A few scholars have argued that Stalin was “tricked” into executing his military men.8 Reinhard Heydrich, of the Nazi Sicherheitsdienst (SD), would later boast of his clever work to decapitate the Red Army by manufacturing compromising materials, but such machinations, if they took place, were of no consequence.9 Soviet secret agents were tasked with spreading rumors in Europe of a pending military coup in Moscow, which other Soviet representatives abroad picked up and reported back to Moscow.10 Uritsky, chief of military intelligence (who had squeezed out Artuzov), informed Stalin and Voroshilov about chatter in German military circles in Berlin concerning political opposition among Red Army generals (which Uritsky discounted).11 Paris may have been the liveliest echo chamber: Beria (for whom the city was a long-standing field of operations) sent a relative of his wife there to spread rumors among Georgian Menshevik émigré circles of a pending military coup in Moscow. This, or another channel, prompted French minister of war Édouard Daladier to convey official word to the Soviet ambassador, who in turn sent a coded telegram to Moscow about a plot “by German circles to promote a coup d’état in the Soviet Union with the assistance of persons from the command staff of the Red Army.”12 Stalin—as the wily but doomed Artuzov surmised—was engaged in the very activity of which he accused the top army commanders: collaborating with foreign enemies.13 A “Tukhachevsky plot” did exist: Stalin’s, to smear and execute him.
Top military officers of any regime, in a war, could fall into enemy captivity or even choose to collaborate with foreign occupiers, and while it seems doubtful that Tukhachevsky or Iona Yakir or Jeronimas Uborevičius, the three most authoritative commanders in the Red Army, would have agreed to serve as puppets installed by foreign powers to control conquered Soviet territory, in theory they were among the very few who could have. Preemption of a replacement government could have been part of Stalin’s motivation in liquidating these men, but he went far, far beyond that aim: out of approximately 144,000 officers, some 33,000 were removed in 1937–38, and Stalin ordered or incited the irreversible arrest of around 9,500 and the execution of perhaps 7,000 of them.14 Of the 767 most high-ranking commanders, at least 503—and by some accounts more than 600—were executed or imprisoned. And among the highest rungs of 186 commanders of divisions, the carnage took 154, as well as 8 of the 9 admirals, 13 of the army’s 15 full generals, and 3 of its 5 marshals. What great power has ever executed 90 percent of its top military officers? What regime, in doing so, could expect to survive? An assault on such scale, and without regime collapse, could only happen within the structures of a one-party Leninist regime and, ultimately, the conspiratorial worldview and logic of Communism, a Manichean universe of two camps and pervasive enemies. The combination of Communist ways of thinking and political practice with Stalin’s demonic mind and political skill allowed for astonishing bloodletting.
BEDFELLOWS AND STRANGERS
Stalin’s attack on military and NKVD bigwigs consumed enormous time and energy but otherwise presented few difficulties for him. He could even make light of it all, as if peacocking his power, repeating such stories as the one about the professor who embarrassed an ignoramus Chekist for not knowing the author of Yevgeny Onegin (Alexander Pushkin, Russia’s national poet). The Chekist arrested the professor, then bragged, “I got the professor to confess! He wrote it!”15 During the week of February 10, 1937, the entire country commemorated the hundredth anniversary of the death of Pushkin. The poet underwent a metamorphosis from aristocratic serf owner who fathered a child by one serf and sold others to the army to a radical-democrat bard of the people. Pravda (February 10) declared that Pushkin was “entirely ours, entirely Soviet, insofar as it is Soviet power that has inherited all the best in our people.” Altogether, 13.4 million copies of Pushkin’s works were published in some form—said to be one of every five books in Soviet libraries.16 Before the year was out, the bitter joke would make the rounds that if Pushkin had been born in the twentieth century rather than the nineteenth, he still would have died in the year ’37.
That same month of February 1937, China’s Nationalist ruling group balked at approving the united front to which Chiang had agreed, proposing accommodation with the Japanese and suppression of the Communists, but Chiang overrode them, reconfirming the significance of Stalin’s refusal to allow him to be executed after he had been taken hostage. Chinese Communists, flush with foreign currency from both Nanking and Moscow, had purchased a fleet of American-made trucks, making them much more mobile, and did not take well to a renewed alliance with the generalissimo.17 The party leadership tried to quell the sentiment with a confidential communiqué to the ranks promising that the united front against the Japanese would allow the Communists to expand their influence a thousand times. Chiang was shown a copy.18 Here was an act of treason not invented by the NKVD.
China had been afforded none of the centrality in the Soviet public sphere that Spain had. Stalin’s bold projection of Soviet military power onto the Iberian Peninsula, in the name of international worker solidarity, had struck a chord. “The only thing that existed for us that year was Spain, the fight with the fascists,” Alexei Adzhubei, a schoolboy in 1937 (and the future son-in-law of Khrushchev), would recall. “Spanish caps—blue with red edging on the visor—then came into fashion, and also big berets, which we tilted at a rakish angle.”19 NKVD informants reported some bitter remarks (“One’s children don’t see chocolate and butter, and we are sending them to Spanish workers”) but found real solidarity.20 Inside Spain, however, Soviet advisers appear not to have understood, or to have been willing to admit, that the Francoists had support among broad swaths of the Spanish population who were Catholic and conservative. Instead, the deputy chief of Soviet military intelligence in Spain contrasted the “overwhelming majority of the Spanish people” (“the working masses”) with the “German and Italian interventionists and the military-fascist clique of Franco.”
Soviet class suspicions extended to Spanish military men fighting for the Republic. The same intelligence summary noted that, “up to now, officers and generals who are politically unreliable have had great influence in the bureaucracy of the war ministry and on the general staff and the staffs of the fronts. They are hindering and sabotaging measures for the organization and a more rational use of the Republic’s armed forces.”21 Complementing these class-politics suspicions was the Soviets’ low opinion of the Spaniards’ know-how.22 “In the Spanish army, the situation was so bad that our advisers were required to perform both organizational and operational combat tasks,” recalled Kirill Meretskov, a top Soviet military official in-country.23 Of course, Soviet advisers knew little of Spanish history, mentalities, or language. Nikolai Kuznetsov, the chief naval adviser, had spent his first week wandering Madrid on his own, attempting to pick up a few words of the language, while evaluating the Republic’s military situation. Often, no interpreter was available, or only a terrible one. Officials in Moscow initially refused to accept “White Guard” émigré Russians who volunteered for the Republic. Even after Moscow relented, no more than one interpreter per ten Soviets was ever found.24