Stalin: The Merciless Whip — Chapter from the Novel "Stone" by Volodymyr Shablia
Stalin: The Merciless Whip
Stone — Book One: First Steps Toward the Light and Back —
Chapter 4
by Volodymyr Shablia
June 1941. The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. Moscow.
On June 23, 1941, Joseph Vissarionovich Stalin,
the leader of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, woke shortly before noon
feeling utterly shattered. The lingering effects of an exceptionally severe psychological
crisis, brought on by the realization that his strategic plans had collapsed,
seemed to press his body deep into the mattress. When he tried to lift his head
from the pillow, a dull pain throbbed somewhere deep inside the back of his
skull, as though his brain itself were resisting any movement of the cranium.
Despite this, Stalin forced himself out of bed
at once and walked over to the washbasin. The cold water had a refreshing
effect. Wanting to intensify it, he undressed and stood beneath an icy shower
for several minutes. A large purple terry towel with an abstract pattern brushed
pleasantly across his skin, leaving behind a faint tingling sensation and
warmth. After completing these procedures, the politician noted with
satisfaction that the despair that had haunted him throughout the night had
receded.
'The war... War... despite all my
calculations and every measure I took. Unexpected and treacherous, brazen
and catastrophic... Perhaps this is the greatest tragedy of my life,” he reflected. “And
I have to admit it. Events are unfolding according to the worst possible
scenario. In a single stroke, the entire familiar system of coordinates that I
had spent so long and so stubbornly constructing, and which had seemed so
solid, has collapsed. It is shameful to admit it, but a mere twenty-four hours
outside that system knocked me completely off balance and turned me into a
powerless neurotic. Thank God, at least the horrible state of panic and doom
that seized my entire being so unexpectedly yesterday, paralyzing my thoughts
and feelings, is gone now. And I must take advantage of that immediately.'
The Iron Koba lit his pipe and released several
thick clouds of smoke... With every draw, his self-confidence returned.
'How many times have I walked
on the edge of a razor, how many times have I found myself between life and
death—and every time I survived,” the politician encouraged himself. “What's
more, every critical episode brought me to a new, higher level. It was not for
nothing that even Lenin himself used to joke that I was his commissar for
emergencies.'
Joseph Vissarionovich went to his study and
ordered all means of communication shut off and no one admitted to see him. For
the moment, he must assess the situation alone, soberly and in all honesty.
'Today I have incomparably
greater opportunities and resources at my disposal than ever before. That is my
advantage,” the leader of the USSR acknowledged. “But, as it turns out, it is
also my weakness, manifested in overconfidence and complacency. This weakness
has revealed itself in the state system that exists today and has led to
catastrophe.'
Stalin concentrated, gathering his thoughts,
emotions, and intuition into a single focus.
'Therefore, I must create a new, wartime structure of power in which only my strengths will come into play.'
Having reached this final conclusion, he began
working out the details of that structure.
...
The Secretary of the Central Committee of the
All-Union Communist Party (Bolsheviks) had already been in his study for over
five hours. From the outside, the politician's behavior might have looked like
idleness, but in reality he was working out strategic decisions that were
supposed to tip the scales in his favor.
'Yes. Now, at the moment when
the key decision is being made, I must draw a line under the past with absolute
honesty and cold blood,” he thought. “I must identify within it effective,
standardized mechanisms for achieving military victories and put them into
practice—mechanisms applicable to every sphere of activity. At the same time, I
must tear out by the roots every dubious and ambiguous method of operation from
the body of the state.'
Now, without emotion, Stalin forced himself to
arrange his principal victories in order: his foothold in the Party, Tsaritsyn,
Yudenich, the post of General Secretary of the Party, the creation of the USSR,
Trotsky, industrialization, the crushing of the Fifth Column...
 |
| Stalin |
'What common features do all these successful campaigns share?” the politician asked himself again and again. “A clearly defined strategic objective? Cold rationality? Ruthless willpower? Personnel? Single-minded determination? Choosing the right key link? Personal control of the process? Concentrating all available resources on achieving the desired result? Strict oversight?'
The leader of the vast state weighed the
possibilities. In his mind, a table took shape, with his achievements on one
side and the factors that had led to victory on the other. Mentally placing
check marks at the intersections of rows and columns, Stalin discovered that in
every victory he had analyzed, he had relied on ruthless willpower and the
concentration of resources on the desired result. The remaining factors had
been employed in most cases, but not always.
'Therefore,' the politician
concluded, 'these are the factors that must be placed at the forefront.
They work effectively under any circumstances.'
He took a blank sheet of paper, leaving room at
the top for a heading, and carefully wrote down a phrase familiar to him since
the Civil War:
"1. Ruthlessly eradicate any
instances of surrender, desertion, incompetence, and sabotage."
Then he thought for a moment and added:
"Employing the most
extraordinary measures!"
Stalin perceived the world around him in black
and white. He divided people, countries, actions, thoughts—everything around
him—in exactly the same way, recognizing only two all-encompassing categories: "ours"
and "theirs."
The leader regarded as "ours"
everyone and everything that, at the moment a decision was made, lay within his
power or contributed to strengthening it. "Theirs," in his
understanding, were everyone else and everything else.
Joseph Vissarionovich saw his own role as a
strategist as the creation of a system of power that would force every one of
the "ours," individually and collectively, to work
effectively at the limits of their capabilities in order to implement the
strategic plan he had conceived. And that fundamental strategic plan consisted
of expanding, by every possible means, both the numbers and the strength of "ours"
by forcing "theirs" to become "ours,"
while simultaneously destroying—or, in extreme cases, neutralizing—those who
refused to submit.
'I have enough ‘ours’ as it is. Yet the very first day of the war revealed a lack of organization and coordination among them,' Stalin reflected. 'Moreover, enough fools have nestled among these 'ours,' and traitors are lying in wait. Which means I must get rid of all this filth as quickly as possible. A new system of power relations can be built only when one does not have to fear for one's own rear.'
The man turned once more to the sheet of paper
and decisively wrote:
"2. Immediately
neutralize all spies and potential enemies."
The Secretary of the Central Committee of the
All-Union Communist Party (Bolsheviks) raised his eyes toward the ceiling, and
before his mind's eye flashed the faces of former comrades who had turned out
to be traitors...
He felt the blood rush to his face, while
beneath his habitual state of vigilance, fury began to surface.
Yes, he too had been mistaken for a long time,
allowing himself to be led by those Leninist-Trotskyist lackeys who believed
that revolution could be exported by financing anti-imperialist organizations
abroad. Because of those windbags, colossal sums of money had flowed overseas
like water into sand—money that could have been spent on armaments. And time?
Years had been wasted! And now it was precisely that time they lacked so
desperately...
I should have destroyed that whole brood of
empty-headed ideologues immediately after Trotsky's defeat. After all, these
people were capable of nothing but repeating, in one form or another, the
obsolete and dubious ideas of the old leaders whose time had passed. Thank God,
at least now they are no longer getting in the way, no pulling in different
directions like the swan, the pike, and the crab in the old fable...
'Stop!' Stalin ordered
himself. 'I cannot descend into emotion. That is unacceptable. Instead, I
should draw a conclusion from my own mistakes.'
He filled his pipe with tobacco and slowly lit
it. Rising from behind the desk, Joseph Vissarionovich began pacing around the
study, watching as clouds of bluish smoke dissolved one after another into the
air. The ritual calmed him. When he had finished smoking, he sat down at his
desk and concentrated.
'Now I must determine how to
deploy and concentrate my forces and resources,' the politician continued his
reflections.
Before his mind's eye unfolded the boundless
expanse of the country. In his imagination, a phantasmagorical picture took
shape, composed of cities, military units, forests, tanks, people, rivers,
factories, Party cells, fields, warehouses, and countless other things, all
jumbled together in some strange proportion, all of which, for him, represented
the USSR.
He knew some of these objects as intimately as
the lines on his own palm; others he could visualize clearly. But most of them
were something unreal to him—things the Party leader had never seen and had no
idea what they actually were. In place of them, his mind contained abstract
categories whose principal characteristics were the functions they performed or
the products they produced.
It was precisely these unfamiliar and poorly
understood components of the country that now seemed to him to be the cause of
his failures. After all, he had relied on other people to manage them, and
other people possessed one particularly appalling tendency: to do everything
wrong.
Stalin grimaced as he imagined the chaos
bordering on anarchy in which, if the available information was to be believed,
the country now found itself.
'How could I have allowed this
to happen?!' Joseph Vissarionovich once again slipped into self-criticism. 'Have
I grown complacent? Have I lowered my standards?'
He checked himself once more and then, through
an effort of will, tried to force his emotions back into a controlled channel.
'Yes, I grew complacent. Yes,
I trusted idiots. Yes, I relaxed my control. Yes, I overestimated my own
abilities,' the leader of the USSR admitted honestly to himself. 'But now is
not the time for self-flagellation. Now is the time to correct mistakes.'
Stalin considered once more the existing state of
command and control and, carefully forming each letter, wrote down the
following points:
"3. Establish a clear
vertical chain of command in accordance with wartime laws, without duplication
of authority, but with strict control over execution.
4. Assign responsibility for
the principal areas of
activity," he continued, and then, pausing briefly to think,
added the following subpoints:
“- the army;
- personnel;
- evacuation;
- intelligence and sabotage operations;
- aircraft;
- tanks and artillery;
- ammunition;
- the rear;
- propaganda;
- foreign assistance."
After reviewing what he had written, the leader
slowly smoothed his mustache and set the pencil aside.
"I'll take charge of the army and
personnel myself," he said aloud, decisively. "And I'll organize
everything so that these people have no choice but to carry out every one of
the points I've listed with all their might. The time for playing games is over.
Now it's war—and a real fight to the finish: a question of who will defeat whom!
No more gingerbread—no more treats that can be eaten, tasted, or simply pushed
aside! Only the whip: merciless and punishing! A whip tested by the experience
of my entire life—and not mine alone!"
Stalin gave a sinister grin and pressed the
bell.
His secretary, Poskrebyshev, immediately
appeared at the door.
"Gather the members of the Politburo and
the Bureau of the Council of People's Commissars for eight this evening,"
the leader of the state ordered.
Poskrebyshev immediately withdrew, and Joseph
Vissarionovich picked up his pipe from the desk and once again began the ritual
of filling and lighting it.
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Stone — Book Two: Difficult Roads to Hell
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