“Example please.”
“One of those we have highlighted is the arrival of a large number of troops by ship, probably from Amerika. It had been assumed that they were returning German prisoners, and that they would take time to integrate and get ready for combat. The information we had at the time supported that view, Comrade General.”
Poboshkin flicked through his notebook.
“We had a report from 1st Red Banner Front that suggested one of its prisoners was from that convoy. He was part of a German unit fully equipped with Amerikanski equipment. Review of our information seems to suggest that from arrival to capture, the German prisoner was in Europe for less than six days. The report was flawed, so I sent off for the medical examination file on the prisoner.”
The notebook rustled as he found what he was looking for.
“That report came in last night, and detailed a medical examination of five German soldiers taken prisoner by 1st Red Banner on that date, and at three separate locations. I explored that further and established that they came from three different formations, all equipped with Amerikanski weapons.”
Nazarbayeva tossed her pear core at the bin, the metallic ring punctuating Poboshkin’s words.
“The physical health of the soldiers was exceptional… I use the physician’s word, Comrade General… exceptional. Well fed, well developed, and in the peak of health.”
“So that would suggest that the Germanski were trained and converted outside of Europe, and arrived combat-ready.”
“Yes, Comrade General.”
“Another example please, Andrey.”
“At least three camps that we had identified as being rehabilitation centres for Germanski soldiers were, in fact, military training sites. Our loss of assets on the ground damaged our understanding, Comrade General.”
Her silence drew him on.
“It seems likely that there has been some confusion in identifying troop nationalities… uniform… weapons… vehicles… the normal initial pointers are all confused as it appears the Amerikanski have handed over a lot of equipment, much more than the NKVD and our own reports indicated.”
She could only smile at Poboshkin’s weak attempt to fend off some of the inevitable blame that would fall on GRU-Europe.
“Could we have done better, Andrey?”
He needed little time to think.
“Yes, Comrade General… most certainly we could have done better… but our efforts and interpretations were sound at the time, all save one distinct problem that we have, unfortunately, repeated.”
She drained her tea and licked her lips slowly, knowing what her man was about to say.
Nazarbayeva said it for him.
“We have underestimated the Germanski powers of resilience again, haven’t we?”
Poboshkin nodded gently, as if not saying it made the error less weighty.
They sat in silence, sharing their thoughts only with themselves, avoiding eye contact as both minds sought out the bottom line.
Nazarbayeva spoke first.
“Well, the responsibility is mine, and mine alone. Make twenty copies of that report. Have them ready for twelve. I’ll decide what I’m doing by then. Thank you, Andrey… and thank the staff from me. I’ll speak to them shortly, but for now, I have other things to attend to. Leave me that,” she grabbed her copy of the report, “And get things moving straight away. Thank you, Comrade.”
Poboshkin took his leave and closed the door.
Nazarbayeva picked up the phone, hesitating momentarily as she decided whom to call first.
She elected the practical approach, not the political skin-saving one, and spoke into the receiver in reply to the Communications officer’s question.
“Get me Marshal Vasilevsky urgently.”
Her previous dealings with Marshal Vasilevsky had been pleasant and professional, her most recent conversation had been less so, and she didn’t blame the harassed commander of the Red Banner Forces of Soviet Europe one little bit.
To be disturbed on his rest day with the news that the German field Army was probably twice its reported size was something guaranteed to wreck his day, and he vented his spleen on the hapless GRU officer.
Regaining control, Vasilevsky apologised, and made notes from Nazarbayeva’s reading of the report.
The call ended in strained fashion.
Her next call was to Stalin himself, and went even worse.
The General Secretary ranted and raved down the line, so much so that Nazarbayeva had to hold the receiver from her ear to prevent lasting damage.
She was ordered back to Moscow immediately, and left in no doubt that her career, probably life, was in the balance.
Within seven minutes of ending the call, her recently appointed deputy, Major General Nikita Olofurov, was in her quarters, and was given verbal orders to take her place until further notice.
Nazarbayeva didn’t care for Olofurov for a number of reasons.
His awful bad breath had been the first, that he was Beria’s man was the last, knowledge for which she was indebted to Kaganovich, the deputy head of the NKVD, who had revealed the true nature of the man’s appointment.
Within another minute, Lieutenant General Dustov, the NKVD liaison officer with the Red Banner Headquarters, presented himself in her quarters, informing her that he had been expressly charged with placing her on the next flight to Moscow… and more.
Dustov had only just returned to duty following wounds sustained during the Allied Heracles mission against Nordhausen.
However, although he felt distinctly uncomfortable with his orders, and despite his personal admiration for Nazarbayeva, he intended to carry them out to the letter, a fact attested to by the two SMG equipped soldiers at his back.
Nazarbayeva had found time to quickly dress in her full uniform, but found time for little else, as Dustov was insistent that they leave for the airfield immediately.
Poboshkin arrived with the requested copies of the report and placed them in her briefcase.
“Are there any orders, Comrade Mayor General?”
Olofurov went to speak, but realised that the aide was addressing Nazarbayeva.
She smiled at her man’s display of loyalty.
“None, thank you, Comrade Polkovnik, except to ensure the staff keep working. Thank you, Andrey.”
Her use of his name made his chest swell with pride, as it was a deliberate public airing of her own loyalty to her aide.
Dustov broke the moment unceremoniously.
“I have orders for you too, Polkovnik Poboshkin. You are to accompany us to Moscow… immediately.”
Poboshkin exchanged a confused look with his commander, before gaining control of himself.
With all the major players now in place, Dustov discharged his duty… reluctantly.
“General Nazarbayeva… Polkovnik Poboshkin… by order of Marshal Beria, commander of the NKVD, I arrest you both on suspicion of treason against the State, collusion with the enemy, and military incompetence. Hand over your weapons immediately.”
He nodded to his two soldiers, who moved forward to accept the officer’s side arms.
“I am instructed by Marshal Beria to shoot both of you on the slightest sign of non-compliance with my instructions.”
Without any further instruction, another two NKVD soldiers appeared and seized the two pistols, plus Nazarbayeva’s briefcase, as ordered by Dustov.
“Now, with regret, Comrade Mayor General. If you please.”
He indicated the door, the party marched off, moving a few steps closer to Moscow.
“Kaganovich.”
The deputy head of the NKVD as less than happy, the sounds of two giggling women reaching his ears from the bedroom, where he had planned to spend the day enjoying their charms.