God's Rule #1: Any war involving Russians whatsoever in the late 30's is bound my holy law to have an impromptu explosive weapon to be named after Russia's Foreign Minister.
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God's Rule #1: Any war involving Russians whatsoever in the late 30's is bound my holy law to have an impromptu explosive weapon to be named after Russia's Foreign Minister.
Gotta agree. The amount of time and effort you put into Avindian's AAR is stunning :laugh:
I guess that means I can't purge him. It would hurt the thread too much. 
Seriously though, great job.
Seriously though, great job.
Thank you loyal readers.
Although I will have to think hard about the next issue as I have run out of page 3 girls.
Although I will have to think hard about the next issue as I have run out of page 3 girls.
How about starting through all the men in the Politburo? It would be like a "meet the politburo" section
How about starting through all the men in the Politburo? It would be like a "meet the politburo" section
Bah! Nobody wants to see men starring in the Red Star!
This +1000Bah! Nobody wants to see men starring in the Red Star!
That's fine, Vrael! As long as they don't involve men starring in the Red Star
(Just kidding of course. As is the saying: This is not the Politburo!)
Chapter 4: A world at war, a country in crisis
Early morning, 2 July 1937, #2 Dzerzhinsky Square, Moscow
People's Commissar for Internal Affairs Yagoda sat in his office, a smile of triumph spreading across his face. He'd carefully built the coalition he needed to unseat NKO [[People's Commissar for Defense]] Rakobolskaja ever since the death of Kirov. He had elaborate plans to frame a prominent General or two for a fictitious coup attempt. When Vassilevsky and Vlassov actually tried to seize control of Arkhangelsk on 4 February to unseat Stalin, that was even better. Rakobolskaja was the first to report the attempt -- Yagoda had tried to preempt her, but to no avail -- which mitigated the damage somewhat, but he'd pried an entire corps of soldiers out of Marshal Tukhachevsky's hands and placed them under his own command. Every single General in the Soviet Union was interrogated ruthlessly, every Admiral questioned for hours. Vlassov and Vassilevsky had the support of a number of junior officers, but the vast majority of the senior officers had undying loyalty to Tukhachevsky and the Politburo. That didn't stop Yagoda from making a few select alterations to some personnel files, just in case he needed an excuse to intervene again.
Yet not all was triumph. Yagoda and People's Commissar for Justice Sokolov wanted to try NKO Rakobolskaja, but Sokolov, damn him, had decided to move for the less damaging vote of censure. Even that failed, and only a few timely phone calls had prevented Sokolov himself from losing his seniority. In the Politburo, seniority was everything.
14 July 1937, Yagula
Marshal of the Soviet Union M. N. Tukhachevsky, Chief of the Air Force Yakov Alksnis, and Pavel Sukhoi sat in awe as the new aircraft made run after run on dummy tanks.
Sukhoi had promised an effective light bomber, one capable of inflicting tremendous damage yet easy to mass produce. He'd delivered with the Su-2 "Ivanov".
Alksnis had an uncomfortable smile on his face. He was not displeased with the aircraft, but he'd had more than a few sleepless nights after being interrogated by the NKVD. Tukhachevsky, of course, simply told the NKVD to go to Hell, and as Marshal of the Soviet Union, he had the right to make that stick. Alksnis, a devotee of Lenin when that was not as fashionable as it had once been, had no such luxury. In the end, Alksnis was cleared of all charges, but that didn't mean the NKVD would never bother him again. Sukhoi had no such concerns, and beamed like a proud father watching his son take his first steps.
Tukhachevsky turned to the aircraft engineer. "How quickly can you have these in production?"
"As quickly as you like."
"Otlichno. ((Excellent.)) On my authority, you may build enough for a squadron. If NKO Rakobolskaja is as pleased as I am, you may count on more orders."
Sukhoi rubbed his hands together eagerly. "I serve the Soviet Union, Comrade Marshal!"
1 September 1937, Vladivostok
It was another sleepy day in Vladivostok. The officer on duty at the naval base sat idly, reading an old newspaper discussing the disappearance of the American aviatrix Earhart.
Captain-Lieutenant Bodrov clicked his tongue at the story, then flipped to another section. That bomber again. You'd think nobody in the Red Army had ever accomplished anything else! Bodrov glanced around; with nobody in the room, he decided he could take a nap. About thirty minutes later, he was awakened by the sound of the telegraph. The distant rumble of artillery and aircraft engines completely banished any thought of sleep. Bodrov sighed; he had to go wake up the base Commissar, who would almost certainly be in a foul mood. He knocked tentatively on the office door; hearing Commissar Zaitsev grumble, Bodrov darted in through the door and stood at attention.
"Comrade Commissar, there is news. The Japanese and Chinese are at war."
Zaitsev glared at the young Captain-Lieutenant. "This is a joke, isn't it? If it is, it isn't very funny."
"I'm afraid not, sir. Look."
Zaitsev scanned the telegrams. His face drained of color. "Bozhe moi! ((My God.)) Does the General Secretary know?"
"You were the first one I contacted."
Zaitsev sighed. Admiral Kuznetsov was in Sevastopol, visiting the shipyards there. Zaitsev's nominal superior had been sick with the flu for the last three days. That meant Zaitsev had to call Stalin himself.
There was not enough justice in the world sometimes.
11 October 1937, office of the General Secretary, Moscow
Stalin was in a bad mood. He very nearly ordered Zaitsev fired on the spot for giving him the news, but thought better of it at the last minute. He did not like getting caught by surprise, especially when Yagoda boasted of his superior intelligence network in Japan. Worse, the General Secretary of the Chinese Communist Party had no idea what to do and had been screaming his head off at Stalin for advice. The latest maps did not improve his mood.
The Japanese had already made surprising inroads into China from their puppet regime of Manchukuo. Comrade Petrova, the People's Commissar for Foreign Affairs, gave him the worst news of all -- Hirohito had signed onto Hitler's Anti-Comintern Pact.
Stalin swore under his breath, then picked up the phone to Vladivostok. "Zaitsev?"
"Yes, Comrade General Secretary!"
"What's your formal rank in the Navy?"
Zaitsev thought about it for a while. "Captain Third Rank, Comrade Stalin."
"Good. You're now Captain First Rank; I need you to activate all forces in and around Vladivostok and take personal command of them. If the Japanese decide to replay Port Arthur, we must be ready."
"By your command, Comrade."
"Wonderful. Get to it."
Stalin slammed the phone. He really wanted somebody to scream at, to relieve his tension, but sadly he was alone in the Kremlin today. Except for... "Molotov." Stalin smiled and reached for his phone again.
21 November 1937, Khabarovsk
Marshal I. S. Konev, Commander of the Eastern Direction, looked askance at his adjutant. The Japanese had stunned the world, conquering Shanxi in just over two months and threatening the Communist Chinese strongholds.
Yet, instead of getting his men ready to receive a possible Japanese attack, he was at the Mongolian Consulate. The consul general -- who doubled as the Chief of the Mongolian Air Force -- raved on and on about socialist cooperation. For whatever reason, the Mongolians had gotten together enough currency to license the famed Su-2 for their own use. Up until the consul general sent a messenger to Konev's office, the Soviet Marshal had no idea there was even a Mongolian air force at all.
Still, Stalin had ordered him to cooperate with Mongolia any way he could, and so Konev sat and pretended to be enraptured by the brilliant schemes of the Mongolian Air Force.
Life was horribly unfair.
1 January 1938, Moscow
Marshal Tukhachevsky and NKVD Yagoda glared at one another. They'd never much liked each other, and ever since the debacle of the Sino-Japanese War began, they liked each other less. The GRU ((Soviet Military Intelligence)) had actually outperformed the NKVD in predicting how rapid the Japanese advance would be. The Japanese were days, maybe hours, from Nanjing.
Yagoda had tried to tell Stalin what he wanted to hear -- that Japan posed no threat to the Soviet Union and would take months to get even as far as the Chinese border -- while Tukhachevsky told Stalin what he needed to hear. For once, the Marshal's opinion had won. That was not good for Yagoda. As the other members of the Politburo filed into the meeting chamber, Yagoda knew his own position had never been weaker. Nobody looked directly at him, while everybody greeted Tukhachevsky with smiles and conversation.
Only Sokolov even turned one eye toward him, but only to shake his head slightly. Yagoda was alone.
We inch closer and closer to war!
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[TROLL]The Japanese are certainly days away from Beijing. It is way to the north behind their front line. The KMT would be worried that the IJA was closing in on Nanjing.[/TROLL]
I have no idea what you're talking about. None! :furtively edits the post.:
I laughed when I read that. I imagined Zaitsev getting off the phone, full of pride over his promotion until he looked out the window at the empty Valdivostok harbour, and said "F@$#!!!" At least there would be no fleet for the Japanese to sink.