Red army in shambles

In a remote, scarcely known village along the extensive border between the Soviet Union and Poland, a fierce battle had been raging. This village, once a mere trading post, had become a crucial battleground in the ongoing conflict between the two nations. For 15 days, the Soviet Red Army had launched relentless attacks on the Polish defenders, yet they failed to gain complete control over these mere twenty houses. It was only after the Soviets bombarded the village into ruins with heavy artillery that the Polish soldiers retreated to more permanent fortifications, continuing their determined resistance.

Above the rubble of this devastated village, a Soviet infantryman struggled to cross the Supo border. Just two kilometers further lay the primary Polish defensive zone, where previous Soviet troops had been decimated, leaving behind thousands of corpses and still failing to advance.

"Comrade political commissar!" a Soviet officer stood up and saluted the political commissar, "We no longer have ammunition, and we cannot attack now..."

"Withdrawal is not allowed!" the political commissar retorted sharply, dismissing the officer's concerns. "Every soldier should fall on the road for the motherland!"

"Comrade political commissar! We haven't eaten all morning! The soldiers are exhausted and falling asleep in the snow. We lack ammunition and are fighting on enemy territory..." the officer pleaded, his expression filled with desperation.

"No! You cannot stop," the political commissar insisted stubbornly, pointing towards the Polish defenses. "The real Bolsheviks will not be knocked down by hunger or fear!"

Despite the obvious military imprudence of sending a hungry, ill-equipped force into battle, the political commissar, blinded perhaps by a zealous reading of Stalin's disciplinary manuals, believed that sheer spirit could overcome these physical deficiencies.

The attack resumed in the afternoon. A massive force of 4,000 Soviet soldiers was mobilized to storm the Polish lines. However, their advance was met with relentless machine gun fire from the Polish defenses. Many Soviet soldiers were executed by their own enforcement teams for retreating, while many more fell during the charge. The attack ultimately failed to achieve any significant breakthrough, merely allowing the Polish defenders to deplete some of their reserve ammunition.

Following this disastrous offensive, several political commissars began to deflect blame, attributing the failure to the alleged reluctance of officers to serve the motherland or the soldiers' inability to carry out their sacred duties—essentially absolving themselves of any responsibility. In their final assessment, they concluded that bourgeois conspirators were undermining the Red Army's efforts from within. Consequently, several officers who had voiced concerns about the lack of ammunition and supplies were arrested and sent to remote Siberian concentration camps. The officer who had lamented about the troops' hunger was executed in front of his comrades.

Kliment Yevremovich Voroshilov, a Soviet Marshal, had recently arrived at the front, tasked with commanding the faltering Soviet invasion of Poland. His predecessor had been dispatched to a Siberian camp shortly after Voroshilov's arrival. Despite his efforts, the Red Army continued to struggle, with most of its forces bogged down near the Polish border. Even a breakthrough in the middle defensive line progressed slowly and chaotically.

Voroshilov was perhaps more fortunate than his predecessor because Stalin, to emphasize the importance of the frontline, had sent three of his confidants to oversee the operation. Nikita Khrushchev and Nikolai Yezhov joined Voroshilov, responsible for the political oversight of the offensive. However, both were politically astute yet militarily naive, and their interference only exacerbated the Soviet army's operational weaknesses.

Initially, Yezhov insisted on continuing full-scale offensives along the entire front, dispersing the Soviet forces and diluting their firepower. This strategy led to significant losses without any territorial gains. Khrushov, observing the failure, decided to shift tactics. He consulted with Red Army commanders and proposed a focused assault directly targeting Warsaw. However, due to a shortage of competent mid- and lower-level officers, troop mobilization was chaotic.

As the situation deteriorated, Voroshilov was forced to reassume direct command, inheriting a disastrously mismanaged operation. Yet, his position was somewhat secure because Khrushchev and Yezhov, eager to hide their blunders from Stalin, reported fictitious victories, buying Voroshilov more time to achieve a genuine breakthrough.

Meanwhile, Polish forces, well-entrenched and fortified, inflicted heavy casualties on the Soviet troops. Despite their crumbling lines due to a lack of reserves, the Polish defenders could hold out for weeks, if not months. They noted that the Soviet tactics seemed almost perfunctory, as if the Soviets were merely testing their defenses rather than launching a determined assault. Each Soviet attack, whether in the village or from their concrete fortifications, was repelled with significant Soviet losses, yet minimal strategic gain.

In Moscow, Stalin had recently praised Voroshilov, Khrushchev, and Yezhov for their supposed successes, even planning to award them medals and hold seminars on their "victorious" strategies. This public commendation only added to the pressure, making the potential fallout from any revelation of the truth even more catastrophic.

Faced with this dire situation, the trio convened to discuss their next steps. Yezhov, feeling the weight of responsibility, suggested another attack, though he acknowledged that each failure only worsened their predicament. Khrushchev, sweating with anxiety, feared the repercussions of Stalin discovering their deceit. Voroshilov, the most militarily knowledgeable of the three, expressed doubt about the feasibility of continued offensives given the current state of the army.

As they debated, the reality of their dire logistical and operational challenges loomed large. Supplies were piled up in cities far from the front, and the transportation infrastructure, insufficiently developed even with German assistance, failed to meet wartime demands. The front-line troops were undersupplied and demoralized, facing shortages of food, clothing, and ammunition essential for sustained combat.

In this bleak setting, Voroshilov, Khrushchev, and Yezhov grappled with their precarious positions, each aware that their survival depended not just on military success, but on their ability to continue masking the grim reality from Stalin. The specter of failure haunted them, as they plotted their next move in a high-stakes game of military and political survival.

The complexity of the situation unfolding across Europe was palpable in the air, thick with the tension of impending decisions that could alter the course of history. Voroshilov, Khrushchev, and Yezhov were ensconced in a somber meeting, each man burdened with the weight of their responsibilities, and the desperate need for a victory that had yet to materialize. This victory was not just a military objective; it was their lifeline, a symbol of salvation in the treacherous waters of political survival.

Voroshilov, attempting to shift the focus of their grim contemplations, brought up the latest updates from the front lines: "The news from Spain," he began, veering off to discuss the movements of the German forces. "The Germans have now captured Krakow and are threatening Radom in central Poland. They've opened the Danzig Corridor in northern Poland and are advancing south towards Warsaw..."

Khrushchev, visibly agitated by the discussion, contemplated standing on the table to vehemently express his frustrations. However, he reconsidered, opting instead to maintain a semblance of composure—a skill honed by years of navigating the perilous political landscape under Stalin's watchful eye.

Yezhov, catching the subtle cues of the conversation, pondered the implications silently. His thoughts were pragmatic, viewing Germany not as the ideological adversary it was to the Communist International but as a potential ally in the complex game of international politics. His previous dealings with the Germans, particularly during the Tukhachevsky affair, had fostered a begrudging respect and a tacit cooperation that he found strategically beneficial.

"We sent people to Germany to reach a new agreement with the Germans," Yezhov proposed after a moment of reflection. "As long as some Polish territory is ceded to them, they will not disagree with our demands."

Khrushchev, however, was skeptical. "I am afraid it's not so simple," he countered. "The German army has approached Warsaw. With their current pace, they can easily seize the Polish territory they desire. The original treaty is already in their favor, and they have little incentive to renegotiate."

Despite his objections, Khrushchev's stance was not entirely opposed to re-engaging with Germany. He recognized that the war's outcome was unlikely to change and that compromise was necessary to stabilize their position.

Voroshilov, seeing that a consensus was forming, added his perspective. "We must at least try to negotiate. There are hundreds of thousands of Polish troops along the border. If we can contain them, it could ease our offensive efforts. But I am unsure about Comrade Stalin's position..."

"We will draft the report, and it will need your signature, Marshal," Khrushchev said, his tone a mixture of resignation and determination. "But the offensive must continue! We will find a way to justify our actions."

"Execute a group of dissenters, gather some resources from the second-tier troops, and launch localized offensives," Voroshilov suggested quickly, though he admitted, "There's no guarantee of success."

"The attack must proceed regardless," Yezhov interjected decisively. "If we can persuade the Germans to leave a portion of Polish territory to us, upon our return to Moscow, we will be hailed as heroes. If we fail, then it's better not to return at all."

Khrushchev nodded in agreement. "Comrade Yezhov is right. For our great motherland, for our great leader, Comrade Stalin, we must accept whatever terms the Germans propose."

Meanwhile, in Berlin, the mood was starkly different. Akado and Augustus sat comfortably, sipping coffee and discussing their strategy with an air of confidence. "The Soviets must be desperate by now," Akado remarked with a smirk. "Their envoys are probably scrambling across Romania trying to negotiate with our forces."

Augustus, more aggressive in his outlook, pointed to the larger geopolitical picture. "The French are idle, waiting for us to clash with the Soviet forces. The British are covertly fueling our campaign, having sold millions of barrels of oil to Italy. With such support, we can end the Polish campaign within a month."

He then suggested a strategic maneuver to delay any potential conflict with France until early 1938, allowing Germany to consolidate its gains and prepare for further expansions. "We should also consider reintegrating some veterans into the army to bolster the training of our newly formed divisions," Augustus proposed, emphasizing the balance between quantity and quality in military readiness.

Back at the front lines, the situation for the Polish defenders was dire. Rommel's forces had repelled a counterattack in the north, inflicting heavy casualties on the Polish army. In contrast, the eastern front saw the Polish forces holding back the Soviet Red Army, marking a significant, albeit isolated, victory.

In the south, the Polish cavalry, faced with no other options, launched desperate attacks against the German tanks. These assaults, born out of necessity rather than strategic planning, resulted in heavy losses and showcased the bravery and tragedy of the Polish military effort.

As the German 7th Armored Army cleaved through Polish defenses, the fate of Warsaw—and indeed, of Poland itself—hung precariously in the balance. The Polish leadership, isolated and overwhelmed, received only hollow assurances of sympathy from their supposed allies.

In these turbulent times, the lines between friend and foe blurred, and the landscape of war shifted under the weight of ambition, desperation, and the unyielding will to survive.

Stalin's mood these days was far from good; in fact, it was downright terrible. The Soviet Red Army was hemorrhaging soldiers on the front lines. Stalin had already executed several front-line commanders by the time Marshal Voroshilov reached the battlefield. In an attempt to stabilize the situation, Stalin had dispatched two of his most capable men, Khrushchev and Yezhov, to the front. While they managed to bring some stability, they failed to inject any new hope into the chaotic situation. Stalin continued to receive disheartening reports of defeat after defeat. This contrasted sharply with the Germans' smooth progress on the Western Front in Poland, making the lack of progress by the Soviet Red Army a source of personal embarrassment for Stalin.

Following these reports, Stalin received news of a significant victory at the front, which temporarily soothed his anger. However, this was quickly followed by yet another report of defeat. He was informed by the material transportation department that the amount of lost guns and ammunition was sufficient to arm half of Poland, yet all they had to show for it was a meager pile of supplies in the wild countryside of Poland. Stalin was deeply dissatisfied with these outcomes. His plan to demonstrate his prowess to the world was faltering, and instead, he felt that his own administration was making a mockery of him. Convinced that it was time to end this farce and redeem his tarnished reputation, Stalin reviewed reports from Yezhov, Khrushchev, and others. He saw a proposal to send a messenger to Germany to renegotiate terms. Overwhelmed, Stalin dropped his cherished pipe and secluded himself in his room for a day.

The next morning, a Soviet diplomat hastily took Stalin's letter of appointment and set off for Romania, from where he would proceed to Berlin, Germany. After receiving instructions from Yezhov, the messenger met with Khrushchev, Yezhov, and Voroshilov at the front line in Supo for a lengthy discussion before hurrying off to Berlin. There, he met with the German Foreign Minister, Merkel.

Without preamble, the Soviet envoy presented Stalin's offer to Merkel, listing a series of supplies including oil and food. Merkel, however, interrupted him politely, chin raised, and pointed out that according to the treaty signed earlier, Germany had declared war on Poland a month later and had already paid a significant price. Now, with the German army gaining an upper hand over the Polish forces, Merkel argued that redefining the future Soviet-German border was not in Germany's interest.

The Soviet envoy, anxious, insisted that they had offered all the materials they could afford, noting that this had already caused serious disruptions to their five-year plan. Merkel, unconvinced, suggested that the envoy return to Stalin to decide on the importance of the matter.

Merkel, with a laugh, dismissed the material transactions as less optimistic since Germany seemed to be gaining more from their position in Poland. The Soviet envoy, undeterred and straightforward, asked for Germany's demands to see if they were acceptable. Merkel, after a moment's thought, stated that Germany was more interested in acquiring human resources this time—not individuals, but a workforce comprising all Soviet prisoners of war, totaling 850,000.

The Soviet envoy was taken aback, explaining that it was impossible as they didn't have that many Polish prisoners. Merkel, amused, suggested that once Germany completed the siege of Warsaw, Poland would collapse instantly, giving the Soviets several months to capture the needed prisoners.

The envoy expressed doubt about securing such a large number of prisoners and suggested that if they were to consider the population of Poland, he could attempt to find a solution, but he needed to know what would happen if the numbers fell short. Merkel, recalling a suggestion from Akado, immediately responded that they could supplement the shortage with healthy men from Soviet concentration camps.

Merkel emphasized that Germany needed a workforce that could immediately contribute to their industries. Akado had plans to transform areas in Poland, Slovakia, and East Prussia into leading industrial zones within a year. The plan involved establishing numerous industry-specific concentration camps to produce goods at low costs, turning Poland into a breadbasket for Germany, and significantly increasing the output of mines and factories with the help of prisoners of war.

Back in Germany, business tycoons and government officials were already reaping the benefits of their military successes, dividing up the labor force and preparing to boost raw material output. The National Defense Force had allocated significant portions of mine output and prisoners to arms manufacturers, facilitating a new round of weapons production.

Despite these developments, the German economy, which Akado had inherited, was still recovering from the burdens of war-reparation debts and the international capitalist economic crisis. Schacht, a financial genius, had been instrumental in stabilizing the economy with Akado's support. However, the ongoing sanctions and war efforts were straining resources, causing some public discontent.

During a conference, Merkel presented a new treaty to Akado, announcing that the Soviets had agreed to provide 600,000 healthy Polish captives and 200,000 women, along with additional land and oil as compensation. This agreement was seen as a significant boost to Germany's human resources, allowing for further investments in infrastructure and economic revitalization.

Schacht remarked that the German economy was now performing slightly better than France's, and Akado confidently told the assembly that this solution would help manage the country more effectively. He expressed his determination to expand the territories of the Third Reich, covering the globe with their influence. The meeting concluded with enthusiastic cheers and salutes to the head of state, signaling a unified commitment to Germany's ambitious goals.