Chapter 21

On November the 30th, 1939, in what came to be known as the 'Winter War, ' over 300,000 Soviet troops, including 5 armoured brigades, together with their air support rolled over the border into Finland. It was meant to be an 'occupation' and not much trouble was expected from the small Finnish army.

Soviet newspapers reported 'provocations' on the border. The Finnish attitude was reported as 'hostile to Soviet interests. They claimed Finnish artillery had fired across the border. There was even a photograph of a Russian border post damaged by Finnish gunfire. It was a complete lie.

Far from provoking the Russians the Finns had bent over backwards to accommodate Russian demands. Isolated because of the sudden withdrawal of German moral support, Finland could do little else. Her army numbered 139,000 including reserves and the 'lottas, ' women auxiliaries. It was a home defence force with few heavy weapons, a tiny airforce, and no armour to speak of.

But within days the Finnish army had stopped the Soviet war machine in its tracks.

For breathtaking ineptitude the Soviet Generals who led the invasion had few equals. The Russians attacked with the onset of Winter, confining themselves to the few roads with columns of tracked vehicles. These provided a magnet to the fast moving Finnish ski troops who moved cross country and ambushed the hapless Russians with their Suomi 9mm machine guns. Within a week, the Russian army had gone nowhere except for some small gains at Petsamo in the North.

All this and the response of the Soviet media was a stony silence.

Benin, at Novgorod University heard that a research Scientist had passed through the area that was said to have been bombarded by Finnish artillery. The Scientist claimed, in confidence, he'd seen nothing of this bombardment. By such means, Russians, who were in the know, passed on the information to others. Soon, it became obvious that something was seriously wrong with the Red Army. And that they'd all been lied to about the threat from Finland.

"You are alone?" said Rhykov, peering past John into the room.

"Rhykov!" said John, startled, "Of course... who..."

"Ah! Let us act like men, yes? Men that are friends. You are still a friend, John?"

"Of course," John said, "why do you ask?"

"Because I need one. Come, you have vodka?" John went to the cabinet and produced a bottle. "No, John, I don't mean that shit." He then drew a bottle from his uniform coat. He wore the winter dress of a Colonel of a Russian armoured brigade.

He came into the room, looked around carefully, before taking a seat by the kitchen table. John fetched some glasses and pushed them over to him. Rhykov poured a shot then bolted it down. "Ah, that's better," he said. He poured another, picked it up, then stared at it. "It's a pity," he suddenly said, "that you and Benin did not last the distance, a great pity. Families are important. I should know for I have none."

"I'm sorry, Rhykov," John told him, helpless.

Ignoring him, Rhykov continued. "I thought that you, at least, would grow old together. It is a great disappointment."

"I... I don't know what to say."

"Hah, don't mind me," Rhykov said, suddenly lifting his shoulders. "This is a happy time, no? Let's drink to old friends... and new, yes?" Rhykov seemed to study John carefully. It was a long time before he said anything. "John!" he said with a suddeness that startled John, "let me tell you a few things about Jana Ivanova."

"I don't think..." John mumbled, uncomfortable with the conversation.

"She is very pretty, yes? But I imagine you know that," he grinned. "But you should know some things, I think. 'Ivanova, ' that is a very Russian name, yes? 'Ivan, ' he was a Tsar, a terrible one. Perhaps you've heard of him?" John nodded, confused. "But 'Ivanova' is not Jana's real name. It is made up."

"So what is her real name?" John asked.

"It's Timosoari. That is very Finnish sounding, isn't it? 'Jana Timosoari, ' she is not Russian, John, but Finnish, a Karelian Finn, in fact."

"So, what's wrong with that?" John said, "why did she change her name?"

"Ambition, John. She changed her name for, ah, convenience. Russia has 168 different ethnic minorities, yes? But only Russians and those with Slavic names get on in Soviet Union. If you want to get on in Russia, and you don't look like a Tartar, you adopt Russian name. It opens doors."

"So she changed her name?" John said, irritated. "What's that to do with me?"

"Jana Ivanova is very ambitious, always has been. I tell you, in all honesty, because I know this. You are proving to be big ticket for her. She is fine pilot, sure, but she is a Major, now, because of her association with you."

"I don't see how..."

"Because big shots think she is keeping you loyal. I argue against this, ah, relationship, but I'm not big enough big shot, yes? They say you two make nice picture in 'Red Star.' You were put together, John, deliberately."

"Why, why, who? the GPU?"

"Not GPU," grinned Rhykov, "you think I'd be telling you this if the GPU had anything to do with this, ah, arrangement? No, we had nothing to do with it. It is another, organisation, Russia is full of them. I think Jana is your minder, I think she gets rewards for, ah, looking after you. This I think but I don't know for sure. Is another organisation, I think GRU, Military Intelligence."

"GRU?"

"Yes. Is rivalry, sometimes. I think maybe Stalin prefers it that way. We watch each other so we don't watch him, yes? Is crazy Russian thing!" he laughed.

"So you're saying that Jana was put..."

"... With you for a purpose," he interrupted, "that she's working for the GRU. I think this, you understand."

"I don't believe it, she's... she's..."

"What, too pretty? Her tits are too nice? What is it you don't believe? Happens all the time. You must be on your guard," he pointed at John, "be careful what you say and do around Jana Ivanova."

"I don't understand what the GRU would want from me."

"Who knows?" Rhykov shrugged, "maybe you prize, yes? Maybe you are, how you say, 'piggy in middle'? GPU and GRU they both want to, ah, control you? For what ultimate purpose, I don't know. Maybe turn you into spy for them? Send you West, perhaps?"

"Me, a spy?" John said in shock.

"Sure! We do this stuff, sometimes. A man is so, ah, lovestruck he will do anything. We do it, the GRU do it. We all use women this way."

"Christ!" John said, rubbing his forehead.

"But we never had this talk, yes?" Rhykov said, "you don't remember our conversation?"

"No," John said, confused, "of course not."

"Good! And I see the bottle is not empty? This is unforgivable in Russia." Rhykov poured another two glasses.

After the heavy defeat of the Soviet army in Finland during December 1939, Stalin called on no less than 40% of all the forces in European Russia. Some estimates put the Soviet losses in the first attack as over 30,000. The Finns admitted to losing only some 10% of that, just under 3000. Stalin committed 27 Infantry Divisions and 7 Armoured Brigades. In addition, some 450 aircraft were thrown at the Finns.

Tactics had barely improved, but Marshal Timoshenko, Supreme Commander, threw this immense force mercilessly at the Finns of Marshal Mannerheim until they cracked from sheer weight of numbers. Even so, Russian losses were heavy and serious questions were being asked in the Soviet High Command.

But responsibility had to be sheeted home right to the top of the Soviet hierarchy. It was Josef Stalin himself who ordered the purging of the Officer Corps of the Red Army. Of 706 Officers of General rank, 403 had been liquidated in the purge. Three out of five Marshals had been shot. This left a dearth of talent in the leadership of the Army and those who were left were disinclined to display too much initiative.

A unit commander, for instance, who found himself surrounded waited for orders from up the chain before he would do anything. Even the most logical maneuvre required authority, and who could blame a commander? The Ivan in Finland gave nothing away in courage to the Finns but were badly let down by their commanders. This was obvious to every soldier and it was the Ivan's innate courage under fire, his sense of duty and fatalism that drove him to tolerate this state of affairs.

And things had not improved significantly when, a year later, the German Wehrmacht drove into the very heart of European Russia.

Professor Shapashnikov was a Doctor of Letters. He was an internationally recognised authority on Russian literature, a man of immense intelligence and learning and he took a shine to the young Spanish lady who taught in his department. His wife had died of Tuberculosis some 20 years ago and the University had since been his life. That, and a passion for the Ballet.

He was nearly 61 years old when he decided to take Benin under his wing. The lady seemed lost in Russia. She'd done her best, had displayed a keen interest in learning Russian, but he could see her heart was elsewhere. Nevertheless, she was vivacious, this young woman, and exotic. Mediterranean features were something of a rarity in Novgorod.

Benin was interested in the Ballet and theatre. She was all alone after she had split from the Father of her child. It seemed natural to the Professor to offer to take her to the Medvedev. Soon he was accompanying her to shows 2 to 3 times a week.

Inevitably they drew close. Benin loved his wisdom and knowledge. He was kind, caring and loved little Garcia as his own. His children, he told her, had all grown up and had not been inclined to breed. A son had joined the Soviet Navy and had made Captain. His other son was an Engineer.

He told her that Garcia had the hands of an artist and the determination of a soldier. Benin replied that he was bound to be a flier like his Father, that John had sensitive hands. The Professor had reddened a little in embarrassment but Benin had not noticed. That was partly why the Professor found her so captivating. She had none of the natural Russian reserve.

For, in the Professor's opinion, despite Russia's fine history in the liberal arts, in music and Ballet, the average Russian was a prude. Stoical, a Russian needs to be well-primed with vodka before he's prepared to release his feelings.