Chapter 136: The Military Salute

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Soviet Union. A car pulled up to the main gate of the military district headquarters. Two officers got out of the car and, ignoring the salutes of the guards on either side, walked with grim expressions into the building. They passed through the corridor, arrived at the door of the commander’s office, and knocked.

“Come in!” a voice commanded from inside.

“Comrade Marshal Tukhachevsky! We have come under orders to thoroughly investigate the case of anti-communist dangerous elements within the Front Army under your command.”

“How is that possible?” Tukhachevsky put down the file in his hand and looked up. The two lieutenant colonels from the Anti-Communism Investigation Section standing before him immediately felt the pressure multiply.

Tukhachevsky had only recently been promoted to Marshal of the Soviet Red Army, becoming one of the first in history to be promoted to this rank. Coupled with his reputation in the Red Army as the “Red Napoleon” and the “Soviet Akado,” even Stalin had to show him some courtesy, to say nothing of the two lowly lieutenant colonels before him.

“According to our investigation, there are indeed dangerous elements in your troops, and many of them hold high positions,” one of the lieutenant colonels finally said, his voice trembling. He immediately felt much more at ease. He took a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the fine beads of sweat from the tip of his nose.

“The list is here. Please take a look, if you would permit it. Today, we must take these people away for interrogation,” the other officer said, respectfully handing the file tucked under his arm to the Red Army marshal. Seeing that Tukhachevsky had no intention of reaching for it, he had to take two steps forward, place the file on his desk, and then quickly retreat to his original position.

“Comrade Stalin hopes that you will cooperate with our work and hand over these vile traitors,” the officer who was wiping his sweat said, invoking Stalin’s name to bolster his courage, hoping it would make Tukhachevsky compromise.

As expected, Tukhachevsky did not speak. With a fierce expression, he snatched the file and began to look through it.

Commander of the 29th Division of the Front Army, XXXX. Political Commissar of the 7th Army of the Front Army, XXXX. Chief of Staff of the 34th Division of the Front Army, XXXXX. One name after another made Tukhachevsky’s brow furrow deeper and deeper. Finally, when he saw that the name of his own colleague, the Front’s Political Commissar, was on the list, he could bear it no longer and erupted.

“This is simply outrageous!” Tukhachevsky threw the list directly in the faces of the two lieutenant colonels who had brought it. “You have the gall to do such a thing that angers both heaven and the people! I have no face to go along with this! If you want to take the people on this list from me, you won’t even get through the door! Get out! Get out of my sight!”

Now that all pretenses were dropped, the two lieutenant colonels lost their previous fear and reverence. One of them crouched down to pick up the papers scattered on the floor, while the other puffed out his chest and said, “Comrade Marshal, if you do not carry out Comrade Stalin’s order, you will be held jointly responsible! You should know that this list was personally drawn up by the Central Politburo and Comrade Stalin himself.”

“Are you insane? You’re arresting people based not on evidence, not on crimes, but on a list drawn up by a few people sitting in a room discussing it for an afternoon?” Tukhachevsky was almost moved to laughter by this question. What had happened to this Soviet Union? What on earth had happened to the Soviet Union that he loved so deeply?

“Comrade Marshal Tukhachevsky! Please watch your tone! Comrade Stalin is the leader of the Soviet rise. To go against his will is to obstruct the development of the communist cause!” the lieutenant colonel’s tone was filled with menace.

“When I was fighting the White bandits with Comrade Lenin, Stalin was just a secretary! You should watch your tone with me, Lieutenant Colonel!” Tukhachevsky said fiercely. “Go back and tell Comrade Stalin that I don’t care what he wants to do, nor can I control it! But please tell him not to be swayed by those power-hungry megalomaniacs and delude himself into thinking he can shake the army, the very foundation of the state! This is very dangerous!”

“You can wait for Comrade Yezhov’s investigation, Marshal!” the lieutenant colonel replied coldly.

“Yezhov? Yezhov’s rank is lower than the chief of staff you want to arrest on this list!” Tukhachevsky also said coldly, pointing to his own marshal’s insignia as he spoke. “In terms of when I joined the Communist Party, I was much earlier than him! What right does he have to investigate me?”

Growing more and more furious as he spoke, Tukhachevsky stood up, walked in front of the lieutenant colonel, and poked him in the chest, adding, “Remember what I said! Tell Yezhov! Many Soviet generals and I are waiting for the results of his investigation into Comrade Kirov’s murder! He arrests this person today and that person tomorrow, and they all happen to be Comrade Kirov’s good friends and supporters. Sooner or later, we will settle this score with him!”

“Then goodbye, Comrade Marshal Tukhachevsky,” the two lieutenant colonels said, turning to leave.

“Come back!” Tukhachevsky commanded coldly.

The two lieutenant colonels turned back, confused.

“You haven’t saluted. Do you want to go back to officer school to re-learn the etiquette for meeting a superior officer?”

“Click.” The two men had no choice. They straightened their backs and gave Tukhachevsky a proper military salute.

“Now get lost! I don’t have time to waste on you lackeys! I’d be better off inspecting the tank production line at the factory,” Tukhachevsky said, waving his hand in disgust and shooing the two men out of his office.

The two officers, having accomplished nothing, left Tukhachevsky’s headquarters looking dejected. With long faces as if their mothers had just died, they scurried back to Moscow to see their master, where they immediately began to wail about the injustice.

“Comrade Yezhov! You should have seen his arrogant face! He has absolutely no respect for you!” one lieutenant colonel said, embellishing his report on the failed mission.

“Yes, yes! And that fellow also said…” The lieutenant colonel trailed off, stealing a glance at his superior, Yezhov, who was sitting behind the desk.

“Said what?” Yezhov asked, his voice a long, expressionless drawl. “Go on, spit it out. Don’t waste my time hemming and hawing. I know my own subordinates better than anyone, don’t I? Get on with the frame-up, and make it quick!”

“This… this time we didn’t frame him!” the lieutenant colonel said, quickly waving his hands. “He said that Comrade Stalin was being misled by villains, and that he would deal with you sooner or later!”

“That’s right, Comrade Yezhov! When he told us to get lost, he even forced us to stand at attention and salute him! This man is arrogant to the extreme! He has no respect for our investigation at all!” the other lieutenant colonel added.

Yezhov nodded. Without a change in expression, he wrote Tukhachevsky’s name on the paper before him, then lightly drew a circle around the name and put an X through it.

His face remained impassive, showing no joy, sorrow, or anger; there wasn’t even a flicker of emotion. “The Comrade Marshal was right to do so! You two are too ignorant of the rules! If I were him, I would have also made you properly recall the etiquette you should observe. Go to the finance department yourselves and return this month’s bonus. Say it’s a fine from me!”

“Yes, sir!” the two men replied reluctantly.

Yezhov took out two envelopes, pressed them on the desk, and pushed them to the other side. “I’m not making you use your own money. Use this. Take the extra to buy some cigarettes and liquor; you all like that stuff anyway.”

He drew his hand back, carefully picked up the piece of paper, tore it into pieces, threw half into his wastebasket, and stuffed the other half into his pocket. “Get out. I need to go see Comrade Stalin.”

Recently, Khrushchev had been doing very well for himself in Stalin’s eyes, which made Yezhov, who had always been Stalin’s number one confidant, feel a great sense of crisis. He desperately wanted to help Stalin get rid of an important political opponent to maintain his own position within Stalin’s inner circle.

But although he had eliminated several important figures and killed over a thousand so-called traitors, he had not been able to escape Khrushchev’s shadow. Khrushchev had been involved, to some degree, in all of these cases, so as Yezhov’s victories grew, Khrushchev’s status also rose.

So this time, he decided to start with Tukhachevsky. If he could help Stalin eliminate the disobedient Tukhachevsky and allow Stalin to firmly grasp an entire Front Army, it would be a great achievement at a time when Stalin wanted to get his hands on the military and become the number one man in the Soviet Union, holding all military and political power.

But what greatly troubled Yezhov was that in terms of seniority, Tukhachevsky was a veteran from the Lenin era; in terms of status, he was the commander of an entire Front Army. Without real evidence, it was truly not easy to make a move against a Soviet marshal with a mountain of military achievements.

It seemed that in the end, he would have to wait for an opportunity. With a silent sigh, Yezhov picked up his briefcase and walked into Stalin’s office.

“Bastards! These military bastards! They think they have more seniority than me! They are actually protecting the generals and officers who oppose me! They should all be hanged!” Before Yezhov even entered Stalin’s office, he heard the roar of the communist leader.

Yezhov gave a bitter smile. It seemed that at today’s meeting, he would be chewed out again by the bad-tempered Stalin. He straightened his uniform, stood up a little taller, and knocked on Stalin’s door.

“What can be done to teach these disobedient generals a lesson? To make them know who their leader is?” Stalin asked angrily, looking at Yezhov as he entered. Khrushchev was standing before him, his head bowed in silence.

Stalin slapped the file on his desk. “Especially this damned Tukhachevsky! Haven’t I been good to him? I personally promoted him to Marshal of the Soviet Union! And how does he repay me? He is still hiding my opponents in the army!”