Chapter 113 On the Road

　　Two burly men each grabbed Tukhachevsky's arm and moved forward, so powerful that he was unable to break free at all, and could only say angrily in rapid succession. "I am the Marshal of the Red Army! You can't just arrest me! I'm going to Moscow! I want to meet Comrade Stalin!"

　　When the decision came down that Tukhachevsky was to be removed from the post of First Deputy People's Commissar for Defense and appointed commander of the Volga Military District, it shocked not only the personnel of the Department of the People's Commissar for Defense and the General Staff, but also the entire army. And Tukhachevsky, who regarded the decision as an insult to him, was so struck that he wasted away, felt suffocated in his heart, and often kept pulling at his clothes with his hands. Finally, he sat down and wrote letters, letters to Voroshilov, letters to the Committee and to Stalin, asking for complete retirement and demobilization...

　　But all this was to no avail, and Tukhachevsky, who calmed down a little by the persuasion of his friends, was willing to go to his post at the command of the Volga Military District.

　　Tukhachevsky moved to the station, and on the way, the head of the secret service of the military district drove up and informed the Marshal that the Ministry of People's Commissars of Defense had an order to urgently summon the Marshal to Moscow, and suggested that the Marshal take the car of the secret service instead. In the car Marshal Tukhachevsky was easily disarmed and arrested.

　　A major walking in front of the three of them looked back with a disdainful smile. "Marshal? You deserve it?!"

　　"I want paper and a pen! I want to write to Comrade Stalin!" Tukhachevsky knew that if he wanted to survive, he would have to contact his old comrades and his old friends, or at least let those patriarchs in Moscow know what was going on.

　　The major grunted coldly. "You'll get paper and a pen, but only for writing confessions and letters of repentance, and if you dare to waste paper writing useless nonsense, we'll break your bones!!!" As they spoke they came into an interrogation room where two burly men held Tukhachevsky down hard on an iron stool. The stool was fixed to the floor with finger-thick screws, and four thick chains were attached to the legs of the stool, securing Tukhachevsky's limbs to the stool and preventing him from moving.

　　Tukhachevsky spoke again. "I want to write to Comrade Stalin! You cannot deprive a marshal of the right to write letters!"

　　"Don't bother in vain, Herr Field Marshal Tukhachevsky! All those friends of yours are writing to Comrade Stalin now! I can tell you all about the contents of the letters! They're all busy trying to disassociate themselves from you, the traitor!" Accompanied by an icy voice, a figure entered through the door.

　　Tukhachevsky narrowed his eyes at the visitor and froze. "Natasha?"

　　Natasha smiled sweetly. "Marshal Tukhachevsky, I really didn't expect to meet again under these circumstances." Finished with a wave of her hand. "I want to talk to Marshal Tukhachevsky alone, you guys go outside the door and stand guard."

　　"Yes!" Watching those two burly men salute with the Major and exit the interrogation room without hesitation, Tukhachevsky couldn't help but let out a bitter smile. "I've long heard that the 'Black Widow' has extraordinary methods, and there isn't a single person you've interrogated who hasn't confessed to their crimes, is that right?"

　　The corner of Natasha's mouth, who sat behind the interrogation table, curled up slightly. "Of course, my greatest pleasure is torturing all of you dogs with teeth coming in. But this is a first for an official rank like Marshal, and while I'm curious to see how many sets of torture you can last, His Highness Wilhelm of Germany appreciates your talents so much that we'll send you to Germany if you give us the nod."

　　"You?!" Natasha's words startled Tukhachevsky, and the chains binding his body clattered as they were torn.

　　Looking at Tukhachevsky's shocked expression, the smile on Natasha's face grew wider and wider, even to the point of being somewhat bizarre. "Surprised? I still have to thank you, Marshal, for giving me the opportunity to get acquainted with His Highness Wilhelm."

　　Tukhachevsky looked incredulous. "You defected to him?"

　　Natasha shrugged. "Kind of funny isn't it? As a traitor I was interrogating the truly innocent Soviet marshal."

　　"Why?" Tukhachevsky was puzzled, those who could enter such an important department as the Intelligence Service were supposed to have gone through a rigorous examination and were staunchly loyal to Stalin and to the Soviets, so how could there be such a traitor as her?

　　Natasha's smiling face that was still hanging on a moment ago suddenly became sinister. "Why? Because my family, except for me, were all murdered by you bastards, why do you think?!"

　　Tukhachevsky then realized. "So, your identity is fake?" When she said family, it would be the nobles of the Tsarist Russia period, and he certainly understood what happened to these nobles.

　　"That's right, you wouldn't know that in order to get such a 'clean' identity, my father bagged the family's fortune, and in the end, he still couldn't escape your clutches." Natasha's chest rose and fell violently, and it was only with great difficulty that she managed to suppress her anger and try to keep herself speaking in a calm tone as long as possible. "Marshal Tukhachevsky, let's not waste time, what's wrong with going to Germany? His Highness Wilhelm has already promised to grant you the rank of General, and in a few years you will be a Field Marshal again. What an honor to know that Germany doesn't have a marshal even now?"

　　Tukhachevsky, however, shook his head. "Oh, Crown Prince Wilhelm really thinks highly of me. But don't bother! I am not going to Germany! I am a *man* who will never surrender to the bourgeoisie, and it is better to live and die than to die bravely!"

　　Natasha raised her eyebrows slightly. "You no longer consider it?" Seeing that Tukhachevsky's mind was made up, he did not continue to persuade. "You should also not hold any childish thoughts of finding Stalin to plead your case or anything like that. You are not so naive as to think that Stalin was hoodwinked, are you? Who else but Stalin would dare to touch a Soviet marshal?

　　I can tell you that you won't even get to court, and they've even got an accuser for you, who will claim that 'tank regiments are being built up quickly at the expense of reducing the number of cavalrymen and cavalry expenditures.' Would you like to know who this witness is?"

　　Tukhachevsky gave a bitter smile. "Voroshilov? Budjonny?"

　　Voroshilov and Cavalry Commander Budjonny are both backward and stubborn in their military concepts, Tukhachevsky has written many times to emphasize the role of new equipment, types of troops and tactics in the future of war, but each time was rejected by Voroshilov, the "reformers" and "conservatives" debate intensified. The debate between "reformers" and "conservatives" intensified.

　　Natasha did not answer his words, and recited a poem to herself. "Have you ever seen how the train, with its iron paws, runs over the steppes, darts through the misty haze of the lake, snorting steel? And behind it, in the deep grass, like a desperate race at a festival, a red-maned pony gallops wildly, its slender legs flung forward toward its head. What a lovely and what a ridiculous fool, where does it go, where does it chase? Does it not realize that the living horse, has been beaten by the steel horse?

　　Marshal Tukhachevsky, have you heard this poem? It was written by Sergei Esenin in 1920. It's damnable that even a poet like him can see the results of the argument between the living horse and the iron horse, but certain militarists are stuck in their ways."

　　After sighing she stood up. "Her Highness Wilhelm has one more thing to say, and that is that His Excellency the Marshal will let you go on your way comfortably if you do not wish to leave." With that she pushed a thick stack of papers in front of Tukhachevsky. "Then sign the papers, Marshal? Then you can die in comfort.