Chapter 232: The Confession

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Moscow’s Red Square, at a military parade for the great victory in Poland. Stalin sat in the seat of honor, his face expressionless, watching the infantry formations marching in neat steps below the city walls. Khrushchev and Yezhov, each with his own worries, were also silent. Although the noise of the military band was still all around, the atmosphere was somewhat bizarre and twisted.

“I hear our troops suffered heavy losses on the Polish front…” Stalin suddenly asked.

“Such things are all false propaganda from opposition elements,” Yezhov replied. “Of course, there will be losses, great leader Comrade Stalin. It’s a war, how can there not be deaths?”

“But one of my military advisors told me that the attack on Poland caused hundreds of thousands of Red Army soldiers to be killed in action. This is a very huge loss. Such a loss should not exist and indirectly shows the incompetence of the commander,” Stalin continued.

“This is just an armchair strategist who has never been to the battlefield, trying to get your attention with novel statements,” Yezhov said with a smile. “And for a great leader like you who has expanded our territory, these rumors will collapse on their own.”

Khrushchev glanced at Stalin and saw that Stalin was also looking at him out of the corner of his eye. He lowered his head and continued to remain silent. After hearing Yezhov’s words, Stalin nodded and continued to watch the soldier formations marching past Red Square.

Yezhov, however, turned his head, and his sinister gaze swept over a spot not far behind Stalin, where Stalin’s advisors were seated. He thought fiercely to himself, In a few days, I’ll deal with you guys who like to run your mouths.

The music played by the military band became louder and more passionate, and the infantry formations also came to an end. The tank units finally appeared in Stalin’s view. A sea of grass-green T-26 tanks, with bright red five-pointed stars painted on their turrets, their exhaust pipes emitting a light black smoke, rumbled past the square in front of the Kremlin.

“I hear that in the final fierce battle, a dozen or so of our tanks were destroyed by the Germans?” Stalin asked Marshal Voroshilov beside him, looking at the tanks. “In the report you gave me, in that border conflict caused by poor reconnaissance, German anti-tank guns destroyed many of our T-26 tanks.”

“Yes, Comrade Stalin,” Voroshilov nodded. “It is clear the Germans also learned their lesson in Spain. In Spain, our tanks were clearly technologically superior. So to deal with the threat of the T-26 tank, the Germans have strengthened the firepower of their tanks and have deployed a large number of anti-tank guns.”

Stalin thought for a moment and then continued, “Then, Comrade Marshal, we cannot just stand still. We should deploy and develop even more powerful tanks to continue to surpass our opponents.”

“The new KV-1 tank has performed very well,” Voroshilov said. “Although there are some problems with its reliability, its thick armor is sufficient to deal with the German army’s artillery. This has been proven.”

“Mm,” Stalin said to Yezhov and Khrushchev on the side. “Order the tank production plants to increase the output of the KV-1 tank, to produce and equip 2,000 per year. In addition… the development of a new type of tank cannot be slowed down! It must be completed as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Comrade Stalin,” the two men said, nodding together.

In the afternoon, this celebration of territorial expansion finally ended. Yezhov walked on the main road of the Kremlin, his face like ice. When he had just left Moscow, no one could defy him. He had been all-powerful here. But he had only been away for a short time, and someone had already stabbed him in the back. This feeling of losing control made Yezhov feel very bad.

And Khrushchev, walking on the other side, also felt very bad, because he had seen a different meaning in Stalin’s eyes, a meaning that made his blood run cold. He thought for a moment, as if he had made some kind of decision.

Voroshilov, who was going down the stairs, was frowning. In fact, before Zhukov had left the western front and boarded the train to the Mongolian region, he had discussed the technical issues of German tanks with him in detail. He believed that German tanks had already surpassed the T-26 in terms of armor, mobility, and firepower, and that the existing KV-1 tank only had a slight advantage in armor. But Zhukov had helplessly admitted that at this stage, they could only expand the production of the KV-1 tank as much as possible to make up for the gap in tanks.

The three men, each with their own worries, all summoned their own confidants at the first opportunity.

“You, go and investigate for me. See who among Comrade Stalin’s circle is not obedient to us. Find a reason and get rid of them all. I don’t want to see anyone who opposes me again, do you understand?” Yezhov instructed.

“Make arrangements. I need to see Comrade Stalin as soon as possible, the sooner the better. If Comrade Stalin won’t see me, then you will beg him on your knees until you get me an audience! Do you understand? Also… arrange a meeting with Marshal Voroshilov for me tonight. Go,” Khrushchev said to his subordinate with a frown.

“Go to the KV-1 tank production plant and see the representative there. Tell them that it is Comrade Stalin’s order that the output of the KV-1 tank must be expanded to meet the production requirements. I don’t care how they do it, but I want 2,500 tanks a year!” Marshal Voroshilov commanded his adjutant.

You see, sometimes you can very clearly see the choices that certain types of people make when faced with problems, choices that are in line with their characteristics: soldiers obey orders, and they will prioritize the instructions of their superiors; politicians are good at weighing things, and they can always grasp the key points to serve their superiors; scheming little people will eliminate their rivals and will think of clearing out their opponents at the first opportunity.

The next morning, Khrushchev met Stalin, who was having breakfast. Stalin was very happy. He personally pulled out a chair for Khrushchev and invited him to try the butter air-freighted from Mongolia, as well as Russia’s finest bread, sausage, and fried eggs.

But these ordinary things still seemed twisted and bizarre to Khrushchev. He would rather Stalin had yelled at him than maintained this feeling that made him so uneasy.

“Great leader… Comrade Stalin, I, I…” Khrushchev felt guilty. He knew that if Stalin really wanted to pursue the matter he and Yezhov had cooked up, sending him to the coldest concentration camp in Siberia would be getting off lightly.

“Eat first,” Stalin said, pointing to the food piled on the table. “Is it cold outside? You must be freezing.”

“I have something that I must confess to you,” Khrushchev said, finally steeling himself with a pinch to his own thigh. “While fighting in Poland, I was misled by Yezhov and made some irreparable mistakes. The losses I brought to the country also cast a shadow on your sun-like brilliance.”

“Yezhov…” Stalin nodded. “To be honest, I have recently heard some rumors that you and Yezhov feel that you can replace me and make some decisions for this country.”

“Comrade Stalin! My loyalty to you is beyond doubt,” Khrushchev said, quickly bowing his head.

“I was very disappointed before, thinking whether the friends I had chosen were all untamable wild wolves. This made me doubt my own judgment,” Stalin said to himself as he cut his bread. “But facts have proven that my circle is not all enemies. There are also children like you who have just temporarily lost their way.”

“Comrade Stalin! I am still loyal to you. Please forgive my mistake. I should not have listened to Yezhov’s one-sided words,” Khrushchev wept, just short of kneeling on the floor. “Please give me a chance…”

“You have done nothing wrong, my friend,” Stalin laughed. “As long as you are still loyal to me, loyal to this party, there can be no major mistake. Tell me what you know. I would very much like to hear what really happened on the Polish front.”

“The matter begins with the disastrous defeat at the front,” Khrushchev, with his background in political work, was a master of words. He pushed most of the blame onto Yezhov, and then, while crying, he told the story of how he had been forced to obey Yezhov’s orders.

After confessing everything to Stalin in one breath, Khrushchev finally said with tears in his eyes, “Comrade Stalin, I did have selfish motives at the beginning. I wanted to gain your trust and to become your most capable subordinate… But, Yezhov, he…”

“I will deal with Yezhov,” Stalin said with a nod. “I understand your feelings very well, but this matter can only be decided after Marshal Voroshilov has come here and I have personally asked him.”

A short while later, Voroshilov did indeed arrive. He was even more terrified and pushed all the blame for the commissars’ interference in combat operations onto Yezhov, and his account basically did not differ from what Khrushchev had said. Only then did Stalin’s poker face relax.

“It seems now that you are loyal to the Soviet Union and also very loyal to me personally… so I will forgive you this time! But if there is a next time, I will hang you with my own hands!” Stalin finally said, standing up. “Please remember the lesson of today! Do not deceive me and do anything behind my back! Understood?”

“Understood, great leader Comrade Stalin,” the two men said, quickly standing up and bowing their heads.

Stalin nodded, seemingly very satisfied with this feeling of absolute control. He narrowed his eyes and said, “As for Yezhov, who is the most serious problem this time, I have decided to execute him on behalf of the Soviet government. Do you have any objections?”

“Your decision is wise,” Khrushchev and Voroshilov quickly agreed. “He is clearly the evil culprit!”

Khrushchev glanced at Stalin, then added a sentence to remind Voroshilov. “It seems now that he is the murderer who harmed Marshal Tukhachevsky.”

And just as they were weaving a web of charges against Yezhov, an attendant retreated from the great hall, came to the end of the corridor, looked around to make sure no one was there, and then quickly ran out of the Kremlin. The direction he was running was exactly the direction of Yezhov’s residence.