Бесплатный фрагмент - The History of the West

Preface (boring, but short)

This book was written under the significant influence of another work — George Macaulay Trevelyan’s “A Social History of England,” where the author attempted to move away from detailed descriptions of political events and historical figures in favor of a deep analysis of the transformation of social relations. After all, what does a traditional history textbook represent? Kings, wars, revolutions, and again kings. Dates, dates, dates. Names and again dates. Which are impossible to remember and behind which the understanding of what really happened in the world at that time is erased.

You can’t completely get rid of kings and wars, after all, they were the ones who determined the course of the historical process, creating this or that reality over many centuries. And yet, in my deep conviction, the main thing is not the names and events; they are merely hooks, markers that allow us to tie together the chronological sequence of facts, but rather the changes that occurred in a particular historical era.

At first, I wanted to take a specific time period, for example, the mid-19th century or the early 16th century, and examine it in detail. But such an approach turned out to be practically impossible: every fact or trend has causes and consequences, without the analysis of which the fact itself is merely a meaningless line. Therefore, it was necessary to dig deeper and wider so that the events would at least hint at the interconnections that in reality permeate the entire socio-political process, regardless of the era.

There is very little specificity in this book, and the facts are mostly placed in the footnotes, of which there are, on the contrary, an enormous amount. This is done intentionally. Surely much of what is told is already familiar to the reader, and much else cannot be briefly stated. For any event and historical figure in our time, there is a huge layer, or as they say, corpus of materials that are not difficult to find. The task of this text is different: to provide a general overview of what has happened with Western civilization over the last five centuries, to sketch the general outline of events, and to provide enough information so that the reader can delve into the study of those details that seem interesting to them.

Introduction. How to and How Not to Study History

The study of history is not the study of facts; facts in themselves have no value: all these events — wars, uprisings, discoveries, and catastrophes — have already occurred, and knowing their details, exact dates, and sequences does not enrich human experience or allow for the systematization of data and drawing conclusions, which is the essence of any science. The study of history is the understanding of the logic of the historical process, the interconnection of events, causes, consequences, and relationships between people, nations, and states. It is generalization, the search for patterns, and ultimately an attempt to use accumulated knowledge for forecasting. We study the past not out of idle curiosity but solely for the ability to predict the future.

The study of history has several adversaries: the incompleteness of sources, often irreplaceable, since not all decisions, actions, and events are documented, and not all documents survive to the present day. Often, when researching a particular historical period, personality, or phenomenon, a historian is forced to rely not on primary sources, but on material already processed by someone else — memoirs, retellings, quotes that often appear many years or even centuries later. Often, one has to turn to the works of predecessors: articles, monographs, translations — hopefully, they are created competently and impartially. However, the incompleteness of sources provokes or, if you will, forces one to fill in the missing parts: cause-and-effect relationships, the logic of the actors, customs, and even events. A theory built on such conjectures serves as a basis for further research, and after some time, it becomes impossible to understand which events and processes actually took place and which are only assumed with varying degrees of justification. Such “the conjecturing of facts” is inevitable for obtaining a complete theory from incomplete data, but a conscientious historian must always be aware of which of their statements have a reliable evidential nature and which are derived through reasoning. And they must disclose the sources of their conclusions as fully as possible.

An even more complex adversary is the politicization of history, the attempt to replace the study of actual phenomena with the proof of one’s own point of view. Like any “fit to answer,” this approach has nothing to do with either science or knowledge, being a form of propaganda, and from a researcher’s perspective, falsification. And no matter how good the intentions, they cannot justify this falsification — it’s impossible to draw correct conclusions from deliberately false arguments invented. Interpretations can form logical chains, but these chains do not correspond to what actually existed. Whether we like it or not, in history, as in any science, there is no concept of good and evil, good and bad; there is truth, that is, everything that actually took place, and falsehood, that is, everything that did not actually occur.

But the most significant enemy of studying history is the anachronism of thinking. We, people of our time, interpret past events through the prism of our own ethics, experiences, knowledge, and culture. We think as the people of the 21st century, who have launched spaceships into the sky, built nuclear power plants, and established, in a significant part of the world, the principles of humanism and some form of democracy. But people of the past, even the recent past, let alone the distant past, thought differently. They had different experiences, different knowledge, different values for their own and others’ lives, and different motivators. It is very difficult, almost impossible, to understand not only a 10th-century Viking, whose short life consisted of drinking, fighting, and rowing, but even a soldier of the First World War, ready to give his life for the personal interests of the Austrian, Prussian, or Russian emperor, who had almost no connection to this soldier. For us, inhabitants of countries where people are more or less equal, at least in words, it is hard to reconcile with the fact that for most of human history, such equality was by no means considered the norm. Gender equality, racial equality, social class equality, the honor of labor, the value of art — all these things seem obvious to us, but in past eras, they could be perceived, be regarded as absurd, blasphemous, and even criminal. And if we want to understand the logic of the historical process and draw justified, practically applicable conclusions from it, we first need to think, or at least try to think, as the people of the studied era did, living by their ethics, morals, stereotypes, and ideas, even if from our current perspective they seem ridiculous and immoral.

Who won and who lost the Second World War

Absurd question. Everyone knows that the anti-Hitler coalition won the war, and Germany and Japan lost. This is well-known, and there are surrender acts from 1945 about it.

Alright. Let’s put the question differently. Who won and who lost as a result of the Second World War? And although these questions are equivalent, in the new formulation, the answer is not at all obvious. Especially if we look at it not from the standpoint of 1945, but from the height of what we know now.

And we know a lot. Firstly, calling the “anti-Hitler coalition” the winner of the war would be at least bold: at the time of the war’s end, the relations among the allies were in some cases worse than with the enemy. So much so that American General Patton seriously contemplated a march on Moscow, and the Soviet General Staff was developing a plan to capture Europe up to the Atlantic. And as soon as the smoke cleared, the former brothers in arms immediately clashed with each other — initially little by little in West Berlin, then all.

The conflict in Korea and then practically everywhere else. The inevitability of this was understood even before the war; the alliance of very different political regimes was initially unstable and even to some extent unnatural, therefore it is impossible to consider it a collective victor. So, let’s see what the war brought to its main participants individually.

The Soviet Union bore the brunt of the losses. Two consecutive military catastrophes in the summer of 1941 and the summer of 1942, combined with the occupation of the most densely populated territories, the famine of 1946, and the colossal strain on the economy, led to the death of 15 to 20 percent of the country’s population. This staggering figure is comparable only to Germany’s losses in the Thirty Years’ War and the destruction of indigenous civilizations by the conquistadors. In exchange for these sacrifices, the USSR… essentially remained as it was. It did not acquire significant territories, unless the Kuril Islands are considered as such. The “sphere of influence” in Eastern Europe turned out to be fragile and held together only by military force. The satellite China eventually had a serious falling out with its “parent”, outgrew it, and became an independent political force. In economic terms, the fragile pre-war prosperity could not be restored, even despite “trophy” German technologies and reparations, and the resources allocated for the country’s recovery quickly burned out in the fire of a new war — the Cold War. As a result, the Soviet person, the warrior-liberator and nominal victor, never became wealthy, happy, or prosperous. The war gave him nothing except deep moral satisfaction and equally deep moral wounds.

France was lucky. After the defeat in 1940 and the occupation in 1942, such a state might not have remained on the map at all. English and American politicians had little desire to restore it, and only the political genius of de Gaulle, who managed to convince Stalin of the necessity of a counterbalance to the Anglo-Saxon bloc and Churchill of the advisability of opposing socialist expansion, allowed the French not only to preserve the country but also to be counted among the victorious powers. The price for success was the loss of colonies, of which pre-war France had many, although to this day the former metropolis still has decisive influence over many of them. Overall, considering the scale of the tragedy, France can hardly be considered among the losers. But naturally, not among the winners either.

England… Forget about England. Now we know England as a small island nation that still needs to be found on the globe. It was not England that entered the war, but the British Empire, the largest country that ever existed, with dominions on all inhabited continents, entered the war far from being in its best shape and suffered more than enough. And although in the Battle of Britain, England itself was successfully defended, and the largest and most significant dominions — India, Canada, Australia — practically were not harmed, the fall of Singapore, the bombings of Darwin, and the German landing on Crete clearly showed that the metropolis was no longer capable of defending colonies around the world. And since the entire colonial system was based on providing protection in exchange for resources and markets, the post-war history of the British Empire turned out to be short, transforming the Victorian-era superpower into the remnant we now know. It seems that it is Britain that should be recognized as the state most affected by World War II.

The United States. Here, everything is the opposite. The war pulled the USA out of the Great Depression and not only pulled it out but also brought it directly into the status of a superpower. First, as one of two, and then as the only one. And although America had to feed and arm almost all of its allies, and for some, even fight. If Hitler did not exist, the Americans would have had to invent him. To be fair, it must be acknowledged that the brilliant victory of the USA at that time was far from obvious and owed not so much to the military and politicians but to the incredible, beyond imaginable economic power, as well as the physicists of the Manhattan Project, whose results allowed for the rapid consolidation of success.

America should have been declared the only obvious winner or, if you prefer, the “beneficiary of the war” if not for the truly epic rise of China. Pre-war China was the ruins of an ancient civilization, trampled upon by three generations of Europeans. Endless civil war, Japanese occupation, and the status of an impoverished colony without its own statehood — that was China’s fate in the thirties. A striking contrast with nuclear power and a permanent member of the UN Security Council, isn’t it? Of course, the transformation of Cinderella into a princess occurred exclusively thanks to massive Soviet investments, possibly the very ones that could have made the conditions of people in the USSR correspond to the status of victors. But if it weren’t for the war, there would not only have been no investments but not even a reason for them. So, China, on the whole, gained even more than the United States, although its contribution to the victory was undoubtedly much less.

And what about their opponents, who nominally lost and unconditionally surrendered?

Germany, at least the FRG, 10 years after surrender, became one of the largest and then unconditionally the largest economy in Europe. Subsequently, it became the undisputed leader of the European Union. At the cost of the death of 10% of the population (also a number that boggles the mind) and enormous national humiliation, the country gained new allies, a new development vector, and, in fact, achieved everything it sought. From both a political and economic point of view, in the perspective of decades, Germany is the winner in the war, not the loser.

The same can be said about Japan. However, for Japan, the renunciation of territorial claims in exchange for accelerated economic development turned out to be less favorable and not as long-term, and the lack of land, overpopulation, and isolationism still have an impact to this day. Considering the initial ambitions and the status of the unconditional leader of the Eastern Hemisphere acquired at the beginning of the 20th century and lost in 1945, Japan apparently still lost. Although not as much as it could have, which, oddly enough, was due to a relatively quick and relatively painless exit from the war, provoked by two atomic bombings. If the Japanese had to engage in banzai charges on Hokkaido, the result could have been much worse.

Perhaps it is impossible to do without at least a provocative but still quite illustrative detail. One of the main tragedies of the Second World War is the Holocaust. Genocides occurred both before and after, but none of them even come close to the destruction of six million people. But there is another side: the highly successful state of Israel owes its existence entirely to the war, and significantly to the Holocaust specifically. From the perspective of political history, European Jews, like the Chinese, should be considered as heavily, catastrophically affected — but ultimately victorious.

As we can see, the assessment of winners and losers not by the outcomes of battles but by the results of historical processes radically differs from the conventional view. But that’s about countries. How are things with humanity as a whole? After all, a world war is something that affects the entire collective of people and changes the essence of relationships between them, not only in relation to individual nations but overall.

From a universal human perspective, everything is quite ambiguous. The death of tens of millions of people in a short period, particularly in the most developed and civilized countries at that time, sharply increased the empirical value of life. Alongside the widespread adoption of hygiene and antibiotics, which drastically reduced child mortality and mortality in general, society’s reflection on war and its consequences led to people valuing their lives incomparably higher than before, regardless of objective criteria of their own success, usefulness, and prospects. Throughout most of human history, life was valued based on the logic of an individual’s use to society: a young person was worth more than an old one unless the old person possessed some unique knowledge and skills, a man was more valuable than a woman, the healthy were more important than the sick, and a general or nobleman was incomparably more significant than a common soldier. This kind of “rational” interpretation persisted even in wartime: it was considered a valor for a soldier to shield a general from a bullet, but a general covering soldiers under fire would be considered at least an idiot.

Fascism, as a doctrine of innate inequality or rather the unequal value of people, made such an indelible impression on humanity that, in response, a whole new legal theory emerged — the doctrine of human rights. Rights that stem not from any merits but from the very fact of existence, and even more strongly, the assertion of the equality of these rights regardless of what a particular person represents. This doctrine, with few exceptions, has become the norm in our time and, in turn, has generated a whole set of consequences, both positive and negative. Among the first is the rejection from large-scale wars and a general decrease in the role of force in resolving conflicts: let’s not forget that even by the beginning of the 20th century, war as a means of settling political problems was considered a quite acceptable tool. The role of various forms of discrimination has sharply decreased: being Black, Indian, homosexual, or a woman no longer means being permanently in a disadvantaged position. The number of social elevators has increased immeasurably, even in traditionally “right-wing” countries such as the USA and the UK, being born into a poor family without titles and status is no longer a lifelong sentence.

On the other hand, the dependence of individuals on the state has sharply increased and continues to grow. Ensuring even basic rights — and the interpretation of human rights is constantly expanding — requires significant expenditures from governments. If, in the pre-war period, a person, excluding the Soviet one, spent most of their earnings at their discretion, now tens of percent and sometimes the majority of the national product is distributed through taxes and state mechanisms. No business and even everyday life itself occurs without state participation and regulation, which, on the contrary, was not previously considered the norm. As a result, stability and guarantees of well-being have benefited, while prospects and opportunities for self-realization have suffered. And, of course, the entire pre-war organization of the world — in conditions of universal equality of rights, a colonial system based on the “white man’s burden” is fundamentally impossible.

Whether to consider the collapse of the colonial system as a good or an evil — everyone has their own answer to this question.

Who fought for what

Any war begins with certain considerations.

No one attacks a neighbor with sabers and machine guns just because they are evil, and the neighbor is good. However, states are neither good nor bad — they may have one regime, social structure, or system of governance or another — and that’s it. When we talk about the causes of any war, we must forget the concepts of “better”, “worse,” “us” and “them,” detach from personal biases and preferences, studying only the question of who was guided by what and what goals they pursued.

The same goes for the results Heroism and cowardice, greatness and weakness, and feat.

And betrayal — all the feelings and emotions that war unleashes have no relation to its outcomes. Hannibal was a great commander who instilled fear in the world’s largest power for decades. But Rome won the Punic Wars, Carthage lost, and now we are all heirs of Roman civilization not Carthaginian. This applies to any war, whether the Patriotic War or the Trojan War. The meaning and foundation of any science lies in its impartiality.

War, as a rule, is an unnecessary thing. It’s only in fairy tales that a king wakes up in the morning and thinks:

“Why not send my army to the neighbor?” In reality, war is a tool of politics, a means of achieving goals, one of many. If this tool turns out to be or seems optimal, only then do politicians call the generals. And the image of the sole instigator-aggressor and culprit of all evils is almost always fabricated later. Rarely, very rarely does it happen that one side wants to fight while the other tries with all its might to avoid war. And the Second World War, as well as the First, was desired by everyone or almost everyone. Each of the main participants had their own reasons to engage in war.

The Soviet Union… no, the Soviet Union did not want to conquer the whole world — to say so would be too simplistic and simply incorrect. The Soviet Union wanted the whole world to become a communist paradise. For this purpose, it created a special international organization — the Comintern — the Communist International — designed to encourage all countries to adopt the only correct social system. Either independently or with armed assistance from those who already recognized its progressiveness. No one was particularly eager to voluntarily establish the dictatorship of the proletariat, although there were attempts, and some nearly succeeded — known the Red Army was supposed to somewhat assist the oppressed masses. And as soon as such an opportunity arose, the USSR began helping its neighbors adopt the ideals of socialism with enthusiasm poorly aligned with peacefulness.

Germany, unlike other parties in the conflict, did not hide its motives. The initial significant economic successes of the National Socialists required expansion. The humiliation of the Treaty of Versailles wounded German pride, and the theory of racial superiority, eagerly embraced by a nation feeling unjustly wronged and oppressed, implied that it was the Germans, as the superior race should occupy a dominant position over others. From a political standpoint, the position is, by the way, obviously losing, as it excludes the possibility of mass support from the population of the conquered territories.

For Japan, the war was the same as for Germany — a means to expand its sphere of influence and secure for the Japanese their “deserved” place as the ruling nation among other Asian peoples. Additionally, overpopulation and the scarcity of natural resources objectively dictated the necessity of external expansion for the Land of the Rising Sun.

In Great Britain and France, a severe colonial crisis was brewing and had already matured: the strain of World War I undermined the economy and especially the military power of Western countries. Maintaining, defending, and supplying the majority of the globe with qualified administrators, garrisons, teachers, doctors, missionaries, and even traders became an overwhelming burden. The economy was cracking, governments were losing popularity, and a fresh agenda was needed, along with a reason to unite and the taste of victory.

And only the USA, strangely enough, didn’t need anything. It soon became clear, however, that the economic boom caused by the war would finally pull the country out of depression and provide momentum that would last almost a century. But at the start of the war, the USA was quite content with the role of an overseas observer and trading partner, supplying friendly countries but not getting involved in others’ fights. Even Japan’s capture of British and Dutch East Indies did not become a reason for America to enter the war, and only a direct attack forced the United States to once again abandon the Monroe Doctrine and non-interference in European and Asian interests.

Everyone wanted to fight, but with whom and against whom remained unclear until the last moment. One pair of opponents was considered almost certain over the last 20 years: the USSR and Great Britain. Both countries systematically prepared for war with each other, developing equipment, weaponry, doctrines, and statutes based on the capabilities of the potential adversary. There were plenty of reasons for this.

Firstly, neither England, its elite, nor public opinion could forgive the Bolsheviks for betraying the Entente. Additionally, the execution of the royal family — close relatives of the British ruling house — did not evoke any warm feelings towards the new Russian government. In turn, the active support of the White Movement by the British and direct intervention during the Civil War evoked oppressive memories among Soviet leaders. But the main issue, of course, was not past grievances but the obvious antagonism in political and social organization: on one side, a class-based monarchy, a colonial empire with a capitalist structure, and institutional inequality as a fundamental state-forming element. Let us once again recall that pre-war England was a country where the Prime Minister was a descendant of Dukes of Marlborough, officers predominantly noblemen, and the aristocracy — both hereditary and financial — play a decisive role in governing the state. On the other hand, Soviet Russia is a state consistently eradicating any echoes of social inequality, markedly internationalist, and officially proclaiming the power of the poor. Simultaneously, it is equally determined to impose its own “the only correct” social system worldwide. While Britain had long been establishing its own — colonial and also widespread. The systemic conflict was so clear that no one even tried to hide it.

But Germany’s conflict with either side was far from obvious. It’s important to note that now we know Hitler as the alter ego of Satan and his party as the embodiment of absolute evil. One of the most common questions, for example, about the Finns or Romanians, is “how could they fight for Hitler?” But people in the 1930s viewed things quite differently; for most of them, the National Socialist regime was by no means inherently bad and certainly not untouchable. Firstly, Hitler came to power quite legally through the most honest and democratic elections that were conducted at the time. The legitimacy of the chancellor and his party was not disputed, and the German government was recognized worldwide. There were also quite solid economic successes achieved in a record short time, as well as an unprecedented national rise and unity. Many politicians of that time openly envied their German colleague and tried to learn from his example.

No particular cruelty was associated with the Führer and his supporters at that time either. “The Night of the Long Knives” — ordinary intra-party disputes that happen in many countries even now, and for that troubled time, it was nothing unusual. In scale, it appeared quite moderate: compared to, for example, Stalin’s political processes — it was insignificant. Yes, the NSDAP had a very specific attitude towards communists and Jews, the Nuremberg racial laws looked unpleasant… But even here, nothing unusual was evident — hatred of Bolshevism was, and in some places remains, a characteristic feature of the Western mentality, and racial and national segregation, including laws very similar to the German ones, persisted, for example, in the USA even after the war. Yes, Hitler was quite an eccentric personality, an unpleasant negotiation partner, and a stubborn fanatic patriot, but none of these traits discredited him as a politician. And there were still a few years left until the gas chambers and mass executions of prisoners of war, and such a development of events was not seriously considered.

The relations between the Soviet Union and Germany before the war were uneven, but for the most part, rather positive: the shared interests of European outcasts played a role. The Treaty of Versailles pushed both countries to the sidelines of world politics and helping each other was more natural for them than being hostile. Moreover, the German people as a whole clearly leaned towards socialism and almost organized the second socialist state in Europe, which also connected them, if not the ruling regimes, then at least the nations.

Even more unnatural to many seemed the conflict between Germany and England. Despite the confrontation of the First World War, there was a two-century tradition of cooperation between the countries, reinforced by the ethnic closeness of the peoples and the blood kinship of the aristocracy. From the perspective of racial theory, the English could not be considered an inferior nation since they belonged to the same Germanic peoples — Saxons and Celts. British kings were ethnically German, and in principle, neither did Germany have serious historical claims against England nor vice versa. Finally, the countries had little to divide: there were no common borders or territorial claims, and British colonies, unlike at the beginning of the century, no longer represented any special interest for the Germans. Both in the German and British elite, there were powerful factions that believed the interests of the two states in the upcoming war almost aligned. To ultimately end up on opposite sides of the barricades, the Germans had to renounce Hess — the second man in the state, and the English had to renounce Edward VIII — their legitimate king.

In the east, everything was also extremely complicated. Russia and Japan had been in very tense relations since the beginning of the century and had fought each other several times — once on a large scale and many times on a smaller scale. The Japanese government did not hide its claims on the Far East but could not simultaneously wage war in the west and the south, and a simultaneous conflict with the European metropolises, the USSR, and the USA seemed blatant suicide. At the same time, the Soviet Union needed nothing from Japan except peace; its main interests were formed in Europe, not in Asia.

As a result, all diplomacy in Europe boiled down to the Anglo-French coalition on one side and the USSR on the other actively inciting Hitler against each other with the idea of “pitting the Nazis against the enemy, preparing properly, and then attacking the victor.” In the end, the Germans made the best use of all this “Byzantine” intrigue, first gathering Central Europe under themselves with the passive support of the West, then with Soviet help defeating France and bleeding England, and finally delivering a crushing blow to the east. In Asia, Soviet diplomacy proved more effective, and Japan’s strike fell on the British, the Dutch, and then the United States.

But such an arrangement came together at the very last moment and was not at all necessary. Already during World War II, when the Red Army was struggling through the blood-soaked Karelian swamps into Finland, French volunteers were boarding ships intending to defend the Finns from “Bolshevik aggression,” and the British dominions were sending planes and weapons to Helsinki. Had the Wehrmacht delayed the defeat of France, no anti-Hitler coalition involving the USSR might have formed, especially since the Soviet Union entered Poland, and thus the war, alongside Germany. And if instead of Pearl Harbor, Vladivostok had been bombed, the United States would likely not have actively opposed it. All three military-political blocs harbored absolutely no sympathy for each other and willingly united in any combination with the ultimate goal of weakening, or if lucky, destroying the other two.

Is it any wonder that as soon as the swift victory over Germany became apparent, the former allies quarreled among themselves? And it can hardly be called a quarrel, as it seemed more like political expediency. Stalin, Roosevelt, and Churchill could meet in Yalta or Tehran and negotiate spheres of influence and the post-war world order, but all these agreements remained purely a forced compromise, as their ideas of what was fair, right, and aligned with their “national interests” were practically opposite from the start.

Tanks Against Tanks

Boys love tanks and often imagine war as a clash of tank armadas: T-34s on one side, “Tigers” and “Panthers” on the other. Tanks create a sense of security and impunity simultaneously: as if you yourself grow a thousand-horsepower engine and a long, all-penetrating gun, shielded by thick armor against which any other weapon is powerless.

The myth of the invincibility of tank armadas is purely a Soviet phenomenon, a legacy not even of World War II, but of the fervent pre-war propaganda that convinced Red Army soldiers there was essentially nothing to fear; thick armor and powerful engines would make war easy and safe.

Despite the not too impressive results, tanks are still loved in Russia to this day, stockpiling them in quantities unattainable for the rest of the world. How can one not recall that even before the war, the USSR had more tanks than all other powers combined? Unfortunately, this did not save them from brutal defeats.

To be fair, tanks were not created, nor did they claim to be a universal weapon. They appeared in World War I when it became clear that at the then-current level of technology, infantry practically had no chance of breaking through well-fortified enemy lines, that cavalry was ineffective against machine guns and a continuous front, and something entirely new was needed to break the war out of the trench deadlock. In World War I, many things were tried: airplanes, airships, and chemical warfare agents. Tanks found their place but in two roles: as breakthrough weapons (in England, they were called “infantry” tanks, and in the USSR “medium” and “heavy” tanks) and as a mobile means to roam the enemy’s rear after the success of the breakthrough itself, replacing cavalry (in England, such tanks were called “Cavalry” and in the USSR “light”). The former eventually remained as tanks, while the latter transformed into various armored personnel carriers, infantry fighting vehicles, and even simply armed jeeps, the successors of the famous tachankas.

As soon as tanks demonstrated their applicability, the question of countering them arose — every weapon immediately leads to countermeasures. The response was anti-tank artillery, anti-tank rifles, and by the end of the war, handheld anti-tank grenade launchers: bazookas and Panzerfausts. These are what can be densely supplied to the defending infantry ranks: the tank is an offensive weapon, their appearance on the battlefield is sudden and everywhere, and one must be prepared for it.

Anti-tank artillery had two principal drawbacks: low mobility and limited protection. And although firing from a stationary position, preferably from an ambush at pre-sighted targets, is much more effective than firing on the move, the tank also has a gun and moves quickly back and forth. Therefore, as soon as the opportunity arose, artillery began to be mounted on wheels or tracks and protected with some form of armor. Not as thick as a tank’s — otherwise, it would become expensive and unwieldy — but enough to protect against shrapnel. Thus, self-propelled guns appeared — weaponry similar to a tank but predominantly defensive.

The task of the tank is to break through enemy trenches and foxholes at full speed, helping its infantry to advance in the attack. The task of the self-propelled gun is to quietly move to a convenient position, cover the enemy with a couple of volleys, and relocate before a counterattack arrives.

The “tanks versus tanks” warfare, so popular among boys of all ages, is a phenomenon that professional military personnel have always tried and continue to try to avoid. Of course, an armored box with a gun can be used for such a purpose — but why? Why put expensive equipment at risk by sending it to do a job for which it is completely unsuited when there are simpler, cheaper, and equally effective means?

In those cases when tanks did encounter each other, it happened mostly by accident. Both sides, bewildered and rotating their turrets, tried to quickly retreat to their own lines — a tank cut off from the infantry is guaranteed prey for the opponent. By the way, in the pre-tank era, cavalry acted in exactly this way: charge — brief clash — disperse. Because as soon as a firmly standing man with a rifle appears on the battlefield, the cavalryman becomes an easy target for a bullet. Jeb Stuart is a testament to that.

The Second Front and Comrades in Arms

From any historical phenomenon, event, or process, we are left with sources: eyewitness accounts, memories, archaeological findings. They serve as the primary source of our knowledge but do not replace a balanced analysis. It is difficult for people who are inside events to judge them objectively and impartially. As a rule, contemporaries are, in one way or another, interested or biased towards a particular point of view, and only from the vantage point of the passing years can one see a more or less objective picture of what actually took place.

Moreover, an eyewitness sees an event from one specific point of view. The logic and context of other participants are usually unknown to them. Therefore, to understand the nature of historical processes, it is necessary to analyze a multitude of sources — the more, the better.

From the veterans, we inherited a legendary dream that the Soviet people bore the entire burden of the war alone because the allies did not open a second front. They did not wish to fight for the common cause, only offering handouts.

It’s easy to understand where it came from: when you’re sitting in a trench under fire, retreating through snow and mud, starving, and charging at a machine gun, you wish for a miracle to happen, for a kind deity to descend from the sky or for unexpected help to arrive and bring salvation and hope.

When a Soviet soldier or officer, who knows the state of affairs from the heavily censored “combat leaflet,” discusses the opening of the second front, it is forgivable. But, let’s say, Stalin, who constantly demanded the opening of the second front from the allies, was much better informed. What was he counting on? Who was supposed to strike the Wehrmacht from the rear, where, and when?

Before 1941, there was no talk of a second front. More precisely, the Western front did exist at that time, but it was not only the first but also mainly the only one. The Soviet Union was not at war with Germany at that moment because, according to the official version, it “was not ready,” but it was at war with Poland — on the side of the Germans — and with Finland — on its own side.

The military aid from the allies would have been most useful in 1941, during the difficult times of encirclements and retreats. When all of Hitler’s forces were directed to the east, it was the perfect time to strike him from the other side… but who could do it? France, as a power, no longer existed; its remnant — the Vichy regime — was allied with Germany. America was not participating in the war, essentially had no land army, and its entire fleet was gathered in the Pacific, anticipating the upcoming fight with the Japanese. By the end of the war, America would become a first-class military power, and it would have so many ships that they could be sunk by the batch without regret during nuclear tests. And in 1941, it had practically nothing to fight with in the east.

Like England. Its army is demoralized, and the weapons abandoned at Dunkirk. English pilots have just barely prevented an invasion of the British Isles; had it happened, there would have been no one and nothing to resist with. Moreover, numerous colonies need protection, while the fleet — the only real asset the empire has — is spread thin and suffering loss after loss. When by the end of the year it will be necessary to defend Singapore — one of the main military bases and most significant possessions of the crown — all that can be done Britain was able to send a couple of battleships, which will find a quick and inglorious end there. England of 1941 is not concerned with a second front; it is more worried about surviving at all.

Then maybe 1942. How useful the news of the Normandy landing would have been in the midst of the battles near Kharkov, during the defense of Sevastopol, at the most tragic moment when everything was collapsing and burning. But the summer of forty-two was a terrible time not only for the Soviet Union; it was a terrible time for everyone. Germans in Crete, Italians sinking Maltese convoys one after another, Rommel driving the British to Egypt — the Mediterranean Sea almost lost. And for the Axis countries, it’s not only security from the south and freedom of maritime communications but also access to the Middle East and Arab oil, the main resource they so desperately lack. The Japanese are thoroughly beating the Yankees, and it smells of a landing in Australia, if not in Oregon. After Pearl Harbor, there’s almost nothing to defend with; the same ships are darting across the vast ocean, covering the south and then the north. Even the sudden victory at Midway doesn’t change much; we now know it became a turning point, but back then it was followed by failure after failure. In 1942, Japan and Germany were still stronger than the Allies, and only by the end of the year, after El Alamein, did the balance begin to shift. This is immediately taken advantage of — in November, the Americans and the British land in Morocco and Algeria, and for the Germans and Italians, the evening ceases to be tranquil. But this is, of course, not the second front that the exhausted and miraculously surviving Soviet soldier dreams of and still needed by Stalin.

Then maybe 1943. In forty-three, the second front happens. The Allies land in Sicily and then in Italy, from where it’s not far to Germany within reach, really. The triumphant march to Rome takes Italy out of the war, but as soon as German troops take the place of the defenders, a tough, months-long battle for Monte Cassino begins: the Wehrmacht of 1943 is still a worthy opponent that cannot be quickly crushed by the blows of inexperienced newcomers. By the way, the Red Army fully felt this at the Battle of Kursk a couple of months earlier — despite multiple superiority in everything, despite precise knowledge of the enemy’s plans thanks to their own and British intelligence, and despite the fact that the Germans no longer had air superiority, Soviet troops fought fierce battles and only turned the tide of the battle when the enemy’s resources were exhausted. Resources that could have been replenished with troops from the south, but now they had to work hard for the Italians. This is still not the “second front,” but it’s all the Allies could do in Europe at that moment.

And in 1944, the second front truly happens, but now Stalin needs it like a cat needs a fifth leg. Stalin no longer doubts his ability to liberate Europe on his own and manage the victory as he sees fit. But the Allies also understand perfectly well that while they are banging against the closed door of the Apennines, the T-34s could roll to the Atlantic. And then try to push them back. After the landing in Normandy, the war turns into a race with the goal of getting as large a piece as possible before the inevitable post-war division. The rush results in significant bloodshed, completely unnecessary when victory is already absolutely inevitable, but now it is driven by geopolitics, the desire not only to win the war but also to benefit from it. The apotheosis is the twofold surrender of Germany: first on May 7th in Reims without the participation of the USSR, and then on May 8th in full composition. As a result, the West celebrates victory on the eighth, and Russia on the ninth, depending on which surrender they prefer.

It was precisely this long-awaited landing in Normandy that led to the Soviet Union practically gaining nothing from the war. However, very soon it was able to retaliate slightly by initiating a race in the east: the defeat of the Kwantung Army was for the Americans just as much a disservice, formally fulfilling allied obligations, but in fact, a struggle for a piece of the post-war pie. In August 1945, the USA would have easily defeated the Mikado without outside help, but then today we would not have a capitalist China under the rule of the Kuomintang.

With the largest battle-hardened army in the world, the best battlefield equipment, and the readiness to fight to the last soldier, Stalin could have claimed even more. But the timely dropping of “Little Boy” and “Fat Man” and the presence of U.S. strategic bombers capable of delivering an atomic bomb to Moscow if necessary, convinced the Generalissimo to agree to a rather modest division. After this, the Soviet army began to gradually demobilize and disband, sending soldiers home. But the bitterness of resentment Stalin did not forgive either his own or others. From then on, the Americans were undermined wherever possible, and the Shakhurin case marked the resumption of repressions against anyone who could be blamed in any way for failure.

Could Hitler Have Won?

They say that history does not like the subjunctive mood.

Nevertheless, to understand the reasons behind certain decisions and the logic of their adoption, it is often necessary to consider alternative scenarios of event development. After all, contemporaries did not know how things would end, and therefore relied on assumptions, including those that did not materialize.

Moreover, the whole point of studying the past is to draw conclusions for the future, both from what actually happened and from what could have occurred.

History is not recommended to be considered in the subjunctive mood. “What if…” And yet, discussions about “what could have happened” arise constantly, and they make sense: since we are talking about the patterns of the historical process, about predicting the future, about causes and effects, it is necessary not only to understand what happened but also to speculate on what could have happened.

Politically, Germany could hardly have won: this assertion has a concrete explanation. The Nazi regime was based on the superiority of the German, more precisely, the Aryan race. Germany could not abandon this thesis; it was precisely for this superiority that the ordinary German soldier fought, and for the majority, it was the meaning of the war. Naturally, such an inherently arrogant position excludes many forms of cooperation with the population of conquered countries, effectively any except unconditional and strict submission. Managing hundreds of millions of people by brute force is impossible; neither Rome nor Britain managed this task. Apparently, the Reich would not have been able to either.

From a military point of view, however, an Axis victory was quite possible. At least in the middle of 1942, the Allies’ situation was hanging by a thread.

On the Eastern Front, the Kharkov disaster and the disaster in Crimea led to the entire southern flank of the Red Army effectively ceasing to exist. The advance of the Wehrmacht was held back only by the length of the supply lines and the lack of personnel to occupy the ever-expanding territory, which was already too large to manage without issues. To recover from the blow, the Soviet Union needed resources, but most of them had been lost in the defeats of ’41 and the current ones of ’42, and replenishing them with the efforts of factories evacuated to open fields required time. Moreover, the army was leaving the most fertile regions of the country, hinting at famine. And without food, neither a worker can build a tank, nor can a soldier fight in it, even if there is steel, diesel, machinery, and blast furnaces.

The shortage could have been covered by American Lend-Lease. But at that very moment, the Germans plugged the Arctic gap through which it was seeping into the Soviet north. The fate of the PQ-17 convoy is tragic not only due to the loss of sailors but also because it closed the main logistical window between Russia and its allies.

The British are faring only slightly better. After the success of the German landing on Crete, Rommel is pushing them eastward, and soon the evacuation of Egypt could become a reality. This, by the way, is not a trivial matter but a direct route for Germany to Arab oil, not to mention shaking hands with Japanese allies through the Suez Canal. By closing the path around Eurasia, the Germans and Japanese are encircling the USSR with a ring while simultaneously cutting off Britain from its remaining eastern colonies. For now, the Gibraltar-Malta-Alexandria line allows the British fleet to hold on, but the losses of Mediterranean convoys are even more dreadful than those of the Arctic ones. In a few more weeks, Malta will be left without planes and fuel, and with the fall of the island, the Mediterranean Sea will become German and Italian.

In the Atlantic, a fierce battle is taking place between German submarines and British destroyers. Things are also bad there — they can’t manage to reduce the sunk tonnage, and the weapons and food coming from America are being sent to the bottom in increasingly threatening quantities. Meanwhile, in Asia, the Japanese are occupying island after island with impunity, and their landing in Australia is almost a foregone conclusion, but there are no guarantees that the war won’t come directly to U.S. territory. If that happens, America will throw all its resources into defending itself, and then the chances for the Russians and British to hold out will become quite slim.

If you look at the map through the eyes of the allies in the anti-Hitler coalition, the war is already lost for them, and only a miracle can save the situation. However, even a single miracle won’t suffice; a whole streak of luck is needed. And it appears.

The first stroke of luck falls to the Americans, on whom the victorious Japanese army and the invincible Japanese fleet are relentlessly advancing from the west. In the path of these armadas, right in the middle of the ocean, lies the tiny Midway Atoll, where there is nothing but a military airfield. However, this airfield is very much needed by both the Americans who occupy it and the Japanese who covet it — having a stationary “unsinkable” aircraft carrier halfway to the enemy is very useful.

In the battle for tiny Midway, the Yankees had one advantage: they had long been able to read Japanese codes, and the plans of many enemy operations were not a secret to them. And there was one disadvantage: they simply were worse at fighting. Moreover, the American torpedoes hastily adopted right before the war had the unfortunate property of not exploding. Submarines, destroyers, torpedo planes, and boats launched heroic attacks — and nothing happened. People went to their deaths hoping to strike the enemy, but the weapons they used for this strike turned out to be useless. In the summer of ’42, no one knew about this yet.

Near Midway Atoll, American Admiral Nimitz set up a classic ambush for the Japanese. Three aircraft carriers, under the cover of everything that could be gathered, lay in wait near the island, anticipating the enemy landing accompanied by the majority of the enemy fleet. They lay in wait — and descended upon the Japanese with an armada of three and a half hundred aircraft.

They did descend, but there was little benefit from this assault because the torpedoes didn’t explode, and the pilots were not trained in coordination between the commanders not a bit. One after another, American squadrons descended upon the Japanese fleet and perished under the fire of the famous “Zero” fighters and the anti-aircraft artillery of the carrier escort. First, second, third, eighth… the pilots were not lacking in perseverance, but the result remained the same.

In the end, the Japanese discovered the American fleet and, rightly deciding that Midway wasn’t going anywhere, but the ships might, prepared to settle the score with them. To do this, they removed the bombs intended for attacking the ground airfield from the planes and started loading torpedoes — to sink the pesky aircraft carriers. And then a miracle happened that no one expected. Captain McClusky with his squadron got lost in the ocean. And instead of being shot down among the first, he wandered in the warm June sky for an extra hour. Blaming him for this would be reckless: in an era when planes had neither GPS nor any navigation systems at all, getting lost in the open sea was not difficult. But the miracle is not even that McClusky got lost and wasn’t shot down like the previous eight attack waves, nor that he eventually found the Japanese fleet, but in the form in which he found it. The fighter cover far below was finishing off the survivors from the previous attacks. On the decks, hundreds of planes: mechanics were switching torpedoes and bombs back and forth. The anti-aircraft gunners, deciding the banquet was over, were resting. And only forty-four American dive bombers were looking for where to place their bombs, which, unlike the torpedoes, explode.

The capture of Midway did not take place. Having lost four aircraft carriers, the Japanese fleet would head home for the first time in the war without achieving its goal. Now we know that it was from Midway that the Axis’s victorious march began to slow down and eventually rolled back. At that moment, it was simply a significant victory followed by bitter defeats, not just one or two. But the victory at Midway meant that America, at the very least, would not have to defend its own land, and as such, it would continue to feed, supply, and arm its allies.

And they had their own miracles beginning. And if the American miracle had a name — Captain McClusky, then the British one had a name: “Ohio”.

The main concern of the English was Malta, and things were very bad there. Because getting anything through to the tiny island in the middle of a sea filled with enemy planes and ships is almost like for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle. The Admiralty sent convoy after convoy, and the Germans and Italians repeatedly sent them to the bottom. Fuel for the Maltese fighters was running out, and without fighters, the island would instantly become defenseless against bombings and then an invasion similar to the Cretan one, only easier. Finally, as a last attempt, the English assembled the “Pedestal” convoy, which had perhaps the most powerful escort in history: four aircraft carriers, two battleships, and a whole crowd of cruisers and destroyers. An entire fleet, significantly stronger than, for example, all Soviet fleets combined, was sent to accompany the cargo ships.

As soon as the convoy started moving, torpedo boats, planes, and submarines habitually began to sink it. They were successful, and by the end of the crossing, little was left of the transports. They sank, burned, and exploded, resulting in an outcome as disastrous as that of the infamously known PQ-17.

The last surviving tanker in the convoy was the American “Ohio.” Tankers generally burned and exploded more readily than any other ships and bringing them to their destination port was a rare act of heroism. However, the “Ohio” attracted trouble even more than usual. On the very first day, it was hit by a torpedo from a submarine. For most ships, that would have been enough, but the tanker continued to move with the convoy. Then dive bombers dropped several bombs on it, and one, shot down by anti-aircraft gunners, crashed into it. Finally, after a day, the tanker received another torpedo, lost its propulsion, and turned into a wreck.

Then the stubborn English harnessed three destroyers to it like horses and, under enemy fire, dragged it further. And in its last breath, they dragged it to the destination. After which, they pumped out the aviation fuel and used it as intended.

The Germans and their allies had no more successes in the Mediterranean.

The Russian miracle went without a name. Perhaps it could have been called “globe” or “geopolitics,” and as is customary with the Russians, it was the least miraculous of all.

Almost immediately after the defeat of the Red Army near Kharkov, murmurs began among the German generals. They believed that in the current situation, it was advisable to turn the army north to Moscow, while Hitler stubbornly drove the troops eastward — to the Volga and southward — to the Caucasus and Transcaucasia. There, they eventually got bogged down, stretching their communications and getting stuck in dense defenses in difficult terrain.

The military can be understood — their goal is to win the battle, to defeat the enemy. But the German leadership reasoned like politicians, like strategists; its goal was not to capture the enemy’s capital but to achieve the objectives of the war. And for this purpose, the campaign to Moscow seemed practically useless. Primarily because even if it were assumed that it could be taken at all, Moscow would be of little use. In the autumn of forty-one, it could be assumed that with the capture of the capital, the Red Army would completely lose its combat capability, or the Soviet people would rise against the “Jewish Bolshevik power,” or Stalin would surrender and flee beyond the Urals. In forty-two, illusions about the possibility of completely occupying Russia or creating a puppet government like the Vichy regime were no longer particularly entertained. A more or less loyal leadership with which an agreement could be reached and good territorial acquisitions would have fully satisfied Hitler, for whom, it should be noted, unlike the USSR, the war was not seen as a war of annihilation. Good fertile lands with a moderate amount of indigenous population that is easy to manage and colonize, reserves of natural resources — Donbass coal and Transcaucasian oil, a mild climate familiar to the average European… German politicians certainly did not dream of dense forests, harsh frosts, and millions of grim men always ready to harm the true Aryan. Capturing Moscow at any cost seemed like a bad idea in these conditions.

Besides, although the main battles were unfolding on the Eastern Front, the Führer also had a world map. And in light of the seemingly inevitable defeat of the British in the Mediterranean and the precarious position of Turkey, which was almost ready to unite with the Axis powers, the priority capture of the Black Sea region, the Caucasus, and Transcaucasia seemed more than logical. This would allow Eurasia to be split in two, isolating the remnants of the Soviet Union in barren northern lands without access to European seas, separating Britain from its Asian colonies, and disrupting all Allied communications in the Eastern Hemisphere, except for the endlessly long route around Africa. Weren’t the German people enduring the hardships of war for this very reason for three years?

In reality, however, this seemingly logical decision from all sides turned into a complete failure. Rommel never managed to reach Egypt, the offensive in the Caucasus stalled, Turkey did not dare to enter the war, and the entire carefully nurtured geopolitical plan collapsed like a house of cards. The Allies held firm. The war, heavy, strained, and bloody, began to reverse. This anti-German miracle is colloquially referred to as “just a little short”.

Iran was surrounded by Turkey on all sides.

A Little More about the Role of Chance

Service on submarines has always been a matter not for the faint-hearted. In a way, it is at the opposite pole in relation to the service of a fighter pilot. For the latter, the whole life boils down to brief moments: takeoff, flight, a fleeting air battle, and if lucky, landing back home. Everything happens so quickly that you hardly have time to be properly scared.

The work of a submariner is mostly about waiting. Moreover, it’s waiting in the most miserable conditions for this: in an eternally leaking, stuffy coffin where you can’t even properly stretch out, let alone walk normally. Endless silence and intense listening, as vision is practically useless here.

For submariners of World War II, it was even worse. Their submarines were quite slow, and only precise calculation could bring them to a point from which they could attack. The attack itself was usually a long, tedious pursuit, trying to cut the corner and cross the course, constant calculation of torpedo triangles, finally a salvo and escape. Often so quick that you don’t even have time to assess the results of your attack, as the submarine is practically defenseless against surface ships.

Escape is also about waiting. A dash, a stop: you can’t make noise with the propellers for too long, lie low, be silent, hide. Then another dash and another stop. The roar of depth charges, and you will either surface someday or not. We deduce the fate of many submarines and their crews later, solely from the results of studying enemy archives: pursued, bombed, and an oil slick surfaced. We verify yes, there was a submarine in that area, and yes, it did not return. And several dozen people, at best, drowned in obscurity, at worst, suffocated for many hours in their box, having no chance to reach the surface.

So, in September 1942, when the Americans were losing everything possible in the Pacific, the Japanese submarine I-19 was quietly humming with electric motors in the Solomon Islands area, where a major tropical slaughter had begun a month earlier. By her luck, American ships were hurriedly passing by: two large carrier groups led by “Wasp” and “Hornet.” In fact, they included almost all the major modern vessels that the USA had in the southern part of the Pacific at that time.

I-19 chose the fattest and closest target, fired a torpedo salvo in a fan, and as expected, quickly and successfully slipped away into the distance. The fat target — the aircraft carrier Wasp — received two torpedoes out of six in its side, and since Japanese torpedoes were far superior to American ones, having no defects, it soon went to the bottom. This was recorded by the sonar operators on the submarine, and the commander reported it upon arrival.

There would be nothing remarkable about this story if not for one circumstance: the sonar operators recorded nothing regarding what happened to the other four torpedoes, and the Japanese command only learned about it after the war. Here’s what happened: these torpedoes did not hit the “Wasp” but continued on their course for the full range of their design, which was 15 nautical miles. They traveled there for half an hour, and in the meantime, the second carrier group — “Hornet” and its escort ships — arrived in the same area. No one could have foreseen that they would be there, as fifteen miles is practically beyond the horizon, and in half an hour, the warships of World War II could cover almost the same distance. Nevertheless, one torpedo found the battleship “North Carolina” and another hit the destroyer “O’Brien.” The explosion caused enough damage to the massive battleship — at that time the only modern battleship of the Allies in the Pacific — to send it into long-term repairs. The destroyer, although not immediately, eventually went to the bottom. So, it wasn’t just Captain McClusky who had luck in the war.

About their own luck, the Japanese sailors, unlike historians, never found out at all. A year later, a resting submarine in a surfaced position was discovered, caught up with, and sunk with its entire crew by another American destroyer. The year was ending.

The third year — Japanese luck was finally coming to an end.

The Last Greeting of the Middle Ages

We really love to believe that any events are objectively determined, have clearly defined causes and understandable consequences. However, this is not the case. Often, the reason for serious matters can be something completely insignificant: a personal grievance, an unfortunate or, conversely, fortunate incident, accumulated anger or fatigue. Sometimes, a rash decision by one person is enough, and at other times, everything happens by the will of an agitated crowd.

Psychology plays no less, if not a greater role in history than economics, and human passions often prove to be a more significant reason than the arguments of reason. Because the history we study is the history of humanity with all its virtues and flaws.

Everyone wanted World War II, but from the perspective of our time, it looks like complete idiocy. On one side: the largest power in the world — Great Britain, the biggest and well-armed army — the Soviet, the best economy — the American, and the country with the most progressive social system at that time — France. On the other — Germany, utterly defeated, stripped of the right to have an army or aviation and navy. Italy, torn apart, and Japan, isolated from the world, lost at the edge of the Earth. If the war is won by the economy, which is almost always true, the outcome should have been decided immediately and, as they say, in one gate. However, in three years, the Axis managed to subjugate almost all of Europe, a significant portion of Asia, and even make significant advances in Oceania, casually defeating the once invincible armies and navies of vastly superior powers.

How could this even happen? How could countries that, while not dwarfs, were quite secondary in capabilities, manage to “lead” giants, the recognized world leaders and superpowers of that time, for years?

Usually, this is explained by the fact that England, France, the USSR, and the USA were “not ready for war.” They try not to elaborate on what exactly this unpreparedness entailed so as not to have to explain the abundance of Soviet tanks and British battleships. And yet, it is true — everyone wanted the war, but practically no one was ready for it. In the sense that “no one wanted to die”.

Boys and historians love to compare tanks, the number of aircraft, infantry and motorized divisions, bomb loads, and turning radii. But war in most cases.

Not about who has thicker front armor and cannon barrels, although in a specific battle like Jutland or Tsushima this can be crucial. War is about the willingness to stand to the death, like Wellington’s soldiers at Waterloo or Meade at Gettysburg. When it seems like they’ve already lost and need to surrender or flee, yet they grimly hold the lines, dying but not retreating. And the attack falters, followed by another, then a third, and then Blücher’s cavalry appears.

The Germans of thirty-nine and even forty-five were ready to die for the Führer, for Germany, to wash away the shame of Versailles and earn the right to a better life with blood. Weimar Republic, was probably not the worst place to live, but a completely bleak place in terms of expectations and prospects for the majority of the population. To toil until the seventh sweat in the hope of not remaining impoverished in old age — that was all the then government could offer the Germans. It’s not surprising that Hitler, with his national grandeur and world domination, was perceived almost like a deity.

The Japanese were ready to die for the Mikado for roughly the same reasons. A dreary life on overcrowded islands, the stigma of being wild barbarians, and bleak prospects for everyone who wasn’t fortunate enough to be part of the “elite” — a sufficient set of motivators to go into battle, and not just into battle, but into a suicidal banzai attack or a kamikaze raid.

Their opponents were mostly not ready to die. For Europeans, this unpreparedness stems from the First World War, still perceived by many as the hardest war in history. Not because of the scale of losses, but because of their senselessness. The Second World War was a time when million-strong armies made advances over thousands of kilometers, fronts conducted offensive and defensive operations, and enormous fleets crossed oceans to land on distant islands. Yes, people died like flies, but in most cases, there was some justification, reason, or goal for their deaths. The First World War was the triumph of defense, millions of soldiers in trenches and ditches that did not change their location for years. And artillery pounding these trenches month after month. People died without moving from their place, without launching a decisive offensive, and without fleeing the battlefield. Year after year.

The Second World War had a purpose. For some, it was to become the dominant race, to seize new lands, and to rise from need and oblivion to glory and prosperity. For others, it was to avoid destruction and enslavement, to stop the mad and ferocious enemies. The First World War had no purpose, or rather, it had a purpose for governments, and more precisely, for the sovereigns of the warring states. In other words, it was the last war arranged by kings with the traditionally royal explanation of “because I want it that way.”.

To be fair, none of these monarchs, who were closely related to each other, planned for four years of a bloody massacre. They all were confident in their swift and almost bloodless victory — a little saber-rattling and then disperse. What happened became a colossal, hard-to-comprehend blow to the trust between people, society, and governments or states.

At the very beginning of the 20th century, Kipling praised the “white man’s burden” and millions of Britons were ready to travel to the ends of the Earth to defend the interests of the Empire. From the real Churchill to the literary Watson, every self-respecting young Englishman was happy to make a career in overseas colonies; wars and conquests were considered honorable. Public opinion praised the conquerors of Afghanistan, Sudan, and the Transvaal. Thirty years later, nothing remained of the former enthusiasm. The Statute of Westminster grants self-governance to the dominions in exchange for nominal recognition of the British monarch and voluntary assistance from the metropolis, which does not want to be responsible for its numerous lands — it is tired and has no money. The latter is also significant — the First World War cost the treasury such a penny, or rather a pence, that now there is not enough money not only for two fleets but barely for one. No, the English do not want to fight. And if for the “white cliffs of Albion” they are still ready to lay down their heads, then for all sorts of peripheral lands — sorry, no thanks. And even more so, Indians and Malays do not want to fight for their masters; they scatter in all directions at the first sign of danger.

The French also have no desire to fight, especially not with the Germans, and certainly not over some Poland. Poland is far away, and the Germans are nearby, and in the last hundred years, they’ve been hit hard by them a couple of times. And if politics insistently demands that the French elite stick their nose into other people’s affairs, the ordinary monsieur is not at all eager to perish from a German bullet for who knows what. Therefore, as soon as France declares war, it immediately begins to sabotage it: overthrowing Hitler is problematic, but getting something from him is quite possible. And when it turns out that Germany is fighting for real, the French are so confused that they don’t even manage to put up real resistance.

Americans, on the contrary, are ready to fight anyone, anytime, even with their bare hands. Yankees are quite the brawlers. But right now, they are bored out of their minds, there’s no work, and Roosevelt has ordered roads to be paved. Even getting a proper drink isn’t possible everywhere. Naturally, rather than digging the ground and hauling gravel, it would be much more interesting to beat someone up. But the Monroe Doctrine gets in the way, although it’s been quite worn down by time, it is still deeply ingrained — everything that happens outside of America doesn’t concern Americans. It took a lot of diplomatic efforts along with Pearl Harbor for the USA to lazily reach for the Colt in the third year.

What about the Russians? You will be surprised, but they also have no desire to die. And this is despite the fact that, thanks to propaganda, they have long forgotten the First World War (now called the “German War”), written off six million of their dead, despite the fact that for decades they were prepared for the inevitability of a war for the happiness of the world proletariat, taught to throw grenades and jump from parachute towers. The pre-war USSR as a state was quite aggressive. But the people, on the contrary, were more than peace-loving.

Because why? Newspapers, radio, the party organizer at work, and the political officer in the unit are convincing every day that with the arrival of the workers’ and peasants’ power, life has improved. Komsomol construction projects are in full swing, the production of pig iron and steel is increasing, records are being set for coal mining and flights over the North Pole. From Moscow to the British seas, the Red Army is the strongest of all… Life has become better and indeed more cheerful, much more cheerful than the pre-revolutionary slums and villages that preserved the feudal-serf system. Why go to death if everything is already becoming more beautiful day by day for the sake of the workers of the whole world. They are far away; for their liberation, there is the Comintern and the Red Army, which is also not for bloody battles but for the triumphant march of the world revolution. And if a meat grinder begins, whether with the Finns, the Germans, or even the Japanese, Soviet people do not show much eagerness to fight and only reforge themselves when there is absolutely no other way.

What broke almost all the nations of Europe, turning them from militant powers accustomed to resolving issues by force of arms into a testing ground for German offensive operations.