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“So, Comrade Polkovnik, what did Marshal Zhukov see in this latest development?”

Momentarily thrown by the question, Nazarbayeva realized that the NKVD chief probably knew only too well what had been said the day before, when she had briefed Zhukov and Malinin.

“Comrade Marshal, I believe that the Commander of the Red Army in Europe sees this as a big opportunity, provided the supply situation is resolved.”

Tatiana relayed the official position, assuming that Beria had a report on everything that had been said.

In the deeper recesses of her mind, a voice she recognised as her own asked a simple question.

‘Have you just made an error, Chekist?’

“So, Marshal Zhukov believes that these Spanish troops might, in the main, be more vulnerable, and therefore the way into Southern France could be opened more easily than planned.”

The voice inside laughed.

‘Yes, you have, you arrogant little prick!’

“Yes, Comrade Marshal, that is precisely what Marshal Zhukov believes.”

This was the truth, as Beria had quoted the conversation word for word.

Stalin came back into the discussion.

“That is a matter for another time, Comrade Polkovnik. Proceed.”

Nazarbayeva’s sharp mind suddenly sensed the danger of another part of the conversation and acted swiftly, thinking only to reduce the danger to Zhukov.

“Comrade General Secretary, the Allies have been particularly successful in integrating their returned prisoners of war back into their combat forces, bolstering their numbers across the board, replacing losses in existing units, as well as creating whole new divisions and squadrons, all of which consist of men with skills and experience. My sources inform me, unequivocally, that these units are all well motivated and the equal of the existing formations.”

Stalin and Beria had seen the verbatim record of the conversation, and recalled what Zhukov’s response had been to that information.

“We have similar assets that are not taken advantage of, and the Motherland’s forces are suffering as a result.”

The penalization of those taken prisoner was a basic tenet of the way Stalin conducted the war, and to criticize it was to commit suicide.

More than one in the room could see a mental picture of Nazarbayeva swinging from a rope before the day’s end.

“GRU understands the need to pursue sanctions against those who were weak and permitted themselves to be captured, depriving the Motherland of their skills at a time of great need. There can be no suggestion of permitting these ‘people’ to retain the rights of citizenship, such as those who have fought throughout, enjoy.”

In the minds of those present, the hangman paused in his work, curious to hear more.

“Many of these soldiers are unfit, the deprivations of German captivity too much, and yet they can be of use.”

The hangman relaxed, and set the rope aside, just for the moment.

“Supply officers already have placed the repatriation of these men at the lowest possible priority, which means that the majority still remain in or close to the combat zone.”

Both Beria and Stalin knew of Zhukov’s comments on that score.

“GRU believes that those who are unfit for combat could serve a purpose, and even release some normal troops to other duties. Those fit enough to serve could be formed into special units, established without frills or favours, and given over to the harshest tasks, such as our existing shtrafbats.”

The hangman looked pensive.

Stalin spoke in a very measured fashion.

“Comrade Nazarbayeva, it is accepted that those soldiers of the Red Army that permitted themselves to be taken prisoner are not afforded the status of soldier, and are lost in the eyes of the state. This you understand?”

“Yes, Comrade General Secretary, this is understood.”

“And yet, you presume to stand in front of this group and put forward a recommendation that undermines that which is wholly accepted by the people and the state?”

The hangman was back preparing his noose.

“Comrade General Secretary, if I may. I have lost two sons to the great patriotic enterprise on which the Motherland has presently embarked. As a mother, and as a soldier, the thought that some others, who are quite capable of serving the Motherland, are excluded from risk, because they have failed before, is curious to say the least.”

The hangman smiled, shook his head, and advanced with the noose ready.

There was no sound from the assembly.

Nazarbayeva continued.

“Comrades, as a mother and a soldier, I would welcome the possibility that these failures could be offered a chance of redemption, placing them open to the same risks faced by my remaining sons, and my husband, rather than some warm and cosy Gulag in the heart of the Motherland.”

Silence.

The hangman disappeared instantly, and was replaced by silent debate, as each man looked again at the issue.

‘We can’t let this happen.’

‘She has a point.’

‘We need the manpower.’

‘Why not let the Allies shoot the bastards for us?’

‘This will undermine our authority.’

‘Why not?’

‘Why can we not do this?’

Despite the result of their own thought processes, everyone took their cue from Stalin.

“Comrade Polkovnik, you understand the effect that this reversal could have upon the credibility of the State, and the effectiveness of the Red Army?”

“Comrade General Secretary, I understand that the Red Army, Air Force and Navy are exhibiting the highest courage and skill in beating the Western Allies. I also understand that will not continue unless solutions are found. GRU recommends this as one solution to one problem. Clearly, this is a momentous decision, and one that rightfully belongs with this present company. I can only place the information before you all, and hope that I have done enough to permit you to make a properly informed judgment.”

Stalin considered his response carefully, sparing a look at his senior men, reading a raised eyebrow here, a furrowed brow there.

“Quite so, Comrade Polkovnik. You have given us your briefing, and we will consider its contents. Have you concluded your briefing?”

“Yes, Comrade General Secretary.”

“Thank you, Comrade Polkovnik. I see no need to detain you further.”

1203 hrs, Friday, 28th September 1945, Headquarters, Red Banner Forces of Europe, Kohnstein, Nordhausen, Germany.

“Read that again. Did I misunderstand?”

Malinin, as taken aback as Zhukov, reread the passage aloud.

It was the same second time around.

“Mudaks!”

Malinin grinned at his superior’s choice expression.

“How long before we can implement this? I’m thinking immediately for integrating, say four days for stand alone units, as a minimum.”

“I would agree up to a point, Comrade Marshal, but we must remember the poor physical state of some of these men.”

“Yes, yes, I know.”

The order before them removed the objections to utilizing the released prisoners of the German War, but specified their lack of privileges and status, and encouraged Zhukov to place them at the points of highest danger.

Nonetheless, the Red Army and Air Force had just been handed a new reserve from which to cherry pick the best and most qualified men.

More to the point, the document granted Zhukov full authority to integrate the prisoners as he saw fit, ensuring the best possible advantage to the Red Army.

The previous evening, Nazarbayeva had relayed the content of her meeting with the GKO, and passed on the knowledge she had gained from Beria’s mistake.