Chapter 10
Somwhere in the woods just outside of Moscow, November 26th, 1937
Leon Trotsky, Chariman of the Central Committee of the CPSU and the Surpreme Soviet sipped at the glass of Vodka in his hand and loocked out into the snowing winds outside of his Datcha. It was late, about 10 o Clock in the evening, but usually he was still working at that time, but today he took “the day off”, at the recommendation of his doctor and because it was something of a special day to him, as he had been forced to leave the Soviet Union on November 26th, 1925. Now, twelve years later he was back. Leading his country into what where bound to be troubled times. Now that Poland and Romania were taken care of the hard way, after ignoring Trotskys peace proposals early in the war, the Soviet Union was a Pariah. The Allied Powers were disgusted with the War and had repeatedly demanded that Poland and Romania were to be released immediately, something Trotsky could not and would not allow, as these country were needed as a buffer against the evergrowinf Axis alliance, not to mentoin that he would not allow the capitalists to get their greedy hands on these provinces again. The Axis, lead by the facist dogs in Germany anc curretnly consisting of only them and the Hungarians was likely to be the next big enemy the Soviet Union would have to face, considering that Hitler had not been too pleased with the Soviets inheriting the lands he had obviously wanted for Germany, and his attitude towards the Soviet Union itself was plain and clear. Trotsky unintentionally shivered when he remebered what he had felt when he had read through Hitlers “bible”, his “Mein Kampf” during the last few weeks. Hitler and his lapdogs would be formidable foes. Allthough heavily outnumbered by the Red Army the front the Germans had to man was much smaller, as they could leave part of that to their allies, and the ground tactics the Red Army employed were still frighteningly weak, despite his many reforms which were just now beginnign to filter through to the rest of the country. What was next, which crisis would be the next o blow up in their….
Trotsky was interrupted in his musings by a tentative knock on the door to his study. Trotsky already knew who had knocked as he knew this knock by heart. “Come in Volodya!” he said, and motoined for his long-time aide and personal friend to come in. “Comrad Chairman,” Volodya began only to be silenced by the look on Tortskys face “ Leon…” he started again, remembering that he was to call his friend by his first name when they were alone, “Leon, the GRU has sent this over, along with the Intelligence Estimate you requested a while back. I looked over it as per your orders, and my quick and dirty personal estimate is that our dear neighbours will receive all the help their Allies can bring to them.” Trotsky said nothing and simply nodded, fingering with his Cigarette lighter wishing that he had not listened to his doctor and given up smoking two years ago. Volodya was beginning to feel uneasy, a clear sign that he was becoming nervous about the silence in the room. After a few minutes Trotsky finally spoke: “I fear that the Red Army is not yet ready to face that particular alliance, my old Friend. Instruct that fool Blücher that he is to report to his new command within the next 48 hours.” he sighed and went on. “ I wish we could find someone decent to replace that man. I mean every commander is allowed to fail now and then, but not on such a grand scale and not so spectacularly. I whish I could place Zhukov on his chair at this very moment… But alas, Blücher is still to popular in the Army, and the grumblings it would bring if we sacked him might make them less open for the next round of reforms. I fear dear Blücher will have to fail at least one more time before we can send him toguard that supply depot…..” Trotsky stood up from his chair and walked the few steps to the window, staring out into the swirling darkness. “How many will die, Volodya, how many?” Volodya did not answer, as he sensed that his friend and mentor did not really expect an answer anyways. Both just stared out into the Darkness.
November 27th, somewhere along the vast Borders of the Soviet Union. Temperature: Very cold.
General Georgy Konstantinovich Zhukov, General of the Red Army and Tankman by nature was not happy with his new assignement. Not that he would have spoken against it in any way, as he still commanded 1. Shock Army, but the command structure of this new Front left much to be desired, at least in his opinion. During the Polish and Romanian Campaigns Blücher, who had still not grasped that the days of the old, Great War eara frontal Infantry charges was over had constricted Zhukovs operational freedom in such a way that the success of his beloved Tanks was less than spectacular. Zhukov still sivered when thinking of the mad desperate attack through the Carpathian Mountains, right into the face of massive, entrenched Romanian AT-Gun positions. Blücher obviously still believed that tanks were nothing more than armoured and self propelled pillboxes, best used for Infantry support, if at all, and that was something of a personal offense to Zhukov, who had been a tank proponent from the day he had taken over as commander of the 6th Guards Tank Division in 1929. When Trotsky had taken over all these months ago Zhukov knew that a new wind was blowing, but he had also known even back then that Trotsky had to tread carefully lest he would anger the very men that were the supports of his power during these critical first few weeks. Now that his power was secured he could slowly start to weed out those less open to his reforms, the so-called “Old Guard” of men that had led the Red Army in the Civil War and still clung to the tacics and the doctrine developed back then. Zhukov was sure that he would be one of the men who would be floated upwards in the wake of this second bloodless purge, and he rembered that the British even had a saying for occasions like this one: ‘Here’s to bloody wars and sickly seasons.’ The Situation at hand was neither a bloody war nor a sickly season but the saying was apt nonetheless Zhukov decided, as he walked back to his command tank, once more cursing Blüchers obvious incompetence and knowing that the Field Marshalls next obvious slip-up would mean a promotion for him.
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