The Scarlet Generation

by Christopher Nicole

  She was as handsome as ever. Why had he dropped her? Because he had realised that she was not going to fit in to the Bolugayevski ambience. He did not deny that she loved everything about Russia, that perhaps she was excited by and interested in everything Bolugayevski, but she was essentially a woman of 1941, and the Bolugayevskis were essentially a family firmly rooted in 1841, or certainly 1914.

  He had felt her presence would be disruptive for all of them. But did that mean he was never going to marry, unless by chance he came across some other exiled Russian princess? That was an absurdity. In any event, marriage did not come into it. He was going to adventure. And she wanted to come along. And she was the most attractive girl he knew. “As we’re going to be companions in war,” he said. “Dinner?”

  “Where?” she asked, cautiously.

  He grinned. “At a neat little restaurant down by the harbour.”

  “I’m on duty tonight.”

  “Well, then, tomorrow.”

  They sat at a candle-lit table, and ate Maine lobster. “Tell me what I’m going to,” Elaine said.

  “Would you believe that I have no idea? I can’t remember it.”

  “But your mother must have told you about it?”

  “Often and often and often. Trouble is, Mom’s memory has only two colours. One is very rosy, and definitely no longer has any reality. The other is utterly black, and I have no idea how accurate it is. I do know they’re a pretty unholy bunch over there. Maybe even my cousin.”

  “You have a cousin still in Russia?”

  “At least one. My stepfather’s sister.”

  “Then she’s not really a cousin.”

  “She is. You see, my stepfather is actually the son of my mother’s cousin.”

  “Excuse me?” she said, totally confused.

  He grinned. “It’s a fact. Inquire into the history of a Russian princely family, like any royal family, and you come up with some fairly incestuous situations.”

  “I’ll have to work all that out. Do you think when we, oops, I meant, you, get to Russia, you’ll be able to see this cousin?”

  “I certainly intend to try. But if you like, you can meet her too.”

  “That’d be swell. Gee, I am so excited...” Again they gazed at each other. Then she licked her lips, “I guess we’d better call it a night.”

  “And back you go to your two room-mates.”

  Another flicker of her tongue. “They’re not there, tonight.”

  Priscilla Cromb stared at her only son for several seconds. Then she asked, with surprising calmness, “Has everyone in this God-forsaken world gone mad?”

  “There’s nothing dangerous about it, Mom!” Alex protested.

  “Even if your name is Bolugayevski? Don’t tell me: you have a guarantee of your safety. At least from the Russians.”

  “Why, yes. Absolutely.” He frowned at her. “How did you know that?”

  “Your stepfather has one too.”

  “Joe? Joe’s going to Russia?”

  “Yes,” Priscilla said, grimly.

  “Oh, boy! That’s tremendous!”

  “For you, I am sure.”

  “Oh, Morn.” He dropped to his knees beside her chair.

  “It won’t be for long. And it’s something I just have to do. Can you understand that?”

  She gazed at him for several seconds, then kissed him.

  “Yes. I understand that. But for God’s sake take care, my darling.”

  He kissed her back. “I’ll take care of Joe, too.”

  *

  “Well,” Alex said. “Last night in the old home town. And no duty. You never told me what your folks said about your volunteering.”

  “They’re not too happy.”

  “Yeah,” he said. They were on the sidewalk now, and he faced her. The summer was well advanced and the first leaf had just come down, wisping on to the pavement. “About us...”

  She anticipated his mood. “We can’t make any long-term plans now, Alex.”

  “Do you think there is any chance of us being sent to the same hospital?”

  “Would you like that? Maybe we could twist a couple of arms. Would you like me to cook you dinner?”

  “For four?”

  “I’ll send the others out.” Elaine’s nose wrinkled.

  “Again.”

  *

  “Is there no news at all’?” Jennie asked.

  Ivan Ligachev put his arm round her shoulders. She seemed to have aged ten years in the past two months, but they had all aged ten years in the past two months, and those with relatives caught up in the fighting had aged the most. “Not since that first day. Brest-Litovsk and its environs were overrun in the very first attack. Now it is lost behind a veil of silence. And terror.”

  “Didn’t you learn anything?” Jennie looked at her stepson, imploringly.

  Feodor Ivanovich shook his head. “We were sent off the very first day.”

  “But you were not ill-treated in any way?”

  “Well, no, Mother. They couldn’t risk that, or we might not have let their embassy people go.”

  Jennie sighed. Tatiana was all that she had to hang on to, from the past. And the thought of her lying dead, raped and murdered by the invaders...perhaps worse, since the Germans had released the news that she had killed a German officer; she might have been tortured to death...

  Feodor looked at his father above his stepmother’s head. Owing to de-briefings and the delays consequent upon the huge upheaval which was overtaking Russia since the German invasion, this was actually his first visit to his father’s apartment in Moscow since the start of the war. He had not in any event liked what he had seen; the city was clearly packing up and preparing to move as the German advance inexorably continued. Now he did not know whether he should add to his stepmother’s trauma by telling her that he had met her cousin, long supposed dead, in Berlin, and clearly a prominent member of the triumphant Nazi hordes. But Ivan shook his head. Obviously he considered that his wife had sufficient to cope with, for the moment.

  “She is very upset,” Ivan confessed to his master. “Well, Tatiana is the great love of her life. Was, at any rate. And now she is a wanted criminal, accused of having murdered two German officers.”

  Josef Stalin slowly filled his pipe, as he was inclined to do in moments of stress. He had done a lot of pipe smoking recently. Obviously the fate of one young woman, when the entire Soviet state seemed to be falling apart, was irrelevant, however fond he might be of both Tatiana and her mother. From the position of head of state of a huge country it might be necessary to deal with the destruction of millions of people at a time — something he had done, in his time, with utter ruthlessness — but he knew that all life eventually came down to personalities; to the willingness of one individual, perhaps, to sacrifice himself for the State. He did not of course include himself in this reckoning: he was the State. Ligachev waited, anxiously; he knew better than to interrupt his master while he was filling his pipe. The first puff of smoke rose reassuringly above the walrus moustache. “What is the news from Sorge?”

  His question took Ligachev by surprise, as he had still been thinking about Tatiana. Richard Sorge was the head of the Soviet spy system in Japan. “He assures us that the Japanese have no intention of going to war with us, in partnership with Germany, even if they do have an alliance. The Japanese have their hands full with the situation in China, and Sorge feels that if they intend to take any advantage of the present weakness of the Western Powers it will be at the expense of Great Britain and the Netherlands, in South-East Asia.”

  Stalin rose from his desk and walked to the enormous map of the world that filled one entire wall of his office. Now that the pipe was well alight, he could clasp both hands behind his back, as he liked; this helped to conceal his withered left arm. “Will that not involve the United States?”

  “The Japanese do not appear to think so, Comrade Chairman. And Sorge agrees with them. He believes that Roosevelt is indu
lging in mere sabre rattling. The fact is, that while Roosevelt would like to join Britain in this war, and there can be no doubt that his position has been strengthened by his election victory last November, the vast majority of the population of the United States has no desire to become involved in a European war. And he cannot go to war without the consent of Congress. In any event, having America remain neutral is to our advantage, while they are willing to supply us with Lend-Lease materiel. Were they to enter the war, they could not possibly help us militarily, and they would then need their surplus materiel for themselves.”

  “How reliable is Sorge?” Stalin asked over his shoulder. “Absolutely. One hundred per cent.”

  “Very well. Issue orders to pull two of every three divisions out of Mongolia and eastern Siberia, and move them west. This must be done as rapidly as possible.”

  Ligachev gulped. “With respect, Comrade Chairman, that is taking an enormous risk.”

  “You have just promised me that the Japanese will not invade us.”

  “Yes, but if the troops are withdrawn they might change their minds.”

  “I do not believe the Japanese are people who change their minds easily, even were we to announce these troop movements, which we will not. It will take them a while to find out. In any event, Sorge’s outline of events makes sense. What are the Japanese going to obtain by invading Siberia? Chilblains. But by moving south, while the democracies are helpless, they can obtain rubber and tin, and above all, oil. I am prepared to back Sorge’s judgement.”

  “I still think it is an enormous risk,” Ligachev grumbled.

  “Perhaps, but it is also a very necessary one. Look at the map! One army swallowed up on the frontier. Another swallowed up at Kiev. And now one swallowed up at Smolensk. These are not defeats, Ivan Ivanovich, they are catastrophes undoubtedly brought about by treachery. Clearly I did not shoot enough officers when we had that clean-out in 1937.”

  Ligachev swallowed. He was well aware that there were those saying the catastrophes had occurred simply because there were no competent officers left alive since the purge of 1937. This was like the campaign against Finland all over again, save that instead of suffering horrendous casualties — and failing — in their attempt to invade another country, the Red Army was suffering horrendous casualties — and again failing — in attempting to defend its own country from invasion. “We need every man we can spare west of Moscow.” Stalin tapped the industrial area south of the city. “I want all of this plant moved, east of the Urals. It must be done now. It must be completed before the Germans get here.”

  “But that may only be a matter of weeks, Comrade Chairman. To move all of that plant will take months.”

  “It must be done in weeks, Ivan Ivanovich. The fewer weeks the better. Put all the old people and the intellectuals who have managed to dodge the armed services to work. Put the women to work as well. And the children, if necessary. Shoot the backsliders. Have it done.”

  Ligachev licked his lips. “Where is it to go?”

  Stalin again studied the map. “It must be where there are adequate rail connections.” He punched the map with his finger. “There, and there, and there.” Ivan peered over his shoulder at the map. Some of the places chosen were hundreds of miles into Siberia, and winter was coming in. He wondered just how many more lives would have to be sacrificed to shift all of that heavy plant beyond the Urals. But he knew Stalin had no interest in lives, except in so far as the virtually inexhaustible human resources possessed by Russia were its principal asset.

  Stalin returned to his desk and sat down. “Now let us consider your stepdaughter. Or at least the situation out there. The Germans claim to have utterly destroyed the Belorussian Front. Well, we can hardly argue with them on that. But there is no army in history, recent history, anyway, that has been utterly destroyed. So approximately 300,000 men surrendered, the spineless swine. Going on the casualty figures I have here, that leaves very nearly 100,000 unaccounted for. The Germans are claiming 75,000 Russian dead. Again, we are not in a position to argue with them on that. But that still leaves over 20,000 missing. Even if there has been some poor arithmetic, there has still got to be a sizeable number of men who were not killed and did not surrender. Now, Ivan Ivanovich, what do you think has happened to those men, not to mention Tatiana and her friends?”

  “I suppose they have sneaked off to their homes and are pretending to be civilians.”

  “If that were true, do you not suppose Tatiana would have sneaked off to her home?”

  “I think Tatiana is dead,” Ligachev said, gloomily.

  “If the Germans had got her they would have said so.”

  “She could just have died in a ditch somewhere. I have not suggested this to Jennie, of course, but it is the most likely thing.”

  “I should be very sorry to think that,” Stalin said. “I think she is alive. In any event, I am convinced that there is a large number of people, men, women and soldiers, situated behind the German lines in the vicinity of the Pripet Marshes, or in the Marshes themselves. We know the Germans have not ventured in there. The Germans require roads, or at least surfaces firm enough to take their tanks and heavy guns. Not even our organised troops can venture into the Marshes. Anyone in there is safe.”

  “From the Germans, maybe, but not from starvation and disease,” Ligachev said, more gloomily yet.

  “Ivan Ivanovich, you are in a defeatist mood. I do not like that. There are people in those Marshes, people who are doing nothing when they could be fighting for the Motherland. The main German invasion route lies over the road running past Brest-Litovsk, and just north of the Marshes. A dedicated and enterprising body of guerillas could disrupt the German lines of communication.”

  “They’d be hanged if they were captured.”

  “Then they would have died for the Motherland.”

  “Do you really think a few attacks on that road and railway is going to halt the Germans, Comrade Chairman?”

  “Halt them, no. Delay them, yes. It is not just a matter of holding them until we can deploy our Mongolians. There is also the weather to be considered. We are now into September. Next month the rain will start, and that will delay them further. Another two months and the snow will start to fall. Another month, and it will start to freeze. These Fritzes know nothing of a Russian winter. It defeated Charles XII of Sweden in 1707. It defeated Napoleon in 1812. It will defeat Adolf Hitler in 1941. I am certain of it. What we have to do is make sure he does not get so far, before the winter, that he cannot be driven back.”

  Ligachev continued to be concerned with minutiae. “Even supposing there are people in the Marshes, people able and willing to fight, how may we contact them? They are not likely to have radio sets, or the electric current to use them.”

  “We will fly in trained commanders, to organise them.”

  “Fly them in? To the Pripet Marshes?”

  “Well, of course, they will have to be dropped by parachute.”

  “The Germans have total air supremacy in that region.” Over all western Russia, he could have added.

  “So it will be risky, even costly. But if we send up enough, small, single-engined aircraft, capable of flying near the ground, each carrying one or two specially picked men, or women, some must get through.” Back to the expendability factor. But Stalin had a carrot on the end of his stick. “They will carry an order from me, Ivan Ivanovich, creating Tatiana Gosykinya Commissar for the Pripet, and Commander of Partisan Group One. Will that not please Jennie?”

  “Tatiana is only 18 years old,” Ligachev protested.

  “Is that important? This is going to be a young people’s war. And she has already shown that she is prepared to kill Germans, which is something not all of our soldiers seem capable of. We shall make Tatiana Gosykinya a Heroine of the Soviet Union, a human beacon for all other young Russians to look up to. We will give her a name, Ivan Ivanovich — The Red Maiden!” He chuckled. “So perhaps she is no longer a maiden. But it
will attract everyone. The Red Maiden! But of course she will have to have someone to command her, at least behind the scenes. By tomorrow evening, send me a list of suitable personnel you have selected for parachuting into the Pripet, Ivan Ivanovich.” He stroked his moustache. “And do you know whose name I would like to see on that list? Feodor Ivanovich.”

  “But he is my only son.”

  “As Tatiana is Jennie’s only daughter. As is one of my sons serving in the air force, an even more dangerous assignment, at the present time. We are all in this together, Ivan Ivanovich. There is great danger for us all in this war. But there is also great glory to be gained, for those chosen to lead.”

  “Yes, Comrade Chairman.” Ligachev hesitated.

  “Is there anything else? You have a lot to do, Ivan Ivanovich. And it must all be done, quickly.”

  “I have here the list supplied by the American Embassy of the volunteer medical staff who are arriving in a couple of months. I have also a list of the members of the American mission, arriving in a couple of weeks, to discuss with us our requirements as regards materiel.”

  Stalin leaned back in his chair. “Ivan Ivanovich, do you suppose I can possibly be interested, or have the time to be interested, in the names of a bunch of doctors, or a group of accountants?”

  “There are two names on the list which may be of interest to you, Comrade Chairman.”

  Stalin frowned. “Speak!”

  “Included in the mission is the name of Joseph Cromb.”

  “Cromb?” Stalin chuckled. “You must admit the man has nerve.”

  “This man has defied you, and the Soviet State, for fifteen years, Comrade Chairman. He has denounced our prison system.”

  “No one seems to have believed him very much.”

  “He is under sentence of death, Josef. Now, to get the mission here at all, we have had to issue a blanket safe conduct. However, when we did that we did not suspect that Cromb would be so bold as to take advantage of it.”

  “Having issued such a safe conduct, we must abide by it. These people are our friends, at the moment.”