I Became Stalin?!

Chapter 81:

The Soviet army had many enemies to torment them.

After the operation “Storm of Decay” that wiped out the rotting officers, the soldiers became more vigilant and managed to suppress some of the internal threats.

But the Soviet army still had to suffer from various foes.

“Comrade Secretary, here is the report you ordered.”

“Hmm… Okay, good work.”

One enemy that they could not defeat until modern times. It was PTSD.

In fact, in real history or even now, the Great Patriotic War did not cause much PTSD.

Of course, compared to later wars.

One might ask if it was because medical advances were slow and they could not diagnose it, but it was said that the belief that they fought against the evil fascists who invaded their homeland prevented a lot of PTSD.

They say there is a world of difference between having a justification for the same shock from killing and being killed and not having one.

During the Great Patriotic War, the Soviet army clearly defeated the devilish German army ‘fairly’ and eventually won, receiving praise from the people and national commemoration and support, so they were relatively free from PTSD problems.

Relatively speaking.

Psychiatry was still in its infancy, and soldiers who showed PTSD symptoms and trembled were often punished as cowards and defeatists.

There were times when political officers who were sent to prevent this led the punishment.

“Not all of our people are brave, but not all soldiers can show steel-like toughness in front of shock. They are human beings made of flesh and blood, and they have sensitive minds. We must understand that point.”

Until modern psychiatric drugs such as SSRIs were developed, they had to rely on other methods of psychotherapy, mainly creating a psychological support system.

Usually, soldiers were known to overcome PTSD through camaraderie, empathy and support within the group, and those who were isolated from this system had a higher chance of getting PTSD.

Political officers assigned to platoon and company units received orders to solve the psychological and social problems of ‘loner’ soldiers in the organization.

It seemed like they were resentful of making political officers do such things, taking care of social misfits.

But they had to do what the secretary ordered.

Also, various events that could support the soldiers were also held under the responsibility of political officers.

“Thank you, ladies!”

“Thank you!”

Among them, the most popular one was mobilizing children from nearby elementary schools.

“Thank you for protecting our area, our neighborhood!”

The children who wrote letters of thanks with their cute handwriting visited the troops, greeted the soldiers, held hands and sang songs.

It seemed to work well even for the blunt and emotionless Soviet soldiers.

The soldiers cried, and the children hugged the crying soldiers and comforted them.

After the children left, the soldiers cried together for a while and then ran to the front line with courage the next day.

When it was reported that a political officer who suggested something like ‘free hugs’ was promoted by two ranks as a reward, the number of units that brought in local school children for free hugs increased rapidly.

For example, 2nd Battalion of 8672 Regiment of 392nd Rifle Division of 53rd Field Army belonging to Northern Front was connected with 3rd Class of 4th Grade of Pushkin 5th Elementary School.

The soldiers of 2nd Battalion could receive several letters from 4th grade 3rd class children, and political officers of battalion and company read each letter to the soldiers.

“To the soldier uncles! Hello uncle? My name is Ivan Semenov. I am grateful for protecting our city…”

The soldiers of 1st Company of 2nd Battalion all smiled brightly as they took a group photo taken by a photographer belonging to division.

“One, two, three! Stalin!”

“Staliiiiin!”

This photo was printed and sent to 4th grade 3rd class children, and the children wrote what they wanted to say under a large poster paper with this photo attached.

‘To soldier uncle, thank you. I am touched by hearing stories of soldier uncles who are always suffering for our country while protecting our city. My brother also went to army like uncle and I hope he is healthy. Natasha Petrov.’

When poster paper or rolling paper was delivered, a bunch of kids held up poster paper with big smiles and waved their hands in photo attached with it.

“Hey! Hey! Sasha Private!”

“Yes! Private Alexander Baranov!”

“You can read letters right? Read this for me.”

The soldiers gathered around those who could read well and cried or laughed as they read down small letters sent by children.

“Did you read it all? Then come here and write a letter.”

“Hey is this written right? Damn… Writing is so hard… I should have studied harder.”

The soldiers who could write well were dragged around by ignorant old-timers who wanted to write back to children and had to teach them letters, and political officers watched this phenomenon with a warm smile.

Also, for emotional stability, they were encouraged to draw pictures, write, or make song lyrics or play music.

“Everyone! Submit your works to the political officer of your unit by February 15th!”

Political officers selected ‘exemplary’ artworks made by soldiers for each division and regiment and hung them on bulletin board of barracks, and soldiers who showed talent in music gathered and held small concerts under the leadership of commander or political officer when they were not in combat or guard duty.

With the tacit consent of the higher authorities, writing tools for writing, sketchbooks for drawing, and instruments for playing music were given to each unit in a certain amount.

Of course, there had to be some carrots to encourage the soldiers.

There was always a reward, big or small, for excellent works.

A small reward was one kilogram of American Hershey chocolate for the soldier and the platoon where the soldier belonged, and in case of very outstanding achievements, promotion or admission to political officer candidate training course.

“Hmm? This guy is…?”

“Yes? Oh! He is one of the authors of the work that was selected as the best work in the literary contest. His name is… Alexander Solzhenitsyn. He is an artillery captain who wrote in his spare time and won the prize.”

…? What? Why is my brother there?

One of the most prominent anti-system writers in Soviet Union, Solzhenitsyn was nominated as a candidate for the best award in a program to award ‘exemplary socialist soldier literature’ and came up to me.

I, that is, Stalin, had a talent for literature since I was young.

I wrote poems in Georgian that were good enough to be included in Georgian textbooks.

Maybe that’s why they sent me these works and asked me to select the winner… And of all the names, I noticed Solzhenitsyn’s.

“The title is… ‘One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich’?”

“Y-yes, that’s right.”

‘What? Did he already go to a camp? That can’t be…?’

There was no mention of that in the brief biography that was attached to the literary work.

It would be hard for someone who had been dragged to the Gulag to be an officer anyway… Hmm.

Surely the people below had read and filtered them, so they must be ‘exemplary’ works, right?

“Hmm… This is a very well-written piece.”

“Thank you, Comrade Secretary. It’s thanks to your guidance that the soldiers have such excellent literary skills.”

I skimmed through it and saw that the protagonist, ‘Ivan Denisovich’, was a war hero who had returned from a German prisoner-of-war camp, not a Soviet Gulag.

I don’t know where he heard it from, but he wrote about the cruel and irrational things that happened in the German camp in a calm and refined style.

He didn’t write with anger, but with plainness, sometimes with humor, the facts as they were -and therefore more harsh- from the perspective of an ordinary Soviet citizen. I was moved by his writing as I read it.

“But is this all true?”

At first I thought Hitler had possessed someone from the future like me, but there were evidences that kept making me doubt that.

There were similar reports from the NKVD, but… The rumors that circulated might have been caught by the rumor collectors, and Solzhenitsyn might have heard them too.

Anyway, I had to admit his imagination.

It was imagination, right? Surely?

“Hmm. I like this work.”

“Yes! Thank you, Comrade Secretary.”

After choosing Solzhenitsyn as the winner, I had to think of a way to deal with PTSD.

Rolling paper, free hug, recreation…

There were some ideas that the soldiers would like, but most of the traditionalists said this.

Well, I had experienced it too and it was fine.

The recreation was very ‘technology-intensive’, as befits the Soviet Union that believed in the advancement of technology.

It was impossible in the front-line units because of safety issues, but in the rear units there were mobile units called ‘movie units’.

These movie units carried screens, projectors, popcorn and other things on trucks and showed movies for the soldiers.

On the day when the movie unit came, when it was dark at night, the soldiers would sit tightly and wait for them to start the movie.

The most cunning soldier would pop popcorn while eating a handful himself, and when the rookie turned on the projector after setting it up, the soldiers would cheer.

“Wow!”

[Produced by -Soviet Central Literature Committee-]

Of course, when the intro of the movie started playing, the outdoor theater became quiet as a mouse.

Sometimes a soldier who had to pee would get up and block the screen with his shadow, causing jeers and shouts, and sometimes small violence would erupt. But the soldiers watched movies and laughed and cried.

“Hahaha! Look at that fascist bastard!”

“Mom… I miss you…”

The movies that the movie unit showed were naturally propaganda movies for military units.

There were movies like <Saving Private Lev> or <Happy Comrades> that mixed action and propaganda well. There were also historical movies like <The Great Founding>, <The Party Feat> that beautifully glorified Lenin and Soviet history.

Stalin himself intervened in the Culture Ministry’s attempt to censor any suggestive scenes.

The soldiers couldn’t sleep on those nights.

[Son, it’s cold outside. Are you doing well? We are fine. Your sister decided to go to middle school this year. Don’t worry about us and fight your best for the people. Sob sob, take care… Come back safely…]

Sometimes they showed a collection of video letters from parents to their children.

The soldiers couldn’t sleep for a different reason then.

“Mother! Father!”

On a bright moonlit night, soldiers who missed their hometowns and parents would go outside their barracks and look at the sky and call their parents’ names.

The political officer would comfort them and tell them to write letters to their parents in the morning and go back to sleep.