I Became Stalin?!

Chapter 94:

Chapter 94:

Chapter 94

The Yugoslav partisans received massive support from the Soviet Union. 

They were given modern equipment such as tanks, armored vehicles, planes and artillery, which enabled them to confront the German army head-on.

Liberated zones were formed in various places, and the German army had to pour more manpower and resources into the Balkan Peninsula, which was not even the main battlefield.

Of course, the Soviet Union also gained something from this. 

The Yugoslav partisans could not offer anything material to the Soviet Union, but they provided something extremely valuable for their operations.

It was a land route that led to the heart of the Axis.

“Come on, let’s give those fascists a taste of their own medicine!”

“Hahaha! Are you saying these are all fake money? They look more real than the real ones!”

Counterfeit bills worth millions and tens of millions of marks flowed into the Axis territory. 

From Romania to the Yugoslav territory occupied by the partisans. 

And then across the vague border between the partisans and the Axis, through the Croatian puppet state, to Germany or Italy.

The Soviet spy network, which was located like a spider web in the Axis territory, delivered this money to various underground organizations that were engaged in anti-regime activities.

The anti-regime resistance groups grew their organizations and carried out various acts of terror with the Soviet money. 

The era was in the midst of a war, and the munitions factories were running day and night. 

If they had enough money, there were plenty of people who would smuggle out materials from the factories.

Of course, the resistance groups did not only engage in terror and violence.

They also intervened in more dangerous things.

***

In the current war, the main front was undoubtedly the Eastern Front, the Great Soviet Front. 

The battlefield where tens of millions of people fought was like a black hole that sucked in everything. Even people’s attention.

No one cared about a few men who spoke fluent German boarding a train to Prague from the southern Balkan Peninsula.

The agents selected from the Soviet special forces, Spetsnaz, were deployed more smoothly than expected for their mission.

At the border checkpoint, they showed their fake passports and nodded their heads.

“Hmm, pass!”

“Thank you.”

All four of them were tall and had blond hair and blue eyes, typical of Aryan appearance. 

And all four spoke fluent German, so the inspectors who saw their passports with the Hakenkreuz mark did not doubt them and shouted pass.

“Stupid bastards, hehe.”

“Right?”

“If we can do this, why can’t we blow up the Führer’s head?”

The agents sat together in a four-seat train compartment on their way to Prague and whispered in a low Russian voice. 

The upper echelon gave them generous funds for their operation, and the first-class train compartment provided enough privacy for passengers who needed to have private or important business conversations.

But problems always arise in unpredictable places. 

If someone pushes them because they speak Russian, they just have to show their passports and show off their fluent German skills. 

That’s it.

What if they are pushed for mocking or plotting to assassinate the Führer or Nazi officials? 

They might have to make a long excuse. Or they might not be able to get away with an excuse.

“If we succeed in blowing up Heydrich’s head… The security for the Führer will be tighter. It’s already high enough.”

“Well…”

The target of <Operation Anthropoid>, Reinhard Heydrich, was a fearless man.

According to local collaborators who contacted them beforehand, he did not wear a bulletproof vest and drove around Prague in a car with an open roof.

The citizens of Prague had to tremble with fear and humiliation at his sight. 

The ones who trampled on them walked around the streets so confidently, and the powerless masses could not do anything about it.

On the contrary, the Germans could proclaim their rule to be strong and solid to the world.

“No matter how great he is, he can’t move if he gets hit by a grenade! Hehehe.”

The agents joked like that. 

They had already received harsh training for assassination. 

Long-range sniping and throwing training, etc., they had to go through several mock battles to make sure they cut off their target’s breath.

But there was one crucial part missing from their training. It was escape training.

Escape was meaningless because they didn’t know what would happen then, according to their instructor. But the agents knew.

There was no such thing as escape in the first place.

They were given cyanide capsules for self-destruction in case they were caught. 

What else could they expect? 

They were ordered to approach as close as possible to their target and confirm his death if possible.

Would it be possible to escape after that? Did the upper echelon prepare an exit for them?

It would be lucky if they didn’t get killed in action.

“Da… for the country. Isn’t that right?”

“…Yes, yes.”

***

The upper echelon offered a pension when they recruited volunteers for this operation.

“We are looking for volunteers for a special operation.”

The mustached colonel who was in charge of their training always looked down at the Spetsnaz agents with his usual grumpy attitude.

The colonel offered them a huge reward for volunteering for this operation.

“Whoever volunteers for this special operation will receive a generous compensation. You and your families will get the maximum pension by law! As long as our great Soviet Union exists, your children, grandchildren, and their descendants will benefit from this pension!”

But no one volunteered. 

They knew.

They had never offered such a reward when they ordered them to infiltrate behind the German lines by breaking through their defenses in the blizzard-swept plains of northern Russia. 

Nor when they had to parachute into enemy territory and fight with only one rifle.

It was more dangerous than a mission where they had to be prepared for death. 

Even for a special force, no one wanted to sell their lives for a few pennies.

The colonel seemed a bit flustered.

Then he offered them honor.

“Red Banner, Red Star, Lenin, Soviet Hero, you name it! If you succeed, you will be the greatest hero of the Soviet Union, and if you fail, you and your families will still receive all the benefits for the medal recipients!”

The agents remained silent, expressionless, and just stared at 15 degrees above.

Again, no one volunteered. 

The colonel’s shoulders sagged in resignation.

He said in a defeated tone.

“For the country, for the fate of the Soviet Union. For the motherland and those who will live in it in the future.”

They all swallowed hard.

“Is there no one who will volunteer?”

***

The captain had a newborn son.

The lieutenant had an old mother and a brother who went to the front. 

The senior lieutenant and the sergeant also had their own families.

The colonel advised them to leave a will ‘just in case’. 

They cut off a lock of hair and enclosed it, wrote a will, and stamped their signatures on a document that designated who would receive their medals and rewards.

In the end, the four agents were at the doorstep of their destination.

[We are now arriving at Prague Central Station. Passengers who are getting off, please check if you have left anything behind…]

“Let’s get off. Our friends must be waiting for us.”

“Yes, we should. Check if you have anything left… Hey! Your passport!”

“Oh, oh? Ah… Thank you. Hahaha!”

They all laughed exaggeratedly and gestured. 

They laughed out loud as if they were the protagonists of a cheerful comedy.

But they kept repeating in their minds. 

For the country. For the fate of the Soviet Union. 

To punish the fascists!

They had seen something like that in a newspaper once.

It was said to be the words left by a soldier who died defending Smolensk to the end.

The newspapers and propaganda agencies spread it around. 

A young military musician, Alexander Akimov, resisted to the end with only one pistol against the German troops who stormed into Smolensk.

He protected the wounded soldiers who could not move and drove away the fascists who tried to defile his motherland’s land. But he eventually died heroically.

But he left a message on the wall of the field hospital with his blood.

<I am dying but I do not surrender. Motherland, farewell!>

Yes, motherland, farewell. And farewell to my family.

The colonel said that this operation would be known as something done by Americans and Czechs. 

The deeds of the four Spetsnaz heroes would have to be hidden ‘for some time’.

‘For the country.’

It probably took quite some time until they actually carried out the assassination operation. The captain suddenly realized that.

‘I can finish writing letters to Yuri and Lara during that time…’

His son Yuri was just three months old. 

The cute little thing wrapped in blankets and wriggling in his crib! 

He still couldn’t open his eyes properly, and he would probably grow up without knowing his father’s face or what he died for.

His lovely wife Lara would raise Yuri as a good son of the Soviet Union, but… 

Maybe she would resent him for leaving them behind.

But it wouldn’t be bad to have something to remember his father by.

If their Czech communist friends were good at their job, they could send letters to his family through Yugoslavia and Romania.

Or maybe they could get them when our army liberated Czechoslovakia.

If not… well.

“My son, goodbye.”

The captain muttered that.