When Mainz entered the city of Moscow, the scene that greeted him was far from optimistic. The streets were sparsely populated, and a bleak atmosphere hung in the air. Moscow's population at that time was no more than four or five hundred thousand — not insignificant, yet the city still felt eerily empty. The war had dealt a heavier blow to the Soviet people's livelihood and economy than he had anticipated.
"Colonel Mainz, welcome to the Soviet Union. You are the highest-ranking foreign guest to visit us so far."
The middle-aged official who greeted him spoke with deliberate politeness. Mainz raised an eyebrow at the remark and replied with a faint smile:
"I assume you don't count those rather unpopular Allied generals in that statement, do you?"
Indeed, the Allied intervention had drawn in men of far higher rank than Mainz, so strictly speaking, he was neither the first nor the highest-ranking foreigner to set foot in Soviet territory. Yet their purposes were different. The Allies had come to tear down the Bolshevik regime. Mainz, on the other hand, had arrived under the guise of diplomacy.
The official hesitated briefly, then quickly recovered, smiling as he answered:
"When jackals come, they bring their shotguns. When friends arrive, we bring out the good wine. Colonel, you are a friend — not a jackal."
Mainz nodded, accepting the explanation, though he still found the man oddly familiar. He could not place him, yet suspected he must be a figure of importance within the Soviet government.
Finally, the translator leaned in and clarified:
"Allow me to introduce: this is Comrade Leon Trotsky, member of the Soviet Committee and head of the Red Army."
Mainz blinked in surprise. This man is Trotsky?
In later generations, Trotsky's name would never shine as brightly as Lenin's, Stalin's, or even Khrushchev's. But at this moment in history, Trotsky's position was formidable — commander of the Red Army and Chairman of the Revolutionary Military Council. For a time, his power even eclipsed Lenin's.
That he later became a "forgotten man" was only because he lost the brutal struggle against Joseph Stalin. Exiled from the Soviet Union, he wandered the world, attempted to build the Fourth International, and was ultimately assassinated in Mexico. His fall from power was dramatic, yet here, in Moscow in those early years, Trotsky was still a man of immense influence.
Mainz studied him with curiosity. To be honest, he did not hold Trotsky in high regard. Trotsky had been dealt an excellent hand — Lenin himself had intended him as heir to the revolution — but indecision and hesitation cost him the chance. Stalin seized the moment, and Trotsky lost everything.
The rivalry between the two men had scarred Soviet politics. Even after Trotsky's exile, his supporters remained numerous enough that Stalin unleashed the infamous Great Purge to crush them. The purge, of course, went far beyond Trotsky's faction — Stalin used it to eliminate all rivals, consolidate absolute power, and terrify the Soviet Union into obedience. Yet in doing so, he weakened the state and its military, paving the way for the German Reich's eventual invasion.
Mainz's mind turned to a dangerous idea: What if Trotsky had been given support at the time of his expulsion? Would the Soviet Union have collapsed into a second civil war?
For Germany, such a scenario would have been a golden opportunity. A divided Soviet Union could never resist the advance of the Reich's million-strong army.
Perhaps, Mainz thought, cultivating ties with Trotsky could still pay dividends. If Trotsky somehow reclaimed leadership from Stalin, so much the better. An indecisive rival ruling Moscow would be the Reich's greatest advantage.
"Colonel," Trotsky asked carefully, "may I inquire what weapons and equipment your army still possesses? If possible, I would like to know where matters stand. It will help us plan our future procurement."
Trotsky, unaware of Mainz's private musings, was probing him cautiously. Soviet intelligence already knew that Germany had left behind a stockpile of arms after the war. Yet with the Allied powers carting away much of it, Moscow had no clear sense of what Berlin still controlled.
For now, Germany was the only country willing to provide the Soviets with weapons. Securing a steady supply of German arms could be decisive. The old Tsarist arsenals were filled with outdated and unreliable equipment — anyone who had handled the old Maxim machine guns knew their flaws. German weaponry, by contrast, was modern and dependable. For Soviet troops facing Cossack cavalry and White Army remnants, such arms could be invaluable.
Mainz answered with deliberate calm:
"According to our current procurement plan, we can guarantee supply for at least three years. Your task is only to ensure that the transport routes remain safe."
But privately, Mainz had already lost confidence in the safety of those routes.
If the Reich's dealings with the Soviet Union ever came to light, both sides would face serious repercussions. The Entente powers had already established a commission to monitor German disarmament and arms production. Should they discover that Berlin was secretly selling weapons to Moscow, the consequences would be disastrous.
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