The Austro-Hungarian Revolutions
Chapter VI – Moscow reacts
THE KREMLIN, MOSCOW, January 7th, 1936
The study was barren, cold and impersonal. No decorations of any kind, white-grey and pale yellow walls, white-painted bookshelves and a floor of white and black square tiles. Leon Trotsky, in a simple khaki uniform without any rank insignia, calmly removed his large round spectacles from his nose and carefully polished them with a clean white rag, before even beginning to read the documents laid on his table, never even looking at the Commander of the Fourth Department of the Red Army (Military Intelligence), Colonel Yan Berzov who stood in attention before him.
Berzov squirmed mentally. The documents were bad news, Trotsky knew it before even reading them and Berzov knew that he knew. The reaction of the Chairman of the Supreme Soviet, also Generalissimo of the Red Army, also Secretary General of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union Leon Trotsky was as predictable as it would be unpleasant to the hapless Berzov. Both of them knew that too, and Trotsky made a great show of prolonging his subordinate’s discomfort.
‘So, Brno has fallen and six divisions are cut off in Kutna Hora. Comrade Colonel Berzov...?’
‘Yes, Comrade Generalissimo Trotsky?’
‘Why was I not informed that the revolutionary armies had deficient supply organisations?’
‘Comrade Generalissimo Trotsky, were informed by the local Soviet leaders that they had everything they needed in overabundance.’
‘You trusted the uniformed opinion of civilian politicos?’ Trotsky asked with dangerously level voice.
Berzov almost whined. Trotsky was now playing the veteran soldier, emphasising his military experience, flaunting his supreme rank and oozing contempt for “civilian” revolutionaries. Yet Berzov knew how quickly Trotsky the Soldier could be replaced by Trotsky the Chairman of the Supreme Soviet, who would strike down on the slightest show of defiance by military men against the primacy of the political leadership. The metamorphosis could be fast enough to make a man’s head spin.
‘Comrade Generalissimo Trotsky, we… were gratified and surprised by the speed of the Imperialist collapse. We expected to have more time to build up the logistic organization in the liberated areas. We never counted on the anarchists swaying so many to their cause, they more or less paved the way for our armies all the way to Budapest, Bratislava and Prague.’
‘I see,’ Trotsky said, pursing his lips and crossing his hands on the table. ‘The anarchists…’
Like a drowning man being thrown a life buoy, Berzov clinged pathetically to this chance of putting someone else, ANYONE, between himself and the wrath of Leon Trotsky. ‘Yes, Comrade Generalissimo Trotsky, the anarchists. They have been a pain and a nuisance since this campaign began. Maybe we should be better off… without them?’
Trotsky looked up suddenly, like a man interrupted in some reverie. ‘A nuisance? Better off WITHOUT THEM!?’ He rose from the table, making the livid Berzov unconsciously recoil a step. ‘You buffoon!’ he shouted, ‘We could never have pulled this off without their help! THEY still have drive! THEY still have revolutionary spirit! THEY still have brave, dedicated and above all ABLE men, who can set a revolutionary fire into the hearts of men, while we only have bumbling fools and bureaucrats!’
Regaining control of himself, Trotsky sighed deeply and sat down, before continuing in a dejected voice: ‘So we prey on them, our deluded betters, because for all their merits, they do not understand the necessities of Scientific Socialism! And so, it is time once more… for the revolution to eat its own children.’
‘A full crackdown then, Comrade Generalissimo Trotsky?’ Berzov asked, grinning despite himself in anticipation.
Trotsky shook his head like an annoyed lion. ‘Can you not even count?’ he wondered in a disgusted voice. ‘They still outnumber the Communist forces by a large margin. No, we have to be subtler than that. Here’s what I want you to do: send down however many army logistical support units it may take to remedy the situation. I don’t care if it leaves the Red Army stranded like a beached whale, this has top priority. And tell the Romanians to do the same. Only, because of the continued difficult supply situation due to the anarchist lack of proper organisation, Communist units will have priority. That is to say, not a bullet for the anarchists – unless they accede to join our units, under our command. Understood?’
‘Perfectly, Comrade Generalissimo.’
‘And since the Austrians are playing around with tracks, send our Communist comrades tracks, hundreds of tracks!’ Trotsky added. ‘Let’s see how those Sturmpanzers fare against our T-26s and T-28s!’
Amid cheering and shivering on this cold but sunny winter morning, the champagne bottle, wielded with decision by Princess Kira, shattered against the grey steel hull of the SMS “Lützow”, the fourth and last addition to the powerful “Hipper” class of heavy cruisers. Crown Prince Louis Ferdinand, looking slightly uncomfortable in the Admiral’s uniform he wore for the day held the compulsory speech to greet the latest addition to his fathers fleet – it was bland and conventional, but nobody in the crowd watching the christening ceremony cared about that in the slightest, and they dutifully, nay, happily cheered in all the right places. The Crown Prince couple were immensely popular, he for his bohemian-looking curls, boyish visage and relaxed attitude so atypical for a Prussian Prince of the blood, she for her stunning Slavic beauty and elegance, her kind heart and the obvious love she professed for the Crown Prince. They were the darlings of the nation.
One man standing on the platform next to the Crown Prince and Princess among other notables and higher-ups of the navy cared less than most about Prince Louis Ferdinand’s speech. He hardly heard a word of it, so excited was he, for this was the crowning day of his career, today all his dreams would be fulfilled and the last twelve years of hard work, humiliations and deprivations would pay off – today he would assume command of a heavy cruiser of the
Kriegsmarine, his first very own command. Tears of joy blurred his vision as he followed the “Lützow’s” every line, from the proud bow over the powerful 203mm guns in the four twin turrets, the bridge... she was his, and he coveted her more than the most ardent lover his woman.
He leaned closer to his mentor, who stood next to him and whispered, not to disturb the Crown Prince’s speech. ‘I owe this to you, Admiral. Thank you so much, thank you!’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, my boy!’ Admiral Canaris answered also in a whisper. ‘You have earned the “Lützow” fair and square. I just hope you won’t regret this later. I still believe you have real potential in naval intelligence… ah, never mind, I can see that I’m wasting my time talking about that today. She is a beauty – any sailor would be proud to command her.’
Freshly promoted
Kapitän zur See Reinhard Heydrich smiled, and let his loving eyes return to his ship. HIS ship. He couldn’t wait to set foot on her for the first time. If only he would get a chance to command her in battle… what feats they would perform together, Captain Heydrich and the
Großkreuzer SMS “Lützow”!
