by Ian Grey
Eden was nevertheless aware of the danger of conflict over the future of Europe. In fact, Stalin had already decided that as a matter of national security, Russia must assert its dominant influence over the whole of Eastern Europe. This was an essential barrier against another invasion from the west, especially from a resurgent Germany. Churchill and Eden saw the dangers of dividing the continent into two rival camps, and they feared that Russian occupation of Eastern Europe would be the first step to domination of the whole continent. But interpreting Stalin’s policy as a policy of aggrandizement, they failed to appreciate his obsessive anxiety to secure his western frontiers and to guard against Germany.
During the talks of the foreign ministers in October 1943, Eden tried to forestall this development of postwar spheres of interest. In one session, he passed a note to Hull: “I am sorry to take your time, but behind all this is a big issue: two camps in Europe or one.” But, notwithstanding the expressed American view, Hull did not appreciate the British concern on this score.
During the conference, Eden secured Stalin’s agreement to a heads-of-government meeting in Teheran. Stalin had been adamant that he could not leave Russia, but he finally accepted the venue of Teheran, from which direct communication with Moscow and the fronts by telegraph and telephone was practicable. Indeed, he was determined to establish cordial relations with the allies. When, on October 27, Eden, on Churchill’s telegraphed instructions, asked for a special meeting, Stalin received him warmly, although, as he had probably foreseen, Eden’s message was that the Second Front had to be postponed from the spring to the summer due to unforeseen difficulties in Italy. The senior British officer who accompanied Eden wrote that Stalin appeared “perfectly happy once he had received Eden’s assurance that a short postponement and not a cancellation was involved.”
On November 25, 1943, Stalin, accompanied by Molotov and Voroshilov and his personal NKVD bodyguard, boarded his train at a siding near Kuntsevo. He traveled by train to Stalingrad and Baku, flying from there to Teheran. Shtemenko, the general staff liaison officer with the supreme commander in chief, carried maps of all the fighting zones. At stops on the journey, he spoke to the general staff in Moscow and obtained the most recent information to mark on his maps. It was his responsibility to brief Stalin every morning and evening on the state of the fronts. In Teheran, Stalin had a villa on the grounds of the mansion occupied by the Soviet Embassy, which had been the tsarist embassy. Shtemenko and his cipher staff were allocated a room there, next to the signal center. On the evening of his arrival, Stalin inspected the room and, finding it too small and dark, ordered it to be changed. From Shtemenko’s room, Stalin spoke by direct line with Vatutin and Rokossovsky at the fronts and with Antonov in Moscow. Here Shtemenko received drafts of orders, telephoned or telegraphed by Antonov, for Stalin’s signature. He held the signed documents and telegraphed the authorized versions to Moscow. While in Teheran, Stalin maintained his usual direct control over Russian operations on all fronts.
The conference sessions took place on four afternoons, starting on November 28, in the Soviet Embassy. Stalin wore the uniform of a marshal of the Soviet Union. British interpreter A. H. Birse observed that he “looked grey and more careworn than when I had seen him in Moscow, although he seemed more affable and at times his manner was almost gay.” General John R. Deane, who had accompanied Cordell Hull to Moscow in the previous month, observed that, while the British and American parties numbered twenty or thirty and had with them their service chiefs with staff, Stalin had with him only Molotov and Voroshilov, and his interpreter, V. N. Pavlov. He consulted with them from time to time, but he alone spoke in the conference, and he spoke with absolute authority, for, as Deane noted, “there was never the slightest indication that he would have to consult with his government.”
Addressing the conference, Stalin spoke quietly and at times curtly. He had a highly disciplined mind and expressed himself with utmost economy. Nothing aggravated him more than wooly, long-winded oratory. He lost patience several times with Churchill, who talked at length and, while he had brilliant flashes, could not resist orating. At one stage, after Churchill had spoken too long, Stalin growled, “How long is this conference going to last?” But he exercised great patience and was at pains to be genial.
The discussions ranged widely during the conference sessions and the informal luncheons and dinners which took place each day. Stalin was concerned about the immediate war plans of the Allies and, in particular, the launching of the Second Front, named Operation Overlord. He was also thinking ahead to the settlement of Europe after the war, the future of Poland and Germany, and the maintenance of peace.
Churchill and Roosevelt talked about operations in the eastern Mediterranean, about bringing Turkey into the war, and sending Anglo-American naval forces into the Black Sea. Stalin brought the discussion back to the prime purpose of defeating Germany by the invasion of France. To disperse and weaken Allied effort in a series of operations throughout the Mediterranean would be mistaken. All should be concentrated on Operation Overlord. The plan to capture Rome should be abandoned if necessary to provide greater Allied troops for the invasion of southern France. Churchill, always ready to shoot off on tangents and plan diversions, talked a great deal about possible operations in the Balkans. Stalin’s patience with him began to wear thin. At the close of the session on November 29, Stalin looked directly at Churchill across the table and said: “I wish to pose a very direct question to the Prime Minister about Overlord. Do the Prime Minister and the British staff really believe in Overlord?” Churchill replied, “Provided the conditions previously stated for Overlord are established when the time comes, it will be our stern duty to hurl across the Channel against the Germans every sinew of our strength.” It was a Churchillian reply, opening with a proviso and wrapped in rhetoric. Stalin wanted a simple “Yes,” but he made no comment.
Meetings of chiefs of staff to discuss military operations during the conference had been agreed. Stalin had objected at first that he saw no point in such separate meetings. He himself had come to discuss such matters. But he did not press his objection, and said that Voroshilov would “do his best.” The military committee met on November 29, attended by Voroshilov, Sir Alan Brooke, Charles Portal, William Leahy, and George C. Marshall. Brooke dominated the meeting. He had a powerful mind, incisive speech, and the same kind of impatience as Stalin. He had met Voroshilov in Moscow in a previous year and had summed him up as “an attractive personality, a typically political general who owed his life to his wits.” When at the meeting Voroshilov started pressing Stalin’s views, revealing his own lack of military expertise, Brooke was terse with him. He had shown the same curt impatience in dealing with him in Moscow, and this was to have repercussions.
After dinner, hosted on the first evening by Roosevelt, Churchill drew Stalin aside to discuss what would happen after the war. Eden joined them. “Let us first consider the worst that might happen,” said Stalin, and he outlined the problem which concerned him deeply and which was to underlie his policies in the postwar years. It was that Germany would recover from this war within fifteen to twenty years and with a revival of nationalism would start another war. This was the fear that obsessed him, and he was determined that Russia should never again be subjected to the torment and destruction that it was now suffering. Churchill spoke of the duty of the three powers to enforce German disarmament, to isolate Prussia, and to impose some union of the southern German states. Stalin thought that this would not be enough. They then spoke briefly about Poland and its problems, which were to be discussed in plenary session and were to bedevil Allied relations.
Shortly before the session of November 29 began, there was a brief but impressive ceremony in the conference room of the Soviet Embassy when the Stalingrad Sword of Honour was presented. It was inscribed in English and in Russian “to the steel-hearted citizens of Stalingrad. The gift of King George VI in token of the homage of the British people.” The ceremony was b
rief. The British lieutenant commanding the guard of honor handed the magnificent sword to Churchill, who, turning to Stalin, stated that he had been commanded by the king to present to him the Sword of Honour for transmission to the city of Stalingrad. Birse, who was standing close to Stalin, saw that he was deeply moved as he took the sword, kissed the hilt, and handed it to Voroshilov. Unfortunately, Voroshilov fumbled and nearly dropped it, but managed to pass it to the Russian lieutenant of the ceremonial guard. Stalin spoke briefly, expressing his appreciation, and shook Churchill by the hand.
During the next session, discussions turned again to Poland. Stalin was determined to strengthen his western frontiers in every way possible. He had to resolve the problem of Poland, which had nurtured more than 300 years of hostility toward Russia. He was increasingly concerned about the hostile Polish government in London. On July 30, 1941, Soviet Ambassador Ivan Maisky had signed an agreement with Wladyslaw Sikorski, the leader of the London Poles, who undertook to mobilize from among Polish prisoners in Russia an army to be commanded by a Pole, but under the Russian Supreme Command, to fight against the Germans. Formation of the Polish Army in Russia under the command of General W. Anders progressed. By December 1941, it had enlisted 73,415 Poles. The Russians strongly suspected, however, that this army, led by anti-Russian officers, would never fight at the side of the Red Army against the enemy. Indeed, the Russians stated that during the critical months of 1941, when their help would have been valuable, the Poles constantly found excuses for not being sent to the front. When Churchill proposed that the Poles should be allowed to leave Russia by way of Iran to fight on the Western Front, Stalin readily agreed. Their departure on the eve of the Battle of Stalingrad was seen by Russians as desertion in the face of the enemy and as a demonstration of Polish hatred of Russia.
Stalin knew that the age-old hostility between the two nations would not suddenly disappear, but he did not intend to permit a hostile Poland, led by anti-Russian leaders like Sikorski and Anders, to be restored on Russian frontiers. Early in 1943, the Russian policy began to emerge. Poland’s eastern frontier would follow the Curzon line, and in compensation, the Poles were to extend westward at the expense of Germany. The Soviet press began a campaign against the Polish government in London, and the Union of Polish Patriots was established in Russia. This attempt to organize a pro-Russian government to take over from the well-entrenched Polish government in London seemed at the time unlikely to succeed.
In April 1943, the Germans announced they had discovered at Katyn near Smolensk mass graves containing the bodies of 12,500 Polish officers and NCOs. It was alleged that the Russians had massacred them in the spring of 1940. Soviet denials did not remove strong suspicions that NKVD troops were responsible. The Soviet government broke off relations with the London Poles, castigating them as imperialists and German agents, and strengthened its support for the Union of Polish Patriots. A Tadeusz Kościuszko Infantry Division, some 15,000 strong, was recruited among Poles who recognized that they must bury old enmities and learn to live with Soviet Russia. By October 1943, this division was fighting alongside Red Army troops.
At the Teheran conference, Stalin frankly stated his ideas about the settlement of Poland after the war. Churchill and Eden both accepted his proposals to make the Curzon or the Oder line the frontier and to incorporate Lvov into the Soviet Union. But at this stage, the discussions were tentative, for, as Churchill was to write, “nothing would satisfy the Poles.”
Churchill and Roosevelt besought Stalin to be generous to the Finns, who were now fighting at the side of the Germans. He conceded that, unless compelled by Finnish obstinacy, he would not make Finland a Soviet province, but insisted that he would exact some compensation in the form of territory and indemnities. Churchill remarked that “there is still ringing in my ears the famous slogan: ‘No annexations and no indemnities.’” This was the slogan which Lenin and Trotsky had used in seeking peace with Germany after the Revolution. He added, “Perhaps Marshal Stalin will not be pleased with me for saying that.” Stalin grinned broadly and answered: “I have told you that I am becoming a Conservative!”
On November 30, Churchill’s sixty-ninth birthday and a day which he was to describe as crowded and memorable, he had a private meeting with Stalin in the morning. He had become disturbed by the Russian suspicion that he would prefer to abandon Overlord in favor of an invasion of the Balkans. But also he had been uneasy about Roosevelt’s reserve since arriving in Teheran. Roosevelt, with whom he had taken pains to build up a special relationship, had refused private meetings with him during the conference on the grounds that Stalin might feel they were concerting action and policy against him. It was a specious excuse, for Stalin was well aware they had long been in close contact and, indeed, expected the two English-speaking powers to act together. Roosevelt was, in fact, more concerned to demonstrate to Stalin that he was not under Churchill’s influence, as many of his own people believed. This was probably the main reason for his jokes and jibes at Churchill’s expense about “colonialism” and “imperialism,” which he thought would appeal to Stalin. But also he had the mistaken idea that he could handle Stalin rather as he handled members of the U. S. Congress. Churchill was further disturbed because for security reasons Roosevelt was accommodated not in his own embassy but in the Soviet Embassy, and so appeared to be in ready personal contact with Stalin.
Disconcerted by Roosevelt’s attitude and the American wariness toward him in Teheran, and disturbed by Stalin’s openly expressed suspicion of his determination to pursue Operation Overlord, Churchill asked for a private meeting with Stalin to explain himself fully. The meeting lasted less than half an hour. Churchill explained that he fully supported Overlord, but was opposed to an American plan for an amphibious operation in the Bay of Bengal against the Japanese. Stalin emphasized the importance of the Allied invasion of northern France and confirmed that a Russian offensive would be launched to coincide with it. He added that the Red Army was war-weary and was depending on the success of the operation. He asked about the date fixed for Overlord, but Churchill said that this would be revealed at lunch time when they would be alone with Roosevelt. It was then stated that it would be in May. Stalin showed great pleasure and relief.
The dinner on that evening was hosted by Churchill in celebration of his birthday. It was Stalin’s first visit to a British Embassy. The NKVD took elaborate security precautions, thoroughly searching the premises, interrogating the servants and posting armed guards at all entrances and on the roof. It was nevertheless a jovial occasion. Birse had been told to stay close to Stalin and look after his wants. A warm relationship had already been established between the British major and the Soviet supreme commander.
At table, Birse was seated on Stalin’s left. He later wrote: “Stalin, who sat uncomfortably on the edge of his chair, looked with anxiety at the display of different-sized knives and forks before him, turned to me and said: “This is a fine collection of cutlery! It is a problem which to use. You will have to tell me, and also when I can begin to eat. I am unused to your customs.” This small incident showed a human, unexpected side of his character, I think. His fear, if he had any, of doing the wrong thing soon vanished, for the proceedings became increasingly friendly and jovial. He settled himself deeper into his chair, and took my advice to eat and drink when it pleased him. After formal toasts to King George VI, President Kalinin, and President Roosevelt, Churchill proposed one to “Roosevelt the Man” and another to “Stalin the Great.” The President toasted Churchill, and so did Stalin. Eden toasted Molotov, and so it went on in true Russian fashion. Toward the end of the meal he asked me whether it would be in order for him to drink the health of our waiter. I said I was sure he could do so, and that the man would be very happy. He then called the Persian servant, poured him out a glass of champagne, and wished him and his comrades good luck. The Persian seemed quite overcome, and at a loss what to do with his glass. I told him to drink it on the spot. It is hard to say wheth
er Stalin’s gesture was spontaneous or done to impress the Persians . . .”
An awkward incident occurred during the toasts. The President proposed a toast to General Sir Alan Brooke, chief of the Imperial General Staff, and before he had finished speaking, Stalin rose and said he would finish the toast. He then spoke in a way inferring that Brooke had failed to show real feelings of friendship toward the Red Army, that he lacked appreciation of its fine qualities, and he hoped that in future he would show greater comradeship toward the soldiers of the Red Army.
Brooke was taken by surprise. “I had, however, seen enough of Stalin by then to know that if I sat down under these insults, I should lose any respect he might ever have had for me, and that he would continue such attacks in the future.” In his reply to the toast, Brooke turned to Stalin and said, “Now, Marshal, may I deal with your toast. I am surprised that you should have found it necessary to raise accusations against me that are entirely unfounded. You will remember that this morning while we were discussing cover plans, Mr. Churchill said that ‘in war truth must have an escort of lies.’ You will also remember that you yourself told us that in all your great offensives your real intentions were always kept concealed from the outer world. You told us that all your dummy tanks and dummy aeroplanes were always massed on those fronts that were of an immediate interest, while your true intentions were covered by a cloak of complete secrecy.
“Well, Marshal, you have been misled by dummy tanks and dummy aeroplanes, and you have failed to observe those feelings of true friendship which I have for the Red Army, nor have you seen the feelings of genuine comradeship which I feel towards all its members.”
Stalin’s face was inscrutable as Pavlov translated Brooke’s words. At the end, he turned to Churchill, and “with evident relish,” he said, “I like that man. He rings true. I must have a talk with him afterwards.” Brooke went up to him after dinner and again expressed surprise at these accusations. Stalin replied at once that “the best friendships are those founded on misunderstandings” and shook him warmly by the hand. Churchill wrote later, “In fact, Stalin’s confidence was established on a foundation of respect and goodwill which was never shaken while we all worked together.”