing to plunge a knife into his chest.

“I want a thorough investigation! Every major city in the rear must conduct a self-examination and submit their investigation reports to me! Establish a special wartime supervisory committee to monitor the every word and deed of all officials and military personnel!” Stalin, in his office, was furious over the welcome ceremony that had just turned into a massacre. He roared, pounding his desk with all his might in front of Zhukov and Vatutin.

“Great leader, Comrade Stalin! We are already doing so… There are too many provinces and cities that need to be repeatedly verified. We don’t have enough manpower right now, and in terms of time…” a man in a suit reported, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Two famous Soviet figures had once sat in his position: one was Yezhov, who had presided over the Great Purge, and the other was Khrushchev, who had finished off Yezhov.

But now he did not have the power that these two famous men had held. Or rather, because the front line was becoming more and more tight, he could be described as a phoenix who had lost his feathers being worth less than a chicken. He now had no real power to investigate high-ranking officials, so he simply could not be compared to Khrushchev and Yezhov in their heyday.

“Bastard! What have you done with the power I gave you? Tell your men to immediately take control of all uncooperative officials and military personnel! If you encounter resistance, shoot them on the spot!” Stalin seemed not to have considered what time this was, but was just unilaterally venting the anger in his heart.

“Marshal Zhukov, this…” This mediocre and incompetent man could only be considered an unlucky fellow who had been pushed out after a lot of back-and-forth. In order not to affect the overall situation during the war, and also to gradually dilute the negative effects of the Great Purge, Stalin had deliberately chosen this man, who would not make any big waves, to put an end to the Great Purge.

But in this extraordinary period, the shortcomings of this mediocre talent in handling affairs were highlighted. He simply had no ability, in the chaotic war situation, to continue to control the scattered cities in the rear for Stalin.

“Comrade Stalin,” Zhukov had no choice but to stand up, brace himself, and try to persuade Stalin. “The war situation is already very unfavorable for us. If we let the rear fall into chaos at this time, it will cause us to completely lose this war… But we cannot lose this war, can we?”

After he had spoken, he slanted his eyes and gave Vatutin, who was standing beside him, a look. After all, they were now tied to the same warship. If the ship capsized, neither of them would be able to escape the fate of being swallowed by the waves. And Vatutin, who was beside him, clearly saw Zhukov’s look, and he, too, had no choice but to brace himself and take a step forward.

Vatutin, his head bowed, also began to persuade him in a hesitant tone. “Comrade Stalin, the army cannot fall into chaos right now. If we rashly send people in to investigate, it’s possible that in a few hours, the German tanks will be able to drive into Red Square.”

This Moscow city defense commander did his best to keep his voice low, because in the train station bombing that had just happened, he was also guilty of a very serious dereliction of duty. If Stalin were to really investigate, the first person to lose his head would probably be him, Vatutin. But at this time, he had no choice but to stand up and speak with the same voice as Zhukov, because if he didn’t, the hundreds of thousands of troops in his Moscow defense group would probably lose all their combat effectiveness within the day.

Stalin looked at the two subordinate generals whom he had, just a short while ago, believed had shown their loyalty. The anger in his heart was still difficult to extinguish. He was unwilling to let these two rather capable generals take the blame, so he could only vent his dissatisfaction on the officials in the distant rear. “You are right. In the Moscow war theater, the scope of the investigation should be compressed. We should not rashly hold the grassroots officers accountable.”

But as he said this, his tone suddenly changed. He abandoned his relatively slow and peaceful tone, and, gritting his teeth, he said with hatred, “But I want a thorough investigation of those bureaucrats in the rear. They are dragging down the Great Patriotic War. They are committing treason!”

Zhukov and Vatutin exchanged a glance in private. They knew they had to let Stalin have an outlet, otherwise their future work would be very difficult. And so the two of them tacitly gave up their intention to remonstrate, and just lowered their heads and said no more.

The few remaining troops in the Soviet Moscow war theater could no longer withstand any great storms. And the people present were all still planning to rely on such a force to make a comeback. And so the two of them said nothing, letting Stalin give the order to clean up the officials in the rear cities. For them, this might even be a good thing. When Stalin had consolidated his power, the production and transport in the rear might get better.

Chelyabinsk. Several officials were in a discussion with a military officer and some factory representatives. From time to time, they would point their hands in the direction of Moscow, muttering to each other, blaming and shirking.

“Where did you find two such idiots? If Stalin could be killed by people like that, he would have been dead long ago,” a young Soviet officer complained with a look of resignation to the two officials who were in charge of the plan to assassinate Stalin. The failure of this operation had made him feel an immense pressure.

If it had been two years ago, it was possible that this kind of operational plan would have been stifled in the planning stage. They would have been hanged for treason, their whole families, in some small square, and then they would have been left hanging there for several days with a strip of cloth listing their crimes.

“What a joke! This kind of thing, do you think we can pick and choose, and select the right person to do it?” an official stared at this accomplice from the military and retorted, as if he was disappointed that he had not lived up to his expectations. “They have to have a certain status, and they have to be willing to carry out this kind of operational plan. They are government officials, not trained assassins!”

“Alright, alright! What’s the use of blaming each other at a time like this?” an old man with his hands behind his back said, frowning and berating the two who were arguing. He then looked at a middle-aged man in work clothes, who looked a little rough around the edges. He pondered for a moment, and then he asked, “Comrade Vasilevsky, what do you think of this matter?”

This head of the production committee, who was in charge of several factories in Chelyabinsk, and who went by the name of Vasilevsky, but whose real name was Yakov, smiled and then replied, “We are just trying to win a last chance for the Soviet Union. Failure is to be expected. As long as we have made an effort, then in the future, in the world system dominated by Germany, we will have our own place, won’t we?”

“Well said! Comrades… or rather, we should now change to a more appropriate form of address—gentlemen! Even if we have failed now, the fact that Germany will occupy Moscow will not change. Stalin is finished. This fact will not change,” the old man said calmly to his trusted followers, summarizing. “Don’t panic. We are the future of the Soviet Union, or perhaps Russia, or perhaps the Siberian Federation… in short, we are still another voice of this country. As long as Germany helps us to finish off Stalin, then we can, for this country, continue to serve!”

Suddenly, there was a commotion outside the door, and then a group of armed soldiers stood on both sides of the corridor, guarding the place without a word. An officer, with two deputies, walked into the room, and then, with a smile, he looked at everyone present.

With his hands behind his back, his gaze swept over every face in the room, and then, with a hint of a smile, he said to himself, “Perhaps you still don’t know. The families of the dead from the Moscow bombing have been secretly executed. Before they died, they confessed a lot of things. For example, they repeatedly mentioned certain officials and military personnel in Chelyabinsk.”

“There’s nothing to keep secret about this. To want to make contact so many times and to plan this kind of operation, you have to make contact many times… through phone calls, telegrams, and all kinds of channels. It’s very easy for the intelligence department to trace it here,” he said, as if this had nothing to do with everyone in the room.

The old man looked at the officer who had walked into the room, his face still without any expression. “Perhaps. Or perhaps we are fearless and are not afraid of certain people investigating this matter?”

He still maintained a calm tone as he spoke, which made the people present calm down a lot. And after he had finished speaking, he continued to ask a question that made everyone extremely nervous. “Then, why have you come here?”

“Oh, it’s like this—half an hour ago, I received an order from Comrade Stalin. I am here to arrest every single one of you,” this officer said, still with his hands behind his back and a slight smile on his face, but the words he spoke were enough to shock everyone in the room.

Advance chapters at Nightjar Reads · nightjarreads.com