by Gee, Colin
The wait was interminable.
Another cigarette was lit and Lavalle placed his pack and lighter within reach of Knocke but said nothing, not wishing to interrupt him in such deep thought.
After what seemed like a lifetime, Knocke nodded to himself almost imperceptibly, his eyes opened, and he looked directly into Lavalle’s, who once again felt the power driving the man.
“I will not do anything that will go against the wishes and needs of my country or my comrades but I will, in principle, concede that the menace of communism is one that we would be better fighting together rather than separately. Your timing is less than impeccable for me as a German, this you will understand”
Lavalle’s subtle inclination of the head said all that could be said on that matter, and he gestured to his cigarettes.
“Danke Herr Oberst” and Knocke took and lit one swiftly, drawing in the pungent smoke before continuing.
“I confess to being intrigued by the concept outlined and can see probable benefits for my country. If I commit to this largely unknown exercise will I be permitted to leave and return here if it contradicts my beliefs or values?”
“To that I can give a qualified yes Herr Knocke. I am told that you, any of you, will not be forced to do anything that you do not agree with and that anything you do will be entirely voluntary. I cannot guarantee that you would return here in the event that you quit the group.”
After the briefest moment to digest that reply Knocke responded, “In which case, on the limited information you give me and on that understanding, combined with the contents of that document and the signatory, I accept.”
“Then we would please ask that you do not speak of this, except to the six men whom you will select to fulfil the criteria within that document, and even then, we would ask that you tell them as little as necessary to induce them to attend. Please appraise Colonel Frisson as soon as you have your men and he will make the arrangements for them to be interviewed. Please understand the criteria that we have for such matters and do not request to employ someone who would be unacceptable to us, no matter what their credentials.”
“I understand perfectly. Firstly I will need eight and I request two named men who are not within this camp if they remain alive?”
“We anticipated this so yes you may on both counts.” Lavalle pushed forward a pencil and a notepad. “Please put their names and units down there so we may investigate as to their whereabouts. We can offer no guarantees but if they are alive and satisfy the criteria then we will do our best. The British are not being too helpful at this time unfortunately”
A swift eight lines of script and the notebook and pencil were back in Lavalle’s possession.
“There are the names of all the officers I will require for this undertaking Herr Oberst.”
Both men stood and exchanged a natural and respectful handshake before Knocke was returned to his comrades.
“I always wanted to visit Biarritz in happier times. Hopefully the war has not left too deep a mark upon it?”
Lavalle deflected the obvious probe.
“There was little left unmarked in the war as both of us know too well. Goodbye and good luck Herr Knocke.”
“Auf wiedershein, Oberst Lavalle” was Knocke’s well-timed final statement as he disappeared from sight.
Lavalle smiled to himself and wondered how the German had acquired that piece of information. He immediately vowed that if he ever met Knocke again, he would never underestimate him. Not that he would meet him again, for Knocke was now, officially, in a very different world to his own.
He felt the sudden weight of that envelope in his pocket and understood why the signatures had the same effect on Knocke as they did on him when he first saw the document.
A quick note was written and handed to the summoned orderly for forwarding to the waiting dispatch rider, just to confirm to his boss that Colloque Biarritz had been successfully started.
Another note was dispatched shortly afterwards to Colonel Frisson, with the names of six prisoners for interview over the following week.
Settling back down he reached for the next file and waited for the former SS Hauptsturmfuhrer Richter of pioneers, who was next in line for a one-way ticket to a swift death in Indo-China. If he so chose of course.
Demoralize the enemy from within by surprise, terror, sabotage, assassination. This is the war of the future.
Adolf Hitler.
Chapter 8 – THE BOMBSHELLS
0755 hrs Monday, 2nd July 1945, The Lubyanka, NKVD Headquarters, Moscow, USSR.
When it first hit Beria’s desk he read it incredulously and immediately ordered another translation done, just to check. Thirty-five minutes later the senior cryptographer arrived back in his office holding the second version.
Comparing the two, it was immediately apparent that they were identical in every way.
‘[priority code] GCG
[agent] Alkonost
[date code] 280645c
[personal code as an authenticator] FB21162285
[distribution1] route x-eyes only
[distribution1] AalphaA [Comrade Chairman Beria].
[message] first test imminent indicator A+ on 160745c Confirmation type2 via Moth 050745c. Wellington. Freya-North.
[message ends]
Message authenticates. Codes for non-compromisation valid.
ORIGINAL RECEIVED 06:16 2/7/45-B.V.LEMSKY
SECOND DECIPHER 07:31 2/7/45-B.V.LEMSKY’
“No possibility of mistakes Comrade Academician?”
“None at all Comrade Chairman. I have even tried predicting an error in encoding but nothing produced sensible decodes. The message, as you see it, is the one that was sent Comrade.”
“Thank you Boris Vissarionavich.”
The cryptographer left the room and Beria was alone with his thoughts.
His glasses were automatically in his hand and the gentle polishing motion began. He looked at the clock.
Eight am.
After a short pause he leant forward and picked up his phone. It was immediately answered by his secretary.
“Danilov, put me through to the old man immediately.”
As the connections and requests were being made Beria drank some tea and waited patiently. A gruff voice brought him from his momentary daydream.
“Comrade Chairman.”
“Comrade General Secretary. I have a report on my desk that you will wish to see urgently. May I come over now?”
“Can it not wait until the meeting later Lavrentiy?”
Stalin seemed to be in a good mood, maybe because of what the day held for him and now that mood was about to be darkened.
“I believe not comrade. It is an Alkonost report and of some considerable urgency.”
The pause was brief as Stalin mentally processed the identity of the report writer and realised the possible significance.
“Twenty minutes, Comrade Chairman.”
Before Beria could reply, the phone went dead and he replaced his handset gently to hide his annoyance. Picking it back up again he had a mere second to wait before he was speaking again.
“Danilov. My car now please.”
Picking up the two decoded messages, he placed them inside his briefcase along with the three other files he had consulted that morning and left the office.
0840 hrs, Monday, 2nd July 1945, The Kremlin, Moscow, USSR.
Less than an hour beforehand the same piece of paper had been presented to Beria. Here it was now, in the hands of the General Secretary. His reaction was initially calm.
“Let us look at this separately. Firstly, we have the codeword we expected. With ‘Wellington’ we know we can now, at minimum, disrupt the American programme.”
Beria impatiently nodded in assent, although that was not quite what it meant, wishing to move on to the section that caused all the consternation.
“We were first informed some few weeks ago that their project was more advanced than we first suspected.
That is why we have set in place the mechanism for our agents to commence delay or destruction on our order is it not?”
“Yes Comrade General Secretary.”
Stalin rose and placed his hand on the desk, knuckles supporting him as he leaned forward. His anger was now wholly apparent and his voice rose.
“Now, some few weeks later, we discover that the capitalist bastards are a handful of days from testing the real thing?”
Reaching the highest volume Stalin screamed, “How the fuck can that be Comrade?”
Beria was unable to answer with fact, so said nothing.
“Some bastard will be counting trees for this!”
Stalin sat back down with a thud and picked up his pack, fumbling for a cigarette. He sought out a match and ran it down the desk in his anger, puffing agitatedly, until a sudden calm descended upon him as quickly as his anger had risen.
“Last time we spoke of this agent you quoted 100% reliability Lavrentiy, 100%.”
Having weathered the brief but extremely dangerous storm, a relieved Beria spoke with assurance. “Alkonost has never let us down Comrade General Secretary.”
“Let us hope that continues. Send the preparatory action code immediately.”
Stalin paused to wrestle with an issue in his mind, which he swiftly resolved.
“The other agents must also be ordered to prepare to act. Even though we have not heard from them, send the code to prepare to all your agents within Manhattan.”
Beria nodded his assent and, deciding to hold on to the other files until later, made to leave the room.
“Tell me comrade. This agent, Alkonost. What sort of man do we pin our hopes on here?”
Replying with extreme care for the benefit of the microphones, Beria paused before the door and turned.
“This agent is in the right place Comrade, and there has never been failure. Alkonost will do well enough. Until later Comrade General Secretary,” and with a nod of the head he was gone.
Outside the room, Beria walked through the building, gently unburdening himself of the stresses of that meeting. As he climbed into his car to make the journey back to his office, he could not help but smile. What would the Boss say if he knew that the fate of Kingdom39 and more was in the hands of a twenty-five year old woman? The smile faded as quickly as it arrived as the possibility of Alkonost failing made its presence felt in his head. In that event, the age and gender of the agent would not matter to Beria, for he would be long dead.
1100 hrs, Monday, 2nd July 1945, The Kremlin, Moscow, USSR.
At 1100 hrs precisely the group convened again, this time in Stalin’s office. By prior agreement only Marshalls Zhukov, Vasilevsky, Chief Marshal of Aviation Alexander Novikov and Admiral of the Fleet Hovhannes Stepani Isakov were present with their closest staff. On the other side of the table were the full GKO and to their immediate left and standing, the GRU Polkovnik-General, Roman Samuilovich Pekunin.
Zhukov, resplendent in his full uniform and every inch the soldier, made the full presentation himself, needing his staff solely to place maps on the table in front of the General Secretary and other GKO members, to make marks on a chalk board placed on an easel at one end of the table or occasionally to quote a figure or two from the addendums to the master copy of the now ready version of plan Kingdom39.
The planning was incredible and complex, covering everything that could be possibly imagined. The requirements for operational security prior to and after the attack were extreme. Maskirova was of prime importance up to the moment that the tanks started to roll in Phase#3, because any advance warning could turn the plan from a triumph into a disaster. Some was already in place but much more would be needed.
Without a doubt, the destruction of the Allied Air forces was key to the success of the plan, but even with the excellent planning laid out before them, the price of that destruction would be extremely high for some of their own young men. To the GKO members it was but a bill to pay, and a fair one at that. Unusually for Soviet Doctrine a broad front attack had been chosen but unlike with Rokossovsky in 1944, Stalin did not challenge the plan. The reasoning was, after all, clear and understandable and would probably revert to accepted doctrine within the week.
Once the doors had been closed and the guards posted, no one was permitted to enter the room on pain of death and so there were no orderlies to bring drinks to the occupants. They had to get their own and choose from a selection of snacks that had been placed there before the conference convened.
Vasilevsky placed a tea before Zhukov who acknowledged the gesture, paused in his presentation and consumed it swiftly. Many others took advantage of this lull and went to get their second or third such drink and it was Stalin who brought the room back to order again, and the presentation continued.
It was gone 2pm before Zhukov finished the main army plan and invited Air Force Marshall Novikov to put over the role his forces were to play.
Following him came Isakov, the Navy’s Chief of Staff, recently having left the hospital where wounds from a 1942 German air raid on Tuapse had confined him.
The clock above Stalin’s desk showed 3.22pm when Isakov’s final word of presentation was spoken and so Zhukov summed up.
“Comrades, you have set the Red Army a task and we have presented you with a plan that will complete that task in the timescale you require. As with all such plans, nothing can be taken for granted. Provided our maskirova is successful, particularly plan Chelyabinsk, we will achieve ground forces surprise. Provided their Air Forces are taken out by plan Kurgan then no one will have air superiority unless, of course, it is us.”
“That will ensure that ground superiority will be ours for sufficient time to complete all phases presently proposed, and probably the additional possibilities within the Iberian Peninsula and the British Isles.”
“Casualties will be huge on both sides and losses in materiel extreme”.
Zhukov left that hanging in the faint hope of seeing some tinge of regret from the faces looking so intently at him. He saw none of course, and never really expected otherwise.
“Our planned sabotage operations only need to be 50% successful to have a marked effect upon allied resistance.”
“A word of caution though Comrades. We must expect sabotage in our own rear areas, increasing as we advance deeper into their territory. In addition, the Army will have little manpower to spare to guard against saboteurs in the territories we presently hold because we will be advancing. We must have assurances from the NKVD and other security forces that our logistical tail will be secure.”
Beria was half listening but fully missed the pause. Slowing becoming aware that he was the centre of attention in a silent room, he replayed his memory, seeking out Zhukov’s words. “Comrade Marshall, the security forces of the Motherland will ensure that the Red Army is protected from back-stabbing saboteurs.”
“Thank you Comrade Chairman.”
“Comrades, that is plan Kingdom39. We can implement it within sixty hours of receiving the order and we can be ready to execute it any time from 18th August.”
After such a display, Zhukov merited applause and a rest, but neither was forthcoming. No one spoke, as it would fall to the General Secretary to make the first comments.
“Comrades. I must congratulate you on this plan. The Motherland will be proud of you when you execute it successfully and the capitalists are driven from Europe.”
“The points made are noted, and we will talk on them further. The Party will throw everything behind the Army, Air Force, and Navy to ensure victory.”
“NKVD units will respond to all reasonable requests from Army Commanders in order to prioritise defence of logistic routes. Comrade Beria will liaise with you to ensure that happens smoothly.”
“It also happens that the Comrade Chairman has anticipated some of your needs for rear-area security and has prepared a document for consultation.”
Stalin paused to permit Beria’s aide to hand around a folder. Whilst
they were being distributed Zhukov, as was his recent habit, mentally checked through his headquarters staff to work out who was the NKVD spy whose reporting back allowed Beria to be so prepared. Not that, in this instance, it was a problem. In fact, all the better for the success of the mission. This time.
The document detailed actions to be taken in the lead up to the attack by D-minus, rather than by date. It was actually very impressive and would probably cover all eventualities, some not even considered possible by the army staff’s. One section in particular caught most eyes but no one said a word. Even though the numbers were considerable, mass murder was less remarkable now, given the preceding six years.
Zhukov swiftly took in the major details.
“Most efficient Comrade Chairman.”
Beria accepted the words, no matter how negatively they were intended. “Our staffs will sort out the finer details immediately”.
“Comrade Marshall Novikov. The Air Force’s part in Kurgan is exceptionally important. Transports aside, the figures for the initial element of the attack are impressive. We have concerns over whether there are sufficient correctly trained personnel to do as you outline here.”
Stalin jabbed the open folder in his hands.
“Comrade General Secretary, for some it is a case of refresher training. For others it is just familiarisation. As we do not intend to use these capitalist assets regularly once open combat has started then a lesser degree of skill is acceptable, offset against the surprise element involved. Personnel would then return to their normal units and aircraft.”
“Very well comrade Novikov.”
Stalin spoke out again, this time addressing his comments directly at Zhukov.
“We are concerned about the assets you are committing to plan Kurgan. As you say Comrade Marshall, this is a key part of the overall mission and must not fail. Why do we not employ more troops in the first mission?”
“That is a simple matter of transport capability, Comrade General Secretary. We do not have the capacity to take more than the numbers presently committed. We have set aside 10% of our transport aircraft to allow for breakdown and other problems. It would not be advisable to eat into that safety margin”
