Simon Montefiore - Stalin

On 20 June, Dekanozov, back in Berlin, warned Beria firmly that the attack was imminent. Beria threatened his protégé while Stalin muttered that “Slow Kartvelian” “wasn’t clever enough to work it out.” Beria forwarded the “disinformation” to Stalin with the sycophantic but slightly mocking note: “My people and I, Joseph Vissarionovich, firmly remember your wise prediction: Hitler will not attack us in 1941!”

At about 7:30 p.m., Mikoyan, the Deputy Premier in charge of the merchant navy, was called by the harbourmaster of Riga: twenty-five German ships were setting sail, even though many had not yet unloaded. He rushed along to Stalin’s office where some of the leaders were gathered.

“That’ll be a provocation,” Stalin angrily told Mikoyan. “Let them leave.” The Politburo were alarmed—but of course said nothing. Molotov was deeply worried: “The situation is unclear, a great game is being played,” he confided to the Bulgarian Communist Dmitrov, on Saturday 21 June. “Not everything depends on us.” General Golikov brought Stalin further evidence: “This information,” Stalin wrote on it, “is an English provocation. Find out who the author is and punish him.” The fire brigade reported that the German Embassy was burning documents. The British government and even Mao Tse-tung (a surprising source, via the Comintern) sent warnings.

Stalin telephoned Khrushchev to warn him the war might begin the next day and asked Tiulenev, the commander of Moscow: “How do things stand with the anti-aircraft defence of Moscow? Note the situation’s tense… Bring the troops of Moscow’s anti-aircraft defence to 75 percent of combat readiness.” 2

Saturday the 21st was a warm and uneasy day in Moscow. The schools had broken up for the holidays. Dynamo Moscow, the football team, lost its game. The theatres were showing Rigoletto , La Traviata and Chekhov’s Three Sisters . Stalin and the Politburo sat all day, coming and going. By early evening, Stalin was deeply disturbed by the persistently ominous reports that even his Terror could not disperse. Molotov joined him again around 6:30.

Outside the Little Corner, Poskrebyshev sat by the open window, sipping Narzan water: he called Chadaev, the young Sovnarkom assistant. “Something important?” whispered Chadaev.

“I’d say so,” replied Poskrebyshev. “The Boss talked to Timoshenko, he was very agitated… They’re waiting for… you know… the German attack…”

At about seven, Stalin ordered Molotov to summon Schulenburg to protest about the German reconnaissance flights—and find out what he could. The Count sped into the Kremlin. Molotov hurried along to his office in the same building. Meanwhile [180] This account is based on the memoirs of Molotov, Mikoyan, Zhukov, Timoshenko, Hilger and others but the times are based on the Kremlin Logbook which is clearly incomplete but since the fear, uncertainty and chaos of that night ensured that everyone gave different times for their meetings, it at least provides a framework. Zhukov is not shown as attending the first meeting at 7:05 and Vatutin, who was deputy Chief of Staff and appears in Zhukov’s account, is not mentioned at all. Nor is Mikoyan. That does not mean they were not there: in the manic comings and goings, even Poskrebyshev could be forgiven a few mistakes. Timoshenko telephoned to report that a German deserter had revealed the German invasion plan for dawn. Stalin swung between the force of reality and the self-delusion of his infallibility.

In Molotov’s office, Schulenburg was relieved to see that the Foreign Commissar was still oblivious to the enormity of his country’s plight. The Russian asked him why Germany seemed dissatisfied with their Soviet allies. And why had the women and children of the German Embassy left Moscow?

“Not ALL the women,” said Schulenburg. “My wife is still in town.” Molotov gave what the Ambassador’s aide, Hilger, called a “resigned shrug of the shoulders” and returned to Stalin’s office.

Timoshenko then arrived, along with most of the magnates: Voroshilov, Beria, Malenkov and the powerful young Deputy Premier Voznesensky. At 8:15 p.m., Timoshenko returned to the Defence Commissariat whence he informed Stalin that a second deserter had warned that war would begin at 4 a.m. Stalin called him back. Timoshenko arrived at 8:50 with Zhukov and Budyonny, Deputy Defence Commissar, who knew Stalin much better than they did and was less frightened of the Vozhd . Budyonny admitted that he did not know what was happening at the frontier since he was only in command of the home front. The outspoken Budyonny had played an ambiguous role in the Terror but even then he was willing to speak his mind, a rare quality in those circles. Stalin appointed him commander of the Reserve Army. Then Mekhlis, newly restored to his old job—head of the army’s Political Department, Stalin’s military enforcer, joined this funereal vigil.

“Well what now?” the pacing Stalin asked them. There was silence. The Politburo sat like dummies. Timoshenko raised his voice: “All troops in frontier districts” must be placed on “full battle alert!”

“Didn’t they send the deserter on purpose to provoke us?” said Stalin, but then he ordered Zhukov: “Read this out.” When Zhukov reached his order of High Alert, Stalin interrupted, “It would be premature to issue that order now. It might still be possible to settle the situation by peaceful means.” They had to avoid any provocations. Zhukov obeyed his instructions exactly—he knew the alternative: “Beria’s dungeon!”

The magnates now spoke up diffidently, agreeing with the generals that the troops had to be put on alert “just in case.” Stalin nodded at the generals who hurried next door to Poskrebyshev’s office to redraft the order. When they returned, the obsessive editor watered it down even more. The generals rushed back to the Defence Commissariat to transmit the order to the military districts: “A surprise attack by the Germans is possible during 22–23 June… The task of our forces is to refrain from any kind of provocative action…” This was only completed just after midnight on Sunday 22 June.

Stalin told Budyonny that the war would probably start tomorrow. Budyonny left at ten, while Timoshenko, Zhukov and Mekhlis left later. Stalin kept pacing. Beria left, presumably to check the latest intelligence reports, and reported back at ten-forty. At eleven, the leaders moved upstairs to Stalin’s apartment where they sat in the dining room. “Stalin kept reassuring us that Hitler would not begin the war,” claimed Mikoyan.

“I think Hitler’s trying to provoke us,” said Stalin, according to Mikoyan. “He surely hasn’t decided to make war?”

Zhukov phoned again at twelve-thirty: a third deserter, a Communist labourer from Berlin named Alfred Liskov, had swum the Pruth to report that the order to invade had been read to his unit. Stalin checked that the High Alert order was being transmitted, then commanded that Liskov should be shot “for his disinformation.” Even on such a night, it was impossible to break the Stalinist routine of brutality—and entertainment: the Politburo headed out through the Borovitsky Gate to Kuntsevo in a convoy of limousines, speeding through the empty streets with their NKGB escorts. The generals, watched by Mekhlis, remained tensely in the Defence Commissariat. But elsewhere in the city, the weary commissars, guards and typists who waited every night (even Saturdays) until Stalin left the Kremlin, could stagger home to sleep. By Stalin’s standards, it was early.

Molotov drove to the Foreign Commissariat to send a final telegram to Dekanozov in Berlin, who was already trying to get through to Ribbentrop, to put the questions Schulenburg had failed to answer. Molotov then joined the others at Kuntsevo: “we might even have watched a film,” he said. At around 2 a.m., after an hour or so of dining, drinking and talking (the memories of Zhukov, Molotov and Mikoyan are confused about that night), they headed back to their Kremlin apartments. [181] At roughly the same time, Hitler decided to snatch an hour’s sleep before the invasion started: “The fortune of war must now decide.” Earlier, an overtired and anxious Hitler had been pacing up and down the office with Goebbels working out the proclamation to be read to the German people the next day. “This cancerous growth has to be burned out,” Hitler told Goebbels. “Stalin will fall.” Liskov, the German defector, was still being interrogated two and a half hours later when the invasion began: he was not shot. The events of that night were so dramatic that the participants all recall different times: Molotov thought he had left Stalin at midnight, Mikoyan at 3 a.m. Molotov claimed Zhukov, who is used as a source by most historians, placed events later to amplify his own role. At least some of the confusion is due to the hour difference between German and Russian times: this account is based on Russian time. But it is easier to pace events according to the Teutonic efficiency of the German invasion that started at 3:30 a.m. German summertime (4:30 a.m. Russian time) and the arrival of Schulenburg’s instructions from Berlin. It is clear from the three memoirs that the group moved from Stalin’s office to the apartment to Kuntsevo in the course of the hours between 9 p.m. and 3 a.m.