The summer of 1941 brought a war that shattered the country’s peaceful life. Alarming reports poured in from the front. Nikolai Kuznetsov submitted request after request, urging that he be deployed “in the active fight against German fascism and the invading German forces — either at the front or in the rear”.
Yet he was not sent to the battlefield. The leadership of Soviet foreign intelligence concluded that a man with flawless command of the German language and an unmistakably “Aryan” appearance would serve the cause far more effectively behind enemy lines. He was assigned to the special operations unit of the 4th Directorate of the NKVD, and intensive preparation for his upcoming mission began.
Kuznetsov trained relentlessly — 15 or 16 hours a day. He meticulously studied his cover identity: a complete biography he would have to live by among the enemy. He mastered counter-surveillance techniques, orientation in hostile territory, cryptography, parachuting, and marksmanship with both Soviet and German firearms.
Specialists from the Main Intelligence Directorate of the Red Army instructed him in the structure and organization of the German armed forces, military regulations, and the nuances of both formal and informal relationships among German personnel. He studied in depth the rank system, decorations, and insignia of all branches of the Wehrmacht — including the police and the SS.
Kuznetsov was specifically prepared for operations in Rovno, which the Germans had designated the “capital” of occupied Ukraine. Initially, he was to operate under the guise of a Luftwaffe officer. He had already begun embodying this persona — his “doppelgänger” — but the plan was abandoned for two key reasons. First, there were no Luftwaffe units stationed in Rovno; the sudden appearance of a pilot would have raised immediate suspicion. Second, the uniform of an aviation lieutenant would have tied him too closely to a specific unit, severely limiting his freedom of movement.
Since it was impossible to embed a spy within a German military institution on short notice, it was decided that he would instead appear in Rovno periodically, posing as an officer on official business trips. Thus, a new legend was finalized: Kuznetsov would assume the identity of Paul Wilhelm Siebert, a Wehrmacht officer wounded on the Eastern Front. Pending full recovery, Siebert had been assigned to the Wirtschaftskommando — the Economic Command responsible for exploiting the material resources of occupied Soviet territories for the benefit of the Wehrmacht. This role granted him the perfect cover: freedom to travel throughout the occupied zones, frequent access to Rovno, and control over substantial funds. It is in this guise — Oberleutnant Paul Siebert — that he appears in the photograph held in the museum’s collection.
To test how convincingly Kuznetsov could pass as a German officer, he was placed in a prisoner-of-war camp where a group of Soviet citizens, fluent in German, had been assembled. They formed an impromptu theater workshop led by a former director of the Berlin Drama Theatre. The group recited poetry by Schiller and Goethe — but the stern instructor praised only one performer. Of Kuznetsov, he remarked with unmistakable approval:
