Parade of Resolve

"You mean to hold a military parade on Red Square this May 9th, to commemorate the 47th anniversary of victory in the Great Patriotic War?"Pavlov looked at Yanaev's proposal in disbelief. "Isn't that too hasty? It's already late February. This year isn't even a major anniversary. I think…"He hesitated, then added more cautiously, "Perhaps it would be wiser to wait. What about the 50th anniversary? By then, our economy may have stabilized, and we'll be better prepared to celebrate with the grandeur it deserves."

Yanaev responded with three sharp words, each heavier than the last.

"No. No. No, Prime Minister Pavlov—we can't afford to wait."

He leaned forward, his voice firm.

"Do you remember November 7, 1941? The Germans were at the gates of Moscow. Their tanks were just 25 kilometers from Red Square. Shells could be heard from the Kremlin walls. And yet, Comrade Stalin held a military parade on Revolution Day—right here, in the heart of the capital. Not to celebrate, but to inspire."

He paused, eyes burning with conviction.

"Our situation is no different now. The enemy is not outside our borders—he's inside. They see the Soviet Union as a crumbling ruin. They hope we destroy ourselves from within. That's why we must show them, loudly and clearly, that our struggle is not over. We have stumbled—but we have not fallen."

Yanaev's true purpose became clear. This parade wasn't just for commemoration—it was a declaration. A signal to both allies and adversaries that the Soviet Union still stood tall, proud, and unbroken.

Seeing this, Pavlov's resistance softened. But he raised another concern.

"Should we invite other socialist allies to attend? To join us in this act of defiance and remembrance?"

He didn't say it aloud, but both men knew the landscape had changed. The Velvet Revolution had dismantled Czechoslovakia's communist legitimacy. Romania now obeyed the National Salvation Front. Hungary had embraced democratic socialism. Yugoslavia was splintering apart.

Only a few remained: Vietnam, North Korea, Cuba—and one more. A vast socialist country to the south, with a long and complicated relationship with Moscow. Pavlov didn't say its name, but they both understood.

In the eyes of many Soviet generals, this neighbor—despite thawing relations—was still seen as a threat in the Far East, a silent rival. But Yanaev had no time for such short-sightedness.

"Invite them all," he said. "Every socialist state, and even our wary European neighbors. Whether they accept is their decision. But the invitations must be sent."

The Soviet Union had always been an outsider, on the edge of Europe, despised and encircled. That isolation had driven it to forge the world's most formidable war machine. But even military power could not break global suspicion.

Yanaev understood this.

"What we lacked," he said quietly, "was not weapons. It was economic power. That is what commands respect. That is what turns isolation into influence."

Pavlov glanced sideways.

"And… the country in the south? Will they receive one as well?"

Yanaev nodded.

"I'll be visiting soon. Comrade Ryzhkov will personally deliver the invitation. It's time we deepen cooperation—especially in light industry and cross-border trade. It may seem like a drop in the bucket, but small drops fill the river."

Despite ideological barriers, Yanaev had long backed Ryzhkov's idea: to establish pilot free trade zones in Soviet border cities. Different economic rules, freer trade. If successful, they could be scaled nationwide—even across the Union.

"This idea," Yanaev said, "is not just feasible. It's necessary."

Pavlov blinked.

"You want Ryzhkov, the Minister of Economy, to personally bring the invitation to China?"

His voice carried surprise, and maybe even doubt.

"I know what you're thinking, Comrade Pavlov," Yanaev interrupted gently. "Yes, we've had disagreements. Yes, there are scars. But let me ask you: the United States has dozens of allies. And what about us? What's left of ours?"

He leaned back, eyes heavy with the weight of history.

"In 1991, even our last ally began to collapse. If we keep chasing old grudges, we'll never move forward. They once believed in us—in the Soviet Union, in the communist dream."

There was a long silence. Yanaev's voice softened.

"We must not let them down."