I Became Stalin?!

Chapter 75

“Yes, Comrade Secretary!”

They all seemed to like movies.

Even my bodyguards, who looked like they could run across the frozen Siberian plains, wrestle with polar bears, and chew on logs, had smiles on their grim faces.

Maybe it was because they were young, but they seemed to prefer American movies that had visual effects and naked women, even if they couldn’t understand a word, over Soviet movies that were serious, boring, and full of moral lessons.

To be honest, I felt the same way. Having lived in Korea, a “colony of the imperialists”, for over 20 years, I could understand English well enough to enjoy American-British movies more than the others who couldn’t speak a single word.

If they brought some French art films that were incomprehensible and sleep-inducing, or action movies that were so poorly directed that they were laughable to me who had lived in the 2010s, I liked comedy or erotic movies made in America the best.

Since it still didn’t work well, I had to be satisfied with watching. 

I reduced my alcohol intake and exercised a bit, and it seemed to improve slightly… Ahem. Anyway, Stalin’s original taste didn’t seem to be like that, but tastes can change too! Respect my preferences!

“Today’s movie is…”

Ah, shit.

Bolsakov, should I purge him?

He didn’t seem to be a suitable candidate for the Minister of Culture. He couldn’t figure out what kind of movies the Secretary liked and show him something interesting… He was trembling…

The others seemed to have similar thoughts. 

No matter how hard he tried to interpret the characters’ dialogue in broken English, Bolsakov’s forehead was dripping with sweat.

“Uh… A person is flying. He opens a door. There is someone inside.”

But that was impossible! 

He could barely understand the story by memorizing it beforehand, let alone explain it. 

Well, I could understand English well enough to watch it.

He must have sensed that the reaction was not good, because his face was so red that it could be seen under the dim movie theater lights.

But he brought popcorn and cola, so I’ll give him some credit. 

The bureaucrats who had to bring in consumer goods for the people through lend-lease were wondering what to bring in, and they came up with a very simple method. 

They would go to America and try everything they had there once and then pick out what they liked and request for mass production-purchase.

Among the things they selected were Coca-Cola that Zhukov loved so much, Hershey’s chocolate products that drove the soldiers crazy, and popcorn that sneaked in between.

By the Secretary’s stern order, the Kremlin’s high-ranking officials tasted the popcorn that was fried with butter and salt and looked forward to it every time there was a movie. 

Bolsakov, who had some sense, even brought in a popcorn machine and put it in the back of the movie theater.

Now a bodyguard with an arm as thick as my thigh was running the machine behind me and stuffing popcorn into his mouth.

As I ate, I missed snacks like butter-fried squid, corn pop, nachos and cheese that I used to eat at movie theaters… But for health reasons, I tried not to order them for my subordinates.

I can’t eat them because of cholesterol, but if my subordinates are munching on butter-fried squid…

‘I really wanted to purge him.’

“Comrade Secretary, this popcorn seems really delicious.”

“Blah blah… Yes, Comrade Secretary. How about we try growing corn, which is the raw material for popcorn, in our Soviet Union? There is a vast virgin land in Central Asia…”

They noticed that I was bored and only ate popcorn eagerly and started talking about popcorn.

But out of nowhere, Khrushchev, who was sitting next to me and ate three baskets of popcorn, brought up the topic of corn cultivation.

I felt a chill down my spine. Khrushchev went on passionately about how much richer the people’s lives would be if there were golden corn fields filling the vast plains. Some of them nodded their heads as if they agreed with his eloquent speech.

Except for those who saw my hardened face.

Wow, how come humans never change?

“Bolsakov! End the movie here.”

“Yes! Yes! Comrade Secretary.”

Bolsakov wiped the sweat off his forehead and ran away as if he had been waiting for the order. 

The others shrank back as they sensed the fierce anger in my voice. 

Khrushchev also looked bewildered and cowered on the floor.

“Fire.”

I picked up my pipe and said calmly. 

A bodyguard ran over quickly and lit my pipe tobacco.

Honestly, I thought Khrushchev was a person who had both merits and demerits in history.

The de-Stalinization campaign that Khrushchev promoted had its own contribution to the era, and the thaw-political reform that he implemented eased the terror of the Stalin era and made a better Soviet Union.

The result of the purge was not death in the Siberian gulag or massacre by the NKVD, but a moderate retirement life in the wilderness. 

This was also Khrushchev’s merit, and with this, the Soviet Union was able to get rid of the brutal political struggle that required death.

He also invested some in consumer goods and light industry production, deviating from Stalinist heavy industry bias, and improved the lives of the people. Even if that turned out to be a mistake in hindsight.

Although he was ousted by Brezhnev and Stalinism returned, and the Soviet Union entered a gray stagnation period… 

Anyway, he had that much merit.

But his demerits were also great. 

Like Mao Zedong, an ignorant illiterate who didn’t know anything about agriculture, who came from a mine worker background, he went crazy over the corn fields he saw in America and tried to grow corn in Central Asia, which was freezing cold and dry, and ruined agriculture.

He believed in pseudo-scientists like Trofim Lysenko, who talked about spring thawing and fire dragon theory… Ah! Lysenko! Pavlov!

“Let’s go back to the conference room. Khrushchev, you… be prepared.”

***

I blew out a thick gray smoke from my pipe tobacco. 

The smoke filled the room. 

I crossed my legs and silently puffed on my pipe. 

The bodyguards hardened their grim faces and glared at the people.

The culprit of the incident, Khrushchev, knelt on the floor with tears in his eyes, receiving the stares of the attendees. 

Thud, thud, thud. 

As I tapped on the table, people started to tremble one by one.

Last summer, Kulyk was executed on the spot for being a “spy”.

Even though he was a bastard, everyone knew he wasn’t a spy, but they had to watch him being executed without saying a word.

In just six months, another senior party member was publicly punished like this. The comrades and bureaucrats who had to see this were terrified.

Sigh… If you’re scared, why don’t you behave properly? 

Even if it was an era when science and technology hadn’t developed yet… No, fuck, don’t you know how cold it is in Soviet Union? If you’re unhappy, why don’t you go to the front as an infantryman?

“Dr. Lysenko has arrived, Comrade Secretary.”

“Let him in.”

Trofim Lysenko, the pseudo-scientist who contributed greatly to the downfall of the Soviet Union, opened the door of the conference room and gasped. 

His sound was clearly heard by everyone who was silent, and Lysenko received the stares of everyone.

“Dr. Lysenko. Have a seat.”

“Yes!”

He ran to his assigned seat and sat down, shrinking. 

He tried to figure out what was going on.

He realized that Khrushchev had done something terribly wrong, and he desperately racked his brain to figure out how he was involved. 

He didn’t need to do that.

“Khrushchev?”

“Yes, Comrade Secretary.”

“Come here.”

I took a puff of my pipe tobacco and exhaled. 

The smoke quickly filled the surroundings.

I could feel the heat through the handkerchief that held the pipe.

I grabbed Khrushchev’s bald head, who crawled to me on his knees and showed me the back of his head, and shook off the hot ashes on it.

Sizzle!

“Ow!”

I couldn’t see Khrushchev’s face, but it seemed like something was falling to the floor. 

Tears? Don’t cry like a baby. 

The smell of burning flesh came from the hot ashes touching his bare skin.

Everyone watched Khrushchev’s humiliation in silence. 

It must have been humiliating. 

He had risen from an illiterate miner to a high-ranking official, but now he was treated like less than human in front of everyone.

But I had to do this. 

Damn idiots.

Actually, Khrushchev was not that bad. 

He had messed up agriculture by trying to grow unsuitable crops in Soviet Union, but he quickly admitted his mistake and imported grains from abroad (mainly from America) to prevent it.

Mao Zedong didn’t even do that because of his pride, and caused a great disaster that killed millions of people by starvation.

So he launched the Great Leap Forward movement and killed tens of millions more by starvation. 

I don’t know if Mao Zedong will have that much power later, but I had to show him a lesson in advance.

Khrushchev, consider yourself lucky.

“You… If I sprinkle this tobacco on your bald head, what will grow?”

“No… Nothing, Comrade Secretary.”

“Right, it’s the land that matters. Why are you bald? Either your hair is not suitable for your scalp, or your scalp is not suitable for your hair. Isn’t it one of those two?”

Khrushchev was famous for making unfunny jokes, but the only time he succeeded in making people laugh was when he made self-deprecating jokes about his baldness.

If I teased him about his baldness like this, people would usually laugh, and Khrushchev would take it and make jokes and make the audience laugh, but no one could laugh now.

They didn’t know what was going on, but the Secretary reacted so obsessively to corn, and no one knew who would die or be sent to gulag or shot. I had already made a plan.

“But… The Americans grow corn. Their land is fertile and warm. If Turkey or Balkan countries join us, maybe… Do we have such a warm land?”

“No, Comrade Secretary.”

The breadbasket of America, the Great Plains region, where Iowa, the core of it, is roughly around 40 degrees north latitude. Compared to Soviet territory, it’s similar to the Caucasus Mountains. 

The ‘virgin land’ that Khrushchev mentioned? Ural, Volga riverbank, northern Kazakhstan… It’s over 50 degrees north latitude.

It’s farther north than Stalingrad in terms of latitude, and there’s no place in the world that can beat it in terms of coldness and dryness. 

He didn’t know anything and threw hundreds of thousands of people there and said: Grow corn! 

The idiot who pushed for it was right in front of me.

The land there could be fertile. It was one of the most untouched ‘virgin lands’ in the world, so there was some meaning in opening it up… But didn’t anyone ever think about why no one farmed there?

It wasn’t just the weather that was the problem. 

It was more of a crop problem. Corn is a C4 plant that has a different photosynthesis method from wheat, rice, or beans, and has a higher maximum efficiency of photosynthesis, but requires a lot of fertilizer and a hot and dry climate.

Maybe no one in this world knows yet, but without knowing any of these circumstances and just planting whatever they want! Lysenko said it was right! 

The blockhead who said that… Sigh…

“Corn grows in hot and dry desert climates. It’s similar to sugarcane. Can we grow sugarcane in Soviet Union?”

“No, Comrade Secretary.”

“Right, even if I sprinkle this good tobacco on your bald head instead of your hair, nothing will grow, right? It would be useful if tobacco grew at least.”

“I’m sorry! Comrade Secretary!”

Is sorry enough?

He could be purged, sent to gulag or shot for sabotaging agriculture by deliberately inducing to grow crops that are not suitable for Soviet Union.

But, I didn’t think I had to do that.

At least Khrushchev wouldn’t do that.