Chapter 20:

Chapter 20:

“[spurious].”

― Joseph Stalin



Chapter 20

I had never thought about it before, but ‘I’ was surprisingly old.

Or rather, were the generals too young?

Budyonny, whom I thought was an old man because of his dignified mustache, was five years younger than ‘I’.

Zhukov and Konev were 18 and 19 years younger than me, respectively, almost like nephews... I was about ten years older than Yakov Dzhugashvili, Stalin’s son.

If I went as far as Ivan Chernyakhovsky, who was the youngest front commander in history, he was the same age as Yakov!

Considering that Yakov became a prisoner of war of the German army when he was a lieutenant, the commander was only about ten years older than a lieutenant.

No wonder, they were young.

They were full of spirit.

And they had confidence in their abilities.

The losses so far were estimated at around one million, compared to the actual history where they lost five million.

The armored and air forces also suffered only about a quarter of the losses compared to the actual history where they lost 20,000 each.

Perhaps the generals thought that it was thanks to their abilities.

They had a reason to think so.

‘I’ avoided taking part in the front command thoroughly, and I just provided them with useful information by mixing the knowledge I knew and the knowledge collected by the intelligence department.

The generals were right to command based on that information.

But who brought them that information, and who conscripted, trained, organized, and assigned the huge population, while supplying thousands of materials properly?

It was ‘I’ and the bureaucrats under me.

So I felt uneasy somehow.

“We must drive them out of the defensive line they are holding now before Rasputitsa comes. Once they retreat from the defensive line they built, they will either have to endlessly retreat back and back to avoid the disadvantageous engagement with our army, or endure endless exhaustion by digging trenches and building fortifications in the mud.

If we want to inflict much more damage on them, now is the time!”

Kirponos spoke loudly in front of the other attendees, unaware that I was lost in thought.

Unlike the Northwestern Front that lost many armored forces or the Northern Front that gave most of its armored forces to other fronts and turned Leningrad into a space fortress, the South received endless reinforcements.

The Southern Front faced 800,000 Nazi Germany’s Southern Army Group and 300,000 Romanian Army with almost 2 million troops and nearly 9,000 armored vehicles, most of which were light tanks.

In addition, there were two field armies with 160,000 troops being formed in Zaporozhye, a large city on the Don River.

The preparations for debuting Operation Uranus on the battlefield splendidly were gradually completed.

Zhukov and Kirponos boasted to me.

The operation was perfect.

The Red Army, which did not lose all its veterans at the beginning, had a much higher level of training than at this point in actual history, and also had a fighting spirit.

From personal weapons to artillery fire, armored forces and air forces – of course they did not have air superiority at all – but at least they were better than in actual history.

If only I had given Zhukov instead of Budyonny to follow the advanced doctrine... What was this creepy feeling that stimulated a corner of my head?

‘Zhukov is too dangerous’

The Stalin inside me whispered that whenever I was alone.

A defeated general threatens the existence of the state, but a victorious general threatens the existence of the regime.

I did not doubt Zhukov’s ability.

But I doubted his ambition that he might have.

Beria also seemed to know this creepy feeling I had well enough that he sometimes stimulated my paranoia with casual words.

Zhukov’s family did not know yet, but they were already under strict surveillance.

Only Beria would know if he really knew or not...

If his ‘sabotage’ or ‘rebellion plot’ was exposed, Zhukov’s family and relatives would be immediately dragged to Gulag and never be able to breathe outside air again.

Beria somehow sensed where my suspicious eyes were heading and kept finding out suspicious information about their movements and brought them to me.

“Comrade Secretary General, this is this week’s ‘Domestic Trends Report’.”

In a hostile place, Beria smiled softly and handed me a report containing the trends of the military.N0v3lRealm was the platform where this chapter was initially revealed on N0v3l.B1n.

All senior military officers of general or colonel rank had been reported for ‘suspicious behavior’ at least once.

If you read it carefully, it was just circumstantial or malicious interpretation that could be considered suspicious, but there was hidden malice in the report.

I could see why Beria was hated by the military.

Of course, the military that had grown huge through war could easily stage a coup.

The Russian Revolution itself was achieved by seizing the power of a highly centralized government – like the Soviet Union now – with a single armed takeover of the capital!

The Stalin of actual history suffered endlessly from such paranoia and kept getting rid of his confidants whom he thought were enemies.

And then?

He was eventually betrayed by his trusted Khrushchev.

“You will be in charge of all the projects related to rockets and space in the design bureau that you will oversee. Engine, electronics, control and measurement devices, just name it. Whatever you need, I will put them under your command. The other design bureaus can borrow your products, right?”

People’s mouths gaped open.

No design bureau had ever been given such authority.

Usually, several design bureaus competed in one field to participate in national projects.

Even if they had to cooperate for one goal...

Such a huge power?

“What the Politburo wants first is this. Roughly... a ballistic rocket that can carry a two-ton warhead and fly more than 200 km. If you can do this, you will have a powerful influence over the science of this country for decades to come. Can you do it?”

Korolev swallowed his saliva.

He was given a clear goal.

He was also promised full support.

And... if he refused, he might have to go back there.

To the hell called Gulag.

He nodded his head vigorously.

What the heck, I just have to make it!

“Good, very good.”

The Secretary General clapped his hands with a satisfied face and looked at Korolev.

Yangel, Glushko, Chelomey, he had surpassed his formidable rivals and returned from being locked up in Gulag as the sole director of the space project.

Of course, he could go down as quickly as he went up... But the position of overseeing all the design bureaus and engineers.

He didn’t have much ambition for power, but this treatment was amazing enough that he couldn’t even dream of it.

After some time, Korolev finished his private conversation with the Secretary General and walked out.

He had the goals written by hand by the Secretary General and some design concepts that he didn’t know where he got them from.

The space development was abstract and simple. It was about what to do in a long term – 5 to 10 years.

But this was rather proof that the Kremlin would invest in space business for that period.

For now, he had to prove his ability by making things for the war first.

He looked at the design of the ‘weapon rocket’ and was lost in thought.

Suddenly someone grabbed his arm and dragged him.

“Hey! Who... who are you?”

“Shh, be quiet. Comrade Korolev.”

The NKVD agent who grabbed his arm in the corner of the hallway lowered his voice and gave him some warnings.

He had left Gulag, but he should not contact his family since he had access to top secrets.

He would be able to see them after the war and after achieving at least the second goal.

It was not much different from Gulag, so he could nod his head.

His wife had already sent him divorce papers.

There must have been pressure from NKVD or around him.

He understood that, but he felt a bit disappointed somehow.

If you had waited for me for that time... I would have come back as the best.

Of course, the NKVD agent told him about the luxurious treatment he would receive.

The position of director of aerospace department with ministerial treatment, a spacious house and a private car, and... women.

What if a foreign beauty spy approached him who had to do a secret research project in a place that was no different from Gulag again?

“You don’t want any secrets to leak out because of something like that, do you? Hahaha.”

The agent smiled with a friendly expression that did not suit an agent and handed him a few documents.

There were pictures of stunning beauties on each one.

Did he have to choose one of them?

He picked one that caught his eye and looked at it closely.

As if they were partners now, the agent chuckled and poked his side.

“Why are you looking at only one? They are all yours. All of them.”

“...What?”

You know what I mean?

The agent looked at him with an expression that could only be interpreted as such.

He felt his face turn red as he realized his thoughts were exposed.

“It’s an apology and... a favor from Comrade Beria. He said he deeply regrets putting you through hardship with a wrong investigation and hopes this will help you a little bit in your dedication for the country.”

“...”

The agent patted his back friendly and disappeared around the corner of the hallway.

Even after he left, Korolev looked at the pile of documents with a red face for a long time.