Family Ties: The Petrov Clan During the Great Patriotic War

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Soviet Union
GC 1936 on Hard/Normal
Version 1.02

Family Ties: The Petrov Clan During the Great Patriotic War

Main Characters (ages in 1937):

Anton Invanovich Petrov (45): A government administrator in Novgorod and patriarch of the Petrov clan. An army NCO during the Great War, Anton was wounded during the Brusilov Offensive and was recovering in a St. Petersburg hospital when he joins the Bolsheviks. For the next several years, Anton fights on several fronts against the Whites, the Poles and Allied forces, miraculously returning home unscathed to his family in Novgorod in 1922. With his revolutionary credentials, Anton joins the party and gets a job as a minor bureaucrat, rising through the ranks (aided by periodic purges) to become the Deputy Director of Armament Productions of Novgorod in 1936. Tragedy struck in 1934, when his wife Maria passed away, leaving Anton to raise their younger children on his own.

Vadim (25): The eldest son of Anton and Maria, Vadim dreamed of joining the Red Army ever since he held his father’s medals in his tiny hands as a child. After attending the military academy, Vadim was commissioned as a Red Army officer and serves in the Far East, keeping an eye on aggressive Japanese and Manchukuo troop movements across the border.

Sergei (23): With a knack for numbers and equations, Sergei was considered a mathematics genius at an early age. After receiving degrees in mathematics and metallurgy, Sergei joined the talented scientists and engineers in Kharkov to work on several classified military projects.

Olga (20): An introvert, Olga is brighter than her brother Sergei. While Sergei was brilliant when it came to pinpointing and solving specific problems, Olga had the gift of seeing the bigger picture, the ability to fuse theory and application from multiple fields. Her intellectual prowess was also identified at an early age, and with her father’s political connections, she attends the Moscow State University, majoring in several fields and is preparing to become a doctoral student with the blessing of her family and her professors. She is fiercely protective of her twin brother Yevgeny and is disappointed that he has not found a focus in life.

Yevgeny (20): The twin brother of Olga, Yevgeny is the fun-loving, easy-going one in a family of overachievers. Currently serving as a tank driver in the 2nd Tank Division in the Western Reserve corps, Yevgeny has no plans beyond getting a discharge and having a good time with his friends.

Ekaterina (18): Ekaterina is now the woman of the Petrov household, with her mother gone and Olga away at school. Unlike her sister, young Katya is very assertive; she has to be, for she has to take care of the men of her family. Her assertiveness and independence in a totalitarian state becomes a grave liability for her family during the war years.

Mikhail (16): As the youngest, Mikhail was sheltered from the many unpleasantness of Soviet life until his mother passed away. Mikhail has yet to fully recover from her death and has a difficult time at school.

Minor Characters:

Lena Bodrova: War widow and neighbor of the Petrovs.
Lev Bunin: Olga’s academic mentor and lover.
Natalia Invanova: Vadim’s girlfriend and later, wife.
Boris Korlov: NKVD chief of Novgorod.
Grigor Orlanski: Red Army Officer and Vadim’s friend.
Nikolai Rochenko: Yevgeny’s superior officer.

 

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Chapter 1: Signs of Trouble

January 1937

“Not again,” Anton Ivanovich Petrov growled as he read the latest issue of the Pravda. The front page was full of cheery news, highlighted by the story of increased sugar and candy production. However, Anton was not reading the front page. He was reading a small article buried in the middle of the paper.

“Bogandov, Safarian, Kirsanov…” he murmured. Nobody he knew, thank goodness. But then again, anybody could be the target of the state’s wrath these days. You couldn’t be too careful, as leaders, both civil and military, were being purged left and right. Compared to other cities, Novgorod and its industries were pretty insignificant and so far, his hometown had been spared of Stalin’s scythe. His two sons in the military were low-ranking soldiers, one a mere private, so he had few worries. However, he did worry about Sergei, now a researcher working in Kharkov with several high-ranking scientists, and these days, a high profile was a magnet for trouble. While a fervent communist and atheist, he unconsciously prayed for Sergei’s safety.

At that moment, Sergei was attending a meeting in a dilapidated auditorium of the Kharkov Science and Engineering Complex. Even with the stove in the corner burning coal, Sergei could see his breath as he exhaled. Today was the first time Sergei was attending an Annual Budget meeting and he was nervous. On one hand, he wanted to prove himself in the eyes of his mentors and colleagues by proposing ideas he deemed innovative and revolutionary. He had spent the whole night jotting down his ideas on paper that was now soaking up sweat from his hands despite the chill. On the other hand, Sergei was no fool, for he knew the political climate and understood that any kind of attention was dangerous.

In the end, Sergei decided go with the flow and watched the other proposals. As expected, the proposals were extremely conservative, aimed at gradually introducing changes to ground weapons and short-range aircraft. One exception was a young engineer from the Komintern Factory, a hotshot named Koshkin, who vocally opposed the development of the next generation of light tanks.

“Comrade Koshkin, are you asking our nation and the revolution to remain vulnerable to the tanks of the capitalists?” asked Senior Researcher Riakin. “Even an old man like I know how important the tank will play in the next war.”

“Comrade Senior Researcher, our great leader Stalin has championed frugality, and we in the scientific and engineering community must not take exception. Just minutes ago, the comrades of the Artillery Council made a convincing argument that by the end of this year, our 40mm antitank guns will be able to slice through the armor of any tank in the world. Regrettably, that same antitank gun will also be able to slice through the proposed light tank design prepared by the Light Tank Committee. Why waste resources and time on something that will become obsolescent by our own arms?

“My staff at Komintern has come up with a medium tank design with a large gun, powerful engine and adequate armor to survive on the modern battlefield. We believe that the A-20 prototype will be ready within a year, provided we get the necessary resources.”

“Thank you, Comrade Koshkin. We will take your proposal under advisement. Next?” Riakin announced as Koshkin walked down the podium, oblivious to the hateful glances from the Light Tank Committee members.

It was Sergei’s turn. Doing his best to conceal his anxiety, Sergei approached the podium.

“So, Sergei Antonovich, what have you got for us?”

“Yes, the Light Arms Council has come up with a new class of infantry weapons. In times of war, our workers cannot become expert marksman in weeks. Therefore, we have devised a new class of submachineguns…”

Thousands of kilometers to the east in Vladivostok, Lieutenant Vadim Petrov was returning to base after a week-long training exercise along the Amur River. Naturally, the Japanese happened to hold exercises at the same time along the same frontier. At one point, Vadim was close enough to see the stains on the coat of the Japanese sentry across the river. Ever since the Japanese had defeated the Tsar’s forces thirty years ago, they had become arrogant. The new Soviet Red Army was nothing like the corrupt and decrepit Russian army of the past. Now, the Red Army was ready and motivated for action, ready to repay the Japanese back for their overconfidence.

Which was why Vadim was surprised when he got transfer orders waiting for him when he returned to the barracks. In fact, the entire 19th Infantry Division was being transferred somewhere west. The mess hall was abuzz with speculation.

“Do you think it’s the Poles?” Lieutenant Grigor Orlanski asked Vadim as he slurped his cabbage soup.

“I heard the nemyetski are getting restless with that fellow in charge, what’s his name? Himmler?” Vadim asked.

“Hitler,” Grigor answered. “All their names sound alike. Right now, all I know is that I am to report with my platoon and embark on the westbound train next week.”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll find out more at the company briefing tonight.”

“Tannu Tuva,” Captain Panchuk announced the destination at the briefing. “Purporting to be a fellow socialist neighbor, the corrupt cabal ruling Tannu Tuva has been suspected of conspiring with the capitalists powers. Because of their location, Tannu Tuva can become a dagger that bisects our great Soviet Union if it falls into enemy hands.

“Therefore, the 19th and 22nd, along with the two divisions from the Orenberg Military District, will deploy to areas adjacent to Tannu Tuva, hopefully putting pressure on that country so that our negotiators can… ah, convince the good people of Tannu Tuva to join our glorious union.”

“A diplomatic mission,” Grigor joked. His comments generated some laughter and broke the tension.

“Well, make sure you prepare your units for the transfer. Dismissed.”

 

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Alas, my computer has crashed and is doing many nasty things, so I am afraid this will be the last of this AAR.

My apologizes to all.

Chapter 2: High Tide

May 1937

Even without the purges, things were difficult for Anton. For years, Moscow was obsessed with expanding the industrial production capability of the Soviet Union and Novgorod was no exception. Workers around town were busy building new factories and warehouses, forging new lathes and machine tools and paving new roads to bring in raw material and ship out finished goods. While such a boom was good for those in construction and certain industries, the workers and administrators involved in armament productions - Anton’s department - had nothing to do. As unemployment and idleness were not supposed to exist in the Soviet Union, many of his friends and colleagues were abruptly transferred elsewhere, many to classified locations, to continue producing weapons for the Rodina. Fortunately, Anton was able to remain in Novgorod, for he and his staff had to coordinate the expansion efforts to ensure that weapons production would commence as soon as possible.

However, plans for renewed armament productions in Novgorod were thwarted by the government’s revised plans. To deter invasion from the west, the Stavka decided to build a fortified line from the Baltic to the Black Sea, with Nogorod being the northern anchor for the aptly named “Stalin Line”. Consequently, the new factories remained idle as Novgorod’s workers began to build forts and antiaircraft batteries. Soon, earthen walls, tank traps and bunkers surrounded the ancient city, augmented by snouts of numerous AA guns pointing upwards.

Useless, Anton thought as he left the office and walked home. War was fought by men, not by mounds of earth and piles of concrete. When he passed the newly constructed walls, the only person manning the defenses was a pimply-faced conscript standing guard with a bayoneted rifle near the gate and the young soldier looked like he could barely wield his rifle, let alone defend the gate against a determined assault.

At home, Ekaterina was preparing dinner.

“Where’s Misha?” Anton asked his daughter.

“He had a Komsomol meeting, but he should be back before dinner.”

“Construction duty, right” It was a safe bet, considering how every able body was being thrown into the fortification construction effort and the Komsomol detachments were not spared.

“No, he’s visiting the aerodrome today. I haven’t seen him so excited in years.”

“Great,” Anton said, glad to hear that his son was finally recovering from the death of his mother. “Anything else?”

“Lena dropped off some beets for us before going to work.” Lena was their neighbor, a few years Anton’s junior. She had married young and became a widow soon after her husband was killed somewhere in Poland during the Great War. She never remarried, though not through the lack of suitors. After Maria passed away, Lena had been invaluable in helping out with many things around the house and became a de facto member of the family.

“And you? Did you get your essay back?” Katya was a talented writer, especially when it came to revolutionary prose.

With a sly smile, Katya said, “First place. They are going to publish my essay on the next issue of the Komsomol paper. Zhenya will be able to read it when he gets back home.”

*

At the outskirts of Moscow, the tank coughed a few more times before the engine died. Yevgeny climbed out of the cramped driver’s seat, his shoulders sore from the captain’s constant stepping and kicking to give him directions in lieu of an intercom. Today was the last time he would ever have to step into one of these infernal machines, a hot, smelly metallic coffin. He heard constant rumors of newer, better tanks ready to roll off the assembly lines, but they never arrived. Instead, Yevgeny finished his military service in the same tank he had began with, the ancient MS tank designed during the Great War. While the great Tank Corps was the pride of the Red Army and supposedly the tip of the proletariat spear, he never thought that the five tank divisions, including his beloved 2nd, would amount to much when it came to real war. With the slow speed of the feeble machines, the tanks would be lucky to reach the front before any war ended.

“Now I have to break in that idiot Dmitri as my driver. I don’t think he knows the difference between left and right,” Captain Nikolai Rochenko said with his thick Ukrainian accent.

“He’ll be fine, sir.” The captain, a cavalryman from the old days, was not exactly a man of finesse or kindness, but he wasn’t that bad, considering all the brutes and sadists out there. If nothing else, the captain was earnest and candid, qualities hard to find in many officers these days.

“Are you going straight home or are you planning to do some sightseeing? You’ve been to the Lenin Mausoleum?”

“I will be going home with my sister. She’s getting some time off from the university. Perhaps we’ll get a chance to visit the Mausoleum before going home.”

“Your twin sister?” Olga’s endless letters and care packages to her younger brother was legendary within the company. “I made sure all your paperwork gets through administration by tomorrow morning. Now, clean up and have a good time with your mates tonight. But not too much fun that your sister might notice, eh?”

*

In Orenberg, Vadim and other men of the 19th were having a good time. Thanks to their successful maneuvers near the border, the feeble leaders of Tannu Tuva realized that defying the Soviet Union was futile and agreed to annexation.

At first, many troops expected to enter the newly annexed territory to display Soviet resolve and strength, but the generals knew that such an enterprise would place the soldiers in unnecessary danger, for Tannu Tuva’s infrastructure was too primitive to support large military contingents. Only a few security detachments and the much-feared NKVD entered Tannu Tuva to impose the new order and “re-educate” the leaders who had led the now-defunct nation astray.

Such a decision was fine for everybody, for they were transferred to Orenberg and given a short leave. While Orenberg was a backwater town, that didn’t stop the men of the 19th from having a good time. The men liberally indulged in vodka and moonshine, sang songs about the great military victory they might have achieved had they taken on the Asiatic hordes of Tannu Tuva, chased the fair maidens of Orenberg and generally raised hell till the provost marshals beat the sense into the rowdiest ones. Like the rest of the men, Vamim indulged in too much of the libation the first night, making it all the more difficult to report to the Captain Panchuk’s quarters the next morning. The captain looked like he too had a hangover, so he kept the conversation short.

“Normally, I would have let you sleep in, but this came from the top.” The captain handed Vadim a letter. “Congratulations on your promotion, captain.”

The newly promoted Captain Petrov quickly read the letter. “And a transfer to Moscow?”

“Apparently. You have done a good job, especially during the past few months, and your family’s revolutionary credentials are impeccable. You are going places.”

“Thank you, sir. For all your help.”

“Good luck, Comrade Petrov.”