Stalin (38 page)

At 9:15 p.m., another directive went out to Soviet forces, again over the signatures of Timoshenko, Malenkov, and Zhukov.
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The results of the first day of fighting were sugarcoated. While recognizing that the German forces had achieved “minor successes” in a number of areas, the directive claimed that in most border sectors “attacks were repelled with heavy enemy casualties.” Having painted this optimistic picture, the directive went on to spell out the goal: deal a counterblow and destroy the enemy. In his memoirs, Zhukov noted his disapproval of the directive’s wording and his feeling that it did not reflect the true state of affairs.
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In truth, Stalin did not have accurate information about the first day of combat. Communication with frontline forces had broken down, and commanders at all levels were afraid to deliver bad news. Stalin himself had a hand in creating a distorted picture. On 23 June the first Red Army Main Command’s combat overview was published in newspapers. The
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labored over the wording of this summary himself. “After fierce battles,” the overview read, “the enemy was beaten back and suffered great losses.” Supposedly there were only two points at which the Germans were able to penetrate the border by 10–15 kilometers.
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In reality, the first day of fighting was catastrophic. According to official Soviet sources, on 22 June the Red Army lost 1,200 airplanes, many of which were destroyed while still sitting on airfields. German figures record more than 1,800 Soviet airplanes lost, of which approximately 1,500 were destroyed on the ground. In one day the Germans advanced 60–80 kilometers into the Baltic states, 40–60 kilometers into Belarus, and 10–20 kilometers into Ukraine.
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Despite lacking accurate information and his understandable desire to hope for the best, Stalin must have realized the seriousness of the situation. According to eyewitnesses, he was stunned by the outbreak of war. As Zhukov describes it, “During the first day he was not able to really take himself in hand and get a firm grip on events. The shock to I. V. Stalin caused by the enemy invasion was so strong that his voice even became softer and his instructions on organizing the military effort were not always appropriate to the situation.”
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Chadaev later recalled, “Early on the morning of 22 June I caught sight of Stalin in the corridor. He had arrived at work after a brief sleep. He looked tired, worn out, and sad. His pockmarked face was sunken. You could see he was depressed.”
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Stalin’s indecisiveness during the war’s first hours and his refusal to make a radio address on 22 June clearly show that he was not himself. His indecisiveness continued the following day, when it came time to set up a command headquarters. He refused to formally take charge of General Command Headquarters, and Defense Commissar Timoshenko took over that responsibility. Officially, Stalin’s membership in the Command Headquarters was on a par with those of Molotov, Voroshilov, Semen Budenny,
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Zhukov, and Admiral Nikolai Kuznetsov.
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A number of other Politburo members and military leaders were given the status of advisers to Command Headquarters.
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This system was extremely inefficient. Though officially in charge of the war effort, Timoshenko in fact had little authority among his colleagues. According to Kuznetsov, the members of Command Headquarters and the top leaders “had no intention of subordinating themselves to the people’s commissar for defense. They demanded reports and information from him, and even made him account for his actions.”
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Timoshenko was certainly not able to go over Stalin’s head. The chain of command became long and tangled, and the system whereby decisions were made and implemented was highly disorganized.

Stalin’s prewar strategy had failed. He had not managed to avoid war, and furthermore, it had gotten off to a worse start than anyone might have imagined. In addition to the military catastrophe, he had suffered a devastating blow to his self-esteem. Nobody could openly criticize him for his miscalculations, but he must have known that not only his colleagues in the leadership but also tens of millions of Soviet citizens were reproaching him in their thoughts.

Stalin’s actions during the war’s first days were frenetic, confused, and reactive. Even though he did not grasp the situation and was not qualified to manage armies, he tried to do something simply because it was impossible to do nothing. He tried desperately (and incompetently) to strike back at the Germans. Many, if not most, of these efforts only made matters worse.

Stalin clearly understood the dangers facing his country. There is convincing evidence that during the war’s very first days he tried to barter away Western portions of the USSR in exchange for a truce. Beria was assigned to arrange a meeting between his representative and the Bulgarian ambassador, whose country was allied with the Nazis. The Bulgarian ambassador was asked to determine what conditions might be acceptable for a peace with Berlin. What lands was Germany claiming?
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Just how this initiative ended is unknown. Probably the Bulgarian ambassador was reluctant to act as an intermediary. But the attempt itself speaks volumes. Whether Stalin was truly prepared to give up Soviet lands or was just hoping to break the momentum of Germany’s offensive, he clearly felt less than confident about the Red Army’s defensive capabilities.

This negotiation attempt was not the only sign of Stalin’s pessimism. In parallel with a general mobilization and the preparation of new defensive lines in the interior, he ordered a massive evacuation campaign during the war’s earliest days. Not only were people and material resources moved away from the front line, but a secret evacuation of the capital got under way, even though the Germans were nowhere near. On 27 June the Politburo approved an order to urgently (within three days) remove from Moscow the government’s precious metal and gem reserves, the Soviet Diamond Fund, and valuables held in the Kremlin armory. On 28 June it was decided that currency held in Moscow’s Gosbank and Gosznak depositories should be immediately relocated, and on 29 June, that the commissariat apparats and other top government offices should be moved to the rear. On 2 July the Politburo resolved to move Lenin’s sarcophagus from his tomb in Red Square to Siberia, and on 5 July, to move government and Central Committee archives.
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An official summoned to Stalin’s office on 26 June later recalled the following: “Stalin did not look his usual self. He didn’t just look tired. He had the appearance of someone who had endured a profoundly upsetting experience. Until I met with him, I had a feeling based on various pieces of circumstantial evidence that we were taking a heavy beating along the borders. Maybe defeat was looming. After I saw Stalin, I understood that the worst had already happened.”
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The next few days brought no relief. Stalin was increasingly aware of the futility of his orders and how difficult it was to manage the army.

Just a week after the war began, alarming news reached Moscow about the grave situation along the Western Front and that Minsk, the capital of Belarus, had already fallen into enemy hands. Communication with the troops had largely broken down. A tense pause settled in at the Kremlin. On 29 June, for the first time since the war began, no meetings were scheduled in Stalin’s Kremlin office. According to Mikoyan, that evening Molotov, Malenkov, Beria, and he gathered at Stalin’s, probably at his Kremlin apartment or his dacha. Stalin telephoned Timoshenko, but the defense commissar did not seem to know anything.
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The military leaders were not in control of the situation. Alarmed, Stalin, in violation of long-standing practice, proposed to the Politburo members that they all go to the defense commissariat.
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Here, finding further confirmation that the catastrophe had become gigantic, he showered the generals with rebukes and accusations. Unable to withstand the tension, Zhukov, head of Command Headquarters, broke into tears and ran to a neighboring room. Molotov went to comfort him. This scene evidently had a sobering effect on Stalin. He understood that putting pressure on his military leadership would not help. According to Mikoyan, as he and Molotov were leaving the commissariat, Stalin said, “Lenin left us a great legacy. We, his heirs, have pissed it all away.”
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Crude language was not unusual for Stalin, but in this case it revealed an extreme state of inner turmoil. After leaving the commissariat, Stalin apparently went to his dacha.

The following day, 30 June, Stalin did not show up at his Kremlin office or anywhere else in Moscow. Given the growing crisis, this withdrawal from his duties was truly reckless. The huge machine of government had been specially designed so that it could not run without him; inevitably, it started to break down. Something had to be done, and Molotov took the initiative. He was the most senior member of the informal hierarchy within the Politburo. According to various eyewitnesses, after losing track of Stalin, Molotov began calling him at the dacha.
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When he was unable to get a response—or, more likely, after bearing the brunt of Stalin’s dark mood—he concluded that Stalin was truly struggling. According to Mikoyan, Molotov said that “Stalin is so exhausted that he doesn’t care about anything; he’s lost all initiative and is in a bad way.”
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This account was indirectly confirmed many years later by Molotov himself in interviews conducted by the writer Feliks Chuev: “He didn’t show himself for two or three days; he was at the dacha. He was certainly suffering and a little depressed.”
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Molotov’s memory seems to have failed him on certain details: Stalin did not seclude himself at the dacha for even two full days, let alone three, but given the catastrophic circumstances, even a brief absence by the country’s leader must have seemed an eternity.

Alarmed, Molotov called a meeting with Beria, Malenkov, and Voroshilov. There was no talk of officially removing Stalin from power or even taking over his duties. Instead the group tried to figure out how to lure Stalin out of his dacha and make him do his job. This was a delicate task. One simply did not show up at Stalin’s dacha without an invitation, and under the circumstances they could only imagine how he might react to an un-sanctioned visit. Furthermore, it would not be easy explaining their reason for coming to see him. Nobody wanted to be the one to tell Stalin that his breakdown was placing the entire country in jeopardy. But these men were not neophytes when it came to political maneuvering, and they devised a brilliant plan. They decided to go together (certainly nobody wanted to go alone!) and present Stalin with a proposal for creating a supreme authority to oversee the war effort: the State Defense Committee, to be headed by Stalin himself. In addition, the committee would include the four men who had come up with the plan. Molotov would serve as first deputy to the committee chairman.

The creation of the State Defense Committee solved multiple problems at once. Now Stalin’s fellow leaders could visit him at his dacha without implicitly reproaching him for not showing up at the Kremlin. That the committee would be headed by Stalin demonstrated his continued leadership and the Politburo’s firm support, while the fact that it was a small committee of his most faithful comrades allowed them to privately help him make decisions as he recovered his mental balance. Finally, the four men together interacting with Stalin at this delicate time helped protect each of them from the full force of Stalin’s outbursts.

Once Molotov, Malenkov, Voroshilov, and Beria had agreed on the idea of the committee, Mikoyan and Voznesensky were called to Molotov’s office. They were two members of the leadership group that the four men had decided not to include in the committee, but it was important that they also come to the dacha as a demonstration of unity.

Mikoyan left behind an account of what happened when the delegation arrived at Stalin’s dacha late in the day on 30 June. The
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was sitting in an easy chair in the small dining room. He looked at his unexpected visitors inquisitively and asked why they had come. As Mikoyan describes it, “He looked calm, but somehow strange.” After hearing Beria, the chosen spokesman for the delegation, present the proposal to create a State Defense Committee, Stalin raised only one objection: he wanted Mikoyan and Voznesensky included as well. Beria was ready with the argument against expanding the membership: someone had to lead the Council of People’s Commissars. Stalin relented.
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Mikoyan’s memoirs were edited by his son Sergo, who took a number of liberties with his father’s original text, which is preserved in the archives.
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In editing his father’s account of this incident, Sergo clearly tried to create the impression that Stalin was frightened by his comrades’ visit, inserting embellishments such as “Upon seeing us, he [Stalin] seemed to cower in his chair” and “I [Mikoyan] had no doubt: he had decided that we were there to arrest him.”
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Was Stalin really frightened? How should we interpret this meeting? Unquestionably, it was an exceptional moment in the history of his dictatorship. However deferential their demeanor, Stalin’s associates had violated his supreme authority in at least five ways. (1) They had come unbidden to the dacha, (2) having worked out an enormously important initiative behind his back, and (3) they urged that their proposal be adopted in the form they had agreed on among themselves. (4) They had formalized Molotov’s role as second-in-command in the government despite the fact that he was out of favor with the
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, and (5) they had decided to exclude Voznesensky from the committee, even though just that May, when Stalin had taken over the chairmanship of the Council of People’s Commissars, he had chosen Voznesensky over Molotov to serve as his first deputy. In essence, Stalin’s closest colleagues were letting him know that in the face of an existential threat, the post-Terror leadership had to be consolidated and that he had better abandon any thought of further shake-ups at the top. This was a unique episode; in his time in power, Stalin saw nothing like it before or after. It signaled a temporary change in the nature of the dictatorship and the emergence of a wartime political compromise, a rebalancing of power within the Politburo somewhere between the flexibility Stalin had demonstrated in the early 1930s, when he was first consolidating his dictatorship, and the tyranny he was exercising when the war broke out. This arrangement endured almost until the war’s end.