Growing stronger

In a different corner of the world, Moscow, the bustling heart of the Soviet Union, Stalin was in a particularly buoyant mood. The recent purges had effectively eliminated those former comrades who posed a threat to his authority. Despite the escalating anti-rebellion movements across the country, Stalin's grip on the Soviet people seemed only to tighten, aligning perfectly with his vision. Consequently, the entire Soviet leadership echoed Stalin's directives, and those who dared to dissent were swiftly dispatched to the labor camps he had commissioned.

The thought of these camps swelled Stalin with pride. Some 300,000 unpaid 'criminal workers' toiled away, contributing significantly to the Soviet economy without the burden of state pensions, enduring conditions of starvation and freezing akin to the destitute in Germany. A sprawling 20,000 km railway network now connected the vast expanses of the Soviet territory, a testament to Stalin's ruthless efficiency.

During a high-level meeting, an economic officer stood to highlight the year's achievements, "Despite scaling back some of our cooperation with Germany over the Spanish issue, our economic exchanges remain robust. Numerous factories are under construction, with major industrial bases emerging in Kiev and Minsk." As he concluded, another official quickly took the floor, "Thanks to investments from Accado's company and several German firms, our transportation infrastructure has seen significant improvements, enhancing our military and material mobilization capabilities."

The enhancements in transportation had indeed revolutionized the Soviet Union, reducing the costs of exporting essential commodities like grain, wood, and ore, thus bolstering the competitiveness of Soviet exports. During Europe's economic crisis, inexpensive Soviet food supplies became a lifeline for many. Additionally, the ease of transporting materials spurred the development of new industrial cities, particularly near the border areas favored by German consultants, despite Stalin's reservations.

A general, visibly frustrated, chimed in, "Our investments in Germany have grown. We even hold stakes in several German military companies. Regrettably, the very munitions we helped produce were used against our forces in Spain." He continued, "The Germans, focusing on elite training due to their smaller numbers, performed better than our troops, despite the comparable technology."

Stalin, attempting to downplay the concerns, interjected with a sneer, "The Germans aren't as formidable as we imagined. The losses they suffered in Spain are testament to that."

However, beneath the veneer of dismissiveness, the reality was stark. Soviet losses in Spain were substantial, and the inflated reports from the front lines did little to mask the true cost of the conflict. Another official reported on domestic challenges, "Although our agricultural output has doubled from five years ago, the living standards of our workers and most citizens haven't improved. Nearly half of our military lacks adequate wages, supplies, and ammunition."

A suggestion was made to reduce food exports to ensure sufficient winter rations for the impoverished populace, but it was quickly dismissed. Khrushchev argued, "Our grain exports sustain half of Europe. These exports are crucial for our continued industrialization and modernization. The Soviet Union must be respected globally, and that requires our utmost effort!"

Stalin concurred, emphasizing the importance of continuing exports, especially given the strategic military developments, including the launch of the fifth Moscow-class battleship and the need for new tank designs following the underwhelming performance of the T-26 tanks.

The Soviet Union had also embarked on a significant naval expansion, purchasing over 100 submarines from Germany, enhancing its defensive capabilities and asserting its presence in European waters. Initially hesitant, the Germans acquiesced when the Soviets offered five million barrels of oil as partial payment. The acquisition catapulted the Soviet submarine fleet to the forefront of global naval power, boasting an impressive total tonnage.

Back in the meeting room, the discussion took a somber turn as a general addressed the troubling loss of experienced officers, a consequence of Stalin's purges. "We've lost nearly all senior commanders and a third of our intermediate ones. Relying on such a weakened command structure is untenable for repelling invaders."

Stalin's response was swift and decisive. He proposed elevating political commissars to lead the Red Army, ensuring loyalty over expertise. This move, while solidifying control, raised concerns about the actual combat effectiveness of the troops. However, no one dared voice these concerns openly, remembering the fate of those like Tukhachevsky who had previously objected.

The proposal was met with unanimous approval, as one by one, the officials voiced their support, reinforcing Stalin's absolute control over the Soviet military and government. The room resonated with chants of support for Stalin, a clear indication of his unchallenged authority.

Stalin reveled in the adulation, feeling truly deserving of his title as the great leader of the Soviet Union. His policies and decisions, though often harsh and unyielding, were shaped by a vision of a powerful, respected Soviet state—a vision that he pursued with relentless determination, regardless of the cost.

The German National Electric Power Company recently established a large-scale thermal power plant, initiating a significant recruitment drive in neighboring towns. With the German Party advocating for women to join the workforce, the power plant prioritized female hires for many of its roles. Germany, grappling with a severe manpower shortage across various sectors, needed more soldiers for the National Defense Force, more workers in factories, more nurses in hospitals, more teachers in schools, and more actors in film studios. This deficiency was so acute that it necessitated the employment of not only women but also the elderly and children to fill the gaps.

By the previous year, the military had begun incorporating female soldiers into many of its logistical units, enlisting 3,000 women with specific skills. Factories had created 120,000 jobs for women, a number that continued to rise. Material shortages were a common headache; by the end of 1934, Germany had started rationing bread and butter, with the quality of these staples declining steadily. Many regions had adapted to using margarine, having forgotten the taste of real butter. Sugar and salt were distributed in limited quantities, and factories added extra sewing rooms to extend the life of work clothes. Despite these frustrations, there was a collective relief that hunger was not a concern.

For military and civilian needs, Germany established 22 thermal and hydroelectric power plants across 14 regions, utilizing over 20,000 concentration camp prisoners and creating more than 10,000 jobs. It seemed German employment opportunities were inexhaustible, and confidence in the economic plans of the head of state was high.

In a typical German country family's dim attic, a heated conversation unfolded. "Father! Why won't you let me go?" a young man demanded, staring at his father. "Didn't you fight for the emperor? Why can't I do the same for the head of state?"

"I lost my left foot for the emperor!" the father retorted, stepping forward as his metal prosthesis clunked against the wooden floor. "I don't want you coming home limping like I did!"

"The head of state will lead us to victory! We won't fail like you did!" the young man protested.

"When I was a soldier, you were just seven years old! I too believed in victory under the emperor, but all I returned with was a missing leg and no victory," his father shouted back.

"We must remain loyal to the head of state! He gives us hope and dignity!" the son insisted.

The father, after a moment of silence, said gravely, "Have you ever seen a bullet shatter a skull, or a wounded soldier with his intestines wrapped around barbed wire, still alive in the mud? Have you spent nights awakened by shell explosions, only to spend the mornings burying the dead to prevent disease?"

The son, taken aback by the graphic descriptions, softly called out, "Father!"

"Do you know the pain of having your limb sawn off?" the father continued, gripping his son's shoulders. "It's like being a helpless spectator in your own body."

"Father!" the son cried out, more sharply this time.

Realizing the intensity of his own recounting, the father released his son and moved towards his bed, muttering, "I can't bear to see you die."

Despite the father's painful war memories, the spirit of revenge and valor seemed to permeate the younger generation. Posters for the National Defense Forces filled the streets, and by the end of 1934, the German Army had grown to over a million soldiers, becoming a major European military force, second only to France.

However, this rapid expansion had diluted the quality of the soldiers. General Akado, aware of this, ordered the training department to enhance recruit training. Despite these efforts, the overall combat effectiveness of the German forces had declined, though not uniformly across all units.

In Berlin, at the residence of the head of state, Akado took a meeting with two prominent German generals, Major General Manstein and Colonel Studen. "Good afternoon, gentlemen. Please, have a seat," Akado greeted.

"Long live the head of state!" Manstein and Studen saluted.

Akado, smiling, directed his attention to Colonel Studen. "I hear you've been exploring the impact of paratroopers on future warfare?"

"Yes, my leader! I believe that extensive use of paratroopers could swiftly breach enemy lines, disrupt their logistics, and destabilize their rear formations, significantly shortening the duration of conflicts," Studen explained enthusiastically, detailing his vision for the development and deployment of German paratroopers.

Akado listened intently, occasionally glancing at Manstein, who seemed less engaged, likely due to his limited interest in airborne tactics. Studen, constrained by the era's technological limitations, favored glider insertions over the parachute drops preferred by future U.S. forces.

After a lengthy discussion, Akado decided to enlighten his subordinates. "While your understanding of glider operations is commendable, you seem to overlook their limitations, particularly in scale," Akado critiqued, then revealed a model of a large transport aircraft capable of significantly expanding airborne operations. "Imagine deploying ten times the number of troops you currently envision with this aircraft."

Studen was visibly impressed, and Akado handed him a detailed plan for developing an airborne force. "Study this and return with any questions."

Manstein, observing quietly, was taken aback by Akado's knowledge and strategic thinking, which belied his humble beginnings as a sergeant in World War I.

"Head of state, your grasp of airborne operations is a true asset to Germany," Studen praised, sensing that his alignment with Akado's vision might soon propel him to greater heights.

Indeed, Akado nodded, smiling. "I'm promoting you to Major General, responsible for our first airborne division."

Studen was startled by the scale of his new command. He had expected perhaps a regiment or a battalion, not an entire division.

"I plan to expand this force significantly by the end of 1935," Akado declared, leaving Manstein in awe of the ambitious scope.

As the meeting concluded, the implications of Germany's military strategies under Akado's leadership were clear: they were bold, expansive, and potentially transformative.