Stalin’s General: The Life of Georgy Zhukov

  • Geoffrey Roberts
  • Random House
  • 400 pp.
  • July 11, 2012

A new portrait of the decorated Soviet general.

Reviewed by Stephen Randolph

Geoffrey Roberts’ biography of Marshal Georgy Zhukov opens with the high point of Zhukov’s long and extraordinarily complex career: the victory parade in Red Square in June 1945, as the Soviet Union celebrated the conquest of Nazi Germany. Josef Stalin selected Zhukov to accept the salute at this magnificent parade, a measure both of Zhukov’s role in the Soviet triumph and his relationship with Stalin.

Roberts, who has studied and written on the Soviet experience in World War II for decades, shows his comfort with the material in his absolute control over a complex narrative. By his account, Roberts undertook this biography skeptical toward the common image of Zhukov’s role in World War II and the mythology that has enveloped Zhukov — much of it created by Zhukov himself. In the course of his research, Roberts gradually arrived at a more balanced view of Zhukov both as a man and a military commander.

The trajectory of Zhukov’s career falls into three distinct periods. First we have an account of his early life. Born to peasants outside Moscow in 1896, sent to the capital at the age of 12 and conscripted into the military in 1915, Zhukov served first with the Tsarist cavalry and then joined the Red Army during the civil wars, his rise through the ranks steady and sure through the years that followed.

In 1939 he served in the first of the fireman’s roles that he would perform frequently, and superbly, throughout World War II. Sent to Mongolia to investigate the failures of the Soviet commanders in earlier engagements with the Japanese, he rose to command a multi-divisional combined arms attack on the Japanese, a double envelopment that effectively ended the border wars between Japanese and Soviet forces in the area. He languished for eight months in Ulan Bator, fortunately missing out on the Soviets’ misbegotten winter war against Finland in 1940.

His victory over the Japanese caught Stalin’s eye, and in the aftermath of the fiasco in Finland, Zhukov was appointed to command of the Kiev military district. From there he moved on to become the Chief of the General Staff — an extraordinary move in light of his lack of staff experience at anywhere near that level. He operated in that role through the months leading up to Hitler’s invasion of Russia in June 1941 and was therefore a central figure in the crushing, almost unprecedented series of defeats that threatened to overwhelm the Red Army that summer.

Nevertheless, he somehow retained Stalin’s trust and embarked on the almost unbelievable series of engagements that ultimately culminated in his role in the Victory Parade: the desperate defensive stands at Moscow and Leningrad, the counteroffensive at Stalingrad, the turning of the tide at Kursk, campaigns to retake Ukraine and to destroy Germany’s Army Group Center, and finally into the endgame with the capture of Warsaw and the conquest of Berlin. In this second broad phase of his career he earned recognition as the architect of victory in the East.

Zhukov proved himself over and over, in both his methods of command and style. No one ever considered him elegant, either in strategic or personal terms. He was, however, what every commander in chief needs in war: a general absolutely committed to victory, able to achieve that end under the most trying circumstances. His personal characteristics shine through every anecdote and incident Roberts relates: he was abusive, blunt, vain, arrogant, self-centered — but he was a master planner, indefatigable in his preparation and execution of battle, able to operate on almost unimaginably broad canvasses and with the strength to persevere through four years of the bloodiest war in human history. In this day of counterinsurgency warfare, in which nations struggle to deploy a few tens of thousands of soldiers, it is almost a shock to reflect on the scale of forces that Zhukov marshaled and sent into battle.

In its own way, the third major phase of Zhukov’s career was as distinctive as the previous two. Within months he had crossed Stalin and was toppled from the pinnacle of Soviet leadership, exiled to command of a backwater military district. Late in life, Stalin relented and brought Zhukov back to the periphery of power as the Deputy Ministry of Defense. Nikita Khruschev, who replaced Stalin, appointed him as Minister of Defense in early 1955, but he was deposed again in late 1958, this time for good. He spent much of his retirement drafting his memoirs, which represented his attempt to recapture his central role in the history of the Great Patriotic War.

Zhukov and his contemporaries engaged in a spirited memoir competition in an effort to shape the historical memory of the conflict. Roberts uses hitherto unavailable sources to judge among the conflicting claims, with the humble device of Stalin’s appointment calendar his most effective instrument in doing so. The basic facts of meeting times, attendance and timing provide a factual basis on which to judge the rival claims. He takes time to address the major controversies of the Soviet war in the course of his biography, treating in detail, for example, Stalin’s preparation for the German offensive in 1941 and addressing the Red Army’s halt before Warsaw in 1944.

This is a fine biography, wrapped well into the broader context of Zhukov’s war and the Soviet system he served so loyally. The general reader can come away with a clear understanding of Zhukov’s character and operating style. Military historians seeking a detailed view of Zhukov’s operations — his management of logistics, the planning apparatus by which he integrated his combined arms forces and so on — will need to seek elsewhere; Roberts summarizes these characteristics of Zhukov’s style without exploring this next level of detail. But Geoffrey Roberts has accomplished his aim, with a readable, sound, balanced portrait of a fascinating man operating on a vast scale.

Dr. Stephen Randolph served on the faculty of the National Defense University as a Professor of Military Strategy from 1997-2011. He now directs the Office of the Historian at the State Department.

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