Max Glebow
Prohibition of Interference. Book 5. Steel-colored Moon

Chapter 1

The Second Shock Army went forward in the direction of Luban, and my corps was left to guard the left flank of the breakthrough in the area, directly adjacent to the west bank of the Volkhov River. Realizing the magnitude of the problem, Colonel General von Küchler decided not to strike immediately at the base of the ledge formed by the Soviet offensive, but instead concentrate his efforts on slowing the advance of Klykov's army.

As a result, there was a temporary lull in my area of the front, and to be honest, I was only happy about it. My corps lost a quarter of its personnel and more than a third of its tanks. There was almost nothing left of the Kudryavtsev’s Air Regiment. Virtually all of the surviving planes were in need of repair, and the regiment, which did everything in its power in this operation, had to be taken immediately to the rear to be re-formed. On top of that, Colonel Tsaitiuni's artillerymen had used up all the special ammunition. The Katyushas' regiment had a similar situation – there were only one full salvo of thermite shells left. So I was not anxious to go into battle, and the command of the Volkhov front was well aware that my corps needed a respite to replenish the weakened units with men and equipment.

After shifting all current affairs to my subordinates, I ordered them not to disturb me unless absolutely necessary and closed myself in my office in one of the surviving buildings of the former school of aviation mechanics in the village of Selishchi on the eastern bank of the Volkhov River. Here, at last, I had the opportunity to quietly deal with the new information that had so unexpectedly fallen on my head right in the middle of the combat flight.

I knew I wouldn't have much time. A call from Moscow or from the front headquarters could come at any minute. I had no doubt whatsoever that I would not be left as commander of this corps, which had successfully completed its offensive task and was now on the defensive for a long time. Nevertheless, I still counted on a few hours of pause.

The Moonbase artificial intelligence report gave me contradictory feelings. The power of command is a good thing, of course, except that I seem to be in command of the wreckage and the ruins. The rebel cruiser did its job very well. In fact, only some rooms of the lower level of the base remained relatively intact, and by no means the most important ones. Probably some of the destroyed utilities and equipment could have been repaired, but the computer did not have accurate data about the state of some sectors and even entire levels of the base, as the few surviving repair drones were unable to get through the many meters of debris of polymer concrete that had formed when the slabs collapsed.

I immediately had to give up hope that there was a reserve fighter, or at least some unarmed science team ship, somewhere in a distant warehouse. Such a machine, even into a laid-up mode, would immediately respond to the base's central computer and send it a concise report on the status of key systems.

In fact, what the drones that survived the attack managed to do should have been considered a rare stroke of luck, after all, they were deprived of a unified leadership and isolated from each other in dilapidated rooms and corridors. The artificial intelligence of one of the eight surviving repair drones, having rather modest capacities, took over the coordination of the brigade, that had spontaneously formed, and in ten months, the drones managed to partially restore power to the base and, most importantly, to get to the central computer unit and start up two of its seven system modules. From here on, the repair progressed more smoothly. The base AI took charge of the work, in addition, it had much more authority to interrogate and subdue equipment and systems that remained at least partially functional, than the repair drones.

The long-range communications system was beyond repair, which was to be expected – the rebels destroyed it first, using no less than a dozen long-range missiles for the purpose. Things were a little better with short-range communications, although at first the weak transmitters of the repair drones could hardly reach even the satellites orbiting Earth. These devices were designed to operate within the Moonbase, and communication systems were not their strong suit. Once the central computer started up, the problem was solved, but as it turned out, the repair drones couldn't go any further in rebuilding the base on their own.

Heavy equipment was needed to remove the rubble. The only well-protected multipurpose tunneler available at the base, was buried under tons of soil and ceiling debris in one of the hangars on the second underground level. It responded to the central computer and even reported no serious damage, but the machine was not able to get out from under the rubble on its own, though it tried, so it was not to be expected to help in the foreseeable future.

Neither the arsenal's computer nor the transmitters of the combat equipment it contained responded to requests. This meant that the boarding robots and other autonomous mechanisms were destroyed or severely damaged, or they would have been in contact long ago.

The base housing unit was also badly damaged, but there was nothing of particular value to me there. That said, there were a lot of interesting trivia surviving on the base. For example, repair drones retrieved and repaired two ROCK-M rifle systems from under the rubble that belonged to fallen infantrymen from the base guard company. True, the use of these weapons required a battle suit with an exoskeleton, and none of them survived, at least in the part of the base accessible to repair drones.

The rest of the equipment found and recovered by the drones left me indifferent, at least while I was here on Earth, and it was there at the Moonbase. Nevertheless, my opportunities did increase considerably.

First, I finally gained access to the network of reconnaissance drones that had been operating autonomously all this time on the planet's surface. And secondly, now I was able to draw information not from the extremely degraded databases of the escape pod's computer and the small brains of the satellites in orbit, but from the vast stores of the base's central computer, which contained data on the history of the Sixth Republic and other human civilizations, including details of their pre-space-age technology.

But even that was not all. The artificial intelligence of the Moonbase's central computer was orders of magnitude greater than anything I've had at my disposal up to now. For example, it simply would not have allowed the situation which my air convoy, that delivered supplies to the Rzhev Pocket, got into. The escape pod computer could not adequately assess the threat posed by the German anti-aircraft and searchlights ambush, which was scattered over a large area, and the Moonbase AI would have immediately warned me of the danger.

Similarly, the ability to analyze the information collected by ground drones has increased very significantly. These small and very different mechanisms, covered with powerful camouflage fields, penetrated into the most secret and carefully guarded bunkers, military factories, closed laboratories and any storage of secret documents. While the central computer was down, they functioned autonomously, continuing to carry out tasks received before the attack on the base. Now the control of the drone network was back in the hands of the artificial intelligence, ready to begin purposefully collecting information, and exactly the kind of information that was important to solve the tasks set by the scientific and military command of the Moonbase, which at the moment was me in one person.

Unfortunately, drones could not perform any tasks other than reconnaissance. The prohibition of interference was not invented at the Moonbase, but in much higher spheres, and in addition to the instructions and regulations which it just permeated, it was taken into account in the creation of research equipment. The drones had no weapons or dual-purpose devices. The designers have done everything possible to ensure that the users of land probes have as few opportunities as possible to influence the course of the civilization under study.

Colonel Niven, by his order, lifted my ban on interference. Apparently, he had extraordinary powers in that situation, since the artificial intelligence of the Moonbase did not question the legitimacy of the decision. And now I have not heard any comments from the central computer about my actions on the planet. The AI was ready to obey my orders, although, frankly, I was wary of its resistance. It even stressed me out to a certain extent. What on earth had to happen for the impartial artificial intelligence to allow itself to obey the order of Colonel Niven, who clearly violated the directives of a higher command?

“Central computer, get on the line,” I demanded.

“I'm on the line,” a soft answer whispered in my head.

“Change to a woman's voice.”

“Is it up to me to choose?”

“No. There was a woman named Letra on the base's science staff. A month before the rebel attack, she left the base and flew to the central worlds.”

“Do you confirm the choice?”

I shuddered. The last question came in the voice of my ex-girlfriend. All the intonations were imitated so precisely that it seemed to me as if Letra were beside me, and if I only looked around, I would see a woman whose fate I had not known for almost a year.

“Yes,” I affirmed the choice and could not refrain from asking a question that plagued me in the first months after landing on Earth, “Is anything known about her fate after the beginning of the mutiny?”

“Research Engineer Letra has been recalled from the Moonbase to the Central Republic Academy for a new assignment. The database has confirmation of her departure for Metropolis. The transport ship Bark-86 was supposed to send a report to the base's navigation system on the successful completion of the first hyperjump, but it never made contact.”

I stared out the window in silence for a while. I was in pain. I hadn't even expected such a reaction from myself, thinking that all my feelings for Letra had long since burned out, especially if I recall the circumstances of our parting. Still, I was very attached to that girl at the time, and her disappearance from my life was a great loss to me. We were too different in both education and social status. I could see that she felt good with me, and I felt easy and comfortable in her company, but our relationship had no prospects, which was confirmed when a request came to Letra's name from the Academy. She didn't want to sacrifice her scientific career for a simple lieutenant, and we never once discussed such a possibility – everything was clear as it was.

Of course, these experiences were now perceived as something long gone, but they linked me to my past life, which I could not and did not want to give up completely.

“Your name is Letra now,” I said, suppressing a sigh.

“Accepted.”

“I want a summary of events in Metropolis and the Sixth Republic colonies in the last month leading up to the attack by a rebel cruiser on the Moonbase.”

“What kind of events are you interested in?”

“Anything that has to do with the mutiny and the attack on the base. I am interested in the reasons for this madness and its scope.”

“The data on the causes is incomplete. Long-distance communications reported outbreaks of rebellion in all the major colonies. Pockets of uncontrolled and unmotivated aggression began to emerge all over the place almost simultaneously. They were accompanied by inadequate behavior of citizens, which bore the signs of virtual psychosis in an extremely severe form.”

“How did it manifest itself?”

“Individuals and organized groups of citizens, including military, government officials and law enforcement officers, acted aggressively and deliberately, in the full belief that they were in virtual simulators and practicing training tasks, set by their commander's office. Many citizens thought they were in the game and doing game tasks. Initially, the behavior and motivation of different groups differed greatly, but regardless of the initial drive forward, all those affected by psychosis quickly found common ground with each other, accepting the same concept of what was going on, and did not perceive the arguments of people not affected by psychosis at all, considering them as bots or extraneous characters.”

“That is, a fleet officer, confident that he leads his ship in a training battle on a virtual simulator, and a gamer he encounters, hunting digital monsters with a club, understood each other perfectly?”

“Yes, they did. And gamers were quick to abandon their game scenarios and adopt the legends of those ill persons whose virtual worlds were closest to reality, i.e., police officers and military personnel.”

“So the entire crew of the cruiser that attacked the Moonbase went crazy?”

“This is not a completely accurate term. In their own way, all these people were perfectly normal. They just stopped distinguishing between the real world and the virtual world. Or rather, the virtual world became more real to them than the real one.”

“But who made them attack ordinary people? They must have received someone's orders! How could an officer of the Sixth Republic in his right mind normally accept the training task of storming his own metropolitan system? And our base?! All senior officers in the Fleet know why we study underdeveloped civilizations. How can one explain such a learning task, as the destruction of one's own research station? Who needs to practice such skills, and why?!”

“They consider ordinary people to be infected, and dangerously so, with the possibility of transmitting their mental illness to others. It was as if their consciousness was turned inside out, transferring everything that had happened to themselves to citizens who had not fallen under the influence of virtual psychosis.”

“But who set their tasks, coordinated their actions, led their fleets and armies? Wait a minute, though… I think I understand. They united, using regular fleet, police and army communications systems and built their own vertical chain of command, as if there was no virtual psychosis. Reality was different for them.”

“That's about the way it happened. At first there was chaos, but then those who fell ill organized themselves very quickly, outstripping ordinary citizens, even the military and law enforcement officers. True, not everywhere. In some colonies sick people were quickly isolated, and then the army and fleet put up serious resistance to the rebel forces.”

“Where did this disease come from?”

“It is believed that this is an undocumented and unaccounted for negative effect of the "VIRT-N" technology with a pseudo-infinite number of virtual degrees of freedom. The manufacturer promised complete indistinguishability from reality, but the new virtuality proved to be stronger for human consciousness than the real world. This effect was not immediately apparent. They were in such a hurry to bring this technology to market that they limited the trials to three months, while more time was needed for the accumulation of critical changes in the user's neural connectivity system. And it also needed a jolt – some kind of peak load on the brain, which would switch the perception of the world from real to virtual, that is, replace one world with another.”

“And what was the trigger?”

“The launch of the galactic hypernet. After it went live, the time spent by an average user in virtuality increased by a third. The release of a number of new-generation games specifically tailored to the VIRT-N technology was timed to coincide with the launch of the unified network. This proved to be sufficient.”

“What happened next?”

“Mankind split in two. There were fewer rebels, or rather sick people, but they were much more motivated and had absolutely no fear of death, although they did not seek it – quite expected behavior for someone who thinks he is in a game or a training battle where it is a shame to die, but death is not real.”

“Who was winning the war when the rebel cruiser attacked the Moonbase?”

“There is no information. The colonies stopped communicating and disappeared from the hypernet one by one. A wave of rebellion swept even the outlying independent planets. Metropolis went silent a week before the Moonbase was hit. I have no more recent data.”

“After all, we killed ourselves… There was no outside factor. It was the same as with everyone else before us, only we lasted a little longer.”

“It is premature to speak of the complete death of civilization. Some part of the population may have survived, but my prediction algorithms allow me to say that with a 98 percent probability the Sixth Republic has ceased to exist as a single interstellar state. The war led to the mass death of qualified specialists and the destruction of the most important scientific, technological and educational centers. In the coming decades, those who have survived will be in for a technological setback of two or three hundred years, with possible further regression.”

* * *

Henning von Tresckow hated the Nazis in general and Hitler in particular, but this did not prevent him from serving honestly in the Wehrmacht. At the age of sixteen, Henning volunteered for the army and fought on the fronts of World War I. He finished the war as a lieutenant and Knight of the Iron Cross.

In 1936 von Tresckow graduated from the Military Academy and was assigned to the Operations Directorate of the General Staff. For the Polish campaign he received the Iron Cross First Class, went through France and participated in Operation Barbarossa.

He categorically did not welcome the two-front war, nor did he welcome the repression of Jews and Communists in Germany and the occupied countries. His superiors appreciated von Tresckow, but were openly wary of his anti-Nazi views, so he was not at all surprised by the summons to his immediate superior, nor by the first words of General Gersdorf:

“Colonel, be careful what you say. You are a competent officer, but you have to take modern realities into account. The shootings of Jews and Communists are protested by many here, but few risk expressing their indignation so openly.”

“Understand, Herr General,” von Tresckow stubbornly refused to admit his mistake, “Germany will finally lose its honor, and this will be felt for hundreds of years. The blame for this will not be placed on Hitler alone, but on you and me, on our wives and children.[1]”

“Don't speak so loud, Colonel,” Gersdorff grimaced. “You're putting me in a terrible position. I couldn't agree more with what you said, but your behavior draws completely unnecessary attention. Let's stop this conversation immediately. I hope it's not too late. I called you here for a reason. A certain Colonel Richtengden from the Abwehr wants to see you.”

“And what does counterintelligence need from a humble staff officer?” von Tresckow grinned wryly, but the General saw concern in his eyes.

“I hope it has nothing to do with your intemperate words, Colonel,” Gersdorf looked away. “Officially, Richtengden said he wanted to talk to you about the actions of some Russian during the fighting for the Dnieper last September.”

Von Tresckow nodded, showing that he had heard the answer. The occasion was strange, and hardly the real reason for the visit to the front by a high-ranking Abwehr officer. The Colonel was well aware of this, as was his immediate superior.

Colonel Richtengden had not arrived alone. Beside him in the room where Treskov was invited, an officer vaguely familiar to Henning with the rank of major was present. Tresckow had definitely seen him somewhere before, and for some reason it seemed to him that this man can not be here.

“Don't you recognize me, Herr Oberst?” the Major smiled. “I saw you at von Kleist's headquarters near Kremenchuk during the forcing of the Dnieper. Does that ring any bells?”

“Erich von Schliemann!” Tresckow could not believe his eyes. Now he remembered where he knew the face from. “But you were captured! You were captured by those Russian saboteurs who caused so much trouble to the First Panzer Group.”

“You have a good memory,” Schliemann nodded, “You and I barely spoke at the time, but you remembered everything you needed to know. I can feel the grip of a real staff officer.”

“But how…”

“With your permission, I will omit the details, Herr Oberst,” Schliemann's smile disappeared from his face. “Let me just say that I have indeed been in captivity, and I did not like what I saw there. But we are not here to discuss my memories.”

“I understand that,” nodded Tresckow.

“We are aware of your views, Colonel,” said Richtengden, who had been quiet until then, “You don't hide them much.”

“So that's the real reason for your visit after all,” Tresckow grinned mirthlessly, “But why the Abwehr? I thought the Gestapo was in charge of such matters.”

“Well, in this matter, the secret police really should have acted more carefully,” Richtengden glanced pointedly at Tresckow, “In your case, they clearly underperformed.”

“What do you mean by that?” An unpleasant chill ran down Henning's spine.

“First of all, your contacts with secret opposition groups aiming to remove Hitler from power,” Schliemann shrugged. “After all, surnames like Gördeler and Stauffenberg should tell you a lot.”

“I don't understand you…”

“You understand everything perfectly well, Colonel,” Tresckow was interrupted by Richtengden sharply, but without any threat in his voice. “I could name a dozen more names. However, why shake the air? You'd better check out a couple of curious documents.”

At Richtengden's nod, Major Schliemann held out a thin folder to Tresckow. Henning carefully read two sheets of typewritten text and looked up at the Abwehr officers.

“Am I under arrest?”

“As you quite rightly pointed out, Colonel, we are not from the Gestapo, so you can forget about the arrest,” answered Richtengden dryly, “But from now on I would advise you to be more careful with your words. Now we're going to ask you some questions about the Russian marksman, you witnessed the hunt for him in September, and I would be very grateful if, for anyone who asks you what the Abwehr wanted from you, you would confine yourself to that part of our conversation.

And here's the other thing. In a few days you will be transferred to Berlin, to the headquarters of the tank army being formed, with General Rommel in command. We recommended you to Colonel General Halder as a very promising staff officer, and he hopes that your appearance in the capital will benefit the common cause of our victory over the enemies of the Reich. Am I making myself clear enough?”

“More than enough, Herr Oberst,” von Tresckow nodded, feeling that the extreme nervous tension was beginning to release him, gradually being replaced by entirely different feelings.

Chapter 2

The blockade of Leningrad could not be completely lifted. Despite a very brisk start to the operation, the Volkhov Front troops were able to achieve only partial success. Colonel General Küchler, spurred on by threats of reprisals from Berlin, was able to regroup his divisions and force them to consolidate their position southwest of the Mga River.

After a week of fierce fighting, the Second Shock Army occupied Luban and continued its offensive along the Moscow highway. Taking advantage of the fact that the Germans had moved all their available reserves against General Klykov, the troops of the Leningrad Front broke through the front and were able to advance five or seven kilometers toward the soldiers of the Second Shock Army.

Perfectly aware that right now the Russians would cut off his left flank divisions and pin them to the shore of Lake Ladoga, von Küchler ordered his troops to immediately withdraw from the area of Schlisselburg and Sinyavino. It was these divisions that eventually halted the further advance of the Second Shock Army, and the offensive of the Leningrad front troops ran out of steam all by itself, as the defenders of the besieged city were able to allocate too few forces and ammunition for this operation.

The Headquarters of the Supreme High Command planned to defeat Army Group North, but it failed. Nevertheless, the Red Army managed to break the siege. The withdrawal of the Germans from Schlisselburg and Sinyavino led to the formation of a 20-kilometer corridor along the shore of Lake Ladoga, which connected the city with the "big land". At this point the forces of the Volkhov front finally ran out, and General of the Army Zhukov ordered the troops to go on the defensive.

On the whole gigantic front from Lake Ladoga to the Black Sea there was an operational pause. Both the Red Army and the Wehrmacht had huge problems with literally everything. The troops needed rest and reinforcements. The industry could not cope with replenishing losses in equipment and supplying the troops with ammunition. As a result, only one significant event occurred at the end of January: the Germans completely stopped using chemical weapons. They never responded to the ultimatum, but I saw the remnants of the chemical shells and bombs being loaded into wagons and sent back to German territory.

Stalin took this news with great satisfaction. In general, lately he felt more and more confident in his own strength. The cunning Georgian showed himself to be an experienced politician in the ultimatum story as well. At one time I offered to tell the Germans that if they refused to use chemical warfare agents, we would not use thermite shells and fuel-air explosive munitions on the Eastern Front. However, as it turned out, Comrade Stalin thought it would be enough for us to give up only the thermite ammunition, and now I think he was very pleased with that decision. Despite the fact that I came here from a very different era and had a lot of high technology at my disposal, the Supreme Commander could clearly give a head start to me in political games.

As I suspected, the Corps was taken away from me. Zhukov was satisfied with my actions, and it seems he had already made some far-reaching plans for me, but the other members of the Headquarters of the Supreme High Command seemed to have their own ideas about the fate of Comrade Nagulin, and Georgy Konstantinovich was clearly in the minority.

I didn't want to wait until some unexpected ideas for applying my abilities came into the restless heads of Stalin, Beria, or Shaposhnikov. I had to retain the initiative, otherwise it's very easy to lose my way and go somewhere away from the intended goal. I should have thought very seriously about my future actions. The situation at the fronts stabilized, and the Soviet Union, seemed to be no longer threatened by military catastrophe. A simple and straightforward solution suggested itself, and at first glance it looked obvious.

With the new capabilities I had with an artificial intelligence named Letra, I could quickly provide the Soviet military industry with technology that would enable it to begin producing weapons far superior in its tactical and technical characteristics to all that other earthly nations had at their disposal. However, the question immediately arose: was it worth it? Do I want to end up with a world communist dictatorship led by Comrade Stalin and his loyal associates in the Party? I knew the answer to that question. I didn't. On the other hand, every day of the war cost the country enormous casualties, and I was not prepared to look dispassionately on the deaths of thousands – I was not yet so callous as to consider soldiers and civilians expendable.

What options are left then? Under the current circumstances, my career is almost exhausted. Yes, I was made a hero, known to the whole country, but this fame in itself does not give me much. A man can be a famous polar hero, a popular actor, a fighter pilot or a sniper whose combat score is known to every child, but he won't get any closer to power. Perhaps someday after the war he would be made a deputy – to do what? – to read aloud texts, agreed upon in advance and polished by his senior comrades in a huge conference hall, to become a stuffed shirt… So? Do I need this?

To really change things in this country, one has to become part of its ruling elite, and it is not customary to take outsiders into this closed caste, which is, in general, quite understandable.

Any dictatorship is always built on unconditional loyalty to the leader. This is what is valued in the first place, and only then the professional and personal qualities, organizational abilities and other talents of the applicant for a high public office are evaluated. The Soviet Union, of course, has its own peculiarities – it is very much imbued with Marxist-Leninist ideology, which in many ways replaced the recently lost religion to the citizens of the USSR, but the essence of the totalitarian state, quite recognizable, has not changed much.

Devotion and loyalty! Loyalty and devotion! And no one believes in my loyalty, that's obvious. In my usefulness, yes. But not in loyalty and certainly not in personal loyalty to Comrade Stalin.

Do I really need power over this country? What will I do with it? To conquer the world by force of arms and drag it violently toward a bright future, of which I myself have only a vague idea? Why go to war, though? After all, one can conquer the world economically. This way is harder and longer, but I have time. Stalin is undoubtedly a strong leader, but totalitarian regimes have a very serious flaw: the lack of a clear method of transferring power when the ruler passes away. As a rule, a wild fight for the main seat begins, and often it brings to the top such freaks, that then the whole country shudders in convulsions from their decisions and actions.

“Letra!”

“I'm on the line.”

“Can you prepare the USSR development forecast over the next ten years?”

“I do not know your plans to interfere in the development of Earth's civilization, and without this information, the forecast makes no sense.”

“Let's say I don't interfere at all.”

“Copy. It will take a few minutes. I have to adjust the base model to account for the changes resulting from your emergence on Earth. Basically, you haven't done anything that would make the estimation algorithm inapplicable, so you can count on the standard accuracy of the prediction.”

“Waiting.”

“In what form do you want the result? ”

“A brief voice report. Only key points and major branches without delving into unlikely derivations.”

I picked up the terminology from the real Letra. After meeting her, I was surprised to discover my interest in historical modeling, and we often discussed the development of different human civilizations, trying to find ways to delay their demise.

“Done. May I begin?”

“Go ahead.”

“The first key point is the end of 1942. The dominant branch is the death of Adolf Hitler in an assassination attempt. The consequence is an attempt by the new German government to make peace with England. The expected result is success. In this case, the war of Germany against the Soviet Union will be continued. Background events – the turning point in the war with Japan in favor of the United States and England. The explosive growth of the United States military industry. Death of U.S. President Franklin Roosevelt in an assassination attempt.

The second key point is 1943. The dominant branch is the complete liberation of Soviet territory by the Red Army and the beginning of its march into Europe. The consequences – the entry into the war of England and the United States on the side of Germany. The expected result is the military defeat of the USSR in 1944. The third key point…”

“That's enough. Everything else is clear enough. Are there any alternative scenarios?”

“Of course there are. Hitler's death is almost inevitable, but Roosevelt's death and the United States' entry into the war against the USSR may not be, but the probability is low and the war in Europe will continue anyway under very difficult conditions for the Soviet Union. True, in this case it is possible to conclude peace without serious territorial losses for the USSR.”

“Japan will lose either way?”

“Yes, there is no choice. Only the timing can vary, and that to a small extent. In any case, the U.S. and England have enough forces to fight jointly with Germany against the Soviet Union.”

“Are there any options for a Soviet victory?”

“That was the case before you interfered with the course of history. The USSR could become an ally of Great Britain and the United States in the war with Germany and its allied countries. At the cost of losing a quarter of the population, the Soviet Union had a chance to win this war. With some probability, immediately after the defeat of Germany and Japan, a new war for the division of Europe between the former allies would have begun, but it is likely that a tense and unstable peace would nevertheless have taken place.”

“For how long?”

“For ten to fifteen years, and then there are almost equally likely forks, and the first of them contains the option of nuclear war, but the local civilization still had a fairly high chance of choosing the right path, at least at this key point.”

“So I only made things worse by showing up?”

“Worse for whom? For the USSR, no doubt. If you quit right now, the Soviet Union will be defeated in a war with the Western world united against it, but the chance of World War III for Earth's civilization as a whole will be significantly reduced within the next 30–40 years. There will simply be no power left in the world that can stand up to the United States.”

“But I'm not going to get out of the game, Lethra.”

“I know. You're the one who said it was a condition for making a prediction, so I'm working on it.”

“How to avoid a war of the USSR against the whole world?”

“I have no algorithm for developing a strategy for influencing the civilizations I study. You know as well as I do about the ban on interference. Such programs have never been created, so I'm not your adviser here.”

“But can you at least assess the possible consequences of my planned actions?”

“Only very roughly. This accuracy of prediction would never have suited the Letra whose name I now bear.”

“All right. Then let's play by your rules. Take the following setup: all attempts on Roosevelt's life are prevented. What is the likelihood of the United States going to war against the USSR?”

“60 percent. The president is not omnipotent in this country, and anti-communist forces are very influential. The media is quite capable of setting public opinion in the right way, and Roosevelt may simply have no choice.”

“So we need something to make it impossible for the United States to go to war against the Soviet Union. What could this be?”

“Don't forget, I'm not a human being. I can only make creative decisions when I have a clear algorithm for doing so. In this case, there is no such algorithm. I can only list the precedents from the history I know. A non-aggression pact may prevent entry into war, although such pacts are often violated. U.S. military or economic unpreparedness for war may be an obstacle, but by my calculations, they will have no problem with either in a year or a year and a half. There is also such a variant as the well-established opinion of the population of a country about another state as a reliable ally, thanks to whose help the the victory in a difficult war has recently been won. The U.S. is a democracy, and the government cannot ignore the opinion of its citizens at all. It can manipulate that opinion, but it just can't give a damn about it. And the citizens would probably not like an attack on a staunch ally. In our case, however, this does not apply – the U.S. is not at war with Germany and is not an ally of the USSR. Also, the attack could be stopped by the obvious military-technical superiority of the Soviet Union, but the level of its industrial development would not allow… ”

“Stop. Let me think about it.”

The artificial intelligence was obediently silent, and I was deep in thought, trying to catch the elusive thought. Something flashed through Letra's words that my brain tried to latch on to, but the idea slipped away before it could form.

“Again, slowly repeat the answer to my last question.”

“Don't… forget… that… I… am… not… a… human… being… I… can… only…”

I listened to the above in silence one more time and tried to remember what had made me stop Letra, and at some point the missing element took its place in the shaky construction of the forming idea with an almost tangible click.

“That's enough. Now I need a detailed and persuasive report from you to convince the leaders of the USSR that war with the West is inevitable. Use only those arguments that rely on data available to me officially. I will go to Stalin with this, and I don't want to be asked how I know, how many M3 tanks the Chrysler plant in Warren, near Detroit, will be able to produce next month to within a few pieces.”

* * *

Marshal Shaposhnikov rarely visited Lubyanka, but this time he could not avoid a visit to the Commissar of Internal Affairs. The document, received late at night, literally burned his hands. Boris Mikhailovich was deservedly considered a qualified military analyst and an experienced general staff officer, but the folder clutched in his hand contained materials that went far beyond the purely military sphere, and the decisions that should have been made on their basis were capable of changing the fate of the Soviet Union in the most unpredictable way.

Shaposhnikov did not dare to give these documents to Stalin at once – too much in them required verification, and the Marshal could not conduct such a verification by the General Staff alone. The night spent reading the analyses contained in the folder deprived the Marshal of peace. The course of the war, which seemed very successful to the Chief of Staff, and not only to him alone, suddenly appeared in a completely different light, drawing grave and gloomy prospects. For many hours Shaposhnikov tried to find an error in the inhumanly flawless logic of the report, and found none.

“Hello, Boris Mikhailovich,” Beria stood up to meet the Marshal, who entered his office, with a slight smile, “It's been a while since you visited me. We see each other more at meetings of the Headquarters of the Supreme High Command or in the Kremlin with Comrade Stalin. What was so unusual and urgent that made you come to Lubyanka?”

“Good afternoon, Lavrenty Pavlovich,” unlike the Commissar of Internal Affairs, Shaposhnikov kept a serious expression on his face. “You're right, something happened. Something urgent, and unusual, and, I think, top secret.”

“Let me guess,” Beria stopped smiling too. “Has your restless subordinate given us all a new surprise? What is it this time? Helsinki? Sevastopol? Ploiești? Berlin?”

“You'd better familiarize yourself with it,” Shaposhnikov carefully put the folder on the Commissar's desk. “I can hardly tell you any better or more convincingly than what is written here.”

Beria nodded silently, adjusted his pince-nez and leisurely opened the folder. Marshall waited patiently, rehearsing in his head all the things he had already thought about repeatedly during the night. Could it be that his own knowledge was not enough, because he was only a military man, and he simply could not find the logical inconsistencies in economic, political, and international relations? Now Beria will sarcastically chuckle, shake his head, and easily shatter all these arguments that seemed so impeccable to him.

But he did not grin.

Having read the report through, the Commissar of Internal Affairs looked up and stared at the Chief of the General Staff for a minute, and then he picked up the first page again and began to read the document from the beginning, making some notes in the margins.

The secretary peeked into the office, silently approached the table, and placed glasses of tea and a vase of cookies in front of the master of the office and his guest. Beria didn't even seem to notice his appearance, and Shaposhnikov nodded and moved his glass to his side.

“Everything here is too serious to give a go at this document without a comprehensive review,” Beria finally said, leaning back in his chair. “I know that Comrade Nagulin is very rarely wrong in his conclusions, but this is not an analysis of the situation on the fronts nor is it a forecast of enemy actions. A broader range of issues is addressed here. The Major-General's logic is undeniable, but I am afraid that even our experience is insufficient to judge the constructiveness of his suggestions.”

“The United States, President Roosevelt – that's probably the last of what I would consider important for us in the current situation,” Shaposhnikov shook his head doubtfully.

“It's not about the present moment here,” Beria tapped his index finger on the stack of sheets on his desk, “We have almost a year to make a decision and prepare, but then it could really be too late.”

“But what about the Neutrality Pact? We do not want the whole world to regard the Soviet Union as a treacherous power like Hitler's Germany, which attacked the USSR without declaring war, despite the non-aggression pact in force between our countries, do we?”

“And here I think I agree with Comrade Nagulin,” a faint grin appeared on Beria's face. “Do you remember well the second clause of our agreement with Japan?”

“I can't reproduce it verbatim.”

“It goes like this: "in the event of one of the contracting parties being the object of military action by one or more third powers, the other contracting party shall maintain neutrality throughout the conflict." If we read this clause literally, it means that we undertake not to attack each other in the event of military aggression by third countries, directed at one of our states. But neither the U.S. nor Britain attacked Japan. Japan ITSELF carried out military aggression, and this completely unleashes our hands. It is possible, and even certain, that the Japanese will disagree with such an interpretation, but who will care about their opinion in the current balance of power?”

“To be honest, all my experience resists the idea of a war on two fronts. I read Nagulin's arguments and realize that there is probably no other way out, but as soon as I look away from these lines, and my doubts return. How will the USSR be able to withstand this?”

“I'm afraid, Boris Mikhailovich, that you and I alone will not solve anything and we will not find an answer to your question. I suggest inviting Comrades Molotov, Ustinov, and Zverev to discuss this document. We certainly can't do without the Commissars of Foreign Affairs, Arms, and Finance appreciating the arguments presented here.”

“By widening the circle of those aware of the Nagulin report, we make it inevitable that this issue will be brought to the top,” said the Marshal, hesitating a little.

“Did you have any doubts that this document would end up on Comrade Stalin's desk?” Beria seemed genuinely surprised. “In any case, it is impossible not to show such information to the Commander-in-Chief, even if we come to the conclusion that it is all nonsense, and that we are deeply indifferent to the fate of President Roosevelt and the outcome of the US war with Japan.”

* * *

“Here you are, comrade Nagulin, saying that citizen Korolev is not guilty of sabotaging the development of the Project 212 rocket,” Stalin looked at me carefully from under his bushy eyebrows. “But during combat tests of this product in the breakthrough of the front on the Volkhov River, none of his six missiles hit the exact target. The damage to the German columns was done, but it was rather the merit of the warhead of the missile, and Korolev had nothing to do with its development. ”

“Comrade Stalin, I chose the targets, not Korolev. And these targets were extremely uncomfortable for cruise missiles. Basically, they couldn't be used at all against moving enemy troops, but I just didn't have any other options. I needed to distract the Germans for at least a minute so that Colonel Kudryavtsev's bombers could attack the columns without interference. And even in such unfavorable conditions, the task set before the missile launchers was accomplished. I believe that the "product K-212" showed its best side.”

“Not everyone agrees with you, Comrade Nagulin, but I won't argue about it now. We will continue the cruise missile development project, but the status of designer Korolev will remain unchanged for now. Let him prove by deeds that his missiles are worth the resources spent on them, and then we'll get back to this conversation, especially since both he and you will soon have that chance,” Stalin grinned.

I didn't ask any follow-up questions. It was my first one-on-one meeting with Stalin, and I did not consider it possible to rush the Supreme Commander-in-Chief, preferring to wait patiently for him to elaborate his thoughts himself. Stalin, taking his time, held out his hand and pulled up a thick folder that had been lying on the edge of the table. It seemed that the Chief was about to move on to a discussion of the main issue for which I had been summoned to his Kremlin office.

“I have carefully read your report, Comrade Nagulin, and the comments of other comrades who have also been introduced to this case. Believe me, the most highly qualified specialists were involved, but their conclusions were very ambiguous. You base your prediction on the fact that attempts on Hitler and Roosevelt will be organized in the near future, with every chance of success. This is a very bold statement, Comrade Nagulin. They had tried to kill Hitler more than once before, but nothing came of it, and the American president's guards don't eat their bread for nothing. This is the weakest point in your analysis. All of the subsequent events that you write about are indeed very well justified, almost all the comrades who have read your report agree with this. But what you propose requires a serious change in the foreign policy of the USSR and in the strategy of war with Germany. You were not the first to think of the fear of possible opposition from England and the United States to our march into Europe, which, as the course of the war shows, is becoming almost inevitable. Nevertheless, I must give you credit, since you were the first to be able to piece together all the facts and, supported by calculations and analyses, to show in a reasoned way how great is the probability of a direct military conflict with the West. There is an opinion that your idea of "lazy war" is worthy of careful consideration. Combined with a strategy of rapprochement with the United States, it could really lull our opponents' vigilance and knock very serious arguments for entering the war on Germany's side out of their hands.”

Stalin paused for a moment, leafing through several documents in the folder.

“All the comrades who have read your report agree that it is of a very high level, but for such an important decision to be made is not enough. If the postulate of Hitler's imminent death proves wrong, following your plan will lead the USSR to disaster or, at the very least, to enormous and totally unjustified losses in manpower and material resources.”

The Commander-in-Chief was silent again, and now his gaze was clearly demanding a reaction from me.

“Nowhere in my report does it say that a decision needs to be made right now,” I tried to answer as neutrally as possible. “On the contrary. Haste in this case is extremely detrimental. A month and a half has passed since the blockade of Leningrad was broken, and our army is still not ready for strategic offensive operations, and it is unlikely to be ready for them before mid-spring. Accordingly, the arrival of our troops to the state border of the USSR along its entire length, even in the best of circumstances, will not take place until the end of this year or even the middle of next year, and until then neither England nor the U.S. would see any serious cause for concern, especially if we carry out the measures provided for in my report, which are designed to give the Western powers the impression that the Soviet Union is liberating its territory out of its last strength and is unable to make a quick dash westward.”

“I remember your suggestion,” Stalin nodded, looking thoughtfully at the map, “Smolensk, Kiev, Minsk, the Baltics, Odessa… We still have a lot of work to do, Comrade Nagulin, you're right. If we manage it by the end of the year, it will really be a great success. Good. Consider that the Headquarters of the Supreme High Command have heard your point of view and taken it more than seriously, but we will take a decision on your report a little later, when the situation is more certain. And now I have a more concrete matter for you, which cannot wait.”

The Chief gave me a sharp look in the eye, and I didn't want to disappoint him.

“I'm ready, Comrade Stalin, give the order.”

“In the operation to break the blockade of Leningrad you, Comrade Nagulin, showed yourself a competent commander, capable of organizing a breakthrough of the enemy's defense and ensuring the unimpeded entry of the shock army into it. Of course, the Volkhov and Leningrad fronts did not achieve everything that was planned, but it is still a very great victory. Your success has been noted by the Headquarters of the Supreme High Command, and now it's time to repeat it under different conditions and on a somewhat larger scale. You're right, we're not ready for a really big offensive, but we have another enemy besieged city. It is an important city that must not be given to the Germans under any circumstances. The Headquarters of the Supreme High Command give you three days to complete your current business in Moscow. We know that you are supervising the work on a new turbojet engine for our aviation, and this work should by no means stop after you leave. But only three days! And then you're flying to the Crimean front as a representative of the Headquarters of the Supreme High Command[2]. Sevastopol needed to be unblocked, and Lieutenant-General Kozlov was never able to build on the initial success of the Kerch-Feodosiya landing. Manstein is outplaying him on all directions, and this situation must be fundamentally changed. If necessary, you can remove Kozlov from the command of the front – you will have the appropriate authority, but to do it or not, you will decide on the spot.”

Chapter 3

Erich von Manstein was well aware that together with his 11th Army he found himself on the periphery of the maelstrom of events that in a matter of months changed the entire course of military action on the Eastern Front. He began the war against the Soviet Union as part of Army Group North, commanding the 56th Motorized Corps, which invaded the Baltics. In the first week of fighting his corps crossed more than 200 kilometers and came to the Western Dvina, where it successfully repulsed a tank counterstrike by Soviet troops.

It seemed that the war was developing quite favorably, and Manstein even had the thought that Hitler was right, and before winter Red Army would be completely defeated, but already at the beginning of July his corps suffered a serious defeat at the hands of Lieutenant-General Morozov's army near Soltsy. Two groups of Soviet troops, supported by more than two hundred planes, encircled the Wehrmacht's 8th Panzer Division from the north and south, and it had to fight for some time in an encirclement. The Third Panzer Division was also in danger of having its communications intercepted.

That time Manstein managed to avoid a defeat. The SS Division "Dead Head" was given to him to restore the situation, and at the cost of heavy losses the 8th Panzer Division was unblocked, after which it had to be sent to the rear to be re-formed. The German troops were pushed back 40 kilometers, and the offensive of the Army Group North in Leningrad stalled for almost a month. It was then, at Soltsy, that Manstein first began to think seriously about the fact that things might not be as simple with this war as many German generals and politicians would have liked.

Then there were battles at Demiansk, and finally, in September 1941, Manstein was given command of the 11th Army, which by early November seized almost the entire Crimea and besieged Sevastopol.

While dealing with the problems of his own army, Manstein nevertheless closely monitored the situation on other fronts. The alarm bells started ringing as early as September, but they were barely audible then behind the roar of victory fanfares.

The Russians suffered a spectacular defeat at Kiev. Bryansk and Vyazma were next, but then something went wrong in the Wehrmacht machine, which was moving steadily eastward, to the point that it began to have a direct effect on the 11th Army, which did not seem to have directly related to the battle for Moscow.

At first the November attempt to capture Sevastopol failed. Manstein underestimated the power of the coastal batteries covering the city, and when a hundred and fifty heavy guns of the Sevastopol forts were joined by the volleys of the main guns of two cruisers and the battleship Paris Commune, which had come to the aid of the besieged city, he gave the order to stop the assault because of its obvious futility.

Manstein was deservedly considered one of the best strategists of the Wehrmacht. It was he who in 1940 proposed the plan to invade France with a tank strike through the Ardennes Mountains. Having crossed the Ardennes, the tanks were to cross the Meuse and, without waiting for infantry, reach the English Channel coast in a wide arc, cutting off the enemy's northern grouping. The German military command considered Manstein's plan too risky, but it was unexpectedly supported by Hitler, who categorically did not like the fact that the generals were offering him, in fact, to repeat Alfred von Schlieffen's plan, which the Germans had implemented at the beginning of World War I. Hitler, quite rightly, believed that the French and the British were expecting just that, and that the Wehrmacht would not be able to achieve any surprise. Manstein's proposal came just in time, and the Führer insisted on adopting his plan, which eventually led the Wehrmacht to such an impressive victory.

However, the talent of a strategist was not Manstein's only advantage. He was also a consummate specialist in squeezing reserves out of the command. No one else could so convincingly and persuasively explain to his superiors that he was the one who needed tanks, planes, infantry, and artillery more than anyone else now, and that if he was not given them, then, depending on the particular circumstances, either there will be a universal catastrophe or the Wehrmacht will miss the great victory, which he, Erich von Manstein, almost already has in his hands.

And now this tried and tested mechanism has begun to malfunction. The commander of Army Group South, Gerd von Runstedt, flatly refused to reinforce the 11th Army with tanks and aircraft, citing the fact that the grand battle for Moscow sucked out all the reserves, and he had already been stripped of too many divisions. The only thing Manstein was not denied was artillery. 200 batteries of heavy guns were placed at the disposal of the 11th Army. For the most part these were conventional large-caliber field howitzers, including 210-millimeter ones, but heavier artillery systems surviving from World War I came from Germany as well. Against their background, the Karl-Gerät self-propelled mortars with their caliber of 600 millimeters and the unique 800-millimeter railroad gun Dora, with its 7-ton shells, 32-meter barrel, and 250-man crew were perceived as real miracle weapons.

And still the assault failed. At the most crucial moment the Russians landed sea-borne troops in the rear of the 11th Army, they brazenly stormed the port of Feodosiya and landed the troops from the warships directly onto the piers. The 46th Infantry Division and the Romanian Mountain Rifle Regiment tried to halt the advance of the landing troops, but they were cut off at the Kerch Peninsula and almost completely destroyed.

The assault on Sevastopol had to be stopped in order to rush infantry and artillery to Feodosia. It proved extremely difficult to do this on icy roads, but the Russian forces were not limitless, and by mid-January the situation had stabilized. The Red Army continued to hold Feodosia, but was unable to move further west.

When the news came in early December that Army Group Center had been encircled near Moscow that shook everyone, Manstein realized that he would not wait for any more reserves. Nevertheless, the order to take Sevastopol by storm was still in force, and Manstein had to make do with the available resources in a rapidly deteriorating situation.

Manstein understood that there was no point in resuming an assault on the city while a strong group of Soviet troops was in his rear. He left a covering force at Sevastopol and concentrated his main forces against the Russian armies, which were entrenched on the Kerch Peninsula and constantly tried to break through from there into the interior of Crimea.

The Führer's order to begin using chemical weapons against the Red Army did not please Manstein. As a military strategist, he understood Hitler's motives – the Army Group Center, sitting in the Moscow Pocket, had to be saved by any means. Nevertheless, he did not expect a long-term effect from the use of chemical warfare agents. The civilian populations of Russian cities could indeed become very unhappy, but Manstein strongly doubted that chemical munitions would be more effective at the front than conventional shells and bombs.

Near Moscow, mustard gas was already flowing and clouds of phosgene and cyanogen chloride were swirling over Russian positions, while in the Crimea, both sides were in no hurry to throw chemical shells at each other.

Manstein had had his fill of this stuff during World War I, and did not seek to repeat that unpleasant experience, and the Soviets, who were not subjected to chemical attacks, were not the first to use poisonous substances either.

Stocks of shells and bombs with colorful rings on their casings had just been piling up in the front depots, and then went back to the Reich when, in late January, the Führer suddenly changed his mind and ordered the cessation of the use of chemical weapons.

The winter in Crimea was unexpectedly cold. Of course, the freezing temperatures here could not be compared to what was going on at Moscow and Leningrad, but the roads were first icy and then muddy, which made it very difficult to move the troops. And yet now, in mid-March, Manstein felt that he could not drag it out any longer. The problem of Feodosia and Kerch should have been solved immediately. The battle of Moscow ended in heavy defeat, but the front was stabilized, and the Führer finally remembered that there were other battlegrounds. After long arguments Manstein still managed to convince the command to allocate a tank division armed with new long-barrel cannons capable of penetrating the armor of Russian T-34s and KVs from a reasonable distance to strike the Kerch Peninsula. In addition, Colonel General Richthofen's Fourth Air Fleet was to support his offensive from the air. Manstein understood that this was the maximum he could get, and Hitler's best strategist no longer doubted – it was time to start.

* * *

Stalin did not let me go to the Crimea alone. Well, who would have doubted it. The Army Commissar 1st Rank, Lev Zakharovitch Mekhlis, went with me as the Chief's watchful eye, and, interestingly enough, also as a representative of the Headquarters of the Supreme High Command. Considering that the rank of my "colleague" corresponded to that of the General of the Army, I had great suspicion that my decisions would be challenged all the time by this comrade, who was very active and unconditionally loyal to Stalin, and who had very little knowledge of military matters.

From the very beginning Mekhlis looked at me with almost undisguised suspicion; he only kept his caustic remarks to himself, it seemed, because of the direct order from the Supreme Commander-in-Chief. But that was while we were in Moscow. The farther our plane moved from the capital, the clearer was the mixture of disdain and mistrust in the Army Commissar's glances he cast at me. I completely ignored these glances of his and behaved in an emphatically neutral manner.

Mekhlis finally couldn't stand it. “You are not a member of the Party, are you, Major General?”

“I am not,” I replied, as indifferently as possible.

“Is this your position of principle?”

“I would not say so. Rather, there are objective circumstances that prevent…”

“It's all excuses,” Mekhlis cleaved the air with his hand, reinforcing the categorical tone of his words, “I read your profile. You are hiding behind religious beliefs, even though you know very well that this is complete nonsense.”

“Lev Zakharovitch, unfortunately, my point of view on this issue does not coincide with yours.”

“Be kind enough to address me according to regulations, Major General. You are three ranks below me, and it is strange to me that I should have to teach you the chain of command.”

“My fault, Comrade Army Commissar 1st Rank. It won't happen again.”

I answered calmly and even indifferently, and that seemed to infuriate the impulsive Commissar the most.

“Comrade Stalin has placed a high degree of trust in you, Major General,” Mekhlis's voice sounded threatening, “But that doesn't mean that now everyone around you will instantly let their guard down.”

“That's right, Comrade Army Commissar 1st Rank,” I answered with the same indifference, “Loss of vigilance is a direct path to bigger problems. It must not be lost under any circumstances. If you'll excuse me, the last three days have been very stressful, and you and I will have a lot of urgent work to do once we get there. With your permission, I'll get some sleep.”

I made myself comfortable in my chair and closed my eyes, completely ignoring Mekhlis's face, which was twisted with anger. The funny thing was that neither I nor the Commissar could figure out which one of us should obey whom. Comrade Stalin was always an extremely cunning bug; he masterfully knew how to plant potential conflict bombs under relations between his subordinates. Didn't he know Mekhlis's character well? I don't believe it! Rather the opposite. Stalin was well aware of what our joint mission to the Crimean front would entail, and he evidently sincerely believed that it would only be better for the cause.

Mekhlis did outrank me by quite a bit, but it was I, not the Commissar, who received the authority to make personnel decisions regarding the leadership of the Crimean Front. Stalin also explicitly recommended Mekhlis not to interfere in my military-strategic decisions, leaving him with disciplinary matters, moral-political preparation of the operation and some general control over its course, whose essence I could not fully grasp, and the Chief himself did not elaborate on his idea.

All in all, it turned out to be a pretty good jar of spiders, and in addition to purely military matters, I clearly had a lot of problems to deal with in the near future due to the manic suspicion and unparalleled mistrustfulness of the Army Commissar. But I don't care! The trouble to come was to be met as it came. I activated the augmented reality mode and unfolded a virtual map of the Crimean peninsula before my eyes.

The picture that emerged was, to put it bluntly, contradictory. At first glance, the Red Army and the Black Sea Fleet had considerable forces in the Crimea. On the Kerch Peninsula the 44th, 47th and 51st Armies were concentrated, having in their composition nearly 250,000 infantry, six tank brigades, and two separate tank battalions. The garrison of the Sevastopol defensive area had about 120,000 soldiers and commanders, numerous artillery, including coastal batteries of large caliber, 47 tanks, and more than a hundred aircraft, based at the airfield built at the beginning of the war on Cape Chersonesos. The Black Sea Fleet had the battleship Paris Commune, the cruisers Krasny Krym and Krasny Kavkaz, three destroyer battalions, two light cruisers, a fairly impressive underwater force and a significant number of minesweepers, small artillery ships and boats.

These seemed to be impressive forces, but there were some serious "buts". First of all, of course, aviation. This misfortune had only worsened by early 1942. The losses of the initial period of the war also affected the Red Army Air Forces and, no less importantly, the quality of pilot training. Too many experienced pilots died in the first six months of the war, and it was not easy to prepare their replacements quickly. In terms of tactical and technical characteristics, German aviation was also still superior to almost all Soviet aircraft, and something had to be done about it. I was doing something, but it takes time to introduce new technology, and in war, as a rule, this resource is always in severe short supply.

The second problem was traditionally shells. The defenders of Sevastopol had a lot of artillery, and it was very good artillery, but the ammunition for this zoo of different artillery systems was very scarce. The armies of the Crimean Front were better off with shells, but there was no fabulous abundance here either, while the Germans were doing very well with artillery and shells.

The new German tanks also made me very nervous. Manstein managed to squeeze the 22nd Panzer Division out of the Wehrmacht's command, staffed by these nasty machines. The tanks themselves were still the same Panzer III and Panzer IV, but their guns were now long-barreled and could penetrate the armor of the T-34 and KV relatively easily when firing sub-caliber shells. Our tankers didn't know about it yet, but Letra immediately drew my attention to the new dangerous weapon of the enemy.

Judging by the satellite image, the Crimean Front was preparing for another offensive, although it should, of course, have burrowed into the ground, build a regimented defense, cover the engineering barriers with an effective system of fire and minefields, allocate mobile reserves to promptly respond to threats of breakthroughs, and prepare in every way to repel a powerful enemy strike.

Manstein was preparing in a big way and seemed to be seriously planning to dislodge the Soviet armies from the Kerch Peninsula. The Germans managed to move a considerable part of their artillery, including heavy howitzers, from near Sevastopol and methodically took up positions, intending to sweep away the Soviet troops approaching the front with a powerful strike of artillery and aviation. If Comrade Stalin had delayed sending me to the Crimean Front for at least a week, it would most likely have been too late to do anything about it. Even now, I must say, there was hardly any time left.

In the past month and a half, Korolev was able to make significant progress, but unfortunately the Soviet industry could not yet provide mass production of cruise missiles. Still, it was a technologically complex product, especially with the modifications made according to my drawings. Too high precision was required in the production of many parts, which meant the need to have an adequate machinery equipment and qualified specialists with high labor and technological discipline. Both were available in the Soviet Union, but, unfortunately, in extremely limited quantities. Nevertheless, it was possible to prepare 14 missiles, half of them with a new control system. Their flight could now be corrected by radio from the ground or from a plane within line of sight. The reliability of this engineering marvel was abominable, but with a certain luck, a missile did not deflect more than 20 meters from its target.

Naturally, no one transferred the Tsaitiuni artillery regiment with its 203 mm B-4 howitzers from near Leningrad to the Crimea, so I was left without heavy artillery subordinate directly to me, but the replenished and additionally reinforced Kudryavtsev’s air regiment arrived at Novorossiysk even slightly ahead of Mekhlis and me, and this time it was well staffed with fuel-air bombs. But the Korolev rocket launchers were not expected until a week later. The special train with their products, unfortunately, could not arrive sooner.

Lena flew to the Crimea with me. Comrade Beria did not object. Lieutenant of State Security Serova showed considerable organizational skills in the operation to repel the "chemical" raid on Leningrad, and I was going to give her about the same tasks on the Crimean front. True, Lena was no longer a lieutenant, but a Senior Lieutenant of State Security, and not Serova, but Nagulina, but it did not change the matter, unless one counts as something serious the fact that Comrade Mekhlis had managed to pick on me because of this fact of "nepotism" in official relations, and this made his attitude toward me even worse.

By the way, a very curious story happened in the Moscow registry office. The marriage itself between a major general and a female NKVD officer could not surprise anyone in particular. Lena brought some friend of hers from Moscow, whom I had never seen before, as a witness, but Comrade Beria came to the registry office from my side, which no one had been notified in advance for some reason.

When I caught Beria after another meeting of the Headquarters of the Supreme High Command, informed him of my and Lena's decision and asked him to be a witness at the marriage registration, the Commissar measured me with a long look, in which I read a whole gamut of emotions. Beria did not refuse, although he clearly had a bad suspicion about the reasons for my unexpected request. Yes, I think it was not even suspicion, it was absolute certainty. In any case, in the registry office he looked at Lena a little too intently, but she just smiled sweetly and pretended not to notice anything.

The registry clerk seemed to worry the most during our marriage registration. Comrade Beria's appearance made an indelible impression on her. I didn't tell Lena anything beforehand either, only warning her that something unexpected was waiting for her. The surprise was a success.

“What did you do, Nagulin!?” Lena said to me right after we were alone. “Why did you bring him as a witness? He knew right away! Now he knows that I told you everything about the recruitment and about my mission.”

“Naturally, he understood it all. And I am really grateful to him for the fact that voluntarily or involuntarily he contributed to the beginning of our relationship. And it's very good that Beria knows all about it now, although I think he guessed it anyway. There won't be any consequences for you, you'll see. Well, except that no one else would want reports from you about my behavior and mindset. You see, it turns out that we ourselves informed your superiors that you told me everything. Unofficially, but we did. If we didn't, you'd have to keep pretending that you're on a mission for the NKVD and spying on your own husband. It would have been a very bad deception that would have come out sooner or later, and then the consequences would have been really hard to foresee. But as it was…”

“Yeah, you're probably right,” Lena smiled and took my hand. “I didn't look at the situation from that point of view. It all makes a lot of sense, and it's probably really better that way. The People's Commissariat gave me a whole day's leave on the occasion of my marriage, so let's at least forget about the war and everything connected with it for a while.”

Naturally, I did not object.

* * *

We arrived at Novorossiysk in the evening. Mekhlis immediately demanded to be delivered to the front headquarters, and I, without delay, went to the location of my air regiment. I didn't give a damn about the Army Commissar's leering looks. Every operation of mine traditionally started with night air reconnaissance, and Colonel Kudryavtsev was already waiting at the airfield, having given orders to prepare the Pe-3 twin-engine fighter for the flight in advance. Mekhlis will obviously find something to do at the front headquarters. No doubt he will send a telegram to Stalin today about how horribly everything is organized here and how the front leadership is not in control of the situation, has lost the initiative and does not know where his troops are. And, naturally, he will mention in this telegram my inadequate behavior. Instead of tightening the screws on the slackers here, the boy Major General went off to fly a plane… Let it be. The main thing is that he doesn't shoot anyone there in a fit of temper, but I don't think it will come to that – I'll be back in the middle of the night from the reconnaissance flight.

Following the plane in which Mekhlis and I arrived, two PS-84 transport planes landed at the airfield. Perfectly aware of the nature of the problems I was to face in the Crimea, I requested from the Leningrad Front the equipment and specialists with whom we were setting up air defense fire control system to repel the massive Luftwaffe raid. The situation on the Kerch Peninsula and Sevastopol Defense District was in many ways similar to the situation in the besieged city of Leningrad. Even the battleship Paris Commune was of the same type as the Marat and the October Revolution. Here, however, it was only one, but the 30th Battery in Sevastopol consisted of two gun turrets removed from the exact same battleship Mikhail Frunze, which could not be restored after a major fire that happened back in 1919. It was a remarkable coincidence. In Leningrad I also had at my disposal a Sevastopol-class battleship and, in fact, a fixed three-tower battery, which the Marat turned into after being hit by a heavy armor-piercing bomb.

Using the experience of Leningrad and the specialists who had already undergone the necessary practical training, I hoped to quickly enough organize in the Crimea a unified system of fire control of the major caliber of warships and guns of coastal batteries. The 305mm fuel-air shells were now also on their way to Novorossiysk by special train. Unfortunately, only 200 of them were produced in time, as production was focused mainly on 203 mm caliber, which was suitable for the B-4 howitzers. Nevertheless, I was really counting on this ammunition. The Kerch Peninsula was not so big, and the guns of the Sevastopol-class battleship could shoot through it, also they could reach as far into the Crimean territory as 30 kilometers from the coast and almost 40 kilometers from the towers of the coastal batteries of Sevastopol.

We flew over the Crimea, immersed in the darkness of night. Kudryavtsev was silent, trying not to distract me from my observations, he only occasionally adjusted the course in the control points. In the mountainous terrain not all details were clearly visible from the satellites, and sometimes I would order the Colonel to descend a little and fly over the areas I was interested in again. By and large we could have done without it, but since we flew for reconnaissance anyway, I wanted this flight to be of some real use, apart from eliminating unnecessary questions about how I knew so much about the location of enemy units and formations.

Manstein was not considered one of Hitler's best commanders for nothing. He was moving his troops and equipment purposefully, and every day his plan was becoming clearer to me. Previously the escape pod computer and my homemade analysis program only partly helped me in predicting the enemy's actions, but now Letra unfolded before me the Germans' plans in every detail. Drones were invisibly present at 11th Army headquarters, transmitting map shots, copies of orders, transcripts of telephone conversations and radio intercepts.

Taking advantage of their dominance in the air, the Germans conducted a thorough air reconnaissance. They knew almost everything about the group of Soviet troops opposing them. Manstein, who had received at his disposal Richthofen's 4th Air Fleet and had brought a considerable force of heavy artillery to Feodosiya, planned to squeeze everything possible out of the reconnaissance data in the initial phase of the operation.

In an effort to break deep into Crimea, Lieutenant-General Kozlov concentrated two-thirds of his forces on the northern section of the front, adjacent to the coast of the Sea of Azov. The southern section was occupied by a relatively weak force, covering Feodosiya and not taking active offensive actions. The command of the Crimean Front believed that the Germans would not risk an offensive along the Black Sea coast, fearing the heavy guns of the Black Sea Fleet ships, but Manstein reasoned otherwise. He decided to take advantage of the relative weakness of the southern section of the Soviet front and succeed by using the effect of surprise, based on the fact that the Russians were not expecting a strike in the south.

With only one panzer division at his disposal, the German commander decided not to break his tank fist into pieces, but rather to use a strategy that mirrored his plan to capture France in miniature – break through the Soviet defense in a weak area and turn north to hit the flank and rear of the stronger grouping of Soviet troops with tanks, intercepting its supply lines and smashing the rear. This plan was not bad and, frankly, it had every chance of success, so if I wanted to prevent the disaster that was looming over the Crimean front, I had to act without delay.

By the time I arrived at the front headquarters, Mekhlis had already been diligently addressing the command staff for several hours. Without meeting worthy resistance, the Army Commissar explained to Kozlov and his subordinates the essence and meaning of military duty, he censured them in every way for their indecision in the face of the enemy and their inability to inflict a crushing blow with all their available forces. Everything was clearly heading toward urgent preparations for a new offensive, and judging by the generals' faces, they had already resigned themselves to the inevitable.

Seeing me, Mekhlis could not contain his annoyance. My arrival seemed to have prevented him from making a fervent speech on a moral-political subject, to which he was about to move on from purely military matters. However, the Army Commissar had to introduce me to the front command and even yield the floor, as I had just returned from the reconnaissance raid with new data.

“Well, comrade commanders, I guess you understand my vision of the situation,” Mekhlis squinted slightly and looked around the assembled officers with a piercing look. “And now Major General Nagulin will explain to you in detail how and where you will attack and in what time frame you must break through the front and reach the steppe regions of Crimea.”

Mekhlis made an inviting gesture in my direction. At the same time, a faintly unkind grin slid across his face.

I went to the desk and pulled out of my briefcase a map with the current situation on the front, marked in advance. For a minute the generals silently digested the new information about the enemy, and their faces reflected a range of feelings, from doubt and mistrust to a grim understanding of what awaited them.

“There will be no offensive,” I said softly in the hanging silence. “The front immediately turns to defense, limiting itself to demonstrative actions imitating continued preparations for a strike in the north.”

“Comrade Nagulin!” Mekhlis's voice soared to high notes, “The Headquarters of the Supreme High Command and Comrade Stalin expect us to succeed decisively! We must mobilize all forces, identify those responsible for the failures of the last month, make the right personnel decisions, and immediately prepare a new offensive!”

“There will be no offensive, Comrade Army Commissar 1st Rank,” my voice was as calm as ever, but there were notes in it, that resembled the clanking of tank caterpillars. “The Germans know about our every move, they are aware of the locations of army and divisional headquarters, outnumber us in field artillery and have overwhelming air supremacy. We have two or three days before their counterattack. And the first thing they will do is an artillery and air strike on the headquarters and communication centers. All army commanders should immediately change the location of command posts and see to it that lower headquarters also execute this order as quickly as possible. You will continue to imitate activity in the previous places. I expect the main enemy strike on the southern flank between the Black Sea and the village of Koy Assan to cut off and block Feodosia and come to the rear of our troops at the Parpachian line. During the night the tank brigades should be withdrawn from the front lines, concentrated near the village of Arma-Eli, thoroughly camouflaged and prepared for a counterstrike on the places of the supposed enemy breakthrough. The Black Sea Fleet…”

“Your authority, Major General, is not given to you to encourage, or even to personally implant, defeatist sentiments on the front,” Mekhlis no longer shouted, but his hissing voice was heard by each of the commanders present at the meeting. “You will have to answer for these actions. I will immediately report your outrage to Comrade Stalin!”

Mekhlis turned around and headed for the exit. None of the generals uttered a word, and I only indicated a slight shrug of the shoulders and said as indifferently as possible:

“As you please, Comrade Army Commissar 1st Rank.”

Chapter 4

“Now, Erich, you and I are real state criminals,” said Richtengden softly as von Tresckow left the room, carefully placing the bundle handed to him in his briefcase.

“Wasn't it like that before?” Schliemann wondered.

“Before that there were words, but now the real thing has begun.”

“I don't think the Gestapo could see much difference,” grinned the Major.

“That's right,” Richtengden didn't argue.

“Von Tresckow turned out to be a valuable acquisition for us, don't you think?”

“Quite valuable,” the Colonel agreed, “and also enterprising, which is just as important. It would not have occurred to me to disguise our goods as liquor bottles.”

“You're just not a connoisseur of this drink,” Schliemann smiled.

“A week later Hitler flies to Poltava to the headquarters of Army Group South. If all goes well…”

“Heinrich, let's not get ahead of ourselves. For our part, we did everything we could. There are competent people in the second division of the Abwehr, so I'm not worried about the technical side. Everything now depends on von Tresckow's equanimity and his ability to convince his acquaintance in Hitler's entourage to bring a package for General Gersdorf on the plane.”

“He will convince. I haven't met such an eloquent man as von Tresckow in a long time. But you're right, let's not get ahead of ourselves; we don't have long to wait.”

* * *

We didn't have time to complete our preparations. The German offensive was only days away, and the front's readiness for defense was still unsatisfactory. Lieutenant General Kozlov turned out to be quite a competent commander, but, like many other members of the Red Army high command, he lacked initiative, besides, he was completely incapable of arguing with his superiors. But he proved to be quite good as the executor of clear and unambiguous orders.

Letra pointed out to me the two main problems of the Crimean Front. First, the terrain allowed the Germans to use their air superiority effectively. The open steppes, crossed in some places by long, gentle hills, made it easier for enemy aviation to operate and prevented Soviet troops from taking cover from dive-bombers and attack planes.

Richthofen's pilots were considered the best specialists in the Luftwaffe in supporting the ground offensive, which was what Manstein needed now. The aviation of the Crimean Front and Kudryavtsev's separate air regiment could not be compared with the German 4th Air Fleet, which had 700 aircraft, in number and pilot training.

The dramatic jump in the effectiveness of German anti-tank weapons was the second problem. It seemed that the enemy had decided to concentrate all the innovations in this area right here, in Crimea. Not only the tanks of the 22nd Panzer Division, but also the assault artillery of infantry units received new long-barrel guns. Another dangerous German innovation was the anti-tank gun with a conical barrel. It would seem that its rather modest caliber of 28 millimeters should not have frightened the Soviet tank crews. However, the design of the gun and the tungsten-core projectile allowed this relatively light gun to penetrate armor up to 100 millimeters thick. And the final touch to this unsightly picture were the Henschel Hs 129 attack aircraft, designed to fight tanks, which had been sent to Manstein in considerable numbers before the offensive began.

Taken together, these anti-tank weapons drastically reduced the survivability of Soviet tanks in combat, and Red Army commanders had not yet realized the danger of this qualitative leap in the level of enemy anti-tank weapons; they were counting on the T-34 and KV's ability to relatively easily repel the intended attack.

Despite all the parallels I drew between the situation in Crimea and near Leningrad, there were significant differences. In Leningrad, in addition to the guns of the battleships Marat and October Revolution, I also had at my disposal the most powerful air defense system in the city, which consisted of many hundreds of anti-aircraft guns, searchlights, and balloons. Under the cover of these forces, warships could feel relatively safe and could fire their major caliber guns in relative peace.

Here the battleship Paris Commune had to operate from the open sea, and in case of enemy air raids it could rely only on its own air defense facilities and on the antiaircraft guns of the escort ships, which was fraught with great problems and a high risk of losing the Black Sea Fleet's only major battleship. Consequently, I could only use heavy ships at night, and this significantly reduced the ability to support ground troops with shipboard artillery.

Letra looked at the prospects of the Crimean front without any enthusiasm. I used the Moonbase computer at the limit of its design power, forcing it to analyze many thousands of scenarios, but if we set aside the unlikely options associated with fatal bad luck for the Germans and spectacular luck for the Red Army, the picture was bleak.

We were going to lose Feodosia in any event. Only the date of its fall varied, but in any case it had to happen no later than a week after the start of the German offensive. Even in the best-case scenarios, we would only have been able to delay the advance of the Germans to Kerch. We could have succeeded in stopping the enemy at least on the Isthmus of Parpachia in the very rare and rather exotic branches of the forecast, related to mistakes and miscalculations of the German command, which, of course, happened regularly, but it would be strange to count on them in the basic scenario.

In the end, I came to the conclusion that it made no sense to seek a solution by limiting myself to the means of the Crimean Front alone, and gave Letra a new assignment. Now I was looking at a map of the entire Soviet-German front. In the time remaining before the German strike, almost nothing could be changed, with one very important exception, and that exception was the planes.

The giant front, which drew an intricate line across the country from north to south, stood in unsteady equilibrium, somewhere mired in the mud, somewhere stabilized by the complete exhaustion of the parties, and somewhere, as in the Crimea, frozen for a while before exploding into a whirlwind of fire and steel. We clearly should not have expected significant events anytime soon everywhere, and I gave Letra the task of calculating how much and from what places it would be possible to take off air power without causing critical damage to the stability of the respective defense sites.

In the evening I used the authority of a representative of the Headquarters of the Supreme High Command to send a long telegram to Moscow, stating my view of the situation in the Crimea. Judging by the fact that Mekhlis did not touch me during the day, having gone to his moral and political affairs somewhere in the army headquarters, Stalin had not yet reacted in any way to his cries about my arbitrariness, and I could only guess what the Chief would do after receiving both our telegrams. The Supreme Commander trusted Mekhlis, if not unconditionally, then very much, but I had never failed to live up to his expectations. In any case, I had only to wait.

I haven't seen Lena in almost 24 hours. She went to Vice-Admiral Oktyabrsky in company with Lieutenant General Zashikhin. After learning what I needed people and equipment for, the commander of the Leningrad Air Defense Corps asked me a simple question:

“Comrade Major General, in the Crimea do you personally plan to organize a unified system of fire in the image and likeness of what was done in Leningrad?”

I thought for a few seconds, quickly figuring out what the Lieutenant General was getting at. Lena, of course, knew very well what had to be done, but her low rank would hardly have allowed her to negotiate properly with the Black Sea Fleet command.

“I planned to take part in this case only at the initial stage, and then counted on your people and Senior Lieutenant of State Security Nagulina.”

“Uh-huh,” Zashikhin nodded, “and they will rest on the first technical or organizational problem that requires someone at the top of the command staff to solve. I assure you, there will be a ton of these problems in setting up non-standard interactions between the Army and the Navy. You know it very well yourself – you've seen it before.”

“I think you're right, Gavriil Savelyevich,” I nodded, looking with interest at the Lieutenant General, who received a new rank for our joint operation.

“I need to fly with you,” Zashikhin stated categorically. “That's when we'll get things up and running quickly and without problems. And we should definitely take someone from Admiral Tributs' staff – it will be easier for the sailors to agree with each other. Will you be able to get the approval of the Headquarters of the Supreme High Command?”

* * *

Stalin sat at his desk, sucking on the mouthpiece of an unlit pipe, and thoughtfully looked over the documents in front of him. On top of the other papers were two telegrams. One came early in the morning from Mekhlis, and another, signed by Nagulin, arrived late in the evening.

The proven communist Mekhlis, whose unquestionable loyalty and honesty aroused no doubts in the Chief's mind, behaved quite predictably. Stalin did not doubt for a second that he and Nagulin would not work together, but he believed that their competition and the mutual dislike that quickly arose would serve as additional incentives to solve the complex tangle of problems that the situation in the Crimea increasingly resembled.

Mekhlis branded the command of the Crimean Front with bad words, especially pointing to the complete inconsistency of Lieutenant General Kozlov and his Chief of Staff, Tolbukhin, to their positions. He claimed that they perceived trips to the troops as punishment, and led the front from afar, preferring to sit out most of the time on the other side of the Kerch Strait. He also demanded an urgent reinforcement of the front with infantry and tanks, since many equipment and personnel had been lost in the botched offensives undertaken by the Crimean Front in recent weeks. According to Mekhlis, Kozlov completely failed in his preparations for a decisive offensive, and he was in principle incapable of organizing it effectively.

He naturally criticized Nagulin as well. Mekhlis accused him of arbitrariness and total disregard for the task set by the Headquarters of the Supreme High Command, and, finally, of direct sabotage of offensive preparations, which was expressed in an order to the troops to switch to defense and limit themselves to imitation actions, aimed at misleading the enemy about the allegedly being prepared for an attack in the north of the peninsula.

Stalin frowned involuntarily. In the morning, immediately after reading the first telegram, this order of the young representative of the Headquarters of the Supreme High Command, unexpected and not coordinated with anyone, caused him indignation, which, apparently, Mekhlis hoped for. Nevertheless, the Commander-in-Chief remembered that the advisability of Nagulin's actions had been questioned more than once in a variety of situations, and almost always these doubts proved unfounded. Therefore, he preferred to wait a while and not make hasty decisions. In the end, this approach turned out to be correct.

Nagulin explained his position in detail in his telegram of the evening, and his arguments, at the very least, deserved careful consideration and raised a number of serious concerns.

The only thing in which Mekhlis and Nagulin did not contradict each other was the need for the urgent transfer of reinforcements to the Kerch Peninsula. Only the first of them asked for infantry and tanks, and the second for fighters. In principle, Nagulin probably would not have objected to ground troops either, but, in his opinion, the moment had already passed and there was simply no time left to get them into Crimea.

“Comrade Stalin, Marshals Shaposhnikov and Budyonny and Generals Zhukov and Zhigarev have arrived,” reported the Chief's personal aide, Poskrebyshev.

Stalin nodded silently, and left the table to meet the top military leaders of the USSR entering the cabinet. All four invitees had already seen copies of the telegrams from the Crimean Front, so Stalin did not have to bring them up to speed.

“Let's start with you, Boris Mikhailovich,” the Supreme Commander-in-Chief addressed the Chief of the General Staff as the visitors seated themselves at the long conference table. “Comrade Mekhlis's position is very clear to me and needs no comment. What do you think of the telegram from Major General Nagulin?”

“This is very unpleasant information, Joseph Vissarionovich,” replied Shaposhnikov after a short pause. “Frankly, if I had received such a telegram from Lieutenant General Kozlov, I would have suspected him of panic or inadequate assessment of enemy forces. As for Comrade Nagulin, I can say that I have never yet noticed him showing any signs of unreasonable panic, and if, after personally conducting air reconnaissance, he claims that we cannot avoid a heavy defeat without immediately reinforcing the front with air power, I would, at the very least, listen very carefully to this opinion.”

Stalin nodded to Shaposhnikov, showing that he took note of his words and turned his gaze to Budyonny.

“And what will the commander-in-chief of the North Caucasus tell us on this issue? The supply of the Crimean front with everything necessary and control of General Kozlov's actions are in your charge, Comrade Marshal. What do you think about what Mekhlis and Nagulin said about the state of affairs on the Kerch Peninsula?”

“Until recently there was no reason for such harsh assessments, Comrade Stalin,” Budyonny answered clearly. “However, much of my understanding of the situation in the Crimea was based on General Kozlov's reports, which in turn were based on front-line intelligence. I see no reason not to believe Comrade Mekhlis's assessment, especially since, according to my own impressions, Lieutenant General Kozlov is not showing his best side as a front commander.”

“Let's leave Comrade Kozlov alone for now,” Stalin winced slightly, “I understand your desire to have someone like Hindenburg in his place, but you can't help knowing that we have no Hindenburgs in reserve. In general your position is clear to me, although I had hoped to hear from you a more specific answer.”

Stalin put the pipe on the table and looked around at the assembled officers.

“Who else has something to say, comrades?”

Zhukov took the floor.

“In my opinion, Lev Zakharovich paints the devil blacker than he really is. I am not talking now about the situation in Crimea, but about the actions of Major General Nagulin. This man would not sound the alarm in vain. I saw how he acted near Leningrad. Any other commander in his position would have long ago cried out for reinforcements and reserves, but Nagulin solved the problem with the forces available, although even I had the feeling for a moment that he would not make it. When such a commander speaks of the urgent need to go on the defensive and demands that the air force be transferred to him immediately, I have an irresistible urge to give him twice as many planes as he asks for.”

“I totally agree,” Shaposhnikov supported Zhukov.

“ Is that so?” Stalin grinned, “This is a commendable unanimity, but I would like to remind you, comrades, that if we had the ability to immediately send twice as many tanks, planes, and artillery to each front commander or Headquarters of the Supreme High Command representative than he asks for, we would already be having tea in Berlin, or even on the shore of the English Channel.

Comrade Zhigarev, Major General Nagulin's telegram gives justification for the number of planes we can send him without critical damage to other sections of the front. The Headquarters of the Supreme High Command is interested in your opinion as to whether we can really remove and redeploy to the Crimea some of the fighters from these frontal air groups and not have irreparable consequences for ground troops as a result.”

Zhigarev didn't answer right away. The commander of the Red Army Air Forces gave everyone at the meeting an attentive look and said softly:

“Comrades, don't you think that Major General Nagulin, who recently received a high rank and was first sent by the Headquarters of the Supreme High Command to one of the fronts, knows too much about the size of our Air Force, its structure and distribution across fronts and armies? Honestly, judging by his telegram, he knows as much as I do.”

There was a pause. No one was in a hurry to respond to what the Air Force Commander had said.

“This is really an important question, Comrade Zhigarev,” Stalin said slowly at last, “and we will come back to it later, but right now the Headquarters of the Supreme High Command is not interested in Major General Nagulin's knowledge of the Air Force's affairs, but in your opinion about the feasibility of his proposals. Your honest and objective opinion.”

* * *

Like most German generals, Wolfram von Richthofen was not optimistic about events on the Eastern Front. Only a month ago he had been appointed commander of the 4th Air Fleet that supported Army Group South, but to his own surprise, the Colonel-General felt no satisfaction from the promotion.

During the Polish campaign he commanded a special-purpose air unit and then the 8th Luftwaffe Air Corps. His corps supported ground troops in the war with France, took part in the Battle of Britain, the Balkan operation and the capture of Crete. Not everything and not always went smoothly, but these were the normal realities of warfare against strong or not-so-strong opponents.

Here in Russia, at first everything was going just fine. It was not without losses, of course, but from the first day of the invasion of the USSR the Luftwaffe firmly held dominance in the air, and the combat score of the best German pilots was growing rapidly, reaching three-digit numbers. Bialystok, Minsk, Vitebsk, Lepel, Smolensk… The Russians retreated, losing many hundreds of thousands of soldiers killed and captured, abandoning their equipment, burning their many tanks in unprepared and poorly coordinated counterattacks. He acknowledged that sometimes the Russians did get something right, and when the Wehrmacht's ground units started to stall, his corps would step in, solving problems for the tankers and infantrymen from the air.

Support for the offensive on Leningrad… Here things became more complicated, losses increased, but all this was still quite in line with Richthofen's ideas, how the campaign in the east should go. And then, in October 1941, his air corps was transferred to Moscow, and here a completely different war began. On this frozen ground he learned what it was like to lose dozens of planes in a single flight.

A certain colonel from the Abwehr told him about a Russian spotter, capable of shooting at aerial targets with murderous precision, at one of the meetings at the headquarters of Army Group Center. Richthofen found it hard to believe what he heard, but soon he was personally convinced that the Abwehrman was not exaggerating.

The catastrophe at Moscow had undermined the Luftwaffe's forces. The operation to supply the encircled armies with transport planes began well, but it ended quite unexpectedly with the defeat of the air bridge and the failure of all attempts to suppress the Russian air defense position areas, which inflicted heavy losses on the air convoys that tried to break into the Moscow Pocket.

And then… Then there was a massive raid on Leningrad, the memories of which each time spoiled the Colonel-General's mood for a long time. He was not in command of the operation, but 50 bombers were taken from his corps for it, with the promise that they would soon return. They did not. Richthofen knew to whom the Luftwaffe owed the complete failure of the "chemical" raid on the city, clenched by the ring of blockade, and now, planning his actions to support Manstein's troops in the Crimea, he had no doubt what, or rather who, he would have to deal with.

Then, at Moscow, Richthofen remembered well the words of Colonel Richtengden, and subsequent events did not let him forget them. Upon learning of the impending attack in the Crimea, the Colonel General sent a request to the Abwehr. Richtengden could not fly to Crimea at once. He needed to finish some urgent business in Berlin, but eventually he did arrive in Simferopol, and he was soon to reach the headquarters of the commander of the 4th Air Fleet.

* * *

An urgent business trip to the Crimea was a complete surprise to Richtengden, and not a very pleasant one at that. He absolutely did not want to let control over the preparation of von Tresckow's operation out of his hands. Nevertheless, upon learning of the reason for the summons, Richtengden left matters to Major Schliemann and flew to Simferopol.

Colonel General Richthofen looked tired and tense. Preparations for the counterattack on Feodosia and Kerch required full commitment from the commander of the 4th Air Fleet, so he seemed to sleep four hours a day. Richthofen valued time and got right to the point.

“Colonel, as far as I know, you've been working on the Russian spotter for six months now?”

“Yes, Herr Colonel General,” confirmed Richtengden, “and, unfortunately, I can't boast of much success in this case.”

“I'm aware of that,” the General nodded, “If it were otherwise, our conversation would make no sense. I am interested in your opinion as to how likely it is that this Russian will be in the Crimea when our offensive begins.”

“I think he's already here,” Richtengden answered calmly.

“Is this just a guess, or do you have specific information?”

“This is an assumption, but I estimate its credibility as very high. Crimea is now the most tense part of the Eastern Front. From here the Russians can threaten the entire southern flank of our troops, as well as raid the oil fields in Romanian Ploiesti. As far as I know Major General Nagulin, such places attract him like a magnet.”

“Major General?”

“Well, at any rate, our employee met him with those insignia a couple of months ago. However, six months earlier he had seen Nagulin in a junior lieutenant's uniform, so it is difficult to be completely sure about this matter.”

“Did your man meet this Russian twice? And why is Nagulin still alive?”

“It is difficult to kill an enemy general while being a prisoner, Herr Colonel General,” replied Richtengden softly.

“I see,” Richthofen turned his gaze to the steppe landscape outside the window. “In any case, you, Colonel, know this man best, and I need to have at least a rough idea of what unpleasant surprises my pilots should be prepared for.”

“Unfortunately, I don't know him as well as I'd like to,” Richtengden replied with a note of annoyance in his voice. “I used to think I could read him like an open book, but as it turns out, Nagulin is capable of unexpected improvisations. No one can tell you exactly what he'll come up with now, but one thing I'm a hundred percent sure of: he almost never gives up the techniques that have brought him success in the past. I would recommend that you carefully study the experience of the failed raid on Leningrad, Herr Colonel General. You are likely to encounter something similar here.”

“A barrage of the major caliber shrapnel shells of a Russian battleship?”

“That too.”

“What else?”

“According to our information, Nagulin has a serious air unit in his personal subordination. From 50 to a hundred planes armed with the latest higher kill power bombs. He prefers to operate at night. His favorite targets are headquarters, communications centers, ammunition depots, and, most unpleasant for you, airfields. At the same time, his pilots demonstrate a bombing accuracy completely impossible for a night attack.”

“That's too bad. I have almost no night fighters.”

“They still fail, Herr Colonel General. Attempts to stop the Russian marksman with Dorniers and Bf 110s equipped with radars and night sights have been made more than once. Some success was achieved, but there was still no way to stop him. I think you know that yourself.”

“Of course I do. Don't take this as a reproof, Colonel, but I didn't summon you from Berlin to listen to information I've known for a long time. I need specific recommendations. I don't want my planes to burn on Crimean soil. From what I hear, you have made a number of attempts to destroy the Russian marksman. Yes, none of them led to the desired result, but several times you were close to success, and twice Nagulin managed to survive literally by miracle. Perhaps then you were just unlucky, or the direct performers lacked skill and professionalism. I want that chance, too, and you can be sure I won't miss it.”

Richtengden looked at the commander of the 4th Air Fleet with interest for several seconds, all signs of fatigue disappeared from his face at the latest words, and the fire of combat excitement rekindled in the eyes of the elderly pilot, who had won eight air victories back in World War I.

“Well, Herr Colonel General,” Richtengden finally said with a slight chuckle, “you will have that chance. Let's just leave the headquarters building, get into the covered back of the first truck we see, and order the driver to take us out of town. I'll tell you all about it on the road.”

“I don't understand,” Richthofen's right eyebrow went up. “Explain yourself, Colonel. Do you suspect treason…”

“No way,” Richtengden stopped the General softly but firmly. “But neither I nor my colleagues in counterintelligence know all the capabilities of this man and the services that ensure his work. According to circumstantial data…”

“You don't have to go on, Colonel,” said Richthofen, standing up. “In these matters I trust the Abwehr completely. I can tolerate a couple of hours of shaking in the back of a Bussing for the sake of this case.”

* * *

All night the army, corps, and division staffs of the Crimean Front were in chaos. My orders ripped them from their familiar spots and forced them to change their deployment. Naturally, this led to a first-rate mess, it slowed the response of the command to reports from combat units, and in some places it caused a complete loss of communication with the troops.

Having not yet received any response from Stalin to his unveiling telegram, Mekhlis slightly calmed his ardor, but seeing this chaos, he nevertheless could not stand it.

“Comrade Nagulin! Don't you see what your orders lead to?! If according to your own words the Germans are preparing an attack, then why did you arrange this overnight move? Instead of running the troops, the staffs get in their cars and go somewhere. Until they arrive at the new locations and get the wired connection up again, the troops will be without proper control. This is sabotage, to say the least!”

“And you tell it like it is, Comrade Army Commissar 1st Rank,” I turned to Mekhlis and looked intently into his eyes. “Why be shy? We are not in the Institute for Noble Maidens. Here is the front, and having said "A," one should also say "B." Are you accusing me of treason? Of deliberately disorganizing the control of the troops on the eve of the German offensive? Do I understand you correctly?”

Mekhlis was obviously not yet ready to accuse me of crimes for which I was to be shot, but it was not in his character to retreat either. The Commissar looked at me with hatred, and the generals and colonels beside us quietly diverged, not wanting to be drawn into the conflict of the plenipotentiary representatives of the Headquarters of the Supreme High Command. I did not wait for Mekhlis to find the right words and spoke again myself:

“It was possible, of course, to leave everything as it was, and the headquarters would continue to work quietly for another day, maybe even two days. Except then the Richthofen pilots and heavy howitzer shells will fly in, and there will be no one to control the troops. Knowing about the threat of a strike on the headquarters and doing nothing – isn't it a treason?”

“You should not confuse "knowing" and "assuming," Major General,” said Mekhlis in a lower tone. “Maybe you have a captured German general who told you about the Luftwaffe's plans during interrogation? Or did some front-line intelligence hero sneak into Manstein's headquarters and steal a secret directive? Well, no! You only have your speculations about how you would act if you were the German commander, and, on the basis of these visions inspired by your own inflamed imagination, you disrupt the execution of the order to put the front on the defensive, which you yourself gave, recklessly breaking the entire front control structure for many hours!”

Mekhlis was not a stupid idiot. He was overly harsh, unbalanced, capable of "swinging his sword" without really understanding the problem, he was even, sometimes, inadequate, but not stupid. There was certainly logic in what he was saying. And, most hurtful of all, he genuinely cared about the situation and thought his actions were the only right thing to do under the circumstances. Nervousness, agitation, and bigotry are a scary mix. Why did Stalin send him to the front? This type could come in handy on the home front, somewhere where one has to "hold and not let go". His strong point is to criticize, break down, destroy what someone else has done, but he is not able to create something of his own. Such people should not be allowed to work in the army, in complex production, in science… However, no one offered me a choice, and I had to work with what I had, that is, with Lev Zakharovitch.

“I could be wrong, Comrade Army Commissar 1st Rank, but at least I have a clear plan of action, and what do you suggest? I'm not talking about personnel reshuffles now, but about a specific case.”

“The Headquarters of the Supreme High Command have set us a clear and precise task, Comrade Nagulin, and this task is an offensive, a breakthrough deep into Crimea and the unblocking of Sevastopol. The front should be doing just that, not frantically relocating headquarters, digging trenches, and deepening anti-tank ditches! I reported your arbitrariness to the Headquarters of the Supreme High Command. I'm sure we'll get an answer from Moscow soon, and then it will become clear, which of us understands the orders correctly!”

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Примечания

1

Henning von Tresckow; January 10, 1901 – July 21, 1944 – Major General of the German Army, one of the most active participants of the conspiracy against Hitler. Beginning in 1942, he was preparing an assassination attempt on Hitler. It was then that he came into contact with the members of the conspiracy in Berlin. Von Tresckow became the organizer of the assassination attempt on Hitler in Smolensk on March 13, 1943. He tricked one of the officers accompanying the Führer into sneaking a bomb on his plane. Tresckow asked an officer in Hitler's entourage to deliver a small parcel to Colonel Stiff of the Upper Command of the Armed forces in Berlin. According to the legend, the package contained two bottles of French Quantro liquor. The officer agreed, and the package was handed to him at the airplane ramp. However, the fuse did not go off and Hitler survived. That time von Tresckow was able to avoid exposure, once again resorting to deception and making sure that the "package" did not reach the addressee. Later von Tresckow tried to arrange his transfer to Hitler's Headquarters, to have more opportunities to organize an assassination attempt, but was unsuccessful in doing so. In 1944, after learning of the failure of Stauffenberg's attempt to blow up Hitler, von Tresckow told his aide-de-camp: “They will soon find out about me and try to get the names of our comrades out of me. In order to warn them, I must sacrifice my life. ”

To deflect suspicion from his comrades and relatives, he attempted to fake his death in battle. Once on the neutral strip, von Tresckow opened fire with a pistol and then blew himself up with a grenade. This helped for a while, but later investigations revealed his involvement in the conspiracy, and von Tresckow's relatives were subjected to reprisals. Von Tresckow's words about Germany's loss of honor quoted in the book were indeed said by him to a fellow officer.

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2

In real history, Lev Zakharovich Mekhlis was appointed as the Headquarters of the Supreme High Command 's representative on the Crimean Front; he was not actually a military man, but informally subordinated the front's command.

General Kozlov was unable or unwilling to resist the onslaught of the representative of the Headquarters of the Supreme High Command and, in fact, withdrew from his duties. Л. Z. Mekhlis wasted frontline forces in frontal offensives, unprepared and badly organized. The result was the depletion of the front and a heavy defeat during the German counteroffensive, which ended with the Red Army abandoning the Kerch Peninsula and, consequently, the fall of Sevastopol.

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