WW2 Spy Stories :- Operation Broken Sickle (Request by Arc)

[Stormtrooper1990]

This is the start of a new series of stories as part of a collaboration with board member Arc. He messaged me recently with a series of uniform stealing scenarios, set during World War 2 featuring spies from each of the central powers. With the UK, USA and France representing the Western Allies, the Soviet Union, and Nazi Germany, Japan and Italy rounding up the Axis. Here, it's 1942 and Operation Barbarossa is at its height the forces of Nazi Germany are fast approaching the city of Stalingrad. Nazi agent SS Obersturmführer Yuliya Von Krieger, herself a volksdeutsche, has been despached on a critical mission by Nazi High Command, the assassination of Josef Stalin. Now 15,000 ft over the Soviet Union, Yuliya prepares to embark on this risky assignment, one that many in the High Command consider a suicide mission but one that could determine the outcome of the war. This is her story...




15,000ft and 5km from Kuntsevo Dacha, Central Soviet Union, 20:00 hours, 25th September 1942.



As SS Obersturmführer Yuliya Von Krieger, sat in the interior of the Junkers Ju-52 transport aircraft, she could feel the roar of the single engine and the vibrations of the aircraft as it shook from the turbulence. But she wouldn't let any of this distract her, as she closed her eyes taking a deep breath steeling herself for the trails ahead. At 26, Yuliya was originally born Yuliya Bariatinsky the daughter of Baron Sergei Bariatinsky and Countess Hilde Von Krieger. Born into a life of privilege, Yuliya along with her family were forced to flee her native Russia following the October Revolution, and the rise of the Bolsheviks. Her family was left penniless as the Soviets took everything from them, their wealth, their pride and their dignity. Using gemstones hidden in her mother's dresses, the family fled to Hilde Von Krieger's native Germany. The wall street crash, did nothing to improve the fortunes of the now destitute family unable to find work, Yuliya's father took his own life in 1930 with very same M1896 Nagant Revolver she had holstered at her waist. Three years later, on the day Adolf Hitler ascended to Chancellor, Yuliya's mother passed from cancer. On her death bed, Yuliya swore to her mother to avenge their family name to make the Soviets pay for what they had done to their name. Adopting her late mother's name, she joined the SS where she found like minded individuals who shared her hated and disgust of the Soviet untermenschen, it didn't take much for the SS to mould her into a vicious killer. Subconsciously, she caressed the hilt of her SS dagger 13 inches of straight steel, smiling at the thought of using it to draw unclean Russian blood. She was a strikingly beautiful woman, with high sculptered cheekbones slightly squared features and narrow ice blue eyes. Her long auburn locks, tied into a sensible bun hidden under the fallschirmjäger bowl helmet swore wore. Which matched the camoflouge paratrooper overalls she wore, over plain grey SS fatigues. Taking a deep breath, Yuliya reviewed her mission she had been assigned perhaps what was the most risky yet important operation of the war, Operation Broken Sickle, the assassination of Chairman Josef Stalin. Fluent in both German and Russian, which was her mother tongue, Yuliya was the obvious choice for this mission her slavic looks would allow her to pass as a Soviet Woman. Her first objective was parachute into the Soviet Union, near Stalin's Dacha. Then after acquiring the clothing of a local woman, she was to make contact with Colonel Alexei Pushkin of the NKVD, Stalin's chief of security and their informant. From there he would secure her Infiltration into the Kuntsevo Dacha, to kill the Soviet Chairman. " Excuse me, fraulein Obersturmführer ." The voice of a young man, caused her to open her eyes. It was the Unteroffizier of the transport aircraft, dressed in a beige flightsuit and cap. She turned to look at the man. " Yes, Sergeant. What is it?" She said irritably. The man nodded his head, apologising for his untimely interruption. " Apologies, fraulein. We are just about to reach the drop zone. It is time." Taking a deep breath, Yuliya rose from the bench. " Danke, Sergeant." She shifted her parachute on her back, as she proceeded to the rear door opening it. Yuliya felt ecstasy as she felt the cool air buffet her face, sending warm feelings of exhilaration through her athletic body. " Fraulein Obersturmführer ." Next to her the young Sergeant, clicked his heels together. "Heil Hitler! And good luck." The man said as he pulled off a perfect party salute. "Heil Hitler!" Yuliya echoed as she returned the salute. Then as soon as she saw the light above the door flash green, she leapt from the plane, before the Sergeant had a change to shout "Go!" After falling a few feet, Yuliya yanked the cord of her parachute feeling the jerk behind her naval as the cream coloured chute deployed. Feeling intense exhilaration, Yuliya descended to the earth undercover of darkness.



5km from the Kuntsevo Dacha, Soviet Russia 20:10pm



Young Russian peasant Nina Solovyova cycled down the darkened path , her bike laden with a basket of food purchased from the village, taking the familiar route that she had taken many times before back to her family's farm. At the tender age of 20, Nina often made regular food runs as both her father and brothers had joined the fight against the fascist invader, leaving Nina to provide for her ailing mother suffering from a bout of coughing fits, the cause of which Nina didn't know. If we're up to her she would have joined the great struggle herself, but mother had no one else to tend for her and for Nina loyalty to blood overridden anything she felt to the party. She was a pretty girl, with short shoulder length blonde hair covered by a grey knit cap with shallow cheekbones, rounded features and big brown eyes. Nina wore a simple brown woollen jacket, grey long skirt that came to just above her ankles with simple buckled brown leather shoes. Underwhich she wore a cheap cotton shirt, with tanned stockings, suspenders with a white slip and matching white cotton briefs. While cheap and affordable, Nina's outfit was both practical and kept out the cold as it hung from her petite slim frame. Suddenly overhead, she heard the roar of engines over head, Nina crouched low over her bike her eyes widening as she followed a single white shape with a figure descending from the heavens like an angel. Watching as it landed into a nearby field, Nina peddled her bike towards the landing area. It may be an handsome pilot in need of assistance thought Nina as she quickly came upon the landing area. As she hopped off the bike, Nina approached the site seeing only one haystack and a parachute flapping in the breeze. "Hello?" Nina said nervously looking for a handsome pilot. "Are you ok? Do need any help, comrade?" The only answer she received was a gloved hand clamping over her mouth, muffling her cry of surprise, as fear shot down her spine. " Don't fear, little untermensch bitch. You die for a cause infinitely your greater." Said a female voice in perfect clipped Russian. Tears streaming down her face, Nina felt a sharp object pierce the side of her throat with a sickening stab. Her final thought before her corpse was lowered to the ground by her killer, was that she would never see her family again her mother would die without her.



Yuliya felt exhilaration and perhaps a little arousal as she murdered the young russian peasant. She knelt by the still warm corpse, caressing the lapel of her jacket. While the clothes were cheap and near Yuliya's size, they would serve as both a means to scout the area without attracting attention and for meeting with her NKVD contact. She withdrew her SS dagger from the girl's neck. "I'am not sorry, you sub human Soviet bitch. You have something I need, that is your only purpose." She said as wiped the blood from her dagger, onto her coveralls. It didn't matter to Yuliya how young the bitch was, she was just one less subhuman bitch that wouldn't be able to proliferate her spawn across the earth, one small victory for the Third Reich. After sheathing her dagger, Yuliya stripped off her clothes, including her own underwear concluding that the Russian girl's underwear would serve her better in these colder climes. Ignoring the open eyes of the dead peasant girl and the blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, Yuliya now completely naked began to strip the corpse. After removing the girl's knit cap and shoes, Yuliya leaned the body against her slipping the jacket from her shoulders taking care not to get blood on the woollen jacket, then carefully unbuttoned the dead girl's cheap shirt hinting at a white cotton slip underneath. Rolling the corpse onto her side, Yuliya unzipped the girls skirt from her rear, then pulled it loose from around her hips down her long legs revealing her stocking covered legs and slip. After completely removing the dead girl's shirt, Yuliya rolled up her slip exposing her white cotton briefs, stockings and suspenders. After unclipping the stockings from the belt, Yuliya carefully peeled them off the corpses legs one leg at a time. Once she had pulled them up her own legs, Yuliya first pulled down the suspender belt, followed by the girl's briefs exposing her small clit crowned with an untrimmed fan of golden pubic hair. Feeling no attraction to the girl whatsoever, Yuliya pulled on the stolen underwear clipping the stockings to the suspenders. Taking the slip at the shoulders, Yuliya peeled the cheap cotton underwear from the dead girl's shoulders, down her thin petite undernourished body and off at the legs. Leaving the dead peasant completely naked, her small but buoyant B-cup breasts with pink circular areolas revealed to the world. As she got dressed in the rest of the dead girl's clothing, Yulia appraised the naked corpse of the young Russian. Despite being thin, petite and a little undernourished she had looked after herself and was pretty, but she lacked the strength, the raw beauty of a German woman. Now fully dressed in her stolen clothing and letting her hair down, Yuliya dragged the naked corpse over to the parachute rolling it into the thin silk. After cocooning the corpse in the parachute, securing it with the chutes cords, Yuliya hauled it onto her shoulder carrying it over towards the haystack concealing it inside along with her German uniform and boots. With the evidence disposed of, Yuliya walked over to the girl's bicycle, carefully hiding her revolver and SS dagger inside the basket then hopped on the bike cycling away from her drop zone, towards the Dacha and her meeting with her contact.



The town of Kuntsevo, the next morning. 09:00am




Yuliya stood leaning against her bike on the corner of the street, across the street from the Kuntsevo Dacha, the personal residence of Chairman Josef Stalin. The building was an impressive three storey structure of brick and marble heavily guarded by soldiers of the Red Army. Yuliya itched slightly, the clothes she had stolen from the Russian peasant girl hung loosely on her full athletic frame, including the underwear. But Yuliya couldn't complain, her disguise had served its purpose but see would need to acquire another soon. To that effect, she stood on the corner waiting for a sign of her contact NKVD Colonel Alexei Pushkin, Stalin's chief of security a man who had lost his son to Stalin's purge of the Red Army before the war, thus leaving the man with a grudge against Stalin and High Command with a willing pawn. After 5 minutes of waiting, a man emerged from the Dacha wearing the black uniform and rank epaulettes of a colonel of the NKVD, his description matched that she had supplied with. He was a middle aged man, with lined features squared face and ice blue eyes, his short brown hair hidden by his peaked cap. As he saluted the guards at the gate, Yuliya hopped on her bike peddling slowly but surely towards him. She had already prepared a small note for the man, crumpled in her right hand with the contact phrase "The sickle must be broken". As Colonel Pushkin cleared the gate, Yuliya faked a crash swerving down on the pavement in front of the Colonel, crying out in pain as she tumbled from the bike. " Good god, girl. Are you alright?" Pushkin dropped immediately to her side. Reacting quickly, Yuliya gently shoved the note into his hand pulling close to his ear as he helped her up. "For the Motherland." She whispered the contact phrase. Their eyes met, recognition passed between them. " Yes, yes I'am fine. Thank you kindly, officer. For coming to my rescue." Yuliya said smiling a false smile. "You should get that chain looked at, girl." Replied Pushkin, not giving anything away. Yuliya merely smiled curtseyed then picked up her bike and cycled around the corner, as Pushkin glanced at the note.




Yuliya waited impatiently for her contact to appear, as she stood leaning against her bike in a deserted alleyway. She hoped that the untermensch Colonel was smart enough to comprehend when he was being summoned, or ths mission was over before it could begin. To her surprise, not five minutes later the colonel appeared from the opposite end of the alley. "So you are my contact? I didn't expect you would be a woman, nor one who looked Russian. This could work out better then expected." Pushkin said as he approached her. Yuliya approached the man, her arms crossed unimpressed. " We all serve the Fatherland, in our way. Besides I'am no dirty Russian, I'am volksdeutsche ." Ignoring the racial slur, the colonel continued. " One look at you tells me, those clothes are not yours. Did she suffer as you took her life, before you stripped her?" Yuliya shook her head. "She was merely a means to an end, her death part of something greater. Now are we going to continue with this line of questioning, or are you going to assist me Russian? You do want Stalin dead, I assume?" The colonel let out an impatient sigh, gesturing for her to continue. "I need a uniform and identity to entire the Dacha, plus information on Stalin's routine tomorrow." Pushkin nodded in understanding. " There is a young sniper, that I'am due to present to Stalin tomorrow. She has been killing your countrymen by the score on the eastern front, and our glorious Chairman wants to present her with an Order of Lenin for service to the Motherland. He doesn't know her and hasn't seen her face, I can subdue her and bring her to you, tonight. Then you can kill her, and take the uniform. We then enter together." Yuliya unfolded her arms, liking what she heard. " Once we are inside the Dacha, then what?" The colonel grimly smiled as he replied. "Stalin is highly paranoid, but I have a solution. He routinely changes the maids that serves him his tea daily. I happen to know the identity of tomorrow's young maid, being the head of security as its perks. I will point her out to you, then you kill her take her clothes and..." He tossed a small vial of clear liquid to Yuliya, which she deftly caught. "...you poison him with this concentrated Cyanide. I will be in a meeting with him, so be careful not to kill me as well. I want to see the bastard fall." Yuliya pocketed the vial in her stolen jacket pocket. "And my extraction? I have no intention of dying in this shithole." Again the Colonel gave no indication of anger towards the insult. " There is an airbase nearby, home to the 588th Night Bomber Regiment. They are an all female unit and their pilots can be seen coming into the village. You can kill one of them, take her uniform and get onto the base. There you can take one of their planes, and fly to German lines." Yuliya nodded her approval. "You have certainly thought of everything." Pushkin let out a grim laugh. " Well one doesn't rise to be Stalin's chief of security, if he overlooks the small details. Meet me at an abandoned farm at the outskirts of town tonight. I will have the uniform." He quickly wrote the directions on a piece of paper, handing it to her. " Very well, colonel. I will see you tonight." Without so much as a goodbye, the two separated going in opposite directions out of the alley.



Later that Evening



Corporal Tanya Morozova, struggled against her bonds as she laid bound and gagged in the back of Colonel Pushkin's car. The last thing she remembered before waking up in the back of this car, was meeting the Colonel at the Kuntsevo train station. The two had been discussing her award and the prospect of meeting the chairman himself, then suddenly she felt a rag laced with chloroform being shoved against her face then nothing. Tanya never suspected Pushkin to be a traitor. At 23, Tanya was a rising star in the Red Army having 50 confirmed fascist kills on the Eastern Front all down to her skills as a shepherdess in the Urals before the war. Her father had taught his only daughter everything she knew about hunting and tracking, where she once hunted wolves she now hunted fascists or she would be if she wasn't bound, gagged and helpless in the dark. Despite the thick black cloth that sealed her mouth shut, Tanya was a beautiful woman with high cheekbones angular features and piercing emerald green eyes, with her long black hair tied into a sensible bun. She was dressed in a clean pressed Red Army uniform, which consisted of a matching olive green tunic, belted at the waist with a thick brown leather belt with a star belt buckle and trousers with knee high black jackboots and matching side cap on her head. Tanya's rank was marked on the tunic's collar tabs and shoulder epaulettes. Has she continued to struggled against her bonds, tears started to sting Tanya's eyes not out of fear but out of anger. How could see have allowed herself to be this vunerable she thought helplessly. Suddenly the cars rear door opened, Tanya blinked as the last of the evenings light shot into her eyes revealing Colonel Pushkin and a young red headed woman dressed in the loose hanging clothes of a peasant. Has she looked into the cold eyes of the woman, a trickle of fear seeped down her spine.





" This is Corporal Tanya Morozova, your uniform. Don't worry, she is exactly your size." Pushkin said as the struggling snipers eyes widened in shock. Yuliya looked down on her a sneer of contempt on her face. " Such a pretty little thing for an untermensche, you wouldn't think she is a cold blooded killer." Pushkin shot her an ironic smile. "I could say the same for you, Nazi." Yuliya shot him a look of disgust. "I do what I have to do, to achieve ultimate victory for the Third Reich. For the cause of National Socialism! You serve a man who as murdered more people than the great Adolf Hitler, so you have no right to judge me! Fucking Russian!" She spat on the ground at his feet. Not willing to argue, Pushkin held his hands up. "You are right I don't, and that's why I want Stalin dead. One of those people was my son, so I know a thing or two about righteous causes. Just do want you have to do." With that, Pushkin walked around the side of his car lighting a cigarette leaving Yuliya alone with the helpless Tanya. " Yes such a pretty little Russian bitch, aren't you?" She said as she got into the back of the car, closing the rear door behind her, straddling her captive. "I wonder little whore, how many Husbands, sons, brothers you have murdered who were just doing their sacred duty to the Fatherland?" Yuliya took out her SS dagger, brandishing it in front of Tanya's face. Her eyes widening as she saw the Nazi eagle etched in the steel, the SS runes on the hilt, she cut the gag from her mouth. "Fucking fascist pig bitch! I kill fascists like you, I don't care who they have left behind they should never invaded my home!" Yuliya gripped her by her throat, turning her face in her hands. "Look at you, you are not fit to call this land home. This land belongs to the Third Reich! Now tell me, how many of my Brothers in Arms have you slain!" She spat, her knife flashing before the Sniper's eyes. "50! I killed 50, and I won't stop until every fascist lies dead. Kill me then, I-I don't fear death." The fear in her voice said otherwise. Yuliya sneered a look of contempt on her face. " You disgust me, killing at range. You never even looked them in the eyes, before you killed them. You are a coward. Well allow me to afford you that courtesy." She enclosed both her hands around Tanya's throat, squeezing hard as the Russian sniper bucked fighting for breathe as Yuliya slowly crushed the life from the young Corporal. Yuliya looked deeply into the woman's eyes, her hands closing tight around Tanya's slender neck as tears streamed down the girl's face. Yuliya put all her rage and resentment for the Bolsheviks into her hands, ignoring the Russians choking. Suddenly, the sound of Tanya's hyoid bone breaking send waves of satisfaction through Yuliya, as the young sniper went limp under her grasp. Her cold dead green eyes staring accusingly at Yuliya. "Sleep tight, little Russian." She said as cut the bonds loose from the girls wrists and ankles, still panting from the arousal at strangling the Russian sniper.





Wasting no time, Yuliya stripped off the clothing she took from the Russian peasant including the underwear. She would be needing Tanya's. Getting to work, Yuliya removed the girls cap, belt and jackboots then unbuttoned the olive green tunic. Pulling the girl's corpse into a seating position, Yuliya slipped off the tunic from the dead girl's shoulders, then after letting the corpse fall back onto the car's floorboard unfastened her white undershirt. After maneuvering the undershirt from the shoulders, Yuliya unhooked the dead Russians white bra pulling it loose as she rolled the corpse back onto it's front, exposing Tanya's well developed, firm C-cup breasts with rose petal pale pink areolas. After clasping the bra over her bare breasts, Yuliya unfastened her trousers working them off her shapely hips, peeling them down her long toned legs and off the body. She then whipped off the dead womans matching high waisted briefs, revealing a small pink vulva crowned with a small tuft of black pubic hair and a pert tight ass, then pulled them up over her legs. As she got dressed in Tanya's uniform, Yuliya appraised the snipers naked corpse. Unlike the peasant, Tanya was toned and athletic with subtle muscle definition that only enhanced her natural beauty, military life had agreed with her. Yuliya couldn't help but feel a slight attraction to the dead girl. Shaking the unclean thoughts from her head, Yuliya worked the hair tie loose from Tanya's luscious black locks copying her bun. When she was finished, now fully clothed she exited the rear of the car, coming face to face with Pushkin. "You wear her uniform well, you would make a good Soviet. Comrade." Yuliya scoffed but felt oddly touched by the compliment. "It's quite snug, much better than those peasant rags." Pushkin gestured to the naked corpse of Tanya behind her. "Did you really need to fully strip her?" Yuliya turned from him, approaching the rear of the car. " Waste not, comrade." She said as she tossed him a shovel, which Pushkin deftly caught. "Come on, let's dispose of the evidence. Stalin needs to die." Yuliya threw the naked corpse over her shoulder, as Pushkin dug a small shallow grave inside the ruined farmhouse. After five minutes, they had buried the naked corpse of Tanya Morozova in a small shallow grave. " Well I have until the morning to turn you into a model Red Army soldier, or this missions over. Speaking of which, hand me your SS dagger. You can keep your revolver." Yuliya shot him a disapproving look. " This blade was handed to me, by SS Reichsführer Heinrich Himmler himself. I shall not be parted from it." Pushkin let out a frustrated sigh. "If you are found carrying it in the Dacha, you will be shot. You have my word that once we are inside the Dacha, after you receive your medal, I will return it to you." He said holding out his hand. Yuliya couldn't fault his reasoning, she wanted this mission to succeed and wanted to live through it. Giving her dagger a long parting look, she reluctantly gave the Colonel her dagger. " Very good, now let's go. Your meeting with Stalin is at 09:30 tomorrow morning, and we have only 11 hours to prepare." They both got into Pushkin's car without a word, driving into the night towards Kuntsevo village.



The next morning, 09:15am Kuntsevo Dacha



" Do have the poison at hand?" Asked Pushkin as they drove towards the Kuntsevo Dacha,, the personal residence of Chairman Stalin. "Yes in my trouser pocket. On the fifth time of asking." Replied Yuliya from the back seat, dressed in her stolen Red Army uniform. "Apologies, it's just we only get one shot at this. The consequences if we fail are..." Yuliya shifted impatiently in her seat. " Believe me I'am well aware of the consequences, but we will not fail." Pushkin glanced at her through the rear view mirror, nodding with determination. Despite the Colonel being an untermensch, Yuliya found herself warming to the man, they both had lost something precious to the Soviets their own flesh and blood. They both did what they had to do, out not of any loyalty to a cause but simple revenge, the purest motivation of all. Yulia smiled inwardly, of all the things she had expected to find on this mission a kindred spirit was not one of them. It was a strange but not unwelcome feeling, of not being alone. The sound of the car screeching slowly to a halt outside the Dacha gates, brought Yuliya's attention back to the present. A young female Red Army soldier, saluted the colonel as she approached the driver's side. "Greetings, Comrade-Colonel. Have you brought the Heroine of the Soviet Union?" She said glancing at Yuliya. "Yes, Kayta. This is Corporal Tanya Morozova, she as killed 50 fascists with her deadly aim. The Boss, wants to decorate her with the Order of Lenin." The soldier flashed Yuliya a quick salute, which she returned. " Congratulations Comrade-Corporal. Open the gate, let them pass!" The young soldier stepped aside, as the large iron gates before them. after returning salutes from the other Red Army Soldiers, Pushkin drove past the gates and into the Dacha proper. After pulling up, they both got out of the car. Smoothing out her stolen uniform, Yulia fell into step beside Pushkin. "Are you ready?" He asked her. Yuliya merely nodded as they walked up the marble steps and into the Dacha.




As they entered the Dacha, they were greeted by a young pretty brunette maid. "Colonel Pushkin, and this must be Corporal Morozova. Thank for your efforts against the fascist invader. You are true inspiration for all Soviet Women." The girl said, warmly shaking Yuliya's hand. She appraised the young woman, the girl appeared to be in her early twenties with slender cheekbones, rounded features and pale blue almond shaped eyes. Her light brown hair rolled up in bunches. She was dressed in a black maids uniform dress, that came to her ankles with black buckled pumps, with frilly lace collar and matching frilly hat perched on her head. A small pinafore apron tied about her waist. Yuliya flashed her a fake smile as she shook the girl's hand. "I'am just doing my duty for our glorious Motherland, one fascist at a time." She said adding a small laugh, which the young maid returned. " I'am sorry, you have me at a disadvantage." The maid did a double take. "Sorry, my mum always says I'am too slow with introductions. Alina Orlova, at your service." She said with a curtsey. It was Pushkin who spoke up next. "Forgive Comrade Alina, but we have kept the Chairman waiting long enough. Morozova is here to collect her medal, after all." Alina nodded her hand in apology. " Forgive me Comrades, at least I got to see a true heroine of the Motherland." She bade them farewell as she returned to her duties. As they walked towards the reception room, Pushkin turned to Yuliya. " That was fortunate. She happens to be the daily maid. You will need to kill her and take her uniform." Yuliya glanced at the Colonel, a quizzical look on her face. "Hasn't Stalin seen her yet?" Pushkin shook his head, a small smile etched across his face. " He doesn't have his first tea of the day, until 10:00am. That's when I give him, my first security briefing. He won't know you from Adam." He said opening the door, to admit her. "Won't he recognise me? I mean he has just given me a medal." Pushkin closed the door behind her. "No. He never looks at his maids, he doesn't trust them to form any connection." As they entered the well appointed lush reception room, Yuliya felt something being pressed in her hand. She looked down to see her SS dagger. " Here, I think you will be needing this. I'am a man of my word." Despite herself, Yuliya smiled at the man as she concealed the dagger in her boot. "Once you get the medal, exit here and proceed to the kitchens. Eliminate the maid, impersonate her." He gave the directions to the Dacha's kitchens, with Yuliya memorised. "Where will you be?" She asked the Colonel. "In here, Stalin as all his appointments in this room. You come in, serve him his last tea and we both watch the bastard breathe his last." Nodding her approval, Yuliya sat down on a chintz sofa as Pushkin stood over her. "And one more thing. You will need to poison both my tea, and Stalin's." Yulia shot him a glance, feeling slight anger at the change in plans, but she recovered understanding Pushkin's logic. " He's paranoid, my briefing said as much." Pushkin nodded, grimly smiling. " He usually swaps his teas, just to make sure. And he always drinks what he's given. That way, even swapping his tea won't save him." Yuliya turned from him, the plan was sound but there was a part of her that didn't want to see Pushkin die.




After five minutes, the door opened to review the unmistakable profile of Josef Stalin himself, followed by a young male aide. The Chairman was dressed in an unadorned dark green uniform, his square jawed moustachioed face set in a warm but intimidating smile. His stone grey eyes fixed on Yuliya. She had to admit, she had only met Hitler once and was in awe of the man, but Stalin had an aura of a leader exuding power. Yuliya couldn't put her finger on it, she felt a trickle of fear down her spine, as she rose flashing a Soviet salute. " Comrade-Chairman" She said as Stalin held his arms wide like a doting father. "Ah! You must be Corporal Morozova. We have heard so much about your exploits, let me embrace you as a daughter of the people." Yuliya smiled as the Man of Steel embraced her, kissing her cheeks in the traditional manner. It took all of her self control not to stab the man there and then. " Tell me of the fascists you have killed, 50 wasn't it?" Stalin said as he patted Yuliya's shoulder. "It was like hunting rabbits, Comrade Chairman. They never saw me coming." Stalin laughed as he gestured to his aide, who approached them opening a small black case revealing the gold and red ribboned award. " Take this, as a token of the the Motherland's and my own appreciation of your service to the state." He said as he pinned the medal to her breast. Yuliya flashed Stalin another salute, " Thank you, Comrade-Chairman. I'am humbled beyond words." Stalin patted her on the shoulder once more. " You have the freedom of the Dacha, so feel free to bask in your status. Pushkin." Stalin turned his gaze to the Colonel. " We need to talk, there is urgent business we need to discuss. Over our morning tea." Pushkin flashed him a quick salute. "Yes, Comrade Chairman." Taking that as her cue to leave, Yuliya saluted both men as she left the appointment room making her way to the kitchens.





Alina Orlova, the day maid to the Kuntsevo Dacha, busied herself as she prepared the tea for the Chairman, in the Dacha kitchens which was empty a this hour. At 22, Alina was brought in to serve only as the maid of the Dacha for one day, owing of course to the Chairman's paranoia. But she couldn't really blame him, everybody wanted him dead it was the price of greatness. Despite being the maid for the one day, Alina felt immense pride at serving tea to the glorious Chairman that in some way she was doing her small bit for the Motherland. In her heart though, she wanted to do more Alina had set her sights on joining the great patriotic struggle, which was why she wanted to catch a glimpse of the beautiful Corporal Morozova to get some advice. "Hello, there. Alina. Wasn't it?" A familiar voice distracted her from her duties. She turned to see, Corporal Morozova standing before her the Order of Lenin pinned proudly to her chest. " Corporal Morozova, good to see you again. Your new medal looks good on you." Alina said beaming. Morozova lent against the counter, relaxing her stance. "Please, call me Tanya. Alina. You are very beautiful." Alina blushed slightly as she looked to the floor, before she turned her back to Tanya, resuming her duties. "There is something I have been meaning to ask you. Do you think I should joi-ugh." Alina was suddenly seized from behind by Tanya in a rear chokehold, her arm snaked around her slender neck a hand placed to the back of her head. " I think you should just die, little Alina." The maid felt a trickle of fear run down her spine. " Stop it your hur--ugh!" Alina never got to complete her sentence, as she felt her head being pressed forward the last sound she heard, was the sound of her hyoid breaking as her throat was crushed by the woman she considered a hero.




As the young maid, slumped dead in her arms, Yuliya felt nothing as she lowered the corpse to the floor. To her Alina was just another dead Russian, another means to an end, just like the peasant girl and Tanya before her. Wasting no time, Yuliya quickly stripped out of Tanya's uniform, down to the underwear then proceeded to undress Alina. After removing the dead girl's hat, shoes and apron from around her waist Yuliya rolled the corpse onto her side and unbuttoned the uniform dress at the back. After slipping the garment loose from Alina's shoulders, Yuliya peeled the dress down her slim attractive body working them past her shapely hips, and down her long legs leaving the dead girl clad only in a cream cotton bra, that covered her small but firm B-cup breasts, and a matching pair of high waisted cream cotton shorts covering her modesty. After she quickly got dressed in the maids uniform, Yuliya loosed the dead woman's bunches copying her hair style, then dragged her scantily clad corpse over to an empty barrel concealing it inside along with with Tanya's stolen uniform, but not before removing the Order of Lenin pocketing it in her stolen maids outfit. Once she had sealed the barrel containing Alina's corpse, Yuliya concealed her revolver and dagger in the dress then walked over to the tea's. She finished making the tea's, pouring the cyanide into both cup's then after crushing the vial into the waste bin, Yuliya picked up the tea tray and exited the kitchens back towards the appointment room.




Now in her stolen maid's outfit, Yuliya knocked on the door twice after hearing Stalin's voice say "enter". Upon entering she found Pushkin in talks with Stalin, playing the part of the maid Yuliya approached the table with the tea tray. " So, Colonel. I have some disturbing rumours that someone in my general staff may be plotting to kill me." Yuliya avoided sharing a gaze with Pushkin, as she set the tray down onto the table then backed away slowly curtseying . "I assure you, Comrade-Chairman. My loyalty to the party, to you, as never been stronger." Yuliya couldn't suppress a shudder down her spine, as she walked towards the door of the appointment room. " Then you wouldn't mind a small test of your loyalty, drink." Stalin gestured to one of the cups of tea on the table. Yuliya glanced over her shoulder at Pushkin, she could have sworn he glanced briefly back, before he took a deep breathe and drank from the tea. Within a few seconds, she began to hear wretching sounds as Pushkin began to foam at the mouth, falling to the floor. " Just as I suspected, you conniving bastard! Guards!" Stalin cried as he watched Pushkin spasm and die before him. But as he turned to face the door, Yuliya had already left and was already exiting the Dacha.


Outside the Kuntsevo Dacha, Kuntsevo village


Suddenly, all hell broke loose as Red Army soldiers hurried into the Dacha from the Outside. Remaining calm and using her disguise, Yuliya walked slowly but surely towards the great wrought Iron gates of the Dacha which had been thrown open by the alerted Red Army troops. She keep her head down, as the soldier that had greeted them at the gate, Katya ran past her rifle raised. With the guards away from the gate busy securing the Dacha, it was easy for Yuliya to slip away unnoticed out of the Dacha and onto the street beyond, past crowds of curious onlookers. Now she needed a new disguise and a means to escape Russia. Yuliya remembered the plan she had agreed with Pushkin, she needed the uniform of a Soviet Aviatrix. Then she could get onto the nearby airfield, and fly out. While she hadn't flown a plane in over a year, Yuliya had not forgotten her training with the Luftwaffe or the hours she had spent flying taking her mind off the plight of her family, before the war. As she walked along the country road away from the village, Yuliya spotted a young woman ahead of her dressed in the black uniform of a Soviet Aviatrix, fixing a flat tire of her jeep. Drawing her SS dagger Yuliya, crouched approached the woman from behind.



Comrade-Lieutenant Kristina Amosova knelt as she fixed the flat tire on her Dodge WC 51, causing the stupid mass produced American piece of junk. At 24, Kristina had only just completed her training and been assigned to the all female 588th Night Bomber Regiment, or the infamous "Night Witches." Kristina had decided to drive into the village, to take her scheduled R&R before her first combat sortie only to have a blow out on the main access road leading to the town. Kristina was a beautiful woman who cut a dashing figure, with high cheekbones slightly squared features and narrow turquoise eyes her flame coloured hair tied into a sensible braided bun over which she wore her black flat cap. She was dressed in her pilots uniform that consisted of a matching black uniform shirt, belted at the waist, with her rank on her shoulder epaulettes, black trousers and knee high leather jackboots. On Kristina's right right was pinned the badge of the Soviet Aviator Corps. She sighed in frustration, as she stood up wiping the sweat from her brow. Suddenly, Kristina felt a hand clamp over her mouth muffling her cry of surprise as she was dragged into the treeline behind her, then before she could react the young pilot felt a sharp stabbing pain in the back of her neck. Kristina slumped dead in the arms of her killer, her service to the Red Airforce abruptly cut short.




After laying the corpse of the Soviet pliot to the ground, Yuliya withdrew her dagger from the base of the woman's skull wiping the blood on the cuff of her stolen maid's uniform. Wasting no time, she quickly stripped out of her maids uniform then kneeling by the dead pilot started to strip her. After she pulled off the woman's jackboots, uncinching the belt and removing her hat, Yuliya lent the corpse up against her unbuttoning the uniform shirt slipping it from her shoulders, followed by the white undershirt exposing the girl's firm C-cup breasts covered by a black bullet bra. After letting the corpse fall back down to the earth, Yuliya unfastened the girl's uniform trousers working them off the hips and peeled them down her long legs, revealing a pair of high waisted matching black briefs that covered her modesty. After she got dressed in her stolen uniform, Yuliya dragged the scantily clad corpse of the dead Soviet pilot further into the bushes concealing her inside, then she concealed her dagger in her right boot and holstered her Nagant revolver in the woman's pistol holster on her belt. As an afterthought, she pinned the Order of Lenin on her left breast then walked back onto the road, quickly fixing the tire on the jeep before getting behind the wheel and igniting the engine turning back towards the airfield.






It took Yuliya 10 minutes to drive to the airfield, using the directions she had learned from Pushkin the night before. Her thoughts turned to the late Russian Colonel, for one of the untermenschen Pushkin had died with honour killing himself rather then give her up, she couldn't put her finger on it but she felt a sense of loss at the death of a kindred soul. In many ways they were one and the same, both doing what they had to do to accomplish the mission, not for any Fatherland or Motherland but for family, for revenge. Yuliya smiled as she remembered the grizzled old Soviet, deciding when she got back to Berlin she would raise a glass in his honour. Yuliya shook thoughts of Pushkin from her mind, as she approached the checkpoint with two Red Army soldiers guarding it, bringing the jeep to a halt as one of the troops walked in front of her, arm outstretched. He flashed a quick salute as he saw Yuliya. "Good afternoon, Comrade-Lieutenant. May I see your papers pl.." The soldier's voice trailed off as he saw the Order of Lenin pinned on the breast of Yuliya's stolen uniform. "You are an heroine of the Soviet Union! My sincerest apologies, Comrade. Let her pass!" He yelled to the other soldier as the woman opened the barrier in front of her. Yuliya drove past as the two awestruck soldiers held long salutes, saluting them back. As she drove towards the barracks, Yuliya smiled amazed at the effect one medal could have on these Russians, they were truly a simple people.




Entering the pilots barracks, Yuliya found the locker belonging to Kristina Amosova putting on a brown leather flight jacket, parachute and pilots cap then when she was finished walked out the barracks, towards the row of Polikarpov Po-2 biplane dive bombers. Taking a quick look around, checking that there was no witnesses, Yuliya clambered into the rear of the plane. After checking that the fuel gauge was full, she switched on the plane's engine engaging the throttle up as she taxied onto the runway. After disengaging the flaps, and brakes Yuliya throttled up accelerating along the runway, gently raising the nose of the bomber up until she had cleared the ground. Banking to the left, Yuliya pointed the nose in the direction of German lines then gently throttle forwards. Yuliya was comforted by the feel of the cold breeze against her face and the throaty roar of the Polikarpov. Despite the death of Pushkin and the failure of her mission, Yuliya felt relief of having at least survived the mission and having in some part did her duty to the Fatherland. But her vendetta against the Soviet Union was not over, and Yuliya knew that there was still more war to go. Taking a deep breath, Yuliya steeled herself no matter how long it took, no matter how many Russians she had to kill, she would see her family name avenged or die in the attempt. Pushkin's example had taught her that.

[pc305435632]

Didn't anyone comment?
After uploading my works on Deviantart/Pixiv, I really enjoy reading reviews from others, whether it's praise or criticism.
If there is silence, I believe it will be a great blow to the creators.

I think this story is worth commenting on.
First, let's talk about the advantages:
1. Started to give a good suspense, assassinating Stalin.
We all know that Stalin did not die of assassination, so how will this story develop? Design an ending where Stalin was killed and history changed? Or did Stalin have a substitute? Previous stories have no such suspense, we just lazily watch whose clothes will be taken off next.
2. Many victims were stripped of their clothes, and if this plot were made into a movie, it would be really great.

disadvantage：
1. We all know that the Nazis are bloodist, and both Slavs and Jews are "inferior peoples" in their eyes. I don't think the heroine will be treated well, she should flee to Britain or America.
2. There is too much venting dialogue between the heroine and the sniper, I think it would be normal not to talk, or not to let the sniper talk.
3. Stalin and his guards did not realize that the "sniper" he had just honored had become a "maid," and when someone was poisoned, no one stopped the maid from running away. That makes the poisoned man ridiculous.

[Stormtrooper1990]

Didn't anyone comment?
After uploading my works on Deviantart/Pixiv, I really enjoy reading reviews from others, whether it's praise or criticism.
If there is silence, I believe it will be a great blow to the creators.

I think this story is worth commenting on.
First, let's talk about the advantages:
1. Started to give a good suspense, assassinating Stalin.
We all know that Stalin did not die of assassination, so how will this story develop? Design an ending where Stalin was killed and history changed? Or did Stalin have a substitute? Previous stories have no such suspense, we just lazily watch whose clothes will be taken off next.
2. Many victims were stripped of their clothes, and if this plot were made into a movie, it would be really great.

disadvantage：
1. We all know that the Nazis are bloodist, and both Slavs and Jews are "inferior peoples" in their eyes. I don't think the heroine will be treated well, she should flee to Britain or America.
2. There is too much venting dialogue between the heroine and the sniper, I think it would be normal not to talk, or not to let the sniper talk.
3. Stalin and his guards did not realize that the "sniper" he had just honored had become a "maid," and when someone was poisoned, no one stopped the maid from running away. That makes the poisoned man ridiculous.

Hi Panpan


Thank you for reading and enjoying this story. I also appreciate it that you are the first to comment.


I'am pleased that you enjoyed the plot, when Arc and I discussed this first story we decided it best not to change the course of history, but to keep that element of suspense.


With regards to the conversation between the heroine and the sniper, I wanted the exchange to highlight the ruthless nature of the heroine, that she is an hardened nazi who is both a product of her troubled past and of the racist conditioning of the nazis.


Again, thank you for reading and commenting on my story.

[esercito sconfitto]

Stormmtrooper, I am very sorry for having delayed my comment, but I suppose you are aware how busy I was at the Discord these days. I love novels based on WW2 , and I was wondering if this story of yours is an alternate version of the History, what is from years the trend at least in some movies ...in other words, I was wondering if at the end of the tale, in the fictional year 1942, Stalin has been killed...

this said, I have to thank you another time for all your efforts and for the patience ( because of the lack of comments and appreciation). I repeat you are the divine response to the prayers I made as the moderator of this board... The tale is well written and tense, really enjoable

but there is a question in my mind, something I am curious about... then I have to ask you... are you aware that the whole plot you developed recalls many parts of a Russian TV series ( 2003), titled " Kill Stalin" ?

[Stormtrooper1990]

Stormmtrooper, I am very sorry for having delayed my comment, but I suppose you are aware how busy I was at the Discord these days. I love novels based on WW2 , and I was wondering if this story of yours is an alternate version of the History, what is from years the trend at least in some movies ...in other words, I was wondering if at the end of the tale, in the fictional year 1942, Stalin has been killed...

this said, I have to thank you another time for all your efforts and for the patience ( because of the lack of comments and appreciation). I repeat you are the divine response to the prayers I made as the moderator of this board... The tale is well written and tense, really enjoable

but there is a question in my mind, something I am curious about... then I have to ask you... are you aware that the whole plot you developed recalls many parts of a Russian TV series ( 2003), titled " Kill Stalin" ?

Hi Esercito


It's no worries my friend. Thank you very much for reading and enjoying this story. I appreciate your kind words, and your comments even if they in short supply from the other board members.


No I wasn't aware of the "Kill Stalin" TV series. I worked with board member Arc, on fleshing out the details of this story. The disguise path and concept is his but the story and words are my own.

This is only the first in the "WW2, spy stories." Series. My next story, which I'am currently writing features a Jewish Maquis on a personal mission of revenge. Then the series will feature representives from all powers, from the Axis to the Western Allies. I'am also working with Arc to iron out some stories set in different time periods, like WW1, and the Cold War area.



Again, thank you for your support and comments. I cannot stress, how much I appreciate them.