Karpov Doctrine

August was beginning to cool in Moscow. Here it was 1931 and already was Feofan Karpov, Viktor Kraminov, and Kliment Pavlyuchenko a year from graduation of the Moscow academy. They where almost twenty two, and already having the rank of colonel.

At the moment though the actions of the German advisors captivated them. General Secretary Stalin personally recommended them to witness the joint German-Soviet technical exchange. With the Versailles Treaty limiting how Germany could conduct war, they turned to a fellow outcast of the international community the Soviet Union.

German officers looked ridiculous to Feofan. All nine of them stood in the large hanger wearing tall, brimmed caps, finely tailored uniforms, and jackboots polished to a high, almost blinding shine. Of course the Soviet officers assembled wore similar attire, but to not appear backwater cousins rather then common military dress.

A German went over the basics of a rapid-fire machine pistol, something, which had no interest to Feofan, or Viktor, but Kliment, found interesting. Around the room the two- dozen or so Russian officers spoke to the Germans assembled. That was the deal, Germany gets to build whatever they like, without the French breathing down their necks, but the Russians got to peek in ever now and again.

“Question.” Kliment said. A German interpreter spoke to the foreigner holding the stubby looking gun in his hands.

“Yes Lieutenant?” The German asked.

“You speak of a high rate of fire, and also easy loading capability, but I am curious as to its durability.” Kliment stepped forward pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. The German grinned, unloading the gun, and tossing it to Kliment. The young man fumbled almost dropping it, but held it in his hands.
“This is an upgraded version of the Berreta 1918. It is the Berreta 1929, and has few parts. It still many parts, but if maintained like any normal firearm it can be kept in very good working order. It uses a 9mm cartridge, and while not having the stopping power of a rifle, it does have a rate of fire, which is to not be overlooked. The gun is made to kill, not to last forever.” The German walked over and held his hand out for the gun back, Kliment handed it over, and made a few notes walking off lost in thought.

Viktor spoke up, “How you plan to use these in a squad?”

Feofan walked to listen to another German officer, caring little for the gun. What did catch his eye was a short Officer holding up a model. He moved in for a closer look only a few other Soviets stood around. This German at least spoke Russian, a sign of class if ever Feofan saw one,

“This is part of a chassis system devised by the British. While in the last war Tanks would frequently fall victim to a trench, this system corrects that problem. Granting the ability of higher speed, and more maneuverability.”

Feofan eyed the model with interest, “ How fast does it go?”

“Twenty one miles an hour was the fastest I have since this go, and that was on a five ton tank. With better engines a larger tank could move at the same speed, or a five ton tank may get up to fifty kilometers an hour.” The foreigner advisor said. He looked smart and sharp, a potential communist if Feofan ever saw one.
“Did you observe the movements on dirt roads, open fields, or something else Comrade?”

“Hygerthorp, Lieutenant Hygerthorp. The system was used by the British, on a flat field reaching the top speed of eighteen kilometers per hour, and on a paved road going twenty one.” Feofan stepped back to let others speak, a very evil thought occurring in his head. Western Europe was full of paved roads, and flat fields.

GhostWriter said:

epiphany?

Click to expand...

A sudden almost godly inspired thought, revolutionizing current thinking...

“Feofan!" Viktor Kraminov ran through the crowded streets of Red Sqaure, "Feofan Karpov!"

It was International Workers' Day, or May Day for short. It was a wonderful day of May first 1932. Viktor moved through the large crowds looking for his friend. Some citizens looked his way, not for shouting but being in a Colonel's Dress unifrom. Even in the classless society of the Soviet Union, an army officer still recieved respect. Kliment Pavlyuchenko tapped Viktor on the shoulder pointing to a Feofan off in the distance.

"There he is." The two shouldered their way through the crowd.

" Feofan!" Kliment shouted. The strapping young Colonel looked and smiled. He was sitting on a small bench eating a piping hot Pelmeni, mince meat wrapped in a thin dough. Whipping his face clean with the sleeve of his coat, "What took you two so long? I thought the celebrations would being without you."

Viktor smiled, "I was busy showing people my medals but..." Viktor punched Kliment in the arm playfully, "This man here is trully a Russian Patriot."

"How so?" Feofan said with a smile.

Kliment pointed to a group of young girls across the way, they waved backed. Feofan stared with his jaw open, Kliment was anything but a ladies man. "They are preforming in the Moscow ballet. I saw them yesterday and invited them to celebrate with us."

Viktor slapped both of his friends on the back, "Come on then. We do not have to duty for a few days and I say we enjoy our time in the greatest city in the world, with three lovely ladies."
The day went as expected parades, columns of Red Army troops, the newst vehicles, even a nice fly over by the Soviet Air Corp. Feofan, Viktor, Kliment enjoyed the day, and at night various workers groups gave impressive displays for the enjoyment of everyone. When it was over the three and thier guest found themselves in the Cafe they went to in Secondary School.

"So where do you think we will be sent?" Viktor asked over his thrid bottle of Vodka.

Feofan lit up another cigarette, " Either we shall be here enjoying the sights and sounds of Moscow, or we may be sent to some forsaken place. Maybe Stalingrad."

Kliment laughed as he poured another drink for a pretty blonde named Ludmilia," Stalingrad? It is a wonderful city. I have been there before. New buildings, lovely parks."

"All of which pale in comparision to Moscow." Viktor added.

"I am not worried, we still need to make changes to the Doctrine." Feofan said with a smile. At first he thought his friends would be angry at the name of it, but they supported his rise in rank, and in stature.
"True. I mean we have hardly covered European manuvers, beyond go straight." Feofan snuffed his cigarette out, and settled into his chair.

"It takes anywhere from a month to two months cross Poland and enter Germany." Lt. General Alexis Valstok sat behind his desk loooking over the various papers which Feofan Karpov had presented to him. Valstok was an old gaurd, not much for the new ideas, and certainly not Feofan's Doctrine. He laughed, "Two months?"
"Yes Comrade General." Feofan sat up in his chair. The General's offiice was small and cramped, and large thick curtains kept the sunlight out. A small lamp on the desk was the only source of light the General allowed.

"Have you given no thought to logistics?" Valstok threw the papers back at Feofan. The young Colonel stoood up grabbing papers fromt he air. "This is rubbish. No talk of infantry, or even consideration of the most common military methods. Two months? How can a fighting force on foot expect to move at such a pace? In the first line you say atleast eight miles need to be covered in the first day." The General shook his head in disbelief.
Feofan collected his papers and stood up, " I am here to discuss the possiblity of an invasion of Europe. You are to sit there and discuss the ideas with me..."

"Excuse me?" Valstok said.

"You are a reactionary. I have read reports of the last two wargames you took part in, each time your forces rely on horses, and foot. This is a new age, tanks, motorized infantry, aircraft, and dive bombers are what will win a war. Not some silly notion of elan." Feofan collected his hat and left the fumming Valstok alone. He had been stationed to the General Staff in Moscow. His job was to work on the Karpov Doctrine and nothing else. Anything that got in his way was reported to Generals who sided with Karpov and his friends.
Outside in the hallway of the South district military center, Karpov could still hear the ranting and ravings of Valstok. He shook his head, it was August 1931, and he wondered if he would ever get the Doctrine completed. He also wondered how Kliment was doing in Asia, or Mongolia his orders where a little cloudly in such terms. Viktor of course was allowed to go to the Black Sea, Feofan shook his head picturing his friend walking around the warm beaches of the favored Soviet vaction spot.

Inside a large meeting hall, an elderly man with fading hair. He stood at the podium, his hands resting on it gently, clearing his throat. "Today we are granted a unique gift." He pointed to his left at Colonel Kliment Pavlyuchenko sat, along with two other Soviet advisors and an interpreter behind him. He nodded to Horloogiyn Choybalsan chairman of the Mongolian Communist party.

"These men shall advise our fledging nation, in ways of military matters. While protected by the great armies of the Soviet Union, we should not live in ignorance of the enemies that surround us." Choybalsan stood nodding his head, as the room stood up and clapped.

When every thing was completed Kliment stood up and walked out among the Mongolians present. He sidestepped every party member and went straight to the military officers. In total there was twelve of them, each ranking from Major to General. Kliment snapped to attention saluting them.
He looked around for his interrupter lost in the crowd, but a General walked forward and in accented Russian said, “ Col. Pavlyuchenko am I Lt. General Jebe Khasar, Mongol 1st Cavalry.”

“ Pleasure to meet you General Khasar.” Kliment shook his hand.

“If you are not busy we wish to discuss the Karpov doctrine with you.” Kliment smiled and was lead through the winding corridors of the Mongolian Politburo to a small room. Inside was a map of Mongolia and surrounding nations, Kliment looked down and smiled seeing tiny pins filling the map. Beside each pin was a small legend giving divisional strength, moral, and even levels of training.

“I must confess you are more prepared then I had expected.” Kliment said looking over the maps in approval. His fingers ran over the deep blue lines crossing into China, and even Manchuria. An young Major set a folder down. Kliment picked it up and saw it written in Russian.

“This is your defensive strategy?”

“Offensive.” Khasar said, picking up a pointer. “The conclusion we have is that the most likely war will occur from the Japanese. One for they have the military to launch such an offensive, and two the common border they share with Mongolia has been contested since 1925.”

Kliment followed along watching the pointer move as the officers explained their defenses, counter attacks, and even offensives with a two year timetable. Kliment then grinned as the officers pointed to areas within China that are “historically” Mongolian. As they did he made mental notes of how he would invade such a nation.
“These are interesting ideas. I shall be sure to show them to my superiors. Now if we may diverge from the realm of the possible to the actual. I am here to see the state of your armies.”