Come into my Parlour (31 page)

Gregory was suddenly interrupted by the shrilling of the telephone. With a murmured apology Voroshilov got up and walked over to his bureau to answer it. As he did so his back was turned towards them, and remained so for a few minutes while he carried on a low-voiced conversation. Gregory's suspicions had been lulled but not entirely satisfied by the one sip of his drink. Instinctively, on the principle that it was better to be safe than sorry, the moment he saw that the Marshal's attention was fully engaged he leaned forward and swiftly exchanged their drinks.

Kuporovitch stared at him in amazement, but he quickly motioned him to remain silent. The Russian took a sip of his own drink, tasted it with his tongue, then, evidently finding nothing wrong with it, shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, as though to say that his friend must be crazy.

Having finished his conversation Voroshilov rejoined them. As he sat down he picked up the glass that Gregory had just placed beside his chair and took a long drink from it. Gregory followed suit. He felt sure now that the liquor he had first been given was slightly sweeter. A sudden awful thought came to him. Suppose by exchanging their drinks he had poisoned the Marshal? If he had they would soon find themselves in a most ghastly mess. Still, even that was better than being poisoned himself. In any case the next ten minutes now looked like being as acutely anxious as any that he had ever experienced. He could only pray to all his gods that he had been imagining things.

“You were saying …” prompted Voroshilov, as he set down his glass.

“Oh, yes.” Gregory recalled himself with a start to the business in hand. “I was saying that the result of the heavy casualties this summer and the increased bombing of German towns has largely nullified the effect of Hitler's more recent victories, so that the German people are neither more nor less conditioned to accept an anti-Nazi
Putsch
than they were when Stefan and I left Kandalaksha. In short, that a considerable amount of working up is still required before they can be brought to a state of mind satisfactory to our purpose.”

“You still have, though, a reliable nucleus that would be prepared to act when the time is ripe?” enquired the Marshal.

“Certainly,” Gregory nodded. “Most of the key personalities of the Great General Staff and about half the garrison commanders in Germany itself are definitely committed to give us their support; and the inner ring, which will be responsible for the actual
coup
, is so dispersed that no betrayal could affect more than a small number of its members.”

“All you need then is a period of adversity which will bring discredit on the Nazi régime and dispose the people to accept its replacement by another?”

“Yes. Or, if that is not forthcoming, some critical phase of the war which could be turned to our advantage.”

The Marshal took another drink, but to Gregory's anxious gaze he showed no indication whatever of being adversely affected; in fact, he seemed, if anything, more alert and more lively than before, as he said:

“Explain that please. I do not quite understand you.”

Kuporovitch repeated what had been said in Russian, and Gregory added: “For example, if the Soviet armies suddenly stood firm, that would produce the state of tension and uncertainty I have in mind. The German nation has become so accustomed to victory that any serious check would come as a great shock to the people. If your armies dug their toes in and every attempt at a break-through was frustrated it would argue an enormous hidden reserve of power in the Soviets upon which the Nazis had not reckoned. Once there emerges any real doubt about Germany's ability to win hands down it would spread with great rapidity and its results might be catastrophic. The shock of the very idea that the war might finally end in Germany's defeat would be swiftly followed by a period of acute anxiety. If the Nazis were then replaced by a Government favouring an immediate peace by arbitration a feeling of heartfelt relief would be certain to sweep the country.”

“The entry of the United States into the war on our side might also have that effect?”

“It might, Marshal, and it certainly looks now as if the Americans mean to come in before the year is out; but I doubt if that would have any immediate influence on the situation. It would take two years at least for them to train and equip an army of sufficient size to make a successful landing on the continent.”

“You mean that only a major check or defeat of the German Army would bring about the loss of confidence in the Nazi Government that you require?”

“Yes, and it seems to me that for a long time to come Russia is the only country capable of inflicting such a check.”

For some minutes they talked on quietly reviewing the world situation. Here and there Kuporovitch put in a sentence in Russian, making clear to the Marshal something that Gregory had said; and all the time Gregory, concealing his uneasiness, watched him like a lynx, not knowing exactly what to expect, but fearing some change of expression or manner which might indicate that he was right in his belief that something had been put into the drink.

After a little he became aware that there was a change, but it was not of the kind that he had vaguely feared. When they had arrived the Marshal, although evidently in excellent health, had appeared a little tired from the strain of command and the long hours he worked, but now he had become much more animated. He was talking more freely, laughing at frequent intervals and evidently giving his views with complete candour on every subject that arose.

Having reviewed the war fronts right round from Norway, through the Mediterranean to Persia, they came back to Russia and, feeling that the time had come to take the plunge, Gregory said:

“My purpose in making this long journey and seeking this interview with you, Marshal, is to see if we cannot agree on an appropriate date for my friends inside Germany to strike. Naturally, the
coup
itself will need very careful preparation and that will take a little time. On the other hand, it would be highly dangerous to set the wheels in motion too early. Do you feel that, without disclosing more of Russia's strategy than you would wish to do, you can give me some idea of her prospects?”

“At present we are faced with many difficulties,” the Marshal admitted frankly. “But these will be overcome. It would be of great assistance to us if a Second Front could be opened sooner than you consider possible, but even if it is never opened at all the Soviets will defeat Germany. About that I have not one shadow of doubt.”

“May I ask upon what you base this complete confidence?”

“For one thing, on our man-power. Germany is a nation of eighty million people; even with her satellites Finland, Hungary and Rumania the total is only one hundred and thirty millions, whereas our population is over two hundred million.”

“You will forgive me remarking that numbers alone count for little in modern war. Russia's great reserves of man-power will be of no appreciable value to her unless she can train them and put them in the held with the most up-to-date weapons.”

“The Soviet arms factories have already surpassed their planned production.”

“But is that enough? Can they produce nearly double the output of the German factories; as that is what they will need to do if your preponderance of man-power is to be made fully effective?”

Again the Marshal answered with complete frankness. “No, they cannot. But America will help us under a Lease-Lend arrangement similar to that which she has with Britain, and we also have hopes that the British themselves will send us large quantities of tanks, lorries and aircraft.”

“Even so, there is one thing you seem to have left out of your calculations. In addition to her satellites Germany also now controls Czechoslovakia, Norway, Holland, Belgium, Yugoslavia, Greece, Poland, and more than half of France. In consequence she now has at her disposal a huge reservoir of slave labour. This can be used not only in war factories but in mines, agriculture, transport and innumerable other employments on the Home Front which would otherwise have to be filled by Germans. In Russia, on the other hand, every single thing, not only for the war effort but also to keep the country going, must be done by your own people. The inevitable result is that Germany can afford to draft a far higher percentage of her man-power into her armed forces than you can.”

Voroshilov laughed. “But my dear
Herr Baron
, your statement shows how little you Germans really know about the Soviet Army. It is organised on lines completely different from that of any other state. Listen, and I will tell you about it.”

Gregory needed no enjoinder to do so. He could hardly believe it himself, but the vital information which he had always thought would be so difficult to obtain was now being handed to him on a plate. With vivid, enthusiastic gestures Voroshilov began to describe the general layout of the great force in the creating of which he had played such a decisive part.

“Our Army,” he said, “is composed of three stratas. First, there are the Shock Troops. These form an army in themselves—an army far larger than those maintained in peacetime by Britain and the
United States put together. Every man in it is a regular who has done at least four years' service. They are highly paid, extremely well disciplined, trained to perfection and armed with every weapon that science has so far devised. Even Germany cannot put better troops in the field, and their artillery is unquestionably the finest in the world.

“The second strata consists of Holding Troops. These form the great bulk of our Army. They are regulars with some training, or reservists. Their equipment is of a good modern standard and they are capable of giving battle to the average troops of any European power. In many instances they have already proved their ability to launch successful local attacks and, generally speaking, they put up a good tough resistance when they are on the defensive, which is their main rôle at the present time.

“The third strata consists of our new intakes—the huge volume of raw material that in most cases has had no military training: but I will speak of these in a moment.”

Voroshilov finished the rest of his drink and, his face now flushed a little, went on: “All other armies integrate their forces. A few crack divisions are pushed in cheek by jowl with less reliable ones for the launching of each new offensive, or, if a break-through is threatened, they are brought up to stiffen resistance. But we have evolved an entirely different principle of warfare. Our second strata alone is responsible for manning the entire front, whether we are advancing or falling back. The first strata is used entirely as an army of manœuvre and is always kept at the Commander-in-Chief's disposal. It is never split up, and bits of it used to stop gaps or to form a spearhead for a local offensive. It works intact as an Army Group itself and must be used only for the launching of a major strategic offensive or for the defence of some vital point which it would be disastrous to sacrifice.”

“Has it been used yet?” Gregory asked boldly.

“Only once. At the beginning of this month it was considered necessary to delay the German advance on our central front, so it was placed under Timoshenko. In the fighting round Smolensk and Gomel it fully justified the confidence we had placed in it. Not only did it carry out its mission, but it smashed General Guderain's Panzer army—the finest troops that the Germans could send against it—and recaptured a great area of territory. It tore a great gap in the German line and could have gone clean through, but its flanks would have been exposed then; so, having done what was required, it was recalled and placed in reserve again. But you see the immense advantage of this new system. While other armies fritter away their best troops by using them all the time, just because they are the best, we use ours only for some special effort which is of real importance to us.”

“Indeed I do,” Gregory agreed, as he thought to himself that this alone was proof enough that Russia, far from being on the verge of defeat, as was generally believed in London, still had many months, if not years, of fight left in her.

“You were going to tell me,” he prompted, “about your intakes.”

“Oh, yes. We were speaking just now of the man-power question. Here, again, the Soviet principle differs from that of all other modern armies. I came to the conclusion a long time ago that other nations had lost all sense of proportion in the numbers of troops they were allocating to non-combatant duties. In the wars of the Revolution every man was as good as a bayonet or a sabre, but the organisation of the armies of the western Powers has now become so complicated that it takes twenty men to keep one soldier in the field. The Red Army was also developing along those lines, so I eliminated practically the whole of the administrative and supply services.”

“But Marshal!” Gregory almost gasped. “How could you possibly run a modern war machine without them?”

For some little time Voroshilov had been speaking so fast that he had difficulty in finding German words to express himself, and occasionally he broke into Russian, but Kuporovitch understood all he said and frequently put in a quick word so that Gregory could follow his meaning.

“It is quite simple,” the Marshal smiled. “The life of every man in Russia belongs to the Soviets. When a man is called up he says good-bye to his family and, although they may hope to see him again one day, they do not expect to do so. It is better both for them and for him as a soldier that all such ties should be forgotten. Therefore, no parcels are sent and no letters are exchanged. We have no army postal service in the Soviet Union.

“Again, pay is redundant—at least in the accepted sense of a regular remuneration. Soldiers do not need money while they are fighting. All commanders are simply issued from time to time with funds in bulk, and when a formation is resting, or in some area where money can buy recreation, they are responsible for distributing lump sums to their various units. But no books are kept, so we are not burdened with a Pay Department.