Put yourself in his position. You’ve just led a 6.5-million-man army across half a continent, ending four years of brutal war that’s left nearly 27 million of your countrymen dead. You’ve just defeated the greatest military machine since Napoleon’s Grande Armée and driven one of history’s worst monsters to his grave.
Naturally, it’s time to let your hair down and unwind. Which was why the Soviet commander was more than happy to celebrate with his Western Allied counterparts in just-conquered Germany. It was May 1945, and Supreme Allied Commander Dwight Eisenhower had invited his Soviet allies to join him for a victory party.
Unbeknownst to the Soviet commander, he was about to be introduced to something that would unleash a powerful addiction deep inside him.
Was it alcohol? No; Russians are practically raised on vodka. Cigarettes? A good portion of the Soviet leadership, from Josef Stalin down, used tobacco in one form or another, and the Russian variety of cigarettes is so strong they could almost blow stumps.
No, this was a force more powerful than booze and smokes combined.
Some junior American officer handed the Soviet general a glass bottle containing a dark fluid. He politely took a sip—and was instantly hooked.
On Coca-Cola.
That was a major problem when you happened to be Georgy Konstantinovich Zhukov, Marshal of the Soviet Union, six-time recipient of the Order of Lenin, Member of the Order of the October Revolution, three-time Hero of the Soviet Union, and the wearer of so many medals (50 in all ) that he clanked when he walked.
And the Communist hero had just fallen head over heels in love with the ultimate capitalist drink. He kept downing Coke after Coke all night. Apparently, the sugary fizz touched his sweet tooth unlike anything ever had.
Zhukov had it bad, and that wasn’t good.
Silly as it sounds today, 80 years ago, being seen enjoying a product synonymous with “capitalist decadence” was a huge no-no in the U.S.S.R. For years, propaganda had attacked it by name as a symbol of American imperialism and Western internal decay. Merely “having a Coke and a smile” (as a later advertising slogan would say) was enough to get a Soviet sent to the gulag. Or worse.
Stalin was obsessively paranoid and ruthlessly eliminated any rival to his power, real or imagined. His spies were everywhere, diligently looking for the tiniest speck of compromising dirt. With Zhukov now a hero in Russian eyes, the dictator would have been all too happy to remove him from the scene.
Still, the marshal couldn’t help himself. He kept downing Cokes like they were going out of style, even though he knew it was a huge risk every time he put a bottle to his lips.
A short time later, Zhukov approached the Americans in secret with a highly classified request. Would the U.S. be willing to order a special shipment of Coca-Cola strictly for his personal use? But there was a significant caveat.
It couldn’t be dark, like regular Coke. It had to appear clear, like vodka.
The bizarre hush-hush request was sent up the chain of command until it landed on the commander-in-chief’s desk with the sign that famously proclaimed, “The buck stops here.”
President Harry Truman realized a strategic opening when he saw one. Although the war was over, cracks were rapidly emerging in the Western-Soviet alliance that had won it. All too quickly, they would widen into the Cold War.
Truman was eager to foster any influential friendship on the dark side of the Iron Curtain (as it would soon be called) that he could get. So, he greenlighted the plan.
Operating with a degree of secrecy that rivaled the Manhattan Project, a company chemist engineered a version of Coke that retained its traditional taste while removing the caramel that gave it its dark color. It was now transparent, as clear as vodka. (Wink wink!)
But Coca-Cola didn’t stop there. The famous hour-glass bottle was ditched for plain, clear glass topped with a white cap bearing a shiny red star, symbol of the Soviet Union. Anyone seeing Zhukov take a swig from it would think he was simply enjoying his national beverage.
Thus, 50 cases of so-called “White Coke” were quietly transported through Vienna to Zhukov’s headquarters, where he indulged to his heart’s content without Stalin ever being any the wiser.
He was smart to make his unusual request when he did. When the Soviets imposed their blockade of Berlin three years later, triggering the greatest international crisis since the war, there would be no more goodwill gestures.
But a Red general secretly went on enjoying his White Coke nonetheless.
