China
If the SKS's career with the Soviet military had been short and undistinguished, it was a huge success elsewhere.
Through the early fifties, Simonov's carbine saw some use in the hands of satellite troops or Communist irregular forces; there are credible reports of SKSs turning up in the Korean War, though whether in Chinese or North Korean hands is unclear. But as long as it remained a first-line Red Army weapon, supplies to client states were going to be limited.
As it happened, however, Soviet production of the SKS ended at a historically interesting time. In the mid-fifties, the USSR was going through considerable changes as the result of Khrushchev's "de-Stalinization" policies; and these changes included relations with other Communist states. Some of the satellite countries of eastern Europe were showing signs of restlessness - Yugoslavia had already broken away to go it alone - and in the east, China was starting to act more like a rival than an ally. Brute force would only go so far (though the Hungarians found out the hard way that the Socialist Motherland hadn't forgotten how to apply it); sometimes a bit of sweetening was in order.
And the Soviet Union had just now found itself with large stocks of an obsolescent but still perfectly valid infantry rifle, of a kind particularly suited to unsophisticated troops; and yet inferior to the new AK-47, reducing the temptation for client-state end users to get uppity. The implications were obvious. Soon SKSs were being supplied in great quantities to the Soviet client states and allies.
Still, as long as Moscow controlled the supply of weapons, it also controlled where and how they would be used. The SKS didn't really make its escape, so to speak, until it began to be manufactured in other countries.
The first such country was East Germany. Germany was seen by both sides in the Cold War as strategically crucial; the border between East and West Germany was where American and Soviet occupation troops faced each other directly, and therefore presented the greatest danger of a confrontation. The East German Communist government was totally reliable and solidly under Soviet control, and their army was of excellent quality. It made sense to build them up, and - with the country solidly occupied by Soviet forces - there was little risk in letting them build their own rifles.
In 1955, then, as SKS production wound up in the Soviet Union, it commenced at Suhl, in the old Sauer & Sohn factory. It seems likely that tools and dies were shipped from the USSR, probably from the Izhevsk arsenal.
The German Simonovs, however, were just as firmly under Moscow's control as the originals. (Until much later, when, as we will see, they were to play a bizarre part in European history.) The real breakout came on the other side of the world.
The Chinese took to the SKS right from the start. It was simple enough that even the rawest recruit could quickly get the hang of its operation; it was easy to clean and maintain - it could be disassembled without any tools at all - yet forgiving of neglect and rough handling. It functioned reliably in the most extreme conditions and was accurate enough for any reasonable purpose.
From the Chinese viewpoint, it had other attractions as well. Its short stock and light recoil were well suited to soldiers of smaller stature - far more so than the heavy, hard-kicking bolt-action Mosin rifles which the Soviets had previously supplied - and the smaller cartridge was not only lighter, allowing a man to carry more ammunition, but considerably cheaper.
It was also an easy and inexpensive weapon to produce; it didn't require much in the way of elaborate machinery, and its generous tolerances were well within the capabilities of even a marginally-trained work force.
All the same, though, it is rather surprising that the Soviets not only allowed the Chinese to build it, but helped them do so, considering that at the time relations between the two great Communist states were rapidly deteriorating. Possibly the SKS deal was an attempt to mollify the increasingly hostile Chinese government. Or it may have been felt that, hostile or not, the Chinese were still tying up American military resources that might otherwise be deployed against the USSR, so it was in Moscow's interest to help them.
Whatever the reason, in 1956 the Soviets not only granted permission for China to manufacture the SKS, but actively aided them with machinery and technical advisors. In effect a Soviet arms factory was moved to China, complete with technical staff and even a supply of parts. In fact the first batches of Chinese SKSs were assembled from parts made in the USSR, at the old Tula arsenal. (The resulting confusion of proof marks and other markings would one day make American collectors crazy.)
It didn't take the Chinese long, though, not only to take over production but to introduce developments of their own. The big heavy blade-style bayonet was replaced by one of spike type, lightening the weapon and improving balance. Various other modifications were introduced over the years, the biggest being the substitution of a stamped-metal receiver - cheaper and easier to produce, if less durable - and the barrel pinned, rather than screwed, into the receiver. While the exact figures are unknown, and probably unknowable, it is likely that China has produced more SKS carbines than all other countries put together.
By far the most common model was the Type 56, but several others were produced as well. Eventually, after apocalyptic changes in the Communist world, there were even commercial sporting models made for export to the US market.
Besides arming their own troops, the Chinese supplied SKSs to various Asian countries; and, later, to Albania, which had broken with the Soviets to become China's only European ally. Eventually the North Koreans and North Vietnamese began manufacturing their own SKSs, though the details are still unknown.
Except for a few obscure encounters in Korea, Vietnam was where Americans first made the acquaintance of the SKS. It was not a pleasant meeting.
By the time major US forces arrived in Vietnam, the North Vietnamese regulars were largely going over to the more modern AK-47. But the Viet Cong used the SKS extensively; it was perhaps the closest thing to a standard weapon in their heterogenous arsenal. Reports of raids on VC command centers and supply dumps invariably mention SKS rifles taken, often in quantity. Most seem to have been the Chinese Model 56, but some Soviet-made SKSs no doubt turned up as well. The North Vietnamese also manufactured at least some SKSs on their own, but how many reached the VC is not known.
For irregular jungle warfare the SKS was an excellent weapon, though with less firepower than the AK-47 which often fought alongside it. (That the two rifles used the same ammunition greatly simplified the supply problem, of course.) Being more accurate than the Kalashnikov, it was sometimes used for sniping, though hardly ideal for the purpose. It cheerfully digested poor-quality ammunition and was unfazed by rain, mud, and even the terrible conditions of the notorious tunnels. I have never found a single account of a VC or PAVN soldier being killed because his SKS jammed. Would God the same could be said of the Americans and the M-16.
The GIs quickly learned to respect it and many a veteran would for the rest of his life hear its characteristic coughing bark in his worst dreams. The folding bayonet, either in the blade or spike version, was a nasty item at close quarters, and the VC deployed it before launching a serious attack, particularly at night; many GIs have told about the blood-freezing effect of hearing that unmistakeable clunk, clunk, clunk out in the jungle as the VC fixed bayonets.
The SKS became a very popular "bringback" war souvenir; combat troops found that rear-echelon types would pay well for it, often more than for the AK-47, which could not be brought home legally. (Not that that stopped everybody.) As a result it was during the sixties and seventies that the SKS began to appear in the United States. As prized trophies, the bringback rifles were seldom used for sport, and indeed the unavailability of 7.62x39mm. ammunition in the US at the time meant that many were not even fired.
But America had met the SKS, and a strange love/hate relationship had been born - though at the time no one could have guessed the direction it would ultimately take.
Meanwhile, the SKS had been proliferating closer to home, as the Soviets continued to unload their SKS surplus in the Eastern European client states. The Romanians even went into the business of making Simonovs themselves, the second European country to do so.
Yugoslavia was a special case. Ever since Marshal Tito's courageous break with the Soviets, Yugoslavia had gone it alone, adroitly playing the two Cold War superpowers against each other. One result of this policy was that the Soviets continued to be good for military equipment, including small arms; and in 1959 the Yugoslavs went into the SKS business for themselves, with Soviet assistance. According to some sources, Tito had made it known that he had an offer from the Americans to supply the Yugoslav forces with small arms, and Moscow felt that this would never do!
Be that as it may, the Yugoslavs eventually produced a unique version of the SKS, incorporating such features as a grenade launcher and night sights. Many of these were exported to Third World countries, especially Africa. Others would one day play a part in the savage Yugoslav civil wars.
(In 1991 the story developed a bitterly ironic twist. Germany had been among the first countries to recognize the independence of Croatia, and in a well-meaning effort to help the new nation the Germans loaded up the SKSs from the defunct East German forces and shipped them to Croatia. Where, of course, the Croats enthusiastically put them to use killing Serbs.)
And then there were the Albanians, who by the mid-sixties were marching to a drummer of their own. Rejecting Khrushchev's "de-Stalinization" policies, the super-hardline Albanian Communists had broken with the Soviets and allied themselves with the Chinese, whom they saw as preserving a purer Marxism. As a result, Albania wound up with a mixture of both Soviet and Chinese SKSs; and then, in 1967, began manufacturing the rifle themselves.
Typically, they came up with a version unlike any other - though the practical value of the Albanian changes is hard to imagine; one has to suspect a certain amount of difference-just-to-be-different. Whatever the reason, the Albanian SKS is arguably the sharpest-looking of the Simonov family - and the least reliable.
The Third World
By now the SKS was spreading rapidly to all sorts of places. Both the Soviets and the Chinese found it a very hot export item, in demand with small countries on tight budgets. It was also an excellent weapon to supply to more-or-less-Communist insurgent groups. In the course of time, inevitably, it wound up in the private sector as well, in the hands of bandits and poachers and sundry other thugs.
It turned up, and still does, all over Asia, from the Indonesian islands to the highlands of Afghanistan. (Where, in recent times, the US apparently bought a batch from the Russian government for distribution to anti-Taliban forces.) It became one of the two default weapons - the other being the AK-47 - in much of Africa; in Somalia American forces faced it for the first time since Vietnam.
It never was as popular as the AK-47 in the Middle East - where "Kalash" has become a popular name, and where people like to fire long bursts of full-automatic fire, even in wedding celebrations - but it certainly served there, all the same, and continues to do so; quite a few have been captured in Iraq.
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