Chapter 8: Suppressing Bandits
In front of the large map, Viktor marked two crosses on the location of the marshes and said to the two lieutenants standing beside him, "According to the intelligence we've gathered, right here, um, this marsh is called Shchetbovka. Hidden in this place is a guerrilla camp. Currently, our intelligence is very limited, only indicating that there are about twenty people stationed here."
"My idea is," Viktor continued with a slightly serious tone, "regardless of the accuracy of this intelligence, we should conduct a sweep around the outskirts of the Shchetbovka marsh."
Saying this, he took a few photos attached to the lower right corner of the map and handed them to the lieutenants beside him, saying, "Take a look. These are the photos I requested from the aviation corps to assist us. Around the Shchetbovka marsh, small-scale farmlands have already appeared in the surrounding areas. Clearly, this is one of the ways the guerrillas are sourcing their logistical supplies."
The two lieutenants examined the photos, occasionally nodding.
"Now, what I need from both of you commanders is to develop a comprehensive operational plan to conduct a sweep of several key areas around the marsh," Viktor took out a pack of cigarettes, giving one to each person, and said, "Our objectives are twofold: to destroy the guerrilla farmlands and to inflict maximum casualties on their manpower. You both have extensive command experience. This operation will be under your command. I also have a cavalry company that can be placed under your command."
Viktor was well aware of his shortcomings. Despite his stint as a cavalry platoon leader in the police ranks, commanding such a unit was quite different from leading a real military operation. Therefore, he entrusted the real command authority to the two lieutenants from the border guards, who were professionals in their field.
After hearing Viktor's words, the lieutenants were not hesitant. They carefully studied the map and then discussed quietly for a while. Finally, the lieutenant with stubble spoke up, "Lieutenant Viktor Viktorovich, this map is too crude. We lack knowledge about the forest and marsh areas. Our suggestion is to first conduct reconnaissance of the peripheral areas around the marshes, gather information about the situation there, and then take action."
"How long will that take?" Viktor asked, stroking his chin.
"Two days should be sufficient," the lieutenant with stubble replied. "We'll immediately deploy reconnaissance troops."
Viktor nodded in agreement with the lieutenants' proposal.
Once the lieutenants left, Viktor breathed a sigh of relief to himself. Currently, he was under a lot of pressure and urgently needed to achieve some results to prove his abilities. Under political pressure, officials often felt this way.
Footsteps echoed outside the door again, and soon, Valenka entered with a thick stack of documents. "Comrade Commander, the intelligence reports from various collective farms have been compiled. Where shall I put them?"
Viktor pointed to his desk and asked, "Have the requested supplies arrived?"
"Not yet," Valenka replied casually as she placed the documents on the desk. "But they should be here soon."
Nodding, Viktor walked around to the back of his desk, pulled out a chair, and sat down. He reached for a document and began flipping through it. Despite the establishment of the State Security Bureau in Shepchenkovo, the department was still in its infancy. Besides Viktor and Valenka, there were only two clerical staff members handling miscellaneous tasks.
Building a complete structure for a State Security Bureau was a tedious task. The allocation of corresponding personnel should have been overseen by higher authorities, but currently, the entire administration of the People's Commissariat of Internal Affairs in eastern Ukraine was in disarray. The Inspection Bureau was still vetting officials at all levels, leaving little attention for a small place like Shepchenkovo.
However, this was advantageous for Viktor because during this window of opportunity, he could recruit and fill grassroots positions according to his own ideas. His targets were the militia officers from various collective farms in the area.
The thick stack of files Valenka brought contained the records of militia officers from thirteen collective farms in the Shepchenkovo region, along with some cases investigated over the past two years. By reviewing these files, Viktor could not only understand the situation of the militia officers at the grassroots level but also re-evaluate some past cases—besides strengthening public order and combating banditry, re-evaluating certain wrongful cases over the past two years was also Viktor's task.
Looking at the entire Soviet Union, the entire system of the People's Commissariat of Internal Affairs was busy dismantling the old ways and reconstructing a new situation that conformed to Comrade Beria's ideas. If this new situation were likened to a large net, Shepchenkovo would be just one of the knots on this net, small and insignificant.
Under Mehlis's directive, a large number of graduates from military academies, party workers, and grassroots soldiers had flooded into the personnel ranks of the People's Commissariat of Internal Affairs. In just a short time in eastern Ukraine, nearly four thousand "novices" had been assigned to their positions.
These individuals were truly novices. They had no experience in counterintelligence, counterespionage, or combating separatist forces. They neither understood their work nor knew their enemies. However, in Moscow, the true intention of the People's Commissariat of Internal Affairs was to help them adapt to their new roles while selecting and eliminating based on their performance—ultimately retaining talented individuals and phasing out those without talent.
Compared to these rookie novices, Viktor had at least one advantage: he knew exactly what he should be doing and understood the kind of people he was up against.
Morning mist still lingered in the forest, draped over the understory of timid green grass adorned with sparkling dewdrops under sturdy birch trees. Hiding beneath a dead spruce, Viktor adjusted the brown-green canvas cape draped over his shoulders. Then, he lifted the binoculars hanging from his chest and peered into the depths of the forest.
Through the binoculars' range, a vast open area between the forest and the marshlands came into view. There stood a cluster of triangular wooden huts constructed simply from round logs. To maintain concealment, these huts were adorned with lush branches or grass on their roofs.
At this moment, wisps of cooking smoke rose gently within the camp. Through the binoculars, figures could be seen moving around the camp, giving an appearance of tranquil serenity.
Yes, this was indeed a guerrilla camp. According to previous reconnaissance by the border guards, this guerrilla unit numbered around thirty people, making it a relatively large group. They had established their camp here, utilizing the cover of marshes and forests. In the event of an attack, they could retreat deep into the marshes.
The terrain of the Shepchenkovo forest was complex, especially during the dry season when the marshes within the jungle were fragmented rather than continuous. However, during the rainy season, these marshes would connect, sprawling westward all the way to Volyn, which was under Polish control.
This was the first combat operation under Viktor's command. The two border guard lieutenants wanted to make a standout performance, so they meticulously devised a comprehensive battle plan with the aim of completely wiping out this guerrilla unit. To achieve this goal, during the initial reconnaissance phase, they had reconnaissance troops conduct a thorough investigation of the marshland. This effort resulted in the loss of one soldier. Last night, their commanded forces had already surrounded the camp and positioned two machine gun squads within the marsh channels they had identified.
The lieutenants' strategy was to launch an attack from the shore, driving the enemy into the marshes. Then, they planned to exploit the openness and difficult terrain of the marshland to annihilate them.
As time passed second by second, people in the distant camp began to enjoy their breakfast. Hiding in the forest, Viktor could hear laughter and chatter drifting from the camp.
Lieutenant with the stubble beard stood guard beside Viktor, his eyes fixed on his wristwatch. When the agreed-upon time for the attack arrived, he glanced at Viktor.
Viktor understood his meaning and didn't say a word, simply nodding firmly.
The stubble-bearded lieutenant put the whistle hanging from his chest into his mouth and blew sharply to signal the attack.
Instantly, short, sharp whistles echoed through the forest. Before these whistles had faded, a loud explosion resounded. Through the binoculars, Viktor saw one of the triangular wooden huts in the camp erupt into the air, spraying mud and shattered wood in all directions.
Those who were enjoying breakfast on the camp's open ground scattered and fled in an instant. Some ran with their heads down, others sprinted to fetch weapons, and still others fled aimlessly toward the marsh.
Soon, the dense sound of gunfire reverberated through the forest. Border soldiers, wearing wide-brimmed hats and dressed in brown-green military uniforms, began charging toward the camp. The thunderous explosions of hand grenades and the rattling of machine guns shattered the tranquility of the forest.
The reason guerrillas were called guerrillas was because they were not regular soldiers. Of course, comparing these guerrillas at this moment to those during World War II would be inappropriate—they were not even on the same level in terms of combat capability. More accurately, these so-called guerrillas were armed refugees, armed criminals hiding in the forest—nothing more.
The battle proceeded exceptionally smoothly. Viktor felt as though he was using a cannon to swat mosquitoes. In just over ten minutes, the border soldiers had occupied the entire camp. Only the muffled sound of machine guns could still be heard from the marshes, where guerrilla members who had fled were encountering resistance from the border guards, awaiting nothing but a ruthless massacre.