“Something simply isn’t working here… it doesn’t make sense… if… and I stress if… the Amerikanski are being replaced in the front line by Germans, that means either our plan is working or they are getting ready for another attack. Yet we have reports of the gathering of huge forces in the Pacific… Amerikanski in the main… to attack our eastern coast… it doesn’t make sense.”
“No, Comrade.”
She pointed at a display on the wall that listed their known information about Persia.
“And Montgomery and this huge convoy with British soldiers, plus whatever else, are about to come together to threaten our southern borders… and yet the British and their Dominion forces have adopted a passive stance, the same as the Amerikanski… are the Germans taking over from the British too?”
“We have no suggestion of that, Comrade.”
“We had no suggestion of that… and maybe we simply weren’t looking properly… find out,” and she gestured to the phone.
Whilst Poboshkin made a swift telephone call, she rapped her knuckles on the table to attract the other man’s attention.
“Comrade Rufin, we need some liquid assistance in the thinking process, if you please.”
Within two minutes, a large bottle of Asbach had arrived and its contents were already burning three throats.
“If the British are staying in place, it might suggest that the manpower reserve they created from their POWs has been directed into reinforcing their European fortunes… if not, then maybe the available soldiers are those seen in this convoy.”
“I understand, comrade… but you’re suggesting we’ve fallen for a huge maskirovka… the Pacific… Persia… all created to disguise the weakness of our enemy?”
“If the green toads are replacing the Amerikanski, and there is no hint of any renewed attack, then we can only assume that the leadership’s plan to weaken them has reaped its reward… and then it becomes easier to assume that the Pacific movement is a maskirovka.”
The room echoed to solid knocking and opened to allow Pinkerova to bring the information that Poboshkin had requested.
He offered the folder to Nazarbayeva, but she held her hand up, preferring to keep her own thought pattern going strong.
“English and German troops arriving in Denmark… nothing unusual… possibly a second armoured brigade added to their 6th Division in Northern Italy… possibly also the reconstitution of their 8th Armoured Division in Holland… the report suggests the amalgamation of two existing brigades…”
“Nothing to suggest matters either way then, Comrade?”
Poboshkin’s eyes had narrowed, and his pursed lips told a different story.
“Comrade Pinkerova, bring me the file on enemy formations destroyed since August 45. Thank you.”
Nazarbayeva’s eyebrow raised, and her aide placed a pencil around three names on the report he had been reading.
“And why they are a problem?”
The requested file arrived and Poboshkin quickly found what he was looking for.
“47th is brand new. Totally brand new.”
He returned to checking the sheet.
“The 15th was utterly destroyed in the early days, mainly in and around Lübeck.”
He passed the report over.
“The 51st Division was decimated in and around Hamburg, reinforced, and again totally gutted during the battles south of Bremen, especially at Barnstorf and Diepholz.”
Nazarbayeva gestured at Rufin, encouraging him to refill the glasses, adding Pinkerova to the drinking circle.
“5th Division is back in the line… relieving 38th Division… but…”
He rifled through a sheaf of paperwork, his memory screaming something vital at him, something he couldn’t quite hear… couldn’t quite understand… and then he found the paper and it clicked into place.
“5th Division was worn down badly by our forces, and our intelligence suggested it would be broken up to flesh out other divisions. This has been a British practice. And yet… 5th Division is back in the line… and covers the same area as the 38th Division, a unit that was at relatively full strength, which…”
“…Which suggests that the 5th is also… or might suggest that there is an opportunity for our ground forces if it isn’t… but I think not.”
Nazarbayeva stood and held out her glass.
“Finish your brandy, Comrades. No one leaves this building until I have the answers to these questions.”
She knocked back the final dregs of the Asbach and slammed the glass on the table.
“One… estimated strength of individual British formations now, compared to lowest point… plus, say November and March for most.”
She moved on quickly.
“Two… all reports on British and Dominion units to be reviewed… looking at physical strengths, reinforcements, time out of the line, all the factors that will help us here.”
Poboshkin was taking notes and added a couple of extra specifics.
“Three…estimated strength of the new Germanski Army… POW numbers… break it down into Italy and the main force… estimated numbers elsewhere, of course. I want to know exactly what we do know… and what we don’t know. Start on the basis of underestimation, remove such ‘estimates’ and start with fact, fact, fact.’
She smacked her palm on the desk three times to emphasise her words.
“The Fascists have put one over on us, I’m convinced of it.”
Poboshkin shifted uncomfortably, knowing he had played a major part in any mistakes.
Rufin shifted uncomfortably, without words reminding Nazarbayeva that there was an outstanding matter.
“Four, contact Moscow for any reports on home political pressure on the military of our enemy… indications of a lack of resilience, especially the Amerikanski.”
“Five… five… reports on Allied offensive activity in the Pacific. Simple enough.
The telephone rang.
“Nazarbayeva.”
She listened.
“No, thank you, Comrade Leytenant. Tell my driver I’ll be staying here tonight.”
Replacing the receiver, she paused for effect.
“Six… I’ll attend to six personally, Comrades.”
Poboshkin raised an eyebrow, seeking information.
“Through my personal contacts, Comrade Polkovnik.”
He understood fully.
“Comrade Rufin, what else do you have, before we set to this task?”
“The Germans, Comrade Mayor General. It’s a stupid little report of no consequence… or so it seems… but I think it might help you in this moment.”
She examined the paperwork and smiled.
“Medals?”
“Yes, Comrade Mayor General. These four firms produced medals for the Nazi pigs and, it seems, are about to do so for the new Germanski government.”
“So I see… but what exactly am I seeing?”
“I quickly checked the register of destroyed German infrastructure, and those four are the only facilities that survived intact enough to start any sort of production, except for some still within our lines.”
“So these four are the only German firms available to make their medals?”
“Yes, Comrade Mayor General.”
“I see. Continue, Comrade.”
“That message has been transposed from the original German to Russian.”
“Yes?”
“Here is the original German report.”
She compared the two quickly, not absorbing the content.
“Fine… my German’s a little rusty, but that seems to be accurate.”
“No, Comrade Mayor General, it isn’t. Comrade Pinkerova is our language specialist.”
He passed another two pieces of paper to the woman officer, copies of the original documents, but held up a hand to stop her proceeding, and turned to Pinkerova
“Do you agree with the additional notations, Comrade?”