The current understanding of political activity in the Red Army draws mostly on the orders and directives of the Main Political Administration. Thanks to the Stalingrad transcripts, we now have a vivid description of the continuing efforts of political officers and commanders to commit soldiers to their combat missions and shape them into fearless, self-surpassing heroes in the Bolshevik voluntarist mold. The interviews also describe the coercive measures that accompanied these mobilizing efforts and the impact of officers’ entreaties in battle.
Persistence and improvisation alike characterized the modus operandi of the political administration on the Stalingrad Front. Pyotr Molchanov, battalion commissar of the 38th Rifle Division, explained that during the defensive struggles of summer 1942 in the protected ravines of the Don steppes, political assemblies, singers, and accordionists strengthened morale. In Stalingrad such things were not possible. The incessant fighting forced the cancellation of the regular meetings and lectures stipulated by the communist playbook.146 Colonel Glamazda, the political representative of the 45th Division, depicted the situation of his men on the west bank of the Volga as follows:
It is hard to imagine that bombing: low-flying airplanes that kept coming in exact thirty-minute intervals from September to November. It was a real hell. Everything was covered in smoke. At night the planes didn’t fly and it was possible to move. It was cold and damp but that didn’t get to you as much as the planes, the shells, and the mines.
He then explained how the political officers carried out their work:
What we did was talk to the men in person and then lead by example, showing them how to fight. And in absolutely every battle the party members were the first ones to throw themselves into the fight. I could give you dozens of examples from the lives of communists and Komsomol members who demonstrated how to fight and were then killed in combat.147
For particularly critical zones of combat, commanders made sure to distribute communists, Komsomols, and battle-tested soldiers among the companies. According to Lieutenant Colonel Yakov Dubrovsky, director of the political department of the 39th Guards Rifle Division, it was the communists, the Komsomols in particular, who provided the army’s moral backbone:
We established a standing practice that an assault group would always include Komsomol members. How was it done? The secretary of a Komsomol bureau, knowing that a storm group was being formed, would approach the battalion commander and tell him to include two or three Komsomol members. He would then personally instruct them, as well as the squad commanders. The idea was to have the Komsomol members, in addition to carrying out the combat mission itself, undertake all measures to ensure that that mission is transmitted to the personnel.148
Brigade Commissar Vasiliev seconded Dubrovsky’s views about the young communists: “As for the leading role of communists [ . . . ] It was considered disgraceful if a communist didn’t take a step forward and lead his soldiers.”149
With the front under relentless fire by day, political work in the trenches moved to night. Alexander Levykin, commissar of the 284th Rifle Division, explained how he prepared his staff:
This is what I used at divisional headquarters. I would listen to the latest news from all fronts, and then would go out at one or two in the morning and order the loudspeakers turned on. I would then inform the communications people, and from them company politruks would go to the battalions and inform people about the latest developments at the front. [ . . . ] They would distribute newspapers to the men. [ . . . ] Only at night was it possible to conduct political work individually with every soldier. The political department would brief its instructor staff and dispatch them to the units. A political officer would be able to cover two or three trenches in a night, but no more than that.150
Captain Olkhovkin reported that his regimental commander assembled the political officers and directed the agitators to inspect individual companies:
I was sent to the 2nd Battalion. In the evening we made it to the 4th Company. There were four people in the dugout. I talked to the people at night when it was quieter. We gathered low-ranking agitators at the company command post, which was in a school basement. It was at three o’clock in the morning. The enemy was about forty meters away from the school. A front-page article had just appeared in Pravda about the fighting in Stalingrad.151 I instructed them on that subject. I explained how significant Stalingrad was, why Hitler was pushing so hard for it. I connected it with the order to set up an unbreakable defense.
The night has another benefit, remarked Lieutenant Colonel Dubrovsky, his words revealing the total penetration to which the political administration aspired. “At night a soldier is more disposed to speak candidly, you can really make him spill his guts.” Dubrovsky and his colleagues redoubled their efforts whenever their units were about to mount an assault or an enemy attack was expected.
Political officers repeatedly emphasized the frequency of their talks with individual troops. Each Red Army soldier had to be convinced of the war’s necessity, each had to become politically aware, able to act on his or her on own initiative. “I consider personal talks the best mode of political work during the defense,” noted Battalion Commissar Molchanov. “So, a soldier is sitting in his little trench for a whole month, he sees no one other than his neighbor, and suddenly a commissar or somebody else drops in on him and tells him something or just greets him or says a friendly word—that has great importance. To get him a sheet of paper so that he can write to his loved ones or to write a letter for him—that really cheers a soldier up.” Commissars saw themselves as responsible for not only the mental health of the soldiers but also their physical well-being, and took note whenever food rations and warm clothing ran low. During crisis moments, they handed out delicacies—chocolate bars, mandarin oranges—sent to the front by workers’ organizations. As Brigade Commissar Vasiliev put it, “It’s not so much the food itself as the soldier’s moral gratification because he feels that people care for him.” The arsenal of the political officer also included military counsel, with instruction on how, say, to perform a hedgehog defense or build sturdy shelters. “We clarified every detail, every moment, every tactical move to the soldiers, doing our best to aid the soldiers and the commanders so that they may be more successful in combat,” explained Vasiliev. The agitator152 Izer Ayzenberg of the 38th Rifle Division employed a curious instrument of political education known as the “agitcult case.” Procured by his regimental commissar, this portable device resembling a magician’s case was especially well suited for use in the trenches. When open, the words of the Soviet military oath, presented on red velvet, could be read on the left; a command from Stalin and the portraits of Lenin and Stalin were displayed on the right. In the middle were brochures, books “about our proletarian commanders,” a topographical map, and a political world map, in addition to a checker set and dominos. Ayzenberg explained how soldiers used the case’s contents:
This is how it works: one group takes a map, hangs it up, and circles with a finger the cities that our bombers and the German bombers are attacking. The soldiers show interest in other military theaters. They ask what’s happening in Tunisia,153 and so on. Another group is playing checkers, another is reading brochures, riddles, and songs—soldiers are laughing cheerfully. Serious brochures are being read in the corner. Also in the briefcase there are envelopes and paper, so they take paper and put together a newsletter. There is also a large mirror. Sometimes when you got it out a line would form up: one would ask to take a look, another would say ‘I think I need a shave, let me see.’ In the heat of such work the agitator asks for attention and conducts a ten- or fifteen-minute talk or reads an interesting article. We had one of these in each regiment. That’s how we used it: I would come to the 1st Battalion headquarters, leave them the briefcase for a day, then take it to the 2nd Battalion, and so on.154
The political officers taught soldiers what they were fighting for and what motivated the enemy. They exploited Stalingrad’s symbolic capital, spinning the battle into a world-historical event with the aid of voices from the international press. Even a “person with a modicum of awareness knew that the enemy wanted to encircle our capital from the east, take the Volga, take our oil sources—Baku. We knew that thanks to the work of political officers,” remarked Senior Sergeant Mitrofan Karpushin of the 39th Guards Rifle Division. Karpushin then explained how the information reached him and the other soldiers: “We still were able to read newspapers, albeit by fits and starts. There were enough newspapers for each soldier. We were reading the division and army newspaper, the central newspaper Pravda and Red Star. The latter two were particularly numerous. When there was fighting, the newspapers would arrive seven or eight days late. I always managed to take a look at the front page. There was enough light: transformer oil was available—as much as you needed.”155
In addition to emphasizing the historical importance of the battle of Stalingrad, political officers provided information about combat operations in the surrounding region to give all soldiers a sense of active participation. “I have to say,” Major Serov observed, “that even when it was reported that, say, Gorshechnaya railway station or Urazovo railway junction was taken, even such minor victories made people happy. [ . . . ] When they hear or read in a bulletin that our guys have advanced even a little bit there was this feeling: ‘we are gaining ground.’ And when rapid advances like in the North Caucasus began, that’s when folks really cheered up. Enthusiasm was plainly visible: ‘so it’s like that—they are pummeling them there, aren’t we just as good? Let’s get started!’”
Soldiers of the 284th Rifle Division receive letters and newspapers in Stalingrad, 1942.