Harry Kellogg III: The Red Tide: Stalin Strikes First

During the summer of 1910, he designs a glider at the farm. On July 16th, 1910, he brings it up to the roof of the barn, and launches it, flying straight into the ground. As a result, he loses sight in his right eye. He will never fly again.

His fascination with all things aviation-related remains. As a young man he devours anything related to the air war during The Great War. In 1915, he tries, and fails, to enter the world of academia. Although brilliant his lack of knowledge outside of aviation dooms him from the start. His study of industrialization, along with his thoughts on how to improve the process, are seen as counter-revolutionary and deemed a deviation from the party line. His obsession with all things related to aviation and how to maximize the production of aircraft in a communist system, severely narrows his options in Soviet life.

He follows some of his boyhood friends, and becomes a member of the Communist Party. Because of his native genius he rises in the ranks. When he is not working he diligently studies aviation, air warfare and industrialization. Reading and studying the leading businessmen of the West, and their methods harms his career. He never marries and from all accounts, was celibate all his life. He lived and breathed flying machines, rockets and eventually jets, and the means to produce them.

One night fate intervenes in his life and he catches Stalin’s eye at one of dictator’s infamous parties. No one knows why he is at the party as he neither drinks, nor smokes, takes no drugs nor is he interested in sex. This, of course, attracts the bully in Stalin and he corners Sergo, and begins to relentlessly to tease him. Someone in the crowd trying to impress Stalin, mentions Sergo’s passion for flight. In an attempt to humiliate Sergo further, Stalin calls on one of the leading experts in the field, one Mikhail Gurevich. He is the “G” in the famous Soviet aircraft design bureau, MiG.

Gurevich was bullied into quizzing the unfortunate Sergo. To everyone’s amazement he proves to be up to the task, dazzling Gurevich with his knowledge.

For some unfathomable reason, Stalin takes a liking to Sergo and has him transferred to his staff as a special aviation advisor. The rest, as they say, is history. Sergo has Stalin’s ear, a brilliant mind and most of all, his trust. All are put to masterful use in the next 36 months.

There are many who believed in the 1940’s that Stalin was a true communist. He was not. He was just your everyday run-of-the-mill dictator and mass murderer. Many devoted communists became spies for Stalin throughout the war thinking that by helping Stalin, they were creating a better world. These spies were truly astounding and were rivaled only by the British and their Ultra Program in gaining knowledge for their masters. The particular master charged with obtaining this intelligence was none other than Lavrenti Beria, the present head of the Soviet Secret Police, the NKVD.

By 1943, both the American atomic bomb program and the Nazi Army Research Station in Peenemünde had been infiltrated to a great degree. The secrets of both the Germans and the Allies were pouring into the Kremlin and anything related to aircraft, flight, jets and rockets all goes directly to Sergo Peshkov.

By August of 1944, three U.S. B-29 Superfortress bombers were forced to land in Vladivostok, Russia, after having been damaged while bombing Japan. They were never returned to the United States, and Sergo Peshkov had them all to study.

He becomes convinced that air power would be the key to any conflict with the Western Powers. He learns every flight specification, every nut and bolt, of the B-29 and any other Allied aircraft being flown, or on the drawing board. He has drawings and plans of many of the German super weapons being built or designed. He has the undivided attention, and trust, of one Joseph Stalin.

Sergo turns out to be a brilliant industrialist, on par with Henry Ford and William Boeing. Finally, all the ideas that were swirling in his mind were unleashed. All the brilliant minds that are wasting away, in gulags all over the USSR are tested. Intelligence and dexterity tests are given to every Jew, Pole, German, gypsy, civilian, women and adolescent, regardless of race, creed, gender or religion. Everyone currently not involved in military service or working in the production of war materials, is tested. Everyone who has a potential talent is put under the control of Sergo Peshkov. As German scientists and engineers are captured, they are turned over to Sergo Peshkov.

All blueprints, production plans, models, captured weapons; prototypes, etc. are transferred immediately to his care. He scours Soviet society for talented people, and gathers them all in a secret production facility, deep within the Ural Mountains. He is called the “Czar of Technology,” behind his back.

As the Nazis are pushed further away from the motherland, Stalin begins to think about the future after Hitler. Stalin listens to Sergo Peshkov, and gives him everything he needs to prepare for the next war.

They were already 45 minutes into what was going to be a long bus ride. Half of the passengers were already asleep. Bob was almost nodding off himself when he heard the popping noise. The bus driver corrected for the loss of steering when another pop sent the bus out of control. This second failure of the front tires sent the bus hurdling into space. For what was to be the rest of their lives, no one heard a sound as the thirty-five foot rolling tube made of metal, wood and rubber that contained them all, fell through the air for a full three seconds. Then, all hell broke loose. Most of the passengers on board were killed instantly. Some never even woke up as their former safe cocoon exploded in pieces of metal and flame.

The driver watched in terror as the bus flew through the air and prayed as the ground rushed to fill his windshield. The mind plays tricks on us in times of crisis. His last thought was how a massive boulder that was about to end his life looked a lot like a mushroom. The impact with the mushroom-shaped boulder did indeed drive the steering wheel into his chest, stopped his heart and ended his life.

In the seat directly behind him, the young man was dreaming that he was falling, which, of course, he was. His brain treated the sensations he was feeling as though it was part of the dream, and let him continue dreaming for another two seconds before he was hurled through the windshield. This severed his spinal cord and drove his head into the same mushroom-shaped boulder and smashed it like a water melon shot out of a cannon. All of the other passengers died in a similar manner as the bus became a slag-heap of metal, wood, rubber and burning fuel, mixed with flesh and bone.

None of this mayhem affected the boulder in the least, with the exception of the fire caused by the explosion. You can still see the discoloration to this day if you look close enough. The boulder itself will not be easy to find. It was just another traffic accident out in the middle of nowhere. No little wooden crosses. No little handmade monuments alongside the road. Nothing like you might see today on the spot where a fatal accident may have happened. The local sheriff reported it as driver fatigue, and that was the end of the investigation at that time. Had the investigation been done properly, then the bullet-entry holes that shredded the front tires might have been noticed earlier. Then someone might have put two and two together and then determined that these were the opening shots of World War Three.