Chapter 1137: Deception

Vatutin picked up the telegram, glanced at it, and then lost interest in wasting his precious time on such matters. As he turned his attention back to the map, he casually gave an order: “Reply to Comrade Stalin. Tell him our defense system is still intact. Bitsa Park is still in our hands.”

“General… but just now, Bitsa Park… it already fell…” the staff officer said gloomily to his superior. In truth, they had learned of the park’s fall a full half-hour late. The reason was that the Soviet commander defending Bitsa Park hadn’t dared to report the loss of the position back to headquarters; he was still fantasizing that he could retake it with a counter-attack. However, after that counter-attack cost over 100 lives, he knew it was all just his own wishful thinking. Only then did he report that Bitsa Park had changed hands, after which he completed his own “road to redemption” by committing suicide.

Bitsa Park was lost. This was an unchangeable fact. If the Soviet defenders still had the ability to retake the position, they wouldn’t be in this messy situation, with the Germans having fought their way to within ten-odd kilometers of the Kremlin. The chief of staff knew this, and Vatutin, of course, knew it too.

“Comrade Stalin has far too many things to worry about. Don’t bother him with such a minor detail that doesn’t affect the overall situation. Letting him live out his remaining days in peace, isn’t that what we soldiers should be doing?” Vatutin pointed to the map and said to his chief of staff, “Tell Comrade Stalin we are still holding the high ground at Bitsa Park. Just do as I say!”

The chief of staff stood his ground, clearly reluctant to carry out Vatutin’s order. He hesitated for a few seconds before asking again, “But the German attack won’t stop. In a few days, they might reach the Moscow River. We can’t keep hiding it until then, can we? Sooner or later, Comrade Stalin will know we deceived him…”

“Then just let him find out later!” Vatutin was clearly growing impatient. He waved his hand and said, “Whether he knows now or not, it doesn’t matter anymore, understand? By the time the Germans get close to the center of the city and he finds out everything, we might already be gone. Or perhaps we’ll still be here—but none of it matters, right? We’ve all already chosen our own endings. Do you really care if that ending comes a little sooner or a little later?”

“Very well! I will carry out your order.” The chief of staff snapped to attention, placed his right hand to his temple in a salute, and then turned and walked out. His steps were heavy. He clearly had not yet recovered his lost soul from Vatutin’s words.

“Esteemed listeners! Esteemed people of the Soviet Union! This is Chelyabinsk Radio, this is Chelyabinsk Radio! We now broadcast the latest news… The newly established Siberian Federation government has passed a new resolution. All Red Army soldiers who lay down their arms and surrender will have the opportunity to join the Siberian Federation, and will receive humanitarian protection from the Axis powers. … That concludes the news. Next, our station will play the song ‘Elegy of Life,’ performed by the famous singer, Miss Katerina…”

A distant voice, accompanied by the hiss of static, came from a radio. A room full of Soviet soldiers, clutching their rifles and leaning against the wall to rest, stared with numb expressions at the radio, which was tuned to a strictly forbidden channel. For several days, this channel had been repeatedly broadcasting the sensational news of the Siberian Federation’s founding. Many soldiers from Siberia were shaken and wavering because of it.

Even though the officers strictly forbade them from listening to such channels, curious men still found opportunities to learn about the news from outside the encirclement. Regardless of whether the news was real or fake, it would stir up a deep homesickness in these soldiers, who also had not seen their homes in a long time.

The familiar hometown accent and authentic Russian made everyone feel that what the radio was saying was true. The Germans were also repeatedly air-dropping all kinds of leaflets into Moscow, some printed with a “Siberian Federation Passport,” stating in Russian that one only needed to hold this to pass safely through the German lines and return home.

A beautiful song drifted from the radio. The sweet voice of the singer, Katerina, mixed with the sound of static, became the Soviet soldiers’ greatest comfort in the lull between artillery barrages. Although no one had known this Katerina before the channel appeared, it didn’t stop them from fawning over this new “superstar.”

“Such a beautiful voice. If she has a round ass, she’d be just my type,” a soldier of nearly 50, clutching his rifle, clicked his tongue in admiration. “Hey! I’m telling you, ‘Old Beard,’ that voice is just too tempting.”

“Oh, just shut your mouth! Even if she were blind, she wouldn’t sleep with an old man like you! Idiot!” The soldier nicknamed “Old Beard” cursed with a laugh, then stuck a hand-rolled cigarette into his mouth. He fumbled in his jacket pocket, only to find with embarrassment that he was out of matches.

“I think this is all a carefully planned German trick. Soon, troops from other fronts will come and reinforce us! We will drive out those invaders! We will!” a soldier, who was staring at the radio with hatred, said through gritted teeth. It was no wonder he was so agitated. His hometown was within the so-called Siberian Federation, and this broadcast was making the other locals around him look at him strangely.

Just then, the door was pushed open from the outside. Several soldiers walked in, carrying their weapons and various daily necessities. These were the new recruits they had been promised a week ago. The men in the room were pleasantly surprised by this sudden reinforcement.

“Hey! I say, are you reinforcements from Siberia?” the soldiers in the room asked enthusiastically. The newly arrived soldiers smiled politely, then nodded, admitting they were replacement troops from Siberia and other places.

The young soldier who had just been saying the radio was a lie was now even more excited. He smiled and started chatting with these compatriots who had come from so far, asking about Siberia. “Comrade! Where are you from? Norilsk? Or further, Mrukta?”

“Uh… We… we are from Verkhoyansk… Verkhoyansk…” The replacement soldier, grabbed by the young man, forced an awkward smile and named an even more distant place.

“Hey! Comrades! He’s from Verkhoyansk too! My hometown is also Verkhoyansk! Which district are you from? Maybe we’re neighbors…” The young soldier, hearing the man was from the same place, became even more elated. He shouted to his comrades around him.

Hearing his words, more Soviet soldiers cheered, while the new soldiers’ expressions became even more awkward. They were silent, just choosing a distant spot to sit down, and then closed their eyes to rest. The soldier grabbed by the young man never answered the last question. He made a random excuse, left the room, and shook his head at the officer by the door. He never returned to that room.

“This deception won’t fool the soldiers for long. They’ll find out the problem soon enough. Siberia and the other distant regions have no plan to reinforce us. In fact, our contact with other cities was completely cut off over ten days ago.” At the door, an officer whispered a complaint to his superior. “Pulling troops from outside the city and pretending they’re reinforcements… that won’t stay hidden for long, either.”

“Comrade Stalin just issued an order in the command post. Zhukov has retaken Marino. We are counter-attacking and encircling the Germans who broke into Moscow…” The lead officer looked at his subordinate and recounted the myth-like story in a strange tone. “He said that within ten days, General Vatutin will launch a counter-attack and annihilate the Germans in the city.”

He paused, then switched to a tone of utter helplessness and asked his subordinate, “You tell me, in this situation, what else can we do? That we’ll crush the Germans in ten days… our leader can believe it, wants to believe it… so why wouldn’t these soldiers?”

Stalin had been encouraged by Zhukov’s non-existent counter-attack, or perhaps, he had been deceived by Vatutin and the near-insane men around him. He believed the tide of the war was beginning to turn. He felt he could win this war. And so, within a single day, he issued all sorts of baffling combat orders, as if the Soviet Union were in the midst of a full-scale counter-offensive.

He ordered Vasilevsky to counter-attack to the northwest, to defeat General List’s German Army Group E and the Finnish Corps, and to retake Yaroslavl. He ordered Zhukov to counter-attack in the Marino district, to encircle the Germans who had broken into Moscow, and to annihilate “at least 15 German divisions.”

All these orders were “perfectly” executed on the map. Zhukov was “leading” his troops to encircle the Germans from the flank. Konev had “already” fought his way to Chekhov. Stalin believed it wouldn’t be long before he could lift the siege of Moscow. On the map in his command post, he even began to fantasize about regaining control of the Far East and Siberia.

Unfortunately, on the high ground of Bitsa Park, just over ten kilometers away from him, a German swastika flag was flying.

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