“All of it?”
“All of it.”
“Job tvoju mat!”
Vasilevsky would normally have smiled at the woman’s outburst, but there was precious little for the commander in chief of a crippled and immobilised army to laugh about.
He turned to Tarasov and rattled off some requirements.
‘Fuel state of operational armies and fronts.’
‘Fuel reserve held locally by each front.’
‘Fuel marked as ‘in transit’ and not allocated.’
‘STAVKA fuel reserve.’
‘Fuel awaiting delivery to RBFSE.’
‘Fuel consumption minimums for the army.’
‘Anticipated fuel available from the Motherland over the next two weeks.’
Nazarbayeva watched as Malinin made some rough notes, summoning figures from the deeper recesses of his mind.
Tarasov departed at speed to seek out the information his commander in chief required, save the existing fuel stocks, which Malinin relayed from his notes.
“Comrade Marshal, from memory I believe that 1st Baltic last held 0.6 stocks at local level, 1st Red Banner 0.3, 2nd 0.6, 3rd 0.7, 1st Southern 0.8, and 1st Alpine was 1.2. All front reserves were at 0.5 as of yesterday evening.”
Vasilevsky nodded, knowing that Malinin’s recollections were probably good enough, but that a military front with a stock of 0.3 refills of its vehicles was as close to unable to properly manoeuvre as it could get under present circumstances.
“And of course, Comrade Marshal, that does not account for the inevitable losses that will come from enemy activity.”
“You bring joy, as ever, Comrade Malinin. STAVKA reserve… we must have some of that released.”
Nazarbayeva, horrified that Vasilevsky did not know what she knew, had her own bad news to add.
“Comrade Marshal, I can tell you that STAVKA reserve is virtually non-existent.”
Vasilevsky closed his eyes, hoping that he had misheard the shocking news, but could not avoid asking the question.
“Explain please, Comrade Nazarbayeva.”
“I’ve made an error, Comrade Marshal. I thought you would know? I am… err… aware that STAVKA fuel reserves have been denuded to enhance the supply to the front, in order to maintain reasonable supplies for your intended operations against the Amerikanski forces.”
He sensed there was more, and there was.
“I’m also informed, by a very reliable source, that projections for output from our new sources are very much at the optimistic end, and that we should expect some delays before any reasonable flow is achieved, and then it will most likely be no more than 60% of what has been claimed, at least for the foreseeable future.”
NKVD second in command Kaganovich had shared the gloomy revision with Nazarbayeva during their last meeting, amongst other snippets, confirming that a number of things were not as they seemed to be.
Vasilevsky stood up, and the room’s occupants automatically came to attention.
He walked to the situation map, a smaller version of the main operations room map, but as up to date.
The silence was broken by a cursory knock and the entrance of Tarasov.
“Comrade Marshal. These are a quick set of initial figures. I have my men working on a definite set, but these should be reasonably accurate enough for you to see the situation.”
The Marshal accepted the swiftly typed document, and consumed the information without comments on the typing errors.
No errors could hide the enormity of the problem that leapt off the page, and he expressed himself like a peasant.
“Job tvoju mat!”
He passed the paper to Malinin.
The normally calm and collected officer simply drained of colour and re-read the damming figures.
Vasilevsky stuck out his hand, seeking to look again, hoping to find some crumb of comfort.
There was none.
“I must travel to Moscow as soon as possible. Comrade Tarasov, I want firm figures within the hour. Comrade Nazarbayeva, I would ask you to accompany me with your own latest reports. Comrade Malinin, we must conserve our resources as much as possible. You know what needs to be done. I’ll leave it all in your capable hands.”
Malinin nodded, understanding the mission Vasilevsky was about to undertake.
“Comrade Marshal…”
“Mikhail Sergeyevich. The army is my responsibility. This mission is my responsibility. Your orders are to preserve the army until such time as we have the means to resume the fight properly.”
Nazarbayeva was shocked to hear the words, even though she had grasped the implications of the Allied bombing missions.
“Comrade Marshal… you mean that you will recommend abandoning our offensive against the Americans? Resorting to defence only?”
He looked at the GRU General with sad eyes.
“No, Comrade Nazarbayeva. I will recommend that, in order to preserve the Red Army, we find a political settlement at the earliest possible opportunity.”
Chapter 168 – THE UNTHINKABLE
When you have got an elephant by the hind legs and he is trying to run away, it’s best to let him run.
The meeting had been organised for the lavish surroundings of the Andreyevsky Hall, for no reason other than the normal meeting places were either being redecorated following a small but damaging fire, or were unsuited for the larger gathering that had been brought together for a purpose now defunct, as Vasilevsky’s arrival and insistence on a meeting with the GKO had made all other matters irrelevant.
The absence of the big metal detectors meant that each officer was subjected to the most thorough search, although the guard commander had ensured that a female officer was present to search Nazarbayeva, something she did with female reserve and genuine respect, all down to apologising for having to remove Nazarbayeva’s boots.
Inside the portion of the hall set aside for the briefing, two of the commander-in-chief’s staff, both volunteers who understood the risk, had set up the presentation, as directed by their leader.
Zhukov had been briefed within an hour of Vasilevsky’s arrival at Vnukovo airfield, but, by agreement, would remain silent.
Beria had been unable to supply Stalin with the precise nature of what had exercised Vasilevsky so much, and could only offer up the recent enemy air attacks of fuel depots, or the German penetration, as possible reasons for the hasty arrangements.
When the commander of the Red Banner Forces of Soviet Europe gave his presentation, he quickly covered the situation at the front, painting it as it was, without frills, and without exaggeration, something that all noticed, and something that all felt augured badly for what was to come.
“Comrades, whatever the situation we face at the front, and in our echelons, and rear lines… and even into the Rodina herself… the situation that presented itself to me yesterday has brought about the most terrible harm to the Motherland’s cause.”
He turned to the elderly Colonel and nodded.
The man, one useless arm tucked in his pocket, whisked the cover away and the ensemble were confronted by a map, simple in its notations.
Vasilevsky took a sly look at Zhukov, who remained impassive, but silently wished the condemned man well.