“So… we get to fight the goddamn war with people at home trying to drag the carpet out from under us or push us into precipitous action… without being able to use the Army as it should be used… either without the best weapon our experts can provide us with or encouraged by others wanting us to chuck it indiscriminately at anything that has a red star on it… and all as we try to work side by side with a bunch of Allies whose commitment to the cause wanes with each passing day, Britain and Germany excepted.”
“And the French, Brad. De Gaulle’s rock solid and, from what I understand, is for dropping the bombs all over the Russians tomorrow…”
Bradley interrupted.
“…but his people think differently, as we’ve seen in Marseilles and Bordeaux. They seem to be sick of the war and just happy to have their country back, whereas the Brigadier wants to put France back in the major league with a display of military muscle.”
Eisenhower looked around him before adding to Bradley’s comments.
“Which doesn’t seem to be happening. Apart from De Lattre’s army, there’s precious little else of substance available, despite the promise of another hundred thousand bayonets!”
Bradley snorted. His opinion of French promises and, for that matter, the French leader were well known.
He leant forward to catch Eisenhower’s softer delivery.
“Internal problems like the Bordeaux and Marseille riots have caused a lot of problems. Lots of lower level stuff happening throughout France as we know. French morale simply doesn’t seem to measure up to De Gaulle’s ambitions. Anyway, De Lattre’s boys are pretty good and have stayed in the line with the Germans for now…”
Eisenhower grinned.
“Not that I need to tell you that. Sorry, Brad.”
Bradley raised his coffee cup in mock salute and fired a rare shot of humour at his commander.
“Age gets us all in the end, General.”
Eisenhower laughed and joined him in sampling the excellent coffee.
“I’ll drink to that, Brad.”
“Don’t spill it now.”
“Damn Missourians… bane of my life.”
They laughed, the double meaning understood, and lapsed into comfortable silence.
Chapter 165 – THE BRITISH
--- Contrasting views ---
The stern hand of fate has scourged us to an elevation where we can see the great everlasting things that matter for a nation; the great peaks of honour we had forgotten – duty and patriotism, clad in glittering white; the great pinnacle of sacrifice pointing like a rugged finger to heaven.
Heroism on command, senseless violence, and all the loathsome nonsense that goes by the name of patriotism – how passionately I hate them!
Stalin’s face remained straight, emotionless, and showed no reaction to Beria’s words.
“Both her and her aide have been questioned regarding this clear failure. I confess, Comrade General Secretary that, as yet, they have not incriminated themselves… no more than the written evidence of their shocking failures,” he picked up the folder that Nazarbayeva had been given by Poboshkin the previous day, producing it like a barrister in court, as irrefutable evidence of guilt.
He placed it carefully back on the desk.
“Further questioning will bring more evidence, and I’m absolutely sure she was involved with the traitor Pekunin.”
Stalin reacted with studied calm.
“She killed the traitor Pekunin… and there has never been any proof of her involvement with whatever he was planning. You’ve looked and come up with an empty hand.”
Beria polished his glasses furiously.
“I will find it, Comrade General Secretary…” he corrected himself quickly… “If it’s there, I will drag it out of her.”
He emphasised ‘will’ very deliberately.
Stalin rose and tugged his tunic into place, making Beria automatically stand in his presence.
The dictator walked around the table and stood directly in front of his NKVD chairman.
“So, Lavrentiy, let me understand this matter clearly.”
He counted off the points on his fingers one by one.
“I ordered the woman back to Moscow to account for her actions… to me… to me… yet you decided to have her arrested in her own headquarters and escorted back to here… and then place her in your basement and interrogate her before I’ve had a chance to question her?”
“Yes, Comrade General Secretary.”
“Sit down.”
Stalin walked to the window and exercised silence as only he could; a silence full of menace and ill portents.
“Your obsession with her is well known.”
He turned and made an unexpected concession.
“We have both brought death to the door of her and her family… for the good of the Motherland, of course.”
Menace returned as quickly as it had faded.
“But you have arrested her for treason, and there is not a shred of evidence for that accusation… NOT ONE!”
He leant forward and spoke in a softer tone.
“Unless your own investigation was faulty… or you have kept something from me, Lavrentiy?”
“Just because there is no evidence yet, doesn’t mean I won’t find any, Comrade General Secretary. With her detention, I can now employ more tried and trusted methods which, I’m sure, will produce the results we need.”
“You need! Your obsession has overcome your reason, Lavrentiy.”
He resumed his seat and picked up the folder.
“These errors… these mistakes in understanding the full situation… you made the same errors… you did. Should I have you arrested, Comrade Beria?”
The polishing stopped in a heartbeat.
“We followed some of the GRU assumptions… that is regrettable, but there is no hint of any treachery from me or my department. We are loyal to you and the Motherland.”
Beria was flustered and it showed.
“They are the same thing, Comrade.”
“Yes… yes, indeed, Comrade General Secretary… indeed.”
“So, we have Nazarbayeva arrested and in the Lubyanka for doing exactly what your own service did, and your justification is an unproven… but fully investigated… suggestion… your suggestion… that she might have been linked to Pekunin’s treachery… the same Pekunin that she executed on my orders… and, in the process of discharging those orders, was badly wounded.”
Stalin lit his pipe as Beria’s normally sharp brain realised there had been an error and he had overplayed his hand.
Inside he cursed himself for acting too quickly, but he had sensed the opportunity to rid himself of the bitch once and for all.
‘Stick with the plan, you fool… just stick with the plan.’
“I understand your view, Comrade General Secretary, and I can assure you I acted in what I thought were the best interests of you and the Motherland. As ever, you have identified an error in my haste to be of service. I apologise.”
Stalin raised his eyebrows, for no other reason than to view the squirming of his NKVD chief more clearly.
He held out an unexpected olive branch.
“None the less, there have been failings within our intelligence services, have there not?”
“Yes, Comrade General Secretary, and I have already acted to deal with the ones in my department.”
“How?”
“Three of my senior officers have already confessed to failures in their systems and management of those under their command. They have been executed on my orders…” he took a quick look at the ticking clock, “…Seventy minutes ago, Comrade General Secretary.”