for a call over the special high-security line—the so-called VC telephone.
Fedyuninsky did not wait for a car. He threw a coat over his shoulders and ran to staff headquarters. He found the VC line out of order. He got through on the ordinary phone, and Potapov ordered him to put his division on alert. “But don’t respond to provocations,” Potapov insisted. As Fedyuninsky put down the receiver he heard a fusillade of pistol shots—the car which had been sent to bring him to staff headquarters was being fired on by Nazi diversionists who had slipped across the frontier. 3
Vice Admiral Vladimir Tributs, commander in chief of the Baltic Fleet, chargéd with the defense of Leningrad’s sea approaches, had watched events through the dismal spring of 1941 with unconcealed apprehension. More, perhaps, than any other single Soviet officer, Tributs was apprised of the activity of German planes, German submarines, German transports, German agents and German sympathizers. Somewhat against his inclinations (because of security problems and the difficulty of constructing a new fleet base), Tributs had advanced Baltic Fleet headquarters from its historic seat at the Kronstadt fortress in Leningrad to the port of Tallinn, two hundred miles to the west. The shift had taken place when the Soviets took over the Baltic states in the summer of 1940. It gave Admiral Tributs an observation post within the newly acquired, only partially assimilated Baltic areas. He began to report the arrival of German troops at Memel, just across the new Soviet Baltic border, as early as March, 1941. In the same month German overflights became a daily phenomenon at most Baltic bases. By June, Admiral Tributs estimated at least four hundred German tanks had been concentrated just a few miles from the Soviet Baltic border.
Even more suggestive was the conduct of German engineers engaged in work for the Soviet Navy. The Russians had purchased from Germany late in 1939 an unfinished cruiser, the Liitzoiv . The Russians towed it to Leningrad in the spring of 1940 for completion in the great Baltic shipyards. Several hundred German specialists were working on the Liitzoiv . In April parts and supplies failed to arrive on schedule from Germany, although the Germans previously had been remarkably punctual. Tributs mentioned the delay to Admiral N. G. Kuznetsov, the Naval Commissar, who talked to Stalin about it. But Stalin merely suggested keeping an eye on the situation.
A little later the German engineers began to return home on one pretext or another. By the end of May only twenty remained in Leningrad, and by June 15 the last had vanished.
Simultaneously, German ships disappeared from Soviet waters. By June 16 not one remained.
Tributs was so worried that on Thursday, June 19, he convened his Military Council and decided to order a No. 2 Combat Alert for the Baltic Fleet. Chief of Staff, Vice Admiral Yuri A. Panteleyev, started to scribble out the orders while Tributs telephoned Admiral Kuznetsov in Moscow.
“Comrade Commissar,” Tributs told Admiral Kuznetsov, “we have arrived at the view that an attack by Germany is possible at any moment. We must begin laying down our mine barrages or it will be too late. And I think it essential to raise the operational readiness of the fleet.”
Tributs listened to Kuznetsov a moment, then hung up.
“He agrees to the alert,” Tributs told Panteleyev, “but orders us to be careful and avoid provocation. And we will have to wait on the mine laying. Now, let’s get to work. . . .” 4
On the evening of June 21 Leningrad’s sea frontiers—the Baltic Fleet, the shore bases, the coastal artillery as far west as Libau (Lipaja), the island sentries in the Baltic, the new leased-area fortress of Hangö, the submarines, the patrol craft and other sea-borne units—all were on a No. 2 Alert, just a step below all-out readiness for action. Live ammunition had been distributed. Leaves had been canceled. Full
Rob Destefano, Joseph Hooper