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Entry Three: The Hammer and Steel
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General Secretary Joseph Stalin and Foreign Affairs Minister Vyacheslav Molotov
Entry Three: The Hammer and Steel
A man stood, staring out into the horizon. The setting sun tinted the sky a vivid orange, and the lake was still and clear. Forming a small smile, he felt himself relax. Four hellish years of war and misery had taken its toll on the general secretary, and being the commander in chief of the largest land army in the world, fighting the largest and bloodiest conflict the world had ever seen wasn’t what anyone would call an easy job. Stalin had little quarrel with that, he was prepared to see this war through to the end, which everyone knew was upon them. A vibrant feeling of victory and joy seemed to linger just beyond the corner. He had felt it in Moscow, at Stalingrad, and after the liberation of Belarus. But now it was really here. Warsaw had been liberated, and the road to Berlin and victory was open.
Turning around, Stalin saw the conference building. Delegates were leaving, among them generals and representatives. Stalin watched the British Prime Minister and his attaches leaving. Frowning, he personally never liked the Prime Minister, who always seemed like more of an adversary than an ally. Still, being in the war longer than the Americans, the British were the first real ally the Soviets shared since the revolution. Stalin was broken from his thoughts by a familiar voice. “Yalta was a good choice.” Called Molotov, walking up towards Stalin with his hands in his pockets. “Well, we weren’t going to show them Sevastopol.” Stalin chuckled, materializing a pipe from his pocket. “That’s the thing, now isn’t it,” Molotov responded, his tone much more serious. Handing a lighter to Stalin, Molotov continued. “We are rebuilding yes, but the country is in ruin. We’ve lost millions of men, and our industry is exhausted.”
“What’s your point?” Stalin started aggressively, annoyed at what Molotov was saying, as though he figured Stalin didn’t know what was going on in the Union. As Stalin lit his pipe, Molotov continued, unphased. “You and I both know Churchill and his political allies in Britain hold contempt for both us and the Union. We can’t ignore it. The Red Army’s position in Poland is under heavy critique.”
“So I'll tell you what I told Churchill, and what I told Roosevelt, and what I told everyone in that conference. I have no intention of swallowing Poland. Poland’s relation to the USSR is a matter of national and ideological security. Besides, Roosevelt and the new vice-president seem to be much more amenable to negotiation.” Molotov nodded but placed in his own counter-argument. “Then if and when they are unelected and replaced by a less amenable leader? What if we are forced into a situation of conflict with our current allies”
“If we see a conflict with the western powers, I am confident the Red Army can defeat them, just as we have beaten back the fascists,” Stalin replied
“What makes you so sure? Forgive me comrade, the USSR alone cannot bring down the combined might of the capitalist powers, with all their untouched industry, their young and strong populations, against ours, bombed, broken, and battered. I have no doubts the Red Army could defeat the Allies and evict them from Germany, but come four years’ time, the back of the proletariat dream will be vanquished.” Stalin grumbled. “I don’t like this kind of talk Molotov.” “Neither do I. But it’s what you need to hear, it’s not an exaggeration to say the fate of international leftism is at stake. The dream of world revolution is not dead. The fascist reich will be destroyed, and from there we will secure East Europe and the Far East. But we cannot overstretch ourselves. I fear committing our interests too far deep into central and western Europe will leave us vulnerable. If we try to fight the capitalists on their own turf, we will be forced back. Us two are the only people standing between our great socialism in one country, and the failure of all socialist countries.” Stalin’s eyes fixated on a lamppost, which he analyzed for no particular reason. “Well, you are right about one thing Molotov.”
“And that is?”
“We will need to destroy the fascists first.”
General Secretary Joseph Stalin and Foreign Affairs Minister Vyacheslav Molotov
Entry Three: The Hammer and Steel
A man stood, staring out into the horizon. The setting sun tinted the sky a vivid orange, and the lake was still and clear. Forming a small smile, he felt himself relax. Four hellish years of war and misery had taken its toll on the general secretary, and being the commander in chief of the largest land army in the world, fighting the largest and bloodiest conflict the world had ever seen wasn’t what anyone would call an easy job. Stalin had little quarrel with that, he was prepared to see this war through to the end, which everyone knew was upon them. A vibrant feeling of victory and joy seemed to linger just beyond the corner. He had felt it in Moscow, at Stalingrad, and after the liberation of Belarus. But now it was really here. Warsaw had been liberated, and the road to Berlin and victory was open.
Turning around, Stalin saw the conference building. Delegates were leaving, among them generals and representatives. Stalin watched the British Prime Minister and his attaches leaving. Frowning, he personally never liked the Prime Minister, who always seemed like more of an adversary than an ally. Still, being in the war longer than the Americans, the British were the first real ally the Soviets shared since the revolution. Stalin was broken from his thoughts by a familiar voice. “Yalta was a good choice.” Called Molotov, walking up towards Stalin with his hands in his pockets. “Well, we weren’t going to show them Sevastopol.” Stalin chuckled, materializing a pipe from his pocket. “That’s the thing, now isn’t it,” Molotov responded, his tone much more serious. Handing a lighter to Stalin, Molotov continued. “We are rebuilding yes, but the country is in ruin. We’ve lost millions of men, and our industry is exhausted.”
“What’s your point?” Stalin started aggressively, annoyed at what Molotov was saying, as though he figured Stalin didn’t know what was going on in the Union. As Stalin lit his pipe, Molotov continued, unphased. “You and I both know Churchill and his political allies in Britain hold contempt for both us and the Union. We can’t ignore it. The Red Army’s position in Poland is under heavy critique.”
“So I'll tell you what I told Churchill, and what I told Roosevelt, and what I told everyone in that conference. I have no intention of swallowing Poland. Poland’s relation to the USSR is a matter of national and ideological security. Besides, Roosevelt and the new vice-president seem to be much more amenable to negotiation.” Molotov nodded but placed in his own counter-argument. “Then if and when they are unelected and replaced by a less amenable leader? What if we are forced into a situation of conflict with our current allies”
“If we see a conflict with the western powers, I am confident the Red Army can defeat them, just as we have beaten back the fascists,” Stalin replied
“What makes you so sure? Forgive me comrade, the USSR alone cannot bring down the combined might of the capitalist powers, with all their untouched industry, their young and strong populations, against ours, bombed, broken, and battered. I have no doubts the Red Army could defeat the Allies and evict them from Germany, but come four years’ time, the back of the proletariat dream will be vanquished.” Stalin grumbled. “I don’t like this kind of talk Molotov.” “Neither do I. But it’s what you need to hear, it’s not an exaggeration to say the fate of international leftism is at stake. The dream of world revolution is not dead. The fascist reich will be destroyed, and from there we will secure East Europe and the Far East. But we cannot overstretch ourselves. I fear committing our interests too far deep into central and western Europe will leave us vulnerable. If we try to fight the capitalists on their own turf, we will be forced back. Us two are the only people standing between our great socialism in one country, and the failure of all socialist countries.” Stalin’s eyes fixated on a lamppost, which he analyzed for no particular reason. “Well, you are right about one thing Molotov.”
“And that is?”
“We will need to destroy the fascists first.”
- CrimsonCosmonaut
- Word Count: 740