What Stalin Knew (7 page)

us, we can violate it but for now, on the strength of the nonaggres-

sion pact concluded earlier [with Poland in 1934], we avoid auto-

matic interference by the Soviet Union.

In conclusion, he said: ‘‘Thus, the offensive against Poland is set for July or

August. If the Poles provoke a preventive war against us before that time,

things will be different. Whether we respond to this provocation with an

offensive will depend on the Führer’s decision and his evaluation of the

international situation. In any case, it would be unpleasant for us if the

Poles force us into war at present, when the international situation does

not favor us and our preparations for war are not yet in place.’’

After reading the report, Stalin wrote this instruction in the margin:

PROSKUROV SETS STALIN STRAIGHT

19

‘‘Speak with Proskurov—who is this ‘source’?’’ The word
source
was under-

lined twice. Proskurov had an answer to Stalin’s question. There were

three Soviet agents among the officers of the German embassy in Warsaw:

Rudolf von Scheliha, Gerhard Kegel, and Kurt Völkisch, whose wife also

worked by photographing documents obtained by other members of the

Herrnstadt group. Von Scheliha would have been present at Kleist’s brief-

ing, and the report was probably his work. Proskurov would have given

Stalin reason to believe in the reliability of these sources, and if one com-

pares the points raised by Kleist with the actions Stalin went on to take to

frustrate some of Hitler’s plans, it appears that he took at least parts of the

report to heart. Stalin had no intention, of course, of acquiescing in the

‘‘destruction of the Soviet Union,’’ but he must have seen that Hitler’s de-

signs on Poland were serious and he probably agreed that England and

France could do little to prevent its defeat. It would be this line of reason-

ing that would produce the Nazi-Soviet nonaggression pact, an agreement

Stalin felt would delay a possible German invasion. He would have agreed

that once the Polish victory had been digested, Hitler would have turned

on Britain and France. He could not, however, have anticipated that Ger-

many’s defeat of their forces in France would have come about as rapidly

as Kleist predicted.

Kleist’s comments about German plans for the Baltic States, coming

after the German occupation of Memel, must have stayed in Stalin’s mind.

No sooner was the German pact signed and the German assault on Poland

under way than the USSR entered into mutual assistance treaties with the

Baltic States that provided for the stationing there of Soviet troops. In

Stalin’s view, this action signaled to Hitler that Lithuania, Latvia, and Es-

tonia were and would remain in the Soviet sphere of interest. Ever a stick-

ler for the diplomatic niceties, Stalin would wait until the summer of 1940

to hold elections in the Baltic States, followed by their incorporation into

the USSR as union republics. As for Kleist’s comments about German

plans for Romania, Stalin would have to wait until 1940 to recover the

provinces of Bessarabia and northern Bukovina.

As the summer of 1939 wore on, both sides were busy sending signals.

Hitler, of course, desired that his interest in reaching an accommodation

with Stalin be masked in a variety of ways, such as trade talks. Given his

long and very public history of anticommunism, he had no desire to make

his real goals known. On July 5, 1939, for example, Proskurov sent to

Defense Commissar Voroshilov an RU translation of an anonymous letter

received by the Soviet diplomatic mission in Berlin. The letter might as

20

PROSKUROV SETS STALIN STRAIGHT

well have been an under-the-table diplomatic note, beginning as it did with

this statement: ‘‘The German government would welcome a proposal from

the Soviet government concerning an immediate agreement by both gov-

ernments on the future fate of Poland and Lithuania.’’2 The document

went on to propose a return to 1914 borders, ‘‘that is, to reoccupy the

territory lost to a third power.’’ The reference here was clearly to Poland.

The following paragraph stated that ‘‘before the beginning of action by

both sides, it would be expedient to establish a demarcation line that nei-

ther side would violate.’’ It added that, in view of the ‘‘relatively large ter-

ritorial gains by the USSR, Germany would occupy Lithuania.’’

Although couched in purposely vague terms, this unofficial proposal

came close to the terms of the secret protocol that would eventually be

agreed on by Germany and the USSR during the discussions of the nonag-

gression pact. While the pact bound both sides to refrain from aggressive

action against each other, either singly or together with other powers, the

secret protocol placed Latvia, Estonia, and Finland in the Soviet sphere of

interest and Lithuania in Germany’s sphere of interest. It was agreed that

the border between the spheres of interest of Germany and the USSR in

Poland would be along the Narv, Visla, and San rivers.

Stalin kept channels open to both the Germans and the Anglo-French

side, intent on obtaining the best deal he could for the Soviet Union. Aware

that Hitler had firmly decided to attack Poland and was therefore eager to

ensure Soviet neutrality, the Soviets endeavored to obtain agreement from

the British and French to begin military talks. It would not be until July 25

that the British cabinet would comply. Even then, it seemed clear to Ivan M.

Maisky, the Soviet envoy to London, that the British were in no hurry to get

the talks moving. He was right in this assessment. Just before he departed,

the head of the British delegation, Admiral Reginald Drax, asked the British

foreign minister, Viscount Halifax, how he should proceed if no agreement

seemed possible. He was told to ‘‘draw out the talks as long as possible’’ in

the hope that any German invasion of Poland would be delayed.3

Stalin believed that such discussions, carried out in parallel with trade

agreement talks, would create additional pressure on Hitler to accede to

his demands in return for a Soviet agreement. He hoped, therefore, that

the military talks could begin as soon as possible. The delay continued,

however, amid arguments over the mode of transport. There was no regu-

lar air service between London and Moscow, while rail travel was deemed

unsuitable. Finally, it was agreed the delegations would go by sea. But

rather than avail themselves of a fast cruiser, the French and English dele-

PROSKUROV SETS STALIN STRAIGHT

21

gations took a slow cargo and passenger ship, arriving in Leningrad only

on August 9. They left that night for Moscow. The Soviets, of course, had

already selected the members of their delegation and made other arrange-

ments to ensure that the discussions got under way promptly.4

Proskurov became involved in these preparations, procuring a French-

language interpreter for Voroshilov. Proskurov remembered meeting a

young Russian studying at the Sorbonne from his time in Paris during the

Spanish civil war. That person was Aleksandr Nikolayevich Ponomarev,

later to become a colonel–general engineer and a leading figure in the

Soviet aviation industry. ‘‘I understand you speak French better than Rus-

sian,’’ Voroshilov said when Proskurov introduced Ponomarev to him. ‘ Tell

us in French what you did in Paris.’’ Ponomarev did so, and it was obvious

his French was very good indeed. Voroshilov thanked Proskurov for help-

ing him and gave an aide instructions to fit Ponomarev out within thirty-

six hours.5

Only then did Voroshilov explain that an Anglo-French military dele-

gation was due to arrive the day after next to conduct negotiations leading

to a military agreement. According to Voroshilov, ‘‘it took two and a half

months to talk them [the British and the French] into it. Finally, they

agreed, but not of their own free will: the people demanded that a muzzle

be put on Hitler. These gentlemen are not in a hurry, even now. Both dele-

gations turned down aircraft and cruiser transportation and embarked on

a slow freighter, taking a week to get to Leningrad. And this at a time when

every missed day threatens catastrophe.’’ After this introduction, Voroshi-

lov told Ponomarev he was to act as interpreter for the Soviet delegation

and each night prepare a transcript of the day’s session. Ponomarev was

then issued a new, snowy white summer uniform of the type worn by the

other officers in the Soviet delegation.

The Soviet delegation was certainly a cut above that of the British or

the French. Headed by Defense Commissar Voroshilov, it included the

most senior officers of the Soviet military establishment: Boris M. Sha-

poshnikov, chief of the general staff; Admiral Nikolai G. Kuznetsov of the

Soviet navy; Aleksandr D. Loktionov, new head of the Soviet air forces; and

I. V. Smorodinov, deputy chief of the general staff. This was an impressive

group whose ranks and responsibilities were manifestly greater than those

of the Anglo-French delegation members.

It seemed to Ponomarev that Voroshilov was determined to humiliate

the Anglo-French side at the first session on 12 August by asking them

to provide documents attesting to their authority. When General Joseph

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PROSKUROV SETS STALIN STRAIGHT

Doumenc of France produced a paper signed by the Premier Edouard

Daladier, authorizing him ‘‘to negotiate on military matters,’’ Voroshilov

responded to the effect that authority to negotiate was not the same as

authority to sign a military convention. The head of the British delegation,

Sir Reginald Drax, did not improve the atmosphere when he admitted he

had no written authority. Matters grew worse on August 13 when Voroshi-

lov asked the Western delegations to describe the forces they would make

available for the common defense and their operational plans for deploy-

ing those forces. Voroshilov told Ponomarev he expected him to translate

their presentations very carefully. Doumenc gave a figure of 110 available

divisions but seemed unsure when asked by Voroshilov what the French

would do if the Soviet Union, Poland, or Romania were attacked by Ger-

many. When the British turn came, they gave the number of divisions as

sixteen. The Soviets found this figure hard to believe and, in questioning it,

discovered that British plans called for sending an expeditionary force to

France consisting of only five infantry divisions and a single mechanized

one. On August 14, it was Shaposhnikov’s turn to present the Soviet fig-

ures. He asserted that the Soviet Union would commit 120 infantry divi-

sions, 16 cavalry divisions, 5,000 heavy guns, 9,000–10,000 tanks, and,

5,000–5,500 combat aircraft to the common defense!

Shaposhnikov’s report was followed by complete silence, after which

the British and French delegations turned to questions of aviation. These

naturally were of great interest to Ponomarev. Air Marshal Charles Burnett

had little to say about the condition of British aviation. There were 3,000

first-line aircraft in the British Isles, with production of 700 new aircraft

per month. At the end of World War I, he concluded, England had 22,000

aircraft, the largest air fleet in the world. At this, Loktionov whispered to

Ponomarev: ‘‘Advertising is for fools!’’

Next came General Valin of the French air force, who stated that in

1940 the French would have 300 first-line aircraft, including bombers with

speeds of 450–500 kilometers per hour, ranges of 800–10,000 kilometers,

and bomb capacity of 1,000–2,500 kilograms. This was pretty general, and

Loktionov asked Ponomarev to translate for him in asking for more spe-

cifics. Unfortunately, Valin said he could not provide additional informa-

tion. Loktionov ended the aviation discussion with a detailed picture of

Soviet military aviation, after which he responded to questions from both

British and French air officers.

The real sticking point came over the next few days on the question of

whether the British and French governments had actually secured the

PROSKUROV SETS STALIN STRAIGHT

23

agreement of the Poles and Romanians. General T. G. G. Heywood of

Britain commented that the Poles and Romanians were sovereign govern-

ments; only they could respond. The French and British delegations have

to ask their respective governments to review the problem. ‘‘Good,’’ said

Voroshilov, ‘‘I think we should adjourn our discussions until you hear from

your governments.’’ He also said, ‘‘Responsibility for the failure of our

negotiations will naturally fall upon the British and French.’’ This com-

ment brought cries of indignation and the accusation that Ponomarev had

translated incorrectly. ‘‘No, it was correct,’’ said Voroshilov. ‘ We asked for

transit rights for our troops, so they could repel the aggressor. Do we really