East Germany. General Gaidukov, military commander of the Zentralwelke, which was churning out thousands of V-2s for the Soviets, hosted a banquet for the scientists and technicians. Caviar was eaten and vodka flowed. That same evening, unexpectedly, 92 trains carrying 2,000 German technicians and scientists and their families (about 5,000 people in total) were loaded onto trains bound for the Soviet Union. Armed sentries patrolled the few brief stops, and then arrived in Monino, near Moscow. In 1955, after transferring their expertise to Soviet technicians and scientists, the Germans (whom the Russians did not trust) were sent back to East Germany. Only a few talented individuals from leading factories (Heinkel, Junkers, Siebel) were retained and housed in the village that would later take the name Malaya Germania (Little Germany). It took much longer than the Soviets had hoped for Soviet experts, working with German assistance, to finally assemble a functioning V-2: not until October 18, 1947, did a V-2 made of German-made components lift off the launch pad at Kapustin Yar. These initial launches proved disastrous, with at least one rocket veering up to 180 kilometers from its intended flight path. As a result, the Soviet program remained heavily dependent on German scientists, particularly guidance specialists, as they attempted to build more reliable versions of the German design. The following year, the Soviets first produced their own version of the V-2, called the R-1. It was functionally a replica of its German predecessor, but made entirely from components produced within the Soviet Union. However, problems plagued its deployment: the design wasn’t perfected until 1950, by which time its usefulness as a weapons system had passed due to its limited range and accuracy. The R-1’s ultimate value came from the experience Soviet experts gained replicating German rockets. That process required a great deal of German assistance, but it proved to be crucial training for Soviet engineers and designers. The importance of the Germans in Gorodomlya and elsewhere can be judged by their treatment: according to Soviet rocket scientist Boris Chertok, the Soviets paid Germans more than their own citizens, provided them with private homes, and granted them greater freedom to travel within the Soviet Union, aiming to incentivize their productivity. The relatively generous treatment of German rocket scientists—an indication of their importance—contrasts favorably with the treatment of German experts in other areas of strategic research where the Soviets relied less on them.
