The Last 100 Days

by David B. Woolner

  RESOLUTE, ENIGMATIC, AND AT TIMES UTTERLY CHARMING, THE MAN who was born Joseph Vissarionovich Dzhugashvili but was known to the world by his revolutionary moniker, Stalin, or “the Man of Steel,” had also endured a journey to Yalta that was long and arduous. Not unlike FDR’s, his had begun with a devastating surprise, rendered not so much by the German attack on Russia launched on June 22, 1941, as by the catastrophic failure of the Soviet Union’s defenses and the rapid advance of the Wehrmacht in the months that followed.7

  Given America’s nonbelligerent status and Great Britain’s inability to field an army large enough to defeat the Wehrmacht on the continent in 1941, Hitler’s assault on Russia in June of that year was viewed as a godsend in both London and Washington. Within hours of the attack, both Churchill and Roosevelt announced that the British and American governments would give whatever help they could to the Soviets, and by the end of September 1941 the three governments had negotiated a detailed agreement on the shipment of Anglo-American supplies to the Soviet Union.8

  What is most interesting about these early tripartite conversations is that even in the midst of the initial collapse of the Red Army, Stalin had the audacity—or the guts or courage, depending on your point of view—to bring up the issue of the postwar settlement. By early November he had put this in writing in a cable to Churchill—a move that ultimately led to the negotiation of the Anglo-Soviet Treaty of Alliance of May 26, 1942. Viewed from the perspective of what we now know about Soviet wartime policy, these early conversations are especially illuminating. That Stalin initiated talks on wartime cooperation and “the postwar organization of the peace” tells us something about his persistent fear of a Western-negotiated separate peace with Hitler and/or a repetition of the Allied intervention in Russia that took place in the wake of World War I. These talks also serve as an early example of the willingness of both the Soviet and British governments to reach a concordance over the future of Europe negotiated outside the formal control of the United States—as further evidenced by the October 1944 percentages agreement. But most important is what these early negotiations tell us about Stalin’s remarkably consistent territorial ambitions in Eastern Europe, all of which renders Eden’s comment to Hopkins on the eve of the Yalta conference—that the Allies were dealing with “a Bear who would certainly know his mind”—eminently correct.9

  It is also true that Stalin—much like FDR—hoped to make use of the Yalta conference as a means to bolster the sense of trust and cooperation between the United States and the Soviet Union. As Andrei Gromyko, the Soviet ambassador to Washington, put it in a document he issued in July 1944, he could see no reason why the Soviet-American détente should not continue after the war, as the United States and the Soviet Union shared “a common interest… in dealing with the German threat and in securing conditions for a prolonged peace.” Stalin shared this assessment. Moreover, his views on the spread of communism to Western Europe also appeared to have moderated. As he said to a group of Bulgarian visitors to Moscow just days before the start of the Yalta conference, “We have to forget the idea that the victory of socialism could be realized only through Soviet rule. It could be presented by some other political systems—for example by democracy, a parliamentary republic and even by a constitutional monarchy.” Stalin’s recognition of the persistence of the German threat, coupled with this more moderate view of the means by which socialism might advance in the West, pointed toward the possibility that the cooperation the Allies had achieved in their mutual struggle against Hitler could continue—provided that the Anglo-Americans recognized Stalin’s unequivocal demand for a sphere of influence in Eastern Europe.10

  AT 4:00 P.M. ON SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 4, 1945, AMID MUCH ANTICIPATION of the arrival of the man Churchill and Roosevelt referred to privately as “Uncle Joe,” Stalin appeared at the Livadia Palace for the “personal private chat” FDR had requested. Preceded by a host of NKVD secret police and American Secret Service agents, the Soviet dictator made his way to FDR’s private study. As FDR’s interpreter, Charles Bohlen, noted, “the two leaders greeted each other as old friends.” Smiling broadly, the seated FDR “grasped Stalin by the hand and shook it warmly,” while the Soviet leader, “his face cracked in one of his rare, if slight, smiles, expressed pleasure at seeing the president again.”11

  FDR thanked his host for making him feel welcome, and commented on the improvement of the military situation since their last meeting in Tehran. Ever the geographer, FDR also conveyed the pleasure he derived from the climate and topography of the Crimea, adding that he was shocked by the extent of the destruction wrought by the Germans on the peninsula. He told Stalin that the sight had left him “more bloodthirsty in regard to the Germans than he had been a year ago.” He hoped Stalin would once again propose a toast—as he had done at Tehran—“to the execution of 50,000 officers of the German army.”

  “Everyone was more bloodthirsty than they had been a year ago,” Stalin responded through his interpreter. “[But] the destruction in the Crimea is nothing compared to that which occurred in the Ukraine. In the Crimea, the Germans had been outflanked, and had little time to carry out planned destruction, whereas in the Ukraine they had done it with method and calculation. The Germans were savages,” he said, “and seemed to hate with a sadistic hatred the creative work of human beings.”12

  FDR and Stalin meeting in FDR’s study at the Livadia Palace, February 4, 1945. (Courtesy of the Franklin D. Roosevelt Presidential Library)

  The two men turned to the military situation. FDR gave Stalin a brief overview of the Western Front and indicated that the Anglo-American armies planned to launch a new push toward the Rhine with two immediate small-scale offensives, followed by a major drive to begin in March. As a means of reminding Stalin that the Americans, not the British, were now leading the way on the Western Front, FDR added that Churchill’s commanders had argued for a single thrust in the northern sector, but given that the United States “had four times the number of men in France than the British, we felt we were entitled to have an alternative, which would be either in [southern] Holland or in the region of Mainz.” Stalin expressed his satisfaction at this summary and, in response to a question from FDR about the Red Army’s status on the Oder, indicated that although the Soviets had established five or six bridgeheads on the river, much fierce fighting would be required before they could expect to break out.

  Anticipating that the matter of France might come up during the tripartite talks, FDR raised it with Stalin, no doubt to gain Stalin’s trust and make clear that he and Churchill did not always see eye to eye. Well aware of the chilling effect that Charles de Gaulle’s haughty demeanor had on even the most hardened personalities, FDR took advantage of Great Britain’s support for the Free French leader as a relatively harmless means of indicating his differences with the British. The president, recalling de Gaulle’s portentous assertion at the Casablanca conference that he could be compared to Joan of Arc in his role as “spiritual leader of France,” wondered how Stalin and de Gaulle had gotten along during the latter’s visit to Moscow. When Stalin replied that he found de Gaulle unrealistic in his demand that France should enjoy “full rights with the Americans, British and Russians,” FDR saw his opening.

  Roosevelt confided that he wanted “to tell the Marshal something indiscreet” that he “did not wish to say in front of Prime Minister Churchill”—namely, that for the past two years the British had been plotting to build France into a major power, with an army of 200,000 men that could hold the line against Germany for the period of time the British would need to assemble a strong army of their own.

  “The British,” the president said, “are a peculiar people” who “wished to have their cake and eat it too.”

  FDR also claimed that “he had had a good deal of trouble with the British in regard to [the] zones of occupation,” particularly as he “would… have preferred to have the northwest zone, which would be independent of communication through France.” He then re
marked, caustically: “But the British seemed to think that the Americans should restore order in France and then return political control to [them].”

  As to the question of whether France should receive a zone of occupation, FDR admitted that it was “not a bad idea,” but one that he felt could be justified only “out of kindness.” Stalin and Molotov emphatically agreed, since the French contribution to the war had been quite small in comparison to that of the other Great Powers.13

  On this convivial note, the first meeting between the president and Marshal Stalin at Yalta drew to a close, but not before Stalin, who had learned about FDR’s disappointment at not having any lemons for his martinis, promised to rectify the situation. The next morning, a potted lemon tree bearing an enormous amount of fruit arrived, along with a small Frigidaire for making ice. In the meantime, a reassured FDR took a few minutes to review matters with Hopkins and Bohlen before making his way to the ballroom in advance of the other delegates, so as to be transferred from his wheelchair to his seat at the head of the conference table with no other officials looking on.

  THE LAST TIME THE BALLROOM AT THE LIVADIA HAD HOSTED SUCH AN elaborate affair was in 1911, when Nicholas and Alexandra had organized a full dress ball in honor of their eldest daughter Olga’s sixteenth birthday. For the purposes of the Yalta gathering, the Soviets had placed a large round table at the end of the rectangular ballroom, close to the fireplace, but left enough room for a concentric ring or two of chairs to surround the principal negotiators and their interpreters. The timing of this first meeting also established the schedule for the remainder of the conference, with the plenary sessions being held in the late afternoons, starting on all but this occasion at 4:00 p.m., while the three foreign ministers held daily “advance” meetings at noon.14

  As FDR was the only head of state among the three leaders at the Yalta conference, Marshal Stalin asked the president if he would preside over the discussion—a role that FDR was more than happy to assume and a reprise of the protocol at Tehran the year before. In keeping with his desire to set the tone for the entire conference, FDR began the session not only with the customary note of thanks to Marshal Stalin and his staff for all of “the splendid arrangements” they had made for their guests but also with a reference to his hopes for the talks. “We all understand each other much better now than in the past,” he said, and because of this, he felt safe in proposing that the sessions be conducted “in an informal manner in which each would speak his mind frankly and freely, since he had discovered through experience that this was the best way to conduct business expeditiously.”15

  In sharp contrast to the rigid protocols often observed at later summit meetings, there were no formal introductions, no place cards, no official secretarial staff (although the three interpreters and some other aides took notes), and no advanced agenda. This informality carried great risks, as negotiations among heads of state or heads of government placed tremendous pressure on the participants not to leave the summit without some sort of agreement. But this was the way FDR insisted on conducting summit diplomacy, and in this he was not alone. Churchill’s penchant for face-to-face meetings became something of an obsession during the war. It is estimated that the British prime minister flew more than 100,000 miles to attend the fifteen major summit meetings he carried out between 1941 and 1945.16

  Even Stalin, the most reluctant traveler of the three, seemed to appreciate the value of a face-to-face encounter. In a conversation that Molotov had with Harry Truman shortly after Roosevelt’s death, the foreign secretary urged the new president to take up the idea of a meeting with Stalin, as the Soviet leader had found that his direct talks with Roosevelt “always had great positive significance.” Indeed, the “establishment of personal relations between government leaders was always highly important.” A key difference between Roosevelt and his two counterparts, however, lay in FDR’s faith in his intuitive ability to read the tenor of every conversation, and to influence the outcome through his powers of persuasion. It was largely for this reason that FDR preferred not to be boxed in by a set agenda, and why he often shunned Churchill’s persistent entreaties to work out a formal position on every issue in advance.17 FDR’s breezy and somewhat casual manner would lead to the charge that he “lived on charm,” and that he even thought, as Harold Macmillan once put it, that “he could charm Stalin.” But FDR’s skilfully cultivated outward manner—which was developed in part to make those around him not notice or feel comfortable with his disability—also masked the much more Machiavellian side of his personality. As Walter Lippmann, another astute observer of the president, once wrote: “What [FDR] thought he could do was outwit Stalin. Which is quite a different thing.” Given FDR’s refusal to engage in serious conversations with Churchill at both Tehran and Yalta, the same might be said about his treatment of the man he referred to as “Winston.”18

  THE FIRST DAY’S DISCUSSION OF THE MILITARY SITUATION OPENED with a frank exchange of information and plans. There followed a discussion of how best to facilitate communication between the Eastern and Western Fronts. There was nothing overtly contentious in any of this. But from the Russian perspective, both the military and the political discussions that took place over Germany during the first two days of the conference were unsettling.

  The fact that the Anglo-Americans did not expect to cross the Rhine until March, for example, and thus were lagging behind the Soviets in their drive into Germany, was not welcome news to Stalin. Indeed, his primary goal the first day was to induce the Allies to launch a major attack on the Western Front as soon as possible. That this would not happen until March had a significant impact on his strategic calculations. On the one hand, the military situation along the Oder, while encouraging, was also precarious. The rapid advance of General Georgy Zhukov’s forces in the center front had exposed his flanks to a possible German counterattack, particularly from the north where the Soviets’ Second and Third Armies were bogged down by fierce German resistance in East Prussia. To continue the Red Army’s drive toward the prize of Berlin could be to court unnecessary risks. Moreover, even though the USSR clearly held the upper hand in the eastern stretches of the Reich, and even though some of Stalin’s commanders urged him to press on despite the risks, a precipitous lunge into Berlin might—in the paranoid workings of his mind—tempt the Western powers into a last-minute deal with Hitler or some post-Hitler group, as Stalin had feared since the start of the war.19

  For this reason and others, Stalin was quick to point out, at this first plenary meeting, that his government considered it “a moral duty” to help its ally in the midst of the Ardennes crisis. It explained why he couched his decision to advance the start date of the Red Army’s January offensive—though largely planned without consultation with the Allies—as the responsibility of a faithful partner prepared to sacrifice its own troops and strategic interests in support of the others. Stalin also concurred with an assertion FDR made that it was time for the two sides to synchronize their military efforts. The meeting concluded with all three leaders agreeing that the British, American, and Soviet Chiefs of Staff should reconvene at noon the next day to coordinate their plans for the final destruction of the Wehrmacht.20

  As Stettinius notes in his memoirs, the proposal that the three Chiefs of Staff meet to coordinate their military plans was the first time such a step had been taken in the entire war. To him, this was representative of the “cooperative” spirit of the first day of Yalta. For the most part his assessment was accurate, although securing Soviet agreement to direct communication among the three operational staffs would prove impossible in the end. But the overall strategic picture that Stalin was confronted with over the first two days of the conference convinced him that it would be some time before his Western Allies would be in a position to ease the pressure on the Red Army. Hence, on the third day of the conference Stalin informed General Zhukov that he should halt his drive to the west and turn his attention to his northern flanks. The capture of Berli
n would have to wait.21

  Not every senior member of the American delegation was in such a sanguine mood as the first plenary drew to a close. As Anna Roosevelt would soon discover, while scrambling about to make preparations for the dinner that FDR had scheduled that evening, one member of the US delegation, James Byrnes, was in such a rage he had “fire shooting from his eyes.”22

  ANNA WELL UNDERSTOOD THAT BEING THE DAUGHTER OF THE PRESIDENT of the United States came with certain advantages. Given her father’s love of gossip, Anna frequently found herself privy to some of the more important goings-on during the conference, especially anything that inspired FDR to spin one of his humorous anecdotes. But her privileged family position did not entitle her to sit in on the conference sessions, nor did it mean that she was able to escape certain responsibilities—helping him make his dinner arrangements, delivering messages to various members of the American delegation, and, most important, trying to protect her father from any undue stress. These tasks might seem straightforward enough, but thanks to the ad hoc manner in which FDR ran his affairs, Anna frequently found herself “sitting on tacks” due to the last-minute nature of his decisions. Such was the case as this first all-important day of the conference drew to a close.23

  As Ambassador Harriman had indicated to Molotov the night before, FDR intended to host a dinner for Churchill and Stalin that first evening. Yet, even though FDR had let Anna know of his plans in advance of the first formal meeting of the conference, no definite list of invitees had been drawn up as the delegates entered the first plenary at 5:00 p.m. All Anna could manage was to tell the Russian staff to set FDR’s private table for the maximum number of guests—fourteen—while nervously awaiting word from Harriman, her collaborator on this occasion, who promised that he would do the inviting during a lull in the session.