There are two Marshal Zhukovs. One is the revered hero of World War II, the greatest Russian military commander of the twentieth century, whose glorious exploits have been honored by the establishment in 1994 of the highly prestigious Russian Order of Zhukov. The other is the reluctant postwar politician Zhukov, who was dragged into Khrushchev’s game and outwitted by the clever manipulator. The sad story of that lost game will be reluctantly told later, in the Khrushchev subsection, in the entry Politics And Marshal Arts.
It is much better to dwell on Zhukov’s erstwhile glory than on his later humiliation. After all, this man has been an authentic Russian legend, and only as such should he go down in history. My father's published memoirs of him are therefore completely appropriate in painting a glowing picture, for the benefit of Russia’s monumental history. In his treatment, a real hero receives a hero’s due.---
“…When the events at Khalkhyn Gol began, a commander was needed who, no matter what, regardless of inadequate preparation, inferior troop numbers, unfamiliar terrain, etc., not only would attack the Japanese and break them, but would instill horror in them, too. Stalin asked, “Who?” Timoshenko said, “There is one such cavalry man in Belarus, Zhukov.” Voroshilov seconded the motion, everybody else said yes, here was an audacious commander. So, Zhukov it was. Molotov (later) said: “Zhukov accomplished the mission better than anybody expected. And nobody ever forgot that.”
He was of course much more than a brilliant desperado who could ride a horse better than anybody else. He was also a great strategic thinker. General Mikhail Milstein (see my later entry Father Frost) tells the story of how, having received military intelligence during the war, Zhukov suddenly started asking questions, and when Milstein attempted to answer them, he told him to shut up: “I am not talking to you,” he said, “I am talking to clever Hans Kluge.” (Field Marshal Günther von Kluge, nicknamed der kluge Hans, clever Hans, commanded the Fourth German Army in the Operation Barbarossa.) Milstein explained Zhukov’s eccentricity by the latter’s desire to get into the head of his enemy and find out what the enemy thinks. “Kluge is smart, he is a master of the rules of combat. So, I’ll take those rules and shove them in his mug!” This was by no means bravado. It is a historical fact that in the desperate Battle of Moscow in the winter of 1941 Zhukov, indeed, outsmarted von Kluge.
Prior to the Battle of Moscow, in August 1941, Zhukov and Stalin had a famous confrontation over the fate of Kiev, which has led some historians to deduce that Zhukov fell out of Stalin’s graces right there and then. Nothing is farther from the truth, however. Stalin respected men who honestly and fearlessly expressed their opinion, that is, spoke truth to power. On the contrary, he deeply mistrusted, and ultimately destroyed, those who were disingenuously trying to flatter or placate him. So, here is the true story of their famous quarrel:
Zhukov insisted that the Soviet Army must abandon Kiev and regroup elsewhere, to avoid the imminent and massive encirclement of the Soviet troops by the Germans, which was bound to result in a colossal military catastrophe. Stalin firmly overruled him, and the result was exactly the catastrophe predicted by Zhukov. Stalin, however, made sure that Zhukov understood the reasons behind his decision. From the military standpoint, he said, Zhukov was absolutely right, and had the military factor been the only one under consideration here, Stalin would have deferred to Zhukov’s expert opinion. But Stalin was a statesman, and he had to consider the political factor in this situation. Abandoning Kiev, even if it was indeed the best military decision, would be sending a very wrong political message to Ukraine and to all other Soviet Republics. What would they all think? That the Russians were not willing to fight for the other nationalities of the USSR? That would be exactly our message, he said. No, he went on, let there be a catastrophe, and we should really welcome such a catastrophe now, to demonstrate to every non-Russian citizen of the USSR that the Russians are willing to spill their blood, even if it takes a million Russian lives, but they would rather die than abandon their non-Russian brothers and sisters in the hour of our common national tragedy.
They say that Zhukov genuinely teared up, and deferred to Stalin’s statesmanship, and they parted as friends and comrades.
Near the end of the war, in April 1945, Marshal Zhukov was given the honor of commanding the Armies of the First Belorussian Front, assigned to take Berlin, and after the capitulation of Germany, in June 1945, riding a white horse (and nobody looked better on a horse than he did!) he received the Victory Parade in Moscow on Stalin’s behalf. Whatever negative can be said about him, Comrade Stalin wasn’t petty. He was big enough to understand that there was no better man in Russia to receive the historic Parade on horseback than Russia’s great national hero Marshal Georgi Konstantinovich Zhukov.
It is much better to dwell on Zhukov’s erstwhile glory than on his later humiliation. After all, this man has been an authentic Russian legend, and only as such should he go down in history. My father's published memoirs of him are therefore completely appropriate in painting a glowing picture, for the benefit of Russia’s monumental history. In his treatment, a real hero receives a hero’s due.---
“…When the events at Khalkhyn Gol began, a commander was needed who, no matter what, regardless of inadequate preparation, inferior troop numbers, unfamiliar terrain, etc., not only would attack the Japanese and break them, but would instill horror in them, too. Stalin asked, “Who?” Timoshenko said, “There is one such cavalry man in Belarus, Zhukov.” Voroshilov seconded the motion, everybody else said yes, here was an audacious commander. So, Zhukov it was. Molotov (later) said: “Zhukov accomplished the mission better than anybody expected. And nobody ever forgot that.”
He was of course much more than a brilliant desperado who could ride a horse better than anybody else. He was also a great strategic thinker. General Mikhail Milstein (see my later entry Father Frost) tells the story of how, having received military intelligence during the war, Zhukov suddenly started asking questions, and when Milstein attempted to answer them, he told him to shut up: “I am not talking to you,” he said, “I am talking to clever Hans Kluge.” (Field Marshal Günther von Kluge, nicknamed der kluge Hans, clever Hans, commanded the Fourth German Army in the Operation Barbarossa.) Milstein explained Zhukov’s eccentricity by the latter’s desire to get into the head of his enemy and find out what the enemy thinks. “Kluge is smart, he is a master of the rules of combat. So, I’ll take those rules and shove them in his mug!” This was by no means bravado. It is a historical fact that in the desperate Battle of Moscow in the winter of 1941 Zhukov, indeed, outsmarted von Kluge.
Prior to the Battle of Moscow, in August 1941, Zhukov and Stalin had a famous confrontation over the fate of Kiev, which has led some historians to deduce that Zhukov fell out of Stalin’s graces right there and then. Nothing is farther from the truth, however. Stalin respected men who honestly and fearlessly expressed their opinion, that is, spoke truth to power. On the contrary, he deeply mistrusted, and ultimately destroyed, those who were disingenuously trying to flatter or placate him. So, here is the true story of their famous quarrel:
Zhukov insisted that the Soviet Army must abandon Kiev and regroup elsewhere, to avoid the imminent and massive encirclement of the Soviet troops by the Germans, which was bound to result in a colossal military catastrophe. Stalin firmly overruled him, and the result was exactly the catastrophe predicted by Zhukov. Stalin, however, made sure that Zhukov understood the reasons behind his decision. From the military standpoint, he said, Zhukov was absolutely right, and had the military factor been the only one under consideration here, Stalin would have deferred to Zhukov’s expert opinion. But Stalin was a statesman, and he had to consider the political factor in this situation. Abandoning Kiev, even if it was indeed the best military decision, would be sending a very wrong political message to Ukraine and to all other Soviet Republics. What would they all think? That the Russians were not willing to fight for the other nationalities of the USSR? That would be exactly our message, he said. No, he went on, let there be a catastrophe, and we should really welcome such a catastrophe now, to demonstrate to every non-Russian citizen of the USSR that the Russians are willing to spill their blood, even if it takes a million Russian lives, but they would rather die than abandon their non-Russian brothers and sisters in the hour of our common national tragedy.
They say that Zhukov genuinely teared up, and deferred to Stalin’s statesmanship, and they parted as friends and comrades.
Near the end of the war, in April 1945, Marshal Zhukov was given the honor of commanding the Armies of the First Belorussian Front, assigned to take Berlin, and after the capitulation of Germany, in June 1945, riding a white horse (and nobody looked better on a horse than he did!) he received the Victory Parade in Moscow on Stalin’s behalf. Whatever negative can be said about him, Comrade Stalin wasn’t petty. He was big enough to understand that there was no better man in Russia to receive the historic Parade on horseback than Russia’s great national hero Marshal Georgi Konstantinovich Zhukov.
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