Peace with Siberia, if he could get even that, would give him but one army to dispose of, his 8th still holding out at Omsk. What he really needed now were the troops of his 1st, 2nd and 6th Armies. With those he could stop the Germans now, and force Hitler to come begging for oil again—but they were all on the upper Volga. So he sent messages to Leningrad, offering an extended truce, demilitarization of the Volga, and the possibility of further concessions for peace
With Doctorov still dickering with the Siberians, Volkov sent a new Ambassador, the hard-chinned Viktor Ivanov, who had obtained permission to fly by airship to Leningrad. There was no way Volkov would ever go himself, nor would Kirov come to him, so Ivanov would have to do.
A tall, straight backed man who was a former high ranking official in Volkov’s intelligence network, Ivanov promised to get the best possible bargain he could. This time the meeting would not be held in a packinghouse, but in the impressive 580-meter expanse of the General Staff building in Leningrad. Sergei Kirov would receive the Ambassador while sitting at his desk, the broad window behind him offering a view of the Triumphal Arch on the Palace Square, where a full regiment of the Palace Guard were staged on parade, complete with a ceremonial band. Behind Kirov, the steadfast figure of Berzin was standing at attention, a man Ivanov knew only too well, for the two men had been rivals in the intelligence business in the past.
Kirov said nothing as the Ambassador was shown in, nor did he rise to shake the other man’s hand. Instead, Berzin merely pointed to the solitary chair before Kirov’s desk, some three meters from the desk itself, indicating that Ivanov should sit. It created the spectacle of power receiving a beggar off the street, which was just what Kirov intended.
Ivanov sat, placing his briefcase on the floor by the chair, and regarded his situation with no small amount of inner displeasure. Theater, he knew. It was all part of the game that would now begin. I am made to sit here in the center of the chess board like that first lonesome pawn after white plays out to King 4. Usually I might meet with just another Ambassador, another pawn like myself, but those are two heavy pieces staring at me from the other side of that desk. How to begin a conversation between two nations that have not had any real diplomatic relations for over twenty years?
Chapter 9
He cleared his throat. “Mister General Secretary… Director…” he also paid his respects to Berzin with a knowing nod of his head.
“You wear the years well, Ivanov,” said Berzin.
“As do you, and that is saying a lot considering how hard those years have been for both our nations.”
“Hard years because we made them so,” said Berzin. “What prompts you to make this request for a meeting? Might it be the little flare-up in the Caucasus?”
“Of course,” said Ivanov, not mincing words. “We’ve just been bitten by the Wolf, and that is something you know of quite well.”
“Oh, yes, we know of it. The citizens of Kiev, and Minsk, and Vilnus, Kharkov, Kirov, Bryansk, Orel, and even Moscow all know so very much about it as well.” He let that sink in, silence being his friend for the moment, and Ivanov was respectful enough to hold his tongue. Then Sergei Kirov spoke for the first time.
“What is it you want, Mister Ambassador? Let me guess—you want what you were unwilling to give us for the last twenty years, and all because you wanted other things we have as well—Volgograd, Rostov, and god only knows what else. You also wanted the Kuban, and to try and get these things, you promised to feed the Wolf. He was the one who would get them for you—things you could never take for yourself—but now it seems that little plan has gone awry.”
“It has.” Again, Ivanov would not quibble. Everything Kirov had just said was true, so why pretend otherwise? “We both made a bargain with the Wolf,” he said. “Now each of us feels his bite.”
“Yes, and while you but lick one small drop of blood from your finger, a tiny wound suffered in but a week of fighting, we have lost an arm and both legs—a million dead men, cities razed and burned, our cropland devastated, factories destroyed, our navy at the bottom of the Black Sea. But still we fight on, and with no help from Orenburg, because you chose to side with our enemy, which is something the Rodina can never forget or forgive. You chose to stand with the Wolf, and stood by while it wrested the children of this nation from their mother’s arms and devoured them. Am I being too dramatic here, or have I made my point?”
“Mister General Secretary, I cannot undo what has happened in the past. I can only look to what lies ahead, and so now I will ask you to do the same, as hard as it may be—as unjust as it is. But if we are ever to have peace, then that is what we must both do.”
“Peace?” said Kirov looking at Berzin. “That is what you want now, is it? He want’s peace, Berzin. Imagine that.”
“After over twenty years of civil war,” said Berzin.
“Yes,” said Kirov, “and even though we have suffered greatly, what has Volkov won in that war? He has taken Samara, but only because it would have cost us too many divisions to prevent that. He has tried to cross the Volga and take the great city named for that river seven times, and only now succeeds because of German assistance. So now he can sit there in the rubble and claim his prize at last. He wanted the Kuban, and look who has it now.” Kirov smiled. “Why would I give even the slightest consideration to a truce with Orenburg, let alone anything approaching an alliance?”
“Because you need us,” said Ivanov flatly. “Because you need the six Armies that watch us on the Volga.”
“Yes,” said Kirov, “just as we needed the four we saw die in the Kuban.”
“They were doomed the day the Germans reached the Don,” said Ivanov. “But consider now what you could do with those other six armies if we were to demilitarize the Volga.”
“I am still considering what I could have done with the men we just lost,” Kirov said sharply. “Don’t think to sit there and tell me this was all the German’s doing. Orenburg was complicit the entire duration of that campaign, and all to protect your precious oil fields at Maykop. If Germany had been more accommodating, would we be even having this conversation? I think not.”
“Possibly,” said Ivanov, “but Germany has betrayed us. That much is clear. Make peace with us now and we will make amends. We will join your struggle, and with the full might of all our forces in the field. The Germans want the oil of the Caucasus, but with the three armies we have on the Volga, we could stop them, and with the six armies you have there you could turn and smash your way all the way to the Dnieper. We would cut off their entire Army Group South and destroy it!”
“My….” Kirov smiled. “Such ambitions. Of course, it would be Soviet and Siberian troops doing most of the fighting again—Soviet tanks, Soviet blood. What could you possibly give us in return for the price we have already paid in this war?”
“To begin that discussion, Samara. We are prepared to pull back our forces there, and turn over the city as a goodwill gesture.”
“Samara…. You would give us one city in return for all the others we’ve lost? Will you give us back Volgograd? I think not, for there is little there to give but complete devastation.”