5th of November 1942, Vologda, 1pm Moscow Time
Not long after lunch, a letter reached our Vologda headquarters. It took some deciphering as my secretary wasn't used to the new encryption system yet, but soon, I was able to read the news from 'Odinatsat':
"Dearest 'Odin', as I'm on the point of departing on yet another adventure, I thought I'd bring you up to date on my movements since the execution of 'Shest'.
Let me take you back to my arrival at Tula Station on the 1st of November. Sergei had our GAZ-M1 parked right outside the station. It was still sporting it's navy blue livery with a white pinstripe. The plates and markings identify it as a Soviet Navy Staff car, and of course, I have documentation showing that it was assigned to Naval Infantry Captain Irina Goleniewsky. My beloved had orders to report to Black Sea Fleet HQ in Sevastopol. Seems like they're in need of experienced aeroplane mechanics down there, and as I'm de facto exiled from Leningrad, Sergei was more than happy to relocate, and take me with him, of course.
With the front far to the West, we were both glad to embark on another road trip. Navigating our way through the landscape, littered with factories, mines, seemingly endless trains, checkpoints, jolly soldiers on leave, and less jolly ones recovering from their wounds or learning to manage them. But all of that was outside. Inside the GAZ, it was just the two of us.
Not wanting our trip to be over too quickly, my driving was more relaxed than usual. Nevertheless, we made good time. After spending a night just south of Orel, we drove through Kharkov in the afternoon before making our way to Dnipropetrovsk, hoping to find somewhat comfortable accommodations for the night there.
We had to cross the Dniepr to get to the old town. The shortest route was over Amursky Bridge, but the closer we got to the bridge, the more traffic slowed down. As we came to a stop at the back of a queue of mostly lorries, a long train trundled past. Two large steam locomotives, pulling a mix of covered wagons and flatcars laden with artillery pieces.
Postcard of the Amurskiy bridge in Dnipropetrovsk. (now Dnipro) The card is from 1935. The kilometer-long two-level structure built in the 1880s allowed the passage of rail traffic on the lower level, inside the trusses, and road traffic on the upper level.
As we inched forward by about a car's length every couple of minutes, I started to wonder what was going on up there. Clearly, the bridge wasn't broken, cars were getting through in both directions, and that train didn't show any signes of slowing down. I told Sergei to get into the driver's seat, got out of the car as quietly as possible and made my way to the low wooden fence separating the road from the railroad.
After jumping over the fence and crossing two pairs of tracks I could clearly see the ramp leading to the upper deck of the bridge. Through my binoculars, I quickly found the cause of the delay. It seems the NKVD had found nothing better to do than to place a checkpoint right at the bottom of the ramp. It was particularly heavily armed, and they seemed to be taking their sweet time, at least a minute per vehicle. Definitely not a couple of seventeen year old people's militia waving military vehicles through after barely a glance at your paperwork. Cars in the other direction were not queueing on the bridge, which indicated that the oncoming lane was not being checked on this side of the bridge. I made a mental note that we might be able to force our way through on the oncoming lane if necessary and returned to the car, getting in the back seat before telling Sergei what was up ahead.
Aerial photograph of Amurskiy bridge showing it's OTL destruction in the great patriotic war. TTL it's still far behind the front and very unlikely to have been demolished by German forces. Dnipropetrovsk (Dnipro) is on the right, 'Odinatsat' would thus have been crossing left to right.
Two hours later, we finally got to the front of the line. The roadblock looked even more impressive up close. A DP-27 Machine-gunner was positioned on either side of the barrier, in addition to eight sub-machine-gunners, eight riflemen, mostly with Mosin-Nagant Carabines, and a sharpshooter with a scoped Mosin-Nagant. Parked to the right; a BA-20 armoured car, a Gaz-AA lorry, a black Gaz-M1, and two Ural motorcycles.
The Zis-5 in front of us was thoroughly searched before being sent on it's way. A skinny and stern NKVD sergeant motioned for us to move forwards right into the blinding beam of a searchlight. He approched the driver-side window with the traditional: "Papers please." As Sergei handed him a small pile of paperwork, the car was surrounded by NKVD grunts who took their time to look over the vehicle. One of them opened the boot and started pulling out our luggage, most of which was my extensive arsenal.
The Sergeant ordered both of us to get out of the car and place our weapons on the ground in front of us. I didn't like it, but it was a bit too late to start running. Sergei placed his side-arm on the ground and I did the same with the four guns and five knives on my person. Meanwhile, like a well-oiled machine, four men searched the interior of the car while we were patted down by the sergeant and his Yefreytor.
I said: "Sergeant. Is this really necessary?"
"I'm afraid it is, captain." He said it in a mocking tone, without even a hint of embarrassment or apology in his voice. He wasn't just doing his job, he was enjoying it, taking his sweet time, letting his hands linger. I looked at Sergei, whom the Yefreytor had already stopped frisking, and he seemed a bit worried, more about what I would do than what the sergeant was doing. Surprisingly, I didn't wipe that smirk of the sergeant's face, somehow it just didn't matter, or more precisely, I didn't care.
The lieutenant supervising the checkpoint stepped in. "Sergeant, you can stop now. If she was hiding something on her person you should have found it by now.
He turned to me with a fake smile and said:
"Captain..." - he looked down at our papers - "Goleniewsky. I'm lieutenant Alexandr Bulkin. Apologies for Sergeant Surovkin's ... enthusiasm." - he didn't seem particularly apologetic as he said it.
"Starshina Kharkov, please park the captain's staff car over to the side next to the motorcycles and wait inside it."
"Sergeant Surovkin. On to the next vehicle, keep it moving."
"Captain, your presence has been requested at Dnipro NKVD HQ. The local Major of State Security just wants to meet you in his office, there's nothing to worry about. I'll have a motorcycle lead the way, and Starshina Kharkov can drive you there in your staff car."
"Yefreytor Titov, load the Captain's effects back into her car, then get on your Ural and escort her to headquarters."
Titov was quite a dashing young man. Dressed in his motorcycle uniform, leather cap slightly ajar over his short blond hair, his PPD-43 nonchalantly slung over his shoulder. He did as he was told with a smile, seemingly blissfully unaware of all the evil in the world.
His appearance and demeanour felt very alien to me, but at least it meant I probably wasn't about to be arrested as even the dumbest NKVD lieutenant would not send this kid on his own to escort a potentially dangerous suspect. I could, however, not shake the feeling that Titov might be insane. His riding did little to dispel that notion as he almost died at least five times on the way to NKVD HQ, carelessly throwing himself in front of heavily laden lorries to force a path through traffic, Sergei only just managed to keep up with him.
With Titov in front of us, we were waved through a heavily guarded gate, onto a short driveway to a large neo-classical building, some might even call it a mansion. An immaculately polished black ZiS-101 was parked at the far end of the driveway and a Sergeant guided us past the main entrance, and the ZiS and around the side of the building, where we parked next to a small undecorated wooden door.
Having parked his motorcycle right behind our car, Yefreytor Titov opened my door before I even thought of doing so. He wasn't the least bit annoyed when I didn't take his hand to get out of the car. Then he joyfully instructed Sergei to stay in the car and showed me inside, up a set of steep and narrow stairway with another small door at the top, which lead into a carpeted corridor about three meters wide and four meters high, which stretched the length of the central building. Along the way, officers and enlisted alike acknowledged the Yefreytor, who gave them a jolly hand-wave instead of a salute. At the end of the corridor was a large, slightly ajar, double door. Music was playing inside the office. I recognised the song, it was "Moja Maruseshka" by Pyotr Leshchenko. Counter-revolutionary music made by a Russian émigrée. Even listening to it, let alone owning the record could have very serious consequences if the NKVD came to find out.
The young Titov swung open the double door without knocking or hesitation. In the middle of a very large office, a rotund Major of State Security was dancing the foxtrot with a young woman, judging by her attire, I assumed her to be his secretary. We stood there awkwardly, watching the pair dance, until the song was finished and the woman walked over to lift the needle.
Yefreytor Titov made the introductions as I reflexively snapped to attention and saluted :
"Major of State Security Valery Titov, Captain of Naval Infantry Irina Goleniewsky"
"Thank you Dimitri, close the door behind you. Captain, please have a seat." - He pointed to an arm-chair right in front of the massive desk that dominated the room, he continued: "Katya, grab me her file."
The secretary, a rather short and skinny brunette in her late twenties, straightened out her uniform and went to sit behind a small desk off to the side. She had a little trouble walking straight, two glasses and an almost empty bottle of vodka in the middle of the Major's desk seemed the likely cause.
Major Titov stumbled towards his desk and sat down on top of it, with his legs dangling off the front. He waved at the vodka, the record player, and his secretary before saying, as if to explain his inebriated state:
"It's Katya's birthday."
I didn't say anything in response as he unashamedly stared at my chest for a good ten seconds before snapping out of it to find my
"Right. Down to business. Katya." - She handed him a small stack of paper, he grabbed just the freshly typed one on top, which he quickly read aloud. - "Captain Irina Goleniewsky. Naval Infantry. Sharpshooter. Former instructor at Moscow Sniper School, and Leningrad Naval Academy. Order of Aleksandr Nevsky for actions in Lwow. Recently demoted from Major, yet somehow on leave. In the middle of a massive war for our nation's survival? How strange..."
There was a short pause, he told Katya to leave the room, then he continued:
"Are you a coward, Irina?" - he answered his own question - "Of course not, they don't just hand out the Order of Nevsky medal to cowards. So they sent you on leave because they didn't want you at the Naval Academy. With your war record, and you being so pleasing to the eye? I don't see why they would do that, but that's just me. So why didn't they send you back to the front, or to jail?" -again, he answered before I could- "You have connections? I don't think so. I have connections, and none of them even heard of you beyond a few articles in the press. Really, it doesn't matter how you got to this point, what matters, Irina, is that you're exactly what I'm looking for." - He kept undressing me with his eyes, leaving little doubt ass to what he was looking for. As I was contemplating standing up and slapping him, he continued. -
"You see, Irina. My friend Oleg, Naval Infantry Colonel down in Sevastopol, just got orders to select a senior Naval Infantry officer for a top secret operation. He doesn't like this.
For starters, the officer in question will fall under Red Army command and will have to work with Red Army forces. And then there is the fact that he already sent a Naval Infantry Major down there two weeks ago, and the guy died in a training accident, without so much as an apology from anyone, least of all, the Red Army. Finally, he's short on good senior officers as it is, and no one has even told him what the operation in question is."
I interrupted him. "So what you're saying, Major, is that you're going to hand me to Colonel Oleg, and he's going to send me to this dangerous operation? What do you get out of it?"
"Well, he's in charge of all Naval Infantry currently in the Ukraine SSR, so he's your commanding officer by default. I also don't doubt he'd send you off rather than send one of his guys. That is, if I tell him about you. See, it's all in my hands.
I can either tell him about you, thus helping him out with his problem, and then he would owe me a favour. In that scenario you'd probably end up dying in the next training exercise or in whatever top secret operation such dangerous training is supposed to prepare you for.
The other alternative is that I don't tell anyone that you're here, I give you some desk job and keep you safe, for as long as you want to stay, until the end of the war if you want. Of course, you would then owe me a favour."
I got up out of the armchair, and stood up straight, so that I was looking down at him.
"Or, Valery, I could just kill you, jump out of the window and never be seen again."
He placed his hand on his sidearm, noticed I was already holding my Tokarev though it wasn't pointed at him, yet. Realising his predicament, He chuckled.
"Very funny Captain. Maybe you should sit back down before this escalates into some kind of 'incident'."
I sat back down, placing my tokarev on my lap rather than reholstering it.
"As we're friends, I'll be frank with you, Valery. When you said you were going to arrange for me to be sent on a dangerous and secret training mission, I wasn't scared, I was excited. Sure. I'd like a few more days of leave, but the war doesn't run on my schedule, and I am getting hungry for blood. There is no need to threaten me with a boring desk job. As a matter of fact, I'd like to call Sevastopol right now to volunteer."
"Captain. You will do no such thing. My office will contact Oleg, ehm, Colonel Perevalov to inform him of your presence and your suitability for the assignment. His office will then confirm, or deny, your new orders. Until you get your new orders, you will not leave Dnipropetrovsk, and you will not start trouble. Dimitri, ehm, Yefreytor Titov will show escort you and your driver to your accommodations." - He promptly made a very short phone call to the younger Titov. I sensed there was little to be gained in starting another argument, so I decided to try a more friendly approach as he hung up the phone.
"Valery, Valery, Valery... I was only joking. Of course I'll let you take credit, we're friends after all, aren't we? You know what, let's have a drink. Where are the glasses?"
He pointed at a small wooden sideboard to the left of his desk with a pair of small glasses. I poured myself a glass from the bottle of vodka on his desk, poored a second glass, and handed it to Major of State Security Titov. We drank to new friends, then to the Soviet Union, to the brave men and women fighting for it's survival, to Iosif Stalin, to the Communist Party. Each toast was followed by both of us downing a glass of straight Stolichnaya. I must confess that I was cheating, pooring most of the contents of each glass on the floor behind me. We emptied the bottle with a final toast to the NKVD. The Major got up to hug me, but I just stepped to one side and saluted as he strumbled and slowly collapsed onto the floor. I quickly marched out of there, leaving the double doors of his office wide open.
As I exited the building through that same service entrance I saw that Sergei was still in the car, and Titov junior promptly opened the car door. After he closed it behind me, he got back on his motorcycle to lead the way, and off we went. Sergei looked at me expecting me to tell him what happened, but I decided now was not the time for that particular story.
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Having half expected Titov would put us into a cell, I was pleasantly surprised when we ended up in an old hotel that is used to house officers of the Armed Forces and the NKVD who are just passing through. Luckily, Yefreitor Titov left immediately after showing us to our surprisingly luxurious room. I told Sergei about the new orders I was going to receive before we went for an evening walk around town. We talked very little, simply enjoying the other's presence and the peaceful surroundings.
At 5:30 am we were awoken by the younger Titov's motorcycle. With his usual joyful exuberance, the Yefreytor knocked on the door of our room just twenty seconds after shutting off the engine. I opened the door, he handed me an envelope with a big smile on his face, and off he went. As the motorcycle sputtered back to life, I sat down on the bed, and as it's rumble started to fade into the distance, a sleepy Sergei urged me to open the envelope.
Inside was a map of Dnipropetrovsk and it's hinterland with the location of airfields and air bases. Stari Kodaky Airfield was circled. On the back of the paper were some very simple instructions:
Orders for Captain Irina Goleniewsky, Naval Infantry:
"Be at the airfield at 0700 Moscow Time on the 4th of November. A PS-43 aeroplane will land, you will identify yourself to the pilot, Senior Lieutenant and board it. You will receive further orders upon landing.
- Colonel Oleg Perevalov, Commander Naval Infantry Black Sea Fleet, Sevastopol."
I'm in a bit of a hurry, as my plane leaves in ninety minutes. If you're reading this letter, 'Odin', Sergei managed to send it out to you following my instructions. A new mission has fallen into my lap, and I'm looking forward to get back into the fight. I'll send a follow-on letter as soon as I can.
As always, I wish you and the rest of the Committee all the best,
'Odinatsat'
With 'Shest' out of the running and 'Desyat' getting up to speed, I haven't been able to ascertain which mission Captainn Goleniewsky has been roped into. I'm sure we'll find out when she writes us again.
It does seem the new communication system 'Shest' set up specifically for her reports is working rather well. It really isn't scaleable without compromising it's encryption, however, and the general covert communication network we used has pontentially been compromised, or at least Stalin is convinced it is. Luckily we have a small but very competent team of non-existing people on it. Our intelligence gathering and communications network should be back up and running in a matter of days. Not ideal in a time of war, but the Committee's secrecy remains of primary importance.
Long live the Soviet Union and Stalin's Secret Committee,
'Odin'
OOC: So, it took me a lot longer to post this than announced. I don't like not following through on my promises, even though this AAR isn't my N°1 priority.
A job for a client of mine took longer than expected, and I've also met a lovely young lady. My time for the AAR will continue to be very limited, so don't expect weekly updates anytime soon.
