Burning Moscow

Chapter 61: Imprisonment (Part 2) “What exactly was Stalin’s purpose in going to the front lines to inspect the situation during such extraordinary times? ” After filling my stomach, my thoughts returned to Stalin. “When I saw him yesterday in Yugazabatnaya, he had nothing but a driver with him—not even a personal bodyguard. And for this tour, the security detail accompanying him was actually a unit directly under the Moscow Garrison Command, rather than the elite Central Guard Regiment. What on earth is going on here?” The more I thought about it, the more confused I became. “And what exactly did I do wrong? Why did they lock me and Bezikov up? I can’t for the life of me remember doing anything wrong. Could it be that I mentioned Marshal Tukhachevsky and those generals to Rokossovsky? That can’t be! I only mentioned it in passing and didn’t express any biased opinions—that shouldn’t be enough to lock me up, right? Could it be that they discovered I’m an imposter Lida? No, that can’t be right. If that were the case, they would have arrested me long ago; they wouldn’t have waited until now. What on earth is going on…” My mind raced with endless speculation. As I thought, I gradually drifted off to sleep… Just as I was sleeping, I felt someone poking me in a daze, so I reluctantly opened my eyes. Before I could make out who was standing before me, a pair of cold handcuffs had already clamped around my wrists. “Who are you?” I asked warily. “Come with us. Don’t say a word. Do you hear me?” ” In the darkness, two shadowy figures—one on my left, one on my right—seized me and began leading me toward the door… I shook my drowsy head vigorously; having just been jolted awake from sleep, my mind was still foggy. I could only feel myself being supported by the two men as we crossed the hallway, climbed the stairs, and turned a few corners before arriving at a room with its windows covered in black cloth. The two men forced me into a chair, unlocked my handcuffs, twisted my arms behind my back, and cuffed them to the chair. Then they stood on either side of me. A blinding light shone directly into my face. It was so harsh that my eyes couldn’t adjust, and I instinctively turned my head away and closed my eyes. “Don’t close your eyes. Look at me!” A cold, emotionless voice came from behind the glare. Hearing this, the men on either side forcibly turned my head toward the light. “What’s going on? Why are you holding me captive? …” I squinted and snapped at them. “You have no right to ask that. Just answer our questions properly.” The man slammed his fist on the table, rudely cutting me off. “Name?” “Lida Mushdakova Oshanina.” “Rank?” “Army Lieutenant Colonel.” “When did you become a German spy?” After asking for my name and rank, the man suddenly changed the subject. “A German spy?!” I retorted in confusion. “I don’t understand what you mean.” “Smack!” The man slammed his fist down on the table again and said contemptuously, “Don’t play dumb here. Your accomplice, Bezikov, has already confessed. It was you who leaked Comrade Stalin’s itinerary to the Germans, which is why they were able to carry out this planned ambush.” “I knew Major Bezhikov from my time at the Kremlin. Including this meeting, we’ve only met three times in total. He is not my accomplice. Besides, the mission to escort Comrade Stalin was assigned to me at the last minute this morning by Comrade Rokossovsky. I had absolutely no prior knowledge of it…” “But out of the entire escort unit for Comrade Stalin, only you and Bezhikov survived.” “Did all the other guardsmen fall in action?” “Of course they did. We just verified with the 16th Army headquarters: all eighty-six officers and soldiers escorting Comrade Stalin were killed in action. They took down nearly forty enemy soldiers—they all died heroically.” “What a tragedy!” I couldn’t help but sigh. Sending infantry to fight tanks—especially without any anti-tank weapons—was like pitting flesh and blood against steel; total annihilation was the inevitable outcome. “Have you confessed?” the man asked again. “Confessed to what?” “That you’re a German spy!” “I don’t know where you got such a mistaken conclusion, but I am absolutely not a German spy.” I defended myself vigorously, desperate to avoid dying under this baseless accusation. “The guard unit escorting Comrade Stalin is the elite of the elite. If no one had leaked their itinerary, allowing the Germans to ambush them along the way with a plan, they wouldn’t have all been killed.” Elite! What good is being elite, for God’s sake! I cursed inwardly. Even if every soldier in the escort unit were a martial arts master, trained in the legendary “Golden Bell Technique” of the Thirteen Heroes, a single enemy bullet could still take their lives; even if everyone possessed the so-called “Indestructible Iron Palm,” let them try slapping a tank and see if they can knock the turret askew! “ “Silence means you admit it! You are a spy embedded within our ranks. Comrade Krokhikov, take her confession over there for her to sign.” As the voice spoke, a young man in civilian clothes stepped out from behind the light, holding a piece of paper—presumably what they called my confession. Krokhikov ordered the man standing beside me to unlock my handcuffs, then handed me the paper and a pen, urging me to sign and seal it. “No!” I knew full well that once I signed, these baseless charges against me would be confirmed, and my only fate would be execution. So I firmly refused him: “I am no spy. I absolutely will not sign any so-called confession.” “Krochkov, since she refuses to sign, come back and sit down! ” The voice from behind the light said again: “Even if she doesn’t sign, it doesn’t change the fact that she is a spy.” Upon hearing this, Krochkov took the pen and paper and returned silently to the area behind the light. “I now pronounce your sentence!” the male voice said sternly. The two men beside me lifted me up, and I listened as he announced this absurd, nonsensical verdict. “…… The verdict of the Internal People’s Committee is as follows: German spy Lida Mushdakova Oshanina is sentenced to death, to be carried out immediately!” Death penalty! I was so terrified by this verdict that my legs went weak; if the two men beside me hadn’t been holding me up, I probably would have collapsed into a chair. What on earth had I done? Why had they so rashly sentenced me to death? “What’s the matter? Scared out of your wits?” the man said with a contemptuous laugh. “This is the fate of a spy. Your accomplice, Bezhikov, has been waiting in the courtyard outside for quite some time. We’ll take you there right away so you can be shot together.” After a brief pause, he ordered, “ “Drag her out into the courtyard. I don’t want to see this damned traitor in this room anymore.” The two men acknowledged the order and began dragging me out. Just then, the telephone on the desk rang. As the mysterious figure behind the light answered the call, the room fell so silent that I could hear every word of his conversation clearly. “Comrade Pokluchebshev, this is Stalin. What is the situation with Oshanina?” “Comrade Stalin, she has already confessed to being a German spy.” Hearing this, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of anger. When had I ever admitted to being a spy? It was nothing but a case of “where there’s a will, there’s a way” to frame me. “What measures have you taken?” Stalin continued in his deep, measured tone. “We’ve just sentenced her to death and are preparing to carry out the execution, Comrade Stalin.” “ “Nonsense, utter nonsense! Oshanina is the special envoy Zhukov sent to the 16th Army. How could a comrade with such fighting spirit possibly be a spy? She’s stayed with you long enough. Tell her to stop idling away her time chatting with you and return to Rokossovsky immediately—Yasnaya Polyana has already fallen.” With that, Stalin hung up the phone. The lamp that had been shining on me went out, and as the chandelier on the ceiling came on, the entire room suddenly became bright. I could now see clearly that Poskrebyshev, who had been speaking just now, was the very man Bezikov had jokingly referred to as the Kremlin’s steward. With a grave expression, he ordered the two men holding me: “Let Comrade Oshanina go. She is not a spy, but one of our own. Also, you two go out to the courtyard immediately and bring Bezikov back. There may be some misunderstanding here.”