Chapter 215: Give it a Try

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A Soviet T-26 tank rolled slowly over a fence. Behind it followed a cautious squad of Soviet infantry. On the side of the road lay two Polish refugees who had just been shot and killed.

These continuously advancing Soviet troops were being attacked everywhere by Polish partisans. It seemed that Poland was venting all its resentment from its defeat by Germany on their heads. Of course, the further they advanced, the more they felt that the atmosphere was not right. Looking at the map, they were already approaching the German de facto control line.

If there really is such a thing as an aura, then the Soviet frontline troops did indeed feel a strange atmosphere. The closer they got to the German-controlled area, the more they could feel a powerful and oppressive presence, as if an ancient prehistoric dragon was coiled there, waiting for a fool to come and provoke it.

“Comrade Commissar, the German battle flag has been spotted in the small town ahead,” a scout reported, returning to the temporary encampment and saluting his superior. “I saw a machine gun nest on the pier on the other side of the river, as well as several patrolling German soldiers.”

“Have the battalion commander send out a signalman to contact division headquarters. Tell them we have reached the temporary border area,” the commissar said after a moment’s thought. “Set up defenses in this vicinity and wait for orders from above.”

“Yes, sir!” the scout said, standing at attention.

In the small town opposite, the German troops had also spotted the Soviet forces on the other side of the river at this very moment. The 75mm anti-tank guns hidden on the flanks of the small town were also ready for battle. Comparatively speaking, the German army deployed on the newly born Soviet-German border did not have a numerical advantage. On the entire long border defense line, there were only about 600,000 German soldiers.

And the number of tank units was even more pitiful. According to the arrangements of the Wehrmacht High Command, Germany had only retained two combat forces on the entire eastern front: one was General Guderian’s 1st Panzer Corps, and the other was the 2nd Panzer Corps in the north, serving as a strategic reserve.

As a strategic defensive force, these two units were deployed in the second-line area, ready to pounce on any problematic defensive sector at any time. Although the combat capability of the Soviet Union in its attack on Poland was held in great contempt by the Germans, after all, on the long border, the Soviet forces maintained an absolute advantage of 950,000 men.

Lowering his binoculars, a German officer in a hidden observation post glanced at his adjutant. He was the commander of the infantry regiment responsible for the defense of the nearby area. “Get me two Friedrich rocket launchers. I can take out the position opposite with a single salvo.”

The adjutant pressed his eyes to the scissor periscope on the side and looked carefully, counting as he looked. “My God, the tanks are parked on the side of the road, and they’re starting cooking fires inside the rooms. Won’t they be choked to death by the smoke? My heavens, I can see the position of their sentry post directly. Are these troops here for a laugh?”

“A single salvo from the four 75mm howitzers of the regimental artillery would be enough to give these idiots a good lesson,” the regimental commander chuckled. He then walked to the map and marked some important points on it. “They’ve been fighting the Poles for so many days, and they still haven’t learned how to fight a war.”

Indeed, compared to the German army, the Soviet army stationed opposite had clearly not learned its lesson in the nearly two months of war. They seemed to be very happy about the end of the war with Poland, singing and dancing in the village on the opposite bank of the river, sharing all sorts of food they had found from who knows where.

Never mind using a high-tech new weapon like the Friedrich rocket launcher; if they just organized a charge with a single company, the German army was confident it could rout the Soviet forces in front of them. However, what no one knew was that while the Germans were looking down on the Soviets, the Soviets were also assessing the Germans’ combat strength.

Khrushchev, Yezhov, and Voroshilov were smugly inspecting the occupied territories of Poland. Such a large piece of territory had fallen into the hands of the Soviet army, which had raised the prestige of these three men within the Soviet Union to an unprecedented height, although the three of them knew exactly what had really happened in this “victory.”

“Comrade Khrushchev, it’s really not easy to gather the several hundred thousand prisoners of war we promised to Germany. I’ve counted all the people who were supposed to be sent to the Siberian concentration camps, and we still haven’t been able to gather the number they want,” Yezhov said, complaining to Khrushchev beside him after waving to the military formation that had assembled to receive them.

Voroshilov also nodded in agreement. “There’s really nothing to be done. The Polish troops retreated too quickly, and we didn’t capture any decent prisoners. Due to combat losses and other reasons, our troops generally have a hostile attitude toward the Polish soldiers, and the secret killing of prisoners is a recurring problem. We have pitifully few prisoners along the way.”

“This can’t go on,” Khrushchev said, glancing at Yezhov beside him. “Comrade Yezhov, you also had a hand in agreeing to this matter at the time. Now that such a huge loophole has appeared, I really don’t have any solution on my side either.”

“I do have a way, but it seems a bit difficult to implement,” Yezhov said, his eyes narrowed. “But this method is not a good one. If a problem arises, no one will be able to escape responsibility.”

“What way?” Voroshilov asked, raising his eyebrows. He always felt that these two men from Stalin’s inner circle exuded an icy aura toward their own people, which made him very uncomfortable. “If it’s not convenient for me to know, I can leave.”

He stood up as if to walk out, but how could the two men present possibly let him leave and stay out of it? A nice thought, but if one could stay out of it, who here wouldn’t want to know nothing about such matters?

Yezhov grabbed his sleeve and laughed heartily. “This matter really can’t be done without the help of our Comrade Marshal Voroshilov! You can’t leave.”

Khrushchev sighed. It seemed this matter really needed the cooperation of the military. Otherwise, Yezhov wouldn’t be so eager to keep Voroshilov. But since he had come to the front, he had been completely disappointed with the capabilities of the entire military. He considered that he should be more cautious about anything that involved the military.

“It’s the same as before,” Seeing that Khrushchev was silent, Yezhov did not mince his words. “Just like the last plan, the three of us will come forward to do this together. No one is to make an issue of it. When the problem is solved, we will have completed our mission and can immediately set off back to Moscow.”

“Let’s hear it. Since you won’t let me leave, then count me in,” Voroshilov said, sitting back down, somewhat dejected.

“Let’s hear it, Comrade Yezhov. Let’s see what brilliant plan you have this time,” Khrushchev said, glancing at the rather smug Yezhov. “If this can really be done well, then count me in too.”

“The matter is very simple. Isn’t our current difficulty that we can’t hand over so many prisoners?” Yezhov said with a smile. “There is a very easy solution to this. That is—to go to war with the Germans!”

“Are you insane?” Khrushchev stared with wide eyes and said angrily. “You dare to speak of such a thing so casually? How will we explain it to Comrade Stalin then?”

“Of course, a full-scale conflict can’t be explained to Comrade Stalin,” Yezhov was clearly unconcerned by Khrushchev’s anger. “But a small, local conflict doesn’t need to be reported to the busy Comrade Stalin, does it?”

“But in our army’s current state, if we go to war with the Germans, we clearly won’t be able to win,” Voroshilov said after a moment’s thought, frowning. “What if we lose…”

At this point, he suddenly stopped, then stared at Yezhov with wide eyes. “You mean…”

“You see! I told you Comrade Marshal Voroshilov was a smart man!” Yezhov nodded. “If, by a fluke, we win, then naturally we won’t have to give the prisoners to the Germans. The victory can be reported to Moscow, and you and I will rise to prominence. If, by some chance, we lose, then the incompetent frontline commanders and soldiers should, by rights, be sent to Siberia for forced labor. Those people can then naturally be given to the Germans.”

Khrushchev tapped his fingers on the table. He was not very much in favor of this idea. After all, he only wanted to gain some merit, to become Stalin’s capable subordinate, and in the future, to become the leader of the world’s largest country. This kind of scheme, which involved sacrificing his own people, was not something he was happy to see.

But it had to be said that in the current situation, this idea could indeed be said to be the best solution. It could both gamble on victory or defeat and perfectly solve the current crisis they were facing—it just required sacrificing a lot of their own people, which he was a little reluctant to do.

“This is not a glorious matter, after all. Is there really no other way?” Khrushchev finally spoke after some thought. He asked tentatively, showing a hint of concern for the bigger picture.

Yezhov chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “Of course, if Comrade Khrushchev has a better way, then just pretend I said nothing. After all, this kind of thing is best not to be tried unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Cursing him inwardly as an old fox, Khrushchev laughed a few times, then thought for a moment and said, “Shall we make a move on the troops from the Belarusian and Ukrainian regions? At the very least, we can’t touch the elite ethnic Russian units.”

Voroshilov had always maintained a submissive attitude of accepting things as they came. He also knew that Yezhov and Khrushchev did not need him to offer advice. All he had to do was to provide the necessary military advice when the two were not clear on something.

And this happened to be a time when he needed to speak and make a decision. “Comrades, if possible, we can mobilize the southern Ukrainian and Belarusian units to attack a certain area to test the Germans’ reaction.”