Chapter 194: The Great Purge
Meanwhile, in Soviet Russia.
"Georgy Konstantinovich Zhukov, you are beginning to test my patience."
The interrogator's voice was cold, almost bored.
"What did the German spy tell you? Did he instruct you to infiltrate the highest levels of the Party?"
The dazzling incandescent lights shone directly into Zhukov's eyes, making him dizzy and disoriented. His face was pale, his lips were cracked, and his swollen eyes showed that he had not slept properly for days.
"I do not understand what you are talking about."
His voice was hoarse, but still steady.
"I admit that during my time at the Roman Military Academy, I had contact with several German officers, including Manstein and Rommel, whom you mentioned."
He raised his head with difficulty.
"But I have never betrayed my homeland. I have never betrayed the ideals under the Red Flag. All your accusations against me are baseless."
The interrogator paced back and forth beside him, the sound of his boots striking the floor echoing again and again inside the interrogation room.
"In Spain, did you try to incite Comrade Pavlov to defect?"
Zhukov had heard this question too many times.
He shook his head.
"We merely had a conflict over military doctrine."
The interrogator's eyes lit up, as if he had finally caught the scent of blood.
"Good. You admit there was a conflict over military doctrine."
He leaned forward.
"But Comrade Pavlov insists the matter is true. He has repeatedly described how you attempted to indoctrinate him with German military thought."
The interrogator pointed at Zhukov.
"The defeat of the tank forces in Spain, was that also caused by your ideas?"
His voice suddenly sharpened.
"How do you explain this? Stop being stubborn. Comrade Pavlov has already admitted his mistakes and regained the trust of the comrades led by Comrade Stalin and Comrade Khrushchev."
He placed a sheet of paper in front of Zhukov.
"If you write a self criticism now, you still have a chance to survive. Do not be like Tukhachevsky, refusing repentance until the end."
The interrogator adjusted the recorder.
A moment later, Pavlov's voice echoed inside the interrogation room.
Paper and pen were pushed before Zhukov.
To prevent him from committing suicide, the iron chain on his wrist had been tightened to a precise length. It allowed him to write, but not enough to stab his own throat.
That feeling, the feeling of being distrusted by his own comrades, sent a cold despair through Zhukov's heart.
He stared at the swaying chandelier above him.
He felt the cold iron chair beneath his body.
For a moment, despair surged up so violently that it almost drowned him.
He wanted to shout that he had done nothing wrong.
But what came from his throat was only a long, exhausted sigh.
At the same time, Tukhachevsky was being escorted to the execution ground.
The moment he had seen that photograph, he had known he was finished.
Any further explanation would be meaningless.
The iron chains around his ankles clinked with every step. Months of detention had reduced Tukhachevsky to a skeletal figure, his cheeks sunken, his body so thin that his uniform hung from him like a borrowed coat.
He stood in the winter wind, which was cold enough to crack a man's cheeks.
Leaning against the execution wall, he looked as if a strong gust might blow him over.
"Tukhachevsky."
The execution officer unfolded the sentence and read in a rigid voice.
"On behalf of the Soviet Russian Party Central Committee and the Soviet Russian Army General Headquarters, I sentence you to death for treason, collusion with the enemy, and attempting to organize a coup."
He lowered the paper.
"Do you have any last words?"
The execution officer handed a lit cigarette to Tukhachevsky's lips.
Tukhachevsky took two deep drags.
Then he shook his head.
"I have nothing to say."
His voice was weak, but very calm.
"History will prove my innocence. I only hope that in the future... history is not written by Germans."
He slowly raised his head.
"Long live the Soviet."
Bang.
A bullet pierced his chest.
Blood splattered across the white wall behind him.
Then more gunshots echoed through the outskirts of Moscow.
No one knew how many people died on the day Tukhachevsky was executed.
The residents in the outskirts of Moscow only knew that the gunfire lasted the entire night.
By the next morning, white snow had covered the bodies buried beneath the earth.
That photograph became a Cheka list.
Everyone connected to the officers in the picture was subjected to a brutal purge without exception.
Division commanders, regimental commanders, and staff officers of armored divisions were taken to the execution grounds in batches. Officers with even the slightest connection to them were implicated and killed. Soldiers were disbanded and reassigned to other units. The weapons research institute was thoroughly investigated.
Many researchers were executed or exiled.
The results of the military reforms led by Tukhachevsky turned to ashes, like a sheet of white paper swallowed by flame.
The doctrine that tanks should remain subordinate to infantry once again dominated military thinking. Tank development was also affected by the purges and fell into stagnation.
Many valuable lessons gained from the Spanish battlefield missed their golden period for development.
Inside a deep office in the Kremlin, the secretary placed the military purge results on Stalin's desk.
Stalin briefly glanced at the news of Tukhachevsky's death and the court decision to exile Zhukov to Siberia.
Then he set the documents aside.
This lesson left an unforgettable impression on him.
Power could protect the hard won fruits of victory only when it was held firmly in his own hands.
The escalating purge was exactly the result he wanted to see.
It could eliminate reactionary forces within the country and consolidate his personal prestige. At the same time, it could also clear out the remnants of the Trotskyites and all political opposition, completely transforming Soviet Russia into his personal dictatorship.
For this purpose, he granted the People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs the authority to conduct purges without regard for judicial procedure.
He knew innocent people would be sacrificed.
But compared to the stability of all Soviet Russia, compared to the grand ideal, what did that matter?
Dozens of lives.
Hundreds of lives.
Even tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands of lives, could be sacrificed.
What worried Stalin now was Ukraine.
"How is the situation in Ukraine? Has the rebellion been suppressed?"
Catching sight of Stalin's rigid expression, the secretary took a deep breath before answering.
"According to telegrams from Ukraine and the Cheka, although two infantry divisions were urgently deployed for armed suppression, suppression has been generally ineffective due to the widespread presence of Ukrainian nationalists within the Kyiv Military District's troops and government."
He continued carefully, "In addition, Western countries are secretly crossing the border to distribute food and weapons to farmers. The quality of the rebels is not high, but their numbers are constantly expanding."
Stalin waved his hand.
"If they cannot solve the problem, then replace them with people who can."
His voice was flat and merciless.
"Relieve Larkivov, First Secretary of the Ukrainian Central Committee, of his duties. Send Comrade Khrushchev to oversee suppression and economic recovery."
"Yes, Comrade Stalin."
Stalin tapped the table with his fingers.
"Has Germany sent military personnel to Ukraine?"
He had expected Germany to seize this opportunity to dispatch troops into Ukraine.
But the secretary gave a different answer.
"No, Comrade Stalin. Germany is the main provider of food and weapons, but it has not deployed armed forces. Instead, Poland has secretly sent troops under the guise of a mercenary legion to help train the rebels militarily."
Hearing this, Stalin's expression eased slightly.
If Germany had sent its army into Ukraine, the entire situation would have spiraled completely out of control.
Fortunately, Jörg von Roman, though cunning, was still a rational madman.
He understood that sending the German Army directly into Ukraine meant war between Germany and Soviet Russia.
What Stalin had not expected was Poland's intervention in the Ukrainian rebellion.
He had originally believed that after offending Germany, Poland would naturally lean toward Soviet Russia because of Germany's enormous military threat.
For this reason, he had repeatedly sent Molotov to Warsaw for secret visits, but those attempts had yielded no progress.
Poland had accepted neither Germany's overtures nor his own.
So which side was Poland preparing to join?
.....
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