I Became Stalin?!

Chapter 20:

“[spurious].”

― Joseph Stalin

Chapter 20

I had never thought about it before, but ‘I’ was surprisingly old. 

Or rather, were the generals too young?

Budyonny, whom I thought was an old man because of his dignified mustache, was five years younger than ‘I’.

Zhukov and Konev were 18 and 19 years younger than me, respectively, almost like nephews… I was about ten years older than Yakov Dzhugashvili, Stalin’s son.

If I went as far as Ivan Chernyakhovsky, who was the youngest front commander in history, he was the same age as Yakov! 

Considering that Yakov became a prisoner of war of the German army when he was a lieutenant, the commander was only about ten years older than a lieutenant.

No wonder, they were young. 

They were full of spirit. 

And they had confidence in their abilities.

The losses so far were estimated at around one million, compared to the actual history where they lost five million. 

The armored and air forces also suffered only about a quarter of the losses compared to the actual history where they lost 20,000 each.

Perhaps the generals thought that it was thanks to their abilities. 

They had a reason to think so. 

‘I’ avoided taking part in the front command thoroughly, and I just provided them with useful information by mixing the knowledge I knew and the knowledge collected by the intelligence department.

The generals were right to command based on that information. 

But who brought them that information, and who conscripted, trained, organized, and assigned the huge population, while supplying thousands of materials properly? 

It was ‘I’ and the bureaucrats under me.

So I felt uneasy somehow.

“We must drive them out of the defensive line they are holding now before Rasputitsa comes. Once they retreat from the defensive line they built, they will either have to endlessly retreat back and back to avoid the disadvantageous engagement with our army, or endure endless exhaustion by digging trenches and building fortifications in the mud.

If we want to inflict much more damage on them, now is the time!”

Kirponos spoke loudly in front of the other attendees, unaware that I was lost in thought. 

Unlike the Northwestern Front that lost many armored forces or the Northern Front that gave most of its armored forces to other fronts and turned Leningrad into a space fortress, the South received endless reinforcements.

The Southern Front faced 800,000 Nazi Germany’s Southern Army Group and 300,000 Romanian Army with almost 2 million troops and nearly 9,000 armored vehicles, most of which were light tanks.

In addition, there were two field armies with 160,000 troops being formed in Zaporozhye, a large city on the Don River. 

The preparations for debuting Operation Uranus on the battlefield splendidly were gradually completed.

Zhukov and Kirponos boasted to me. 

The operation was perfect. 

The Red Army, which did not lose all its veterans at the beginning, had a much higher level of training than at this point in actual history, and also had a fighting spirit.

From personal weapons to artillery fire, armored forces and air forces – of course they did not have air superiority at all – but at least they were better than in actual history. 

If only I had given Zhukov instead of Budyonny to follow the advanced doctrine… What was this creepy feeling that stimulated a corner of my head?

‘Zhukov is too dangerous’

The Stalin inside me whispered that whenever I was alone.

A defeated general threatens the existence of the state, but a victorious general threatens the existence of the regime.

I did not doubt Zhukov’s ability. 

But I doubted his ambition that he might have. 

Beria also seemed to know this creepy feeling I had well enough that he sometimes stimulated my paranoia with casual words.

Zhukov’s family did not know yet, but they were already under strict surveillance. 

Only Beria would know if he really knew or not…

If his ‘sabotage’ or ‘rebellion plot’ was exposed, Zhukov’s family and relatives would be immediately dragged to Gulag and never be able to breathe outside air again. 

Beria somehow sensed where my suspicious eyes were heading and kept finding out suspicious information about their movements and brought them to me.

“Comrade Secretary General, this is this week’s ‘Domestic Trends Report’.”

In a hostile place, Beria smiled softly and handed me a report containing the trends of the military.

All senior military officers of general or colonel rank had been reported for ‘suspicious behavior’ at least once. 

If you read it carefully, it was just circumstantial or malicious interpretation that could be considered suspicious, but there was hidden malice in the report.

I could see why Beria was hated by the military.

Of course, the military that had grown huge through war could easily stage a coup. 

The Russian Revolution itself was achieved by seizing the power of a highly centralized government – like the Soviet Union now – with a single armed takeover of the capital!

The Stalin of actual history suffered endlessly from such paranoia and kept getting rid of his confidants whom he thought were enemies.

And then? 

He was eventually betrayed by his trusted Khrushchev.

“Comrade Secretary General? Do you have any instructions?”

“No, just…”

Trying to smell the anger and suspicion, ‘Stalin’s hunting dog’ kept sniffing and rubbing his nose against me.

With this attitude, Beria would have avoided Stalin’s suspicion until he died.

In fact, people like Molotov, who were pushed away from the center of power by Stalin’s suspicion in actual history, remained loyal until the end. 

On the other hand, people like Khrushchev and Beria, who were trusted and successful under Stalin, abandoned Stalinism like loyal dogs.

That did not mean that I had to purge all the ‘future traitors’ at this point. 

Just like Molotov was quite competent, Khrushchev and Beria also did their jobs well in their positions.

Beria was making rapid progress in developing nuclear weapons, and Khrushchev was active on the front as a political officer. 

They were too valuable to touch even if I looked at the future. 

That’s why Stalin trusted them, right?

Anyway, the Soviet Union needed talent. 

If I wasted even one person, more blood of the soldiers would have to flow.

Russia before the revolution was a mess. And there was no reason to change much after the revolution. 

Rather, it became more of a mess as the high-ranking, middle-level bureaucrats and aristocrats were swept away.VIsit n0(v)eLb(i)n.𝘤𝑜𝓂 for the best novel reading experience

The talented soldiers rose to their positions through the Civil War and the Soviet-Polish War, and over 20 years passed, cultivating a solid middle-level bureaucracy. 

But even the competent bureaucrats were eager to fill their pockets by colluding with local forces. 

Some of them did more harm than good because they were more capable.

So Stalin took a drastic measure of purging those pig-like humans with the Great Purge. 

But this only highlighted the lack of talent in the young Soviet state.

Before the Great Purge, there were many things that went wrong in the Soviet Union that could be called a quasi-modern state. 

Before the Great Purge, the military had bloody factional fights and blatantly hinted at rebellion, and the residents attacked wagons carrying party cards to get rationing.

The local party organizations and public enterprises in the Ural region staged a huge scam together to avoid falling behind Donbass or Belarus, where massive industrial infrastructure investments were planned. 

They lied that there were huge energy resources buried in the Ural Mountains and got a plan to build a large-scale industrial complex (combinat).

They ruined the business that determined the hundred-year plan of the state for their own benefit.

The necessity of security, that is, building cities in the Ural Mountains where it was difficult for enemy forces from the west to approach, had its own effects.

As a result, the German air force could not even get close to Magnitogorsk, Sverdlovsk, or Chelyabinsk in the Ural Mountains due to their range problems. 

These three cities were able to safely produce a huge amount of war materials during World War II.

But such attempts to deceive the central party and take care of their own interests were found countless times. 

At least, the bureaucrats raised by Stalin from the center managed to control some of the local areas, but that would have been impossible without the Great Purge.

This country was still too vast and lacked talent. 

Enough to try to get out those talents who were dragged to Gulag by searching through my memories of actual history.

“I appreciate your hard work, doctor. But this ‘surveillance’ was inevitable. You must know by looking at this war that has broken out now, but Fascist spies have always been lurking to sabotage our state… There may be unavoidable sacrifices. I apologize for this.”

At my polite greeting, Korolev was at a loss for words. 

The other contributors to rocket technology development also seemed shocked. 

Especially Glushko, who was Korolev’s rival and had him arrested by NKVD by accusing him.

Did he feel touched by me taking off my hat and bowing so deeply that my white hair on top of my head showed? 

It was hard to tell how an old dictator who reached the peak of power would come across to a young scholar who had never experienced a dictatorship regime with his sharp blade.

But I could do this much for him. 

Sergey Korolev, one of the greatest geniuses born in Soviet Union.

He succeeded in developing Sputnik, the world’s first artificial satellite, developing the first intercontinental ballistic missile, and sending humans into space for the first time.

This genius had to be locked up like a can in a special prison without proper support from scientists in actual history, but he did not have to do that now.

“When the war is over, I will give you all the support you can. I don’t know how long I can live with this body… Hahahaha!”

When I laughed heartily, some groveled and clapped their hands saying that Comrade Secretary General would enjoy longevity, and some flattered me with their hands waving. 

Korolev was neither. 

He just wondered what kind of support it would be.

“It would be best if you tell me an amount. In billions. 100 billion.”

Everyone’s mouths opened wide. 

It would cost more than 20 billion dollars, which was more valuable than rubles, to send humans to the moon. 

The United States spent 23 billion dollars from 1961 to 1969. That’s 3 billion a year, more than 100 billion in rubles.

“Dr. Korolev, you will be the overall director of this huge project, leading humanity to space, especially landing on the moon. The deadline is… 25 years from now? Anyway, let’s put this far-fetched story aside for now, and I’ll tell you my plan.”

I recited the space development history that I remembered. 

The launch of Sputnik, the competition to send Laika into orbit and explore the moon. 

And finally, using the great Soviet science and technology to send a Soviet man to the moon!

“You will be in charge of all the projects related to rockets and space in the design bureau that you will oversee. Engine, electronics, control and measurement devices, just name it. Whatever you need, I will put them under your command. The other design bureaus can borrow your products, right?”

People’s mouths gaped open. 

No design bureau had ever been given such authority. 

Usually, several design bureaus competed in one field to participate in national projects. 

Even if they had to cooperate for one goal…

Such a huge power?

“What the Politburo wants first is this. Roughly… a ballistic rocket that can carry a two-ton warhead and fly more than 200 km. If you can do this, you will have a powerful influence over the science of this country for decades to come. Can you do it?”

Korolev swallowed his saliva. 

He was given a clear goal. 

He was also promised full support. 

And… if he refused, he might have to go back there. 

To the hell called Gulag.

He nodded his head vigorously. 

What the heck, I just have to make it!

“Good, very good.”

The Secretary General clapped his hands with a satisfied face and looked at Korolev.

Yangel, Glushko, Chelomey, he had surpassed his formidable rivals and returned from being locked up in Gulag as the sole director of the space project.

Of course, he could go down as quickly as he went up… But the position of overseeing all the design bureaus and engineers. 

He didn’t have much ambition for power, but this treatment was amazing enough that he couldn’t even dream of it.

After some time, Korolev finished his private conversation with the Secretary General and walked out. 

He had the goals written by hand by the Secretary General and some design concepts that he didn’t know where he got them from.

The space development was abstract and simple. It was about what to do in a long term – 5 to 10 years. 

But this was rather proof that the Kremlin would invest in space business for that period.

For now, he had to prove his ability by making things for the war first. 

He looked at the design of the ‘weapon rocket’ and was lost in thought.

Suddenly someone grabbed his arm and dragged him.

“Hey! Who… who are you?”

“Shh, be quiet. Comrade Korolev.”

The NKVD agent who grabbed his arm in the corner of the hallway lowered his voice and gave him some warnings.

He had left Gulag, but he should not contact his family since he had access to top secrets. 

He would be able to see them after the war and after achieving at least the second goal.

It was not much different from Gulag, so he could nod his head. 

His wife had already sent him divorce papers. 

There must have been pressure from NKVD or around him.

He understood that, but he felt a bit disappointed somehow. 

If you had waited for me for that time… I would have come back as the best.

Of course, the NKVD agent told him about the luxurious treatment he would receive. 

The position of director of aerospace department with ministerial treatment, a spacious house and a private car, and… women.

What if a foreign beauty spy approached him who had to do a secret research project in a place that was no different from Gulag again?

“You don’t want any secrets to leak out because of something like that, do you? Hahaha.”

The agent smiled with a friendly expression that did not suit an agent and handed him a few documents.

There were pictures of stunning beauties on each one. 

Did he have to choose one of them? 

He picked one that caught his eye and looked at it closely. 

As if they were partners now, the agent chuckled and poked his side.

“Why are you looking at only one? They are all yours. All of them.”

“…What?”

You know what I mean? 

The agent looked at him with an expression that could only be interpreted as such. 

He felt his face turn red as he realized his thoughts were exposed.

“It’s an apology and… a favor from Comrade Beria. He said he deeply regrets putting you through hardship with a wrong investigation and hopes this will help you a little bit in your dedication for the country.”

“…”

The agent patted his back friendly and disappeared around the corner of the hallway. 

Even after he left, Korolev looked at the pile of documents with a red face for a long time.