The Sledgehammers

(In 1946 nearly half of the world was either a colony or occupied territory of another country. The Soviet Union actively participated in most of the world’s liberation movements. By 1975 few colonies remained.)

Moscow, Oct. 1945

Alexi Dzerzhinsky fidgeted in his padded chair. He couldn’t decide if he was nervous or if his back just hurt again. He wondered if his old bones might just collapse into his desk chair. When he felt this way, he tended to throw the seat cushion against the farthest wall of his office until his back pain demanded the cushion’s return. A cigarette smoldered in his right hand as he hunched over to open yet another field report. He hated growing old. He wanted to carry out operations, not plan them. He heard a firm, loud, but restrained knock on his heavy office door.

“Come.”

“Tovarisch General. I have orders to report.”

“Name!” barked Gen. Dzerzhinsky without looking up.

“Armstrong. Major Paul Armstrong, Comrade General.”

“Ah. The man who ended the war!” shouted Gen. Dzerzhinsky with a slight chuckle, as he raised his head and pushed back his chair to greet a genuine hero of the Red Army and the Soviet Union.

“The honor goes to the men in my command, Comrade General,” said the young man standing at attention in front of him, a large manila envelope tucked neatly under his left arm. His uniform arranged perfectly and well pressed.

“Don’t be modest, Major. Your seizure of the Hailar bridge will be studied at the officer academy for years to come … and your assault on the Japanese communications center was a stroke of genius.”

“Thank you, sir,” interjected Major Armstrong rapidly, hoping the conversation might move on. General Dzerzhinsky stood and walked around his large desk to greet the young soldier. Paul Armstrong found himself shaking hands with a hero of the revolution and legendary intelligence officer, now a shrunken old man with an obviously bad back but whose dark eyes danced agelessly.

“Not so fast, young man. Our forces sliced through the Japanese army with remarkable speed thanks to you. They say it ended the war at least two weeks sooner. Think of the lives saved. I know the Americans credit their bombs. But our Japanese prisoners credit, well, you, not that they know your name.”

“The credit goes to the unit. Their bravery was extraordinary.”

Gen. Dzerzhinsky looked at the young officer standing at attention in front him, as he took his seat. The major was below 30, tall, muscular, no visible scars. He had the most unique face. In one instance, he looked like the Spanish comrades the general fought alongside in the 1930s. In another instant, he looked like a prince of Africa. In another instant, he looked like an English lord. He had read the file and seen photos but seeing in person was another matter.

“Have a seat, major.”

“Thank you, sir. Here is the folder I was asked to give you.” The general gestured for him to put the file on his desk.

“Major Armstrong, you see the map behind my desk. What does it show?”

“The world, sir?” answered the major cautiously.

“Well, yes, but it’s what the map shows about our world that matters.”

“Sir?”

“We have just ended the greatest war in the history of mankind. Some 20 million of our own people have died, including, so I understand your parents. My sympathies.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“They died in one of the Moscow bombing raids, yes?”

“Yes, sir. All the comrades in their building and the next three

buildings died in that attack.”

“That’s a pity. Back to my map, eh? Look at it! I mean look at it!”

“Sir?”

“Even after such a war, just look at how many lands are occupied by imperialists and kindred spirits – China, India, all of Africa, much of Asia. More than half the world’s population lives under the iron fist of imperialists, mostly European imperialists … and that is going to change.”

“Yes, comrade General.”

“Let me be clear. We are going to change this. You and me.”

“I hope so.”

“I don’t speak in abstractions, son. We know the imperialists are weak, very weak. The Dutch are so weak that they begged the Japanese to continue running the Dutch East Indies for them. It’s crazy – the Japanese went from conquerors to colonial overseers overnight … poof,” said the general breaking into a dry laugh before continuing, “The Portuguese and the Belgians are just as weak, maybe weaker.”

He turned his back to the map and looked straight at the young soldier.

“They are all weak, major. The French just need a little shove, and they will lose everything. Everything. The British are only just a little bit stronger, but they are weak, too. Mark my word – with our help, all of these enslaved people will be liberated and liberated very soon. We are the catalyst; everything else is in place. It’s already there, begging us to act.”

Major Armstrong maintained his serious posture with a straight back and level head, but in his mind, he wondered why exactly he was here in this old general’s dusty office.

“Once these lands are free, then we can begin liberating the imperialists’ lands themselves. We are already working on this, of course, but it will be a much easier task once more than half the world has been liberated. Mark my word – not one these enslaved lands will remain an imperialist possession 30 years from now. Not one! It will be a remarkable transition. China will be liberated very soon, and India is on its way.”

“Yes, sir,” said Major Armstrong, still wondering where this conservation was going and why he was here.

“Ancient Sparta. You’ve heard of them surely, but do you know what Sparta did when its friends asked for help, major?”

“No, sir. I do not,” said Paul, wondering why this distinguished old general was quizzing him about ancient history.

“They sent one soldier, usually a general. Just one soldier, but a soldier who was one of their best. To lead, to plan, to train, to act!”

“I see.”

“Maybe not. That’s why you’re here.”

“Sir?”

“We have much to do and not many resources to do it with. But we have brains, brawn, discipline, and talent. What we propose to do is to send some of our best people in small groups to help the liberators in these enslaved lands free themselves … and that’s why you’re here.”

“Sir?”

“I have read your record. You would be a perfect Spartan to send to our long-suffering friends and allies abroad.”

“You would like me to become a spy?”

“No. Not a spy. Much more than a spy, major. Much more than a spy. You will be a sledgehammer of liberation.”

“I’m not sure I follow, sir.”

“We have spies who collect intelligence; spies who do espionage; spies who do this, and spies who do that. They’re all useful comrades. But what we need now is something different. Something new.”

“Sir?”

“We need liberators, catalysts of liberation … warriors to take a sledgehammer to imperialism. Your task will be to aid our friends in any way you can and to crack the imperialists open, crack them wide open. Your missions will be active, very active.”

“Yes, sir,” answered the young major, still puzzled but less so.

“Look, son. I know just about everything about you. I know you were born in Harlem in the USA. I know your parents were actors who fled to Moscow in the 1920s to avoid continued racial and political persecution. I know you were named Paul after your father’s friend the actor Paul Robeson. I know you graduated from engineering school just before the war began. I know your parents, your girlfriend, and nearly everyone you know died during the war. I know you were decorated for actions against the Nazis and decorated again for actions against the Japanese. I know that you’ve been a party member for some years. I also know … or rather suspect … that at the end of this crazy and absurd war, you wonder what to do next.”

“That is an exceptional summary, Comrade General,” said the major, thinking about Irena for the first in months, just when he thought her memory was laid to rest and buried. The general had identified the emptiness he felt now that the war was over - when there was no one to welcome him home and really nothing left for him to dream about. He thought about how he felt about the Germans and the Japanese. He didn’t hate them, but he hated everything they stood for - their goal to stifle and abuse their fellow man. He was a child when his parents left the US, but he heard all their stories. He hated the kind of thinking that drove the impulse to abuse and exploit. Only on occasion had he sought vengeance against the Nazis and even less often against the Japanese. But he felt a fire burning inside him. He was surprised he hadn't sensed it earlier. He wondered if maybe he had kept his outrage in the dark because he couldn't do anything about it. He also wondered how this old general had made him recognize his anger with just a few well-placed words.

Gen. Dzerzhinsky studied the young man sitting in front of him. He could almost read his mind. He could see a change in his eyes. He recognized those eyes from his own youth. He knew the look of outrage. He had been right about Paul Armstrong.

“You agree to this mission, Mayor Armstrong? To join us? Without reservation?”

“Absolutely, comrade.”

The general had guessed correctly. Men like Paul had lost nearly everything in the war. They could either build new lives from scratch. Or they could keep fighting. Maybe their outrage would be satisfied someday. But Gen. Dzerzhinsky doubted this would happen, as it had never happened to him. He was just as angry now as he was in 1917 or for that matter any year since 1911.

“Good. Your special training begins this afternoon.”

“Sir? If I may ask, what is the measure of success for this mission?”

“You and your comrades will be sledgehammers. The sledgehammers of history. We will break everything up as it is now. The world begs us to break it up so it can reorder itself. To break the chains. It is happening already. We will make it happen faster and faster.”

“And we will also spread the party ideology?”

“Yes. But that is not our main focus. Our belief – my belief, certainly – is that the dialectic is inevitable. It is a force of nature. It is inevitable. Once the enslaved are free, some may gravitate back to their captors and their ways of exploitation. Some of the formerly enslaved may enslave their comrades.”

“I can see that.”

“But not in the long run. In the long run, these newly free people will realize that their imperial masters offered nothing but self-serving half-truths and hollow lies. Once they pass through this phase, then they will come around to our way of thinking. It is inevitable. This might take 100 years or maybe 200 years – but it will happen. Unlike the imperialists, we focus on the long-term, not the short turn. The imperialists never look past their own lifespans. Greed is always individual and personal but people die. We are about something else. We are about something that endures.”

“If I may, I agree completely, sir.”

“Good. I understand from your record that you speak English and Spanish.”

“Yes, sir.”

“American English or British English?”

“Mostly American but with some thought, I can also do British.”

“Good. Spanish?”

“Yes. I probably sound Cuban.”

“Excellent. From your mother?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re probably wondering why we don’t just send you back to the United States.”

“That had crossed my mind.”

“You will go back. Someday. But not now. We think you’ll be much more valuable to us taking a sledgehammer to the imperialist’s colonies first.”

“Sir, may I ask a question that is not intended to be impertinent but might sound that way?”

“Go ahead. I might not answer, of course.”

“I understand that the Americans are now turning out atomic bombs in factories and may soon wipe us off the face of the earth without hesitation or warning. I don’t want to know what we’re doing, but may I ask if we are doing something?”

“That’s not impertinent, major. Yes, at the moment, the Americans are working quickly to have enough atomic bombs to destroy our armies and turn our cities into smoldering ashes like they did in Japan. Given a chance, they will do this to us in an instant and with no hesitation … and they will come up with some excuse later that no one will dare question … not because they believe the excuse but because the world is afraid of calling the Americans liars. Yes, major. We know this. And, yes. We are working on it. American history shows that given a chance, they will inflict the most vicious injuries against anyone who stands in their way and then claim at it was the victim’s fault – from its indigenous inhabitants to your African ancestors and beyond.”

“Thank you for putting my mind at ease, Comrade General.”

“Thank you, major. Please see Captain Zhukova in the office at the end of the hallway. He has your orders, your billet sheets, and anything else you will need before your training begins. We welcome you, major. Everything I have read you says that you are exceptional comrade! Welcome to our group, sledgehammer!” exclaimed the General, standing to shake the major’s hand.

“Thank you for the assignment, general. I will do my best.” Paul Armstrong wondered for a second what exactly he had just said “yes” to, but then, under the circumstances, he couldn’t think of anything better to do. He just wished he could tell Irina about his new assignment, a thought that made him conscious again of his outrage.