5 kilometers east of Petrozavodsk
September 5, 1936
Vasilevskij stared at his pocket watch, silently counting down the minutes. It was less than five minutes to 0200 in the morning, and he and the other men in the room had been assured that the declaration of war would be handed precisely at 0200. Vasilevskij bit his lip, his eyes glued to the lethargic hands of his pocket watch. He felt rather than saw a presence behind his shoulder, and spoke. “Yes, Georgij?”
“How much longer, Alesandr?”
“Three minutes only, Georgij.”
Georgij Zhukov sighed before growling out, “I want to begin this campaign.”
“As do I, Georgij. They are supposed to be good soldiers, it will be interesting to fight them. Not to mention, this is the joint operation yet to be undertaken. Granted, three Fronts fought in Estonia but it was Estonia, there’s no comparison to what we’ll soon be facing even if their performance is disappointing. Both Fronts are ready. We merely wait for the politicians now.”
Any response Zhukov would have made was cut off by a blaring announcement from the radio in the room. “Attention! Attention! This is Tukhachevskij! I have just received word from Litvinov that it is done! We are now at war with Finland! Commence operations!”
In the early morning of September 5, 1936, the Soviet Union declared war on Finland.
Immediately there was a rush as orders darted back and forth and subordinates scrambled to bring word to the frontline units to advance. Out of the chaos Vasilevskij and Zhukov stormed toward the radiomen, eager to absorb news from all over the front. Tapping the shoulder of the man who seemed to be in charge of disseminating reports, Vasilevskij shouted into his ear over the cacophony surrounding them. “Have units made contact yet?”
The man shook his head. “What?”
“Contact, has there been any contact?”
“Contact? Yes, Frolov is reporting contact.”
“Frolov? He’s part of the Murmansk Front!”
“There’s fighting on the approaches to Kajaani!”
Frolov was fighting toward Kajaani.
Thanking the man by clapping his shoulder, Vasilevskij and Zhukov pushed through the swirling throng back to the map room. Reaching it at last, they conferred with the only other general standing over it, Egorov A.I. He turned toward them. “Well, what news?”
“Apparently there’s already fighting at the approaches to Kajaani.”
Egorov nodded. “Frolov, Murmansk Front. 45th Rifle Corps. Unfortunately their formations, like everyone’s, are under strength. I understand that Gorodovikov is throwing all his units in Kandalskaya and Kem toward Kajaani. He himself is fighting off a Finnish thrust toward Murmansk, the fighting seems to be pretty heavy there as the enemy is employing three divisions and an anti-aircraft brigade in a direct fire role, but Gorodovikov seems confident that he’ll be able to stop the Finns from advancing too far.”
The battle for Murmansk and other operations in the Murmansk Front’s theater of operations.
Vasilevskij nodded as Zhukov spoke up. “But what about here, down in the south?”
Egorov snorted. “I know you both are looking for the path of glory, you won’t find much of it here. The Finns won’t be a challenge for us. They won’t simply roll over and die, but you will not find your epic battles here. Don’t look at me like that; I know what I’m talking about.” He had noticed Zhukov glaring at him. “But yes, to answer your question, we are in battle at Sortavala as well. You will get your deep battle.”
Vasilevskij smiled. “Good. How is the battle going?”
“We’re fighting some of the best Finland can throw at us, commanded by their most skillful general. Nevertheless, we will soon achieve a rupture in their lines and then your armor will be penetrating through. You know the plan from there. On to Mikkeli, then take Helsinki. Isolate Viipuri. You will be the anvil, Eidman will be the hammer and crush those fortresses. From there, the only remaining objective will be Vaasa. I trust you two can accomplish this.”
The battle for Sortavala and an overview of the Leningrad Front’s theater of operations.
Zhukov appeared affronted by the question. “Of course! You can count on me—us.” He had caught Vasilevskij’s hard look. “Finland will fall quickly, just give us our breakthrough, old man.”
Egorov chuckled. “Old I might be, compared to you, but I am also wiser. Don’t be too reckless. I remember one war game played, years ago. It was a hypothetic situation where the United Kingdom had occupied northern Europe, Germany western and southern Europe and split eastern Europe with the Soviet Union. Now that I think about it, it seems frighteningly similar to our evolving geopolitical situation now, in fact. Nevertheless, the war game was on a hypothetical invasion of Finland to dislodge, encircle and destroy the large British forces opposite our front along the line Leningrad-Volkov-Vytegra-Molotovsk.”
Vasilevskij nodded, picturing the strategic situation in his mind, as Egorov continued. “We massed two mechanized armies at Volkov and broke through the British defenses at Petrozavodsk, for they had quickly conquered all of this territory save for a fortress we had thrown up at Murmansk, after very heavy fighting. We made for the Baltic, and managed to encircle the British at in a pocket stretching from Viipuri to Sortavala. But the British broke out, and out spearhead forces became besieged themselves, though fortunately we had had the foresight to supply them for an offensive. Thus, they remained in supply as we attempted to salvage the situation desperately, and ended up battering through those fortifications at Viipuri that Eidman will eventually presumably be fighting through as well. We saved our valuable spearheads and even threw a backhand counterstroke at the British; in the end we destroyed a third of their entire army and had pushed the rest into a fortress at Segezha.”
Zhukov blinked. “Fascinating but…what does this have to do, well, anything?”
Egorov chuckled again. “Oh, nothing. I thought that it was an interesting war game, that is all. If you’re curious, we eventually won. We destroyed the German army in a series of encirclements ranging from Latvia to Bulgaria to Czechoslovakia, and eventually destroyed another third of the British army at Segezha. Their remaining third evacuated. Murmansk never fell, I’m proud to say. That was my idea, you know, fortifying it. It proved to be a real thorn in their side. We reached Berlin. I wonder if you’ll do that one day, reaching Berlin. Somehow, I doubt it.”