In the last post, we reviewed the political climate and how the USSR did not want to share their revolutionary AK-47 design with Yugoslavia. At this point, we need to look at the ambitious 1959 launch of the project “Familija Automatskog Oružja Zastava” (FAZ), or the Zastava Family of Automatic Weapons and how the Yugoslav’s worked around the Soviets to create their own version of the AK.
Forging Their Own Path: Yugoslavia’s Independent Rifle
In the fractured landscape of post-World War II Europe, the Socijalistička Federativna Republika Jugoslavija (Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia – SFRJ) charted a uniquely independent course. Initially aligned with the Soviet Union, Yugoslavia’s relationship with Moscow ruptured dramatically following the Tito-Stalin split in 1948. This political schism cast Yugoslavia adrift from the burgeoning Eastern Bloc, leading to its refusal to join the Warsaw Pact and forcing it into a precarious non-aligned position during the Cold War.1 Wary of potential aggression from both NATO and the Soviet sphere, Belgrade recognized that national survival depended on military self-sufficiency.2
This drive for independence created a significant arms dilemma. The break with Moscow severed access to the latest Soviet military technology and, crucially, the licenses to produce advanced weaponry like Mikhail Kalashnikov’s revolutionary AK-47 assault rifle.1 While Yugoslavia remained a socialist state, its ideological divergence and independent streak meant Western powers were equally hesitant to provide significant military aid or technology transfers.2 The Jugoslovenska Narodna Armija (Yugoslav People’s Army – JNA), still largely equipped with World War II-era weapons including locally produced Mauser M48 bolt-action rifles, faced the challenge of modernization alone.2
Yugoslav planners understood the changing nature of warfare. As early as 1952, the defense industry began experimenting with automatic rifle designs, initially drawing inspiration from captured German StG 44 assault rifles, large numbers of which had fallen into Yugoslav Partisan hands during the war.1 This early research underscored the awareness within the JNA of the need for an intermediate-caliber automatic rifle, but the path to acquiring or developing such a weapon remained blocked by geopolitical realities. The quest for a domestic Kalashnikov variant, therefore, was not merely a technical undertaking; it was a direct manifestation of Yugoslavia’s defiant assertion of independence and its commitment to self-reliance in a world dominated by two opposing superpowers. The rifle project became intrinsically linked to the nation’s unique political identity under Marshal Josip Broz Tito.
Glimpses of the Future: Acquiring the Kalashnikov
The first crucial breakthrough came unexpectedly in 1959. Two Albanian border guards, armed with Soviet-made AK-47 rifles, defected across the border into Yugoslavia.1 This event provided the Yugoslav military establishment with its first tangible examples of the weapon they desperately sought to understand. The captured rifles, believed to be the milled-receiver Type 3 variant which was then standard Soviet issue, were promptly handed over to engineers at the renowned Zastava arms factory (then operating as Crvena Zastava, or Red Banner) located in the city of Kragujevac, Serbia.1
While this windfall was invaluable, the two rifles presented significant limitations. Engineers at Zastava meticulously studied the weapons, even making metal castings of components using sulfur to understand their form.2 However, two samples were simply insufficient to reverse-engineer the design effectively. Critical information regarding manufacturing tolerances, precise material specifications, and the intricacies of heat treatment remained elusive.1 Reproducing the rifle reliably based solely on these examples proved impossible. A technical impasse had been reached, threatening to stall the project before it truly began.
Overcoming this obstacle required intervention from the highest levels of the Yugoslav state. By the end of 1959, or shortly thereafter, the government managed to secure a much larger quantity of AK-47s.1 Accounts suggest that Marshal Tito himself played a direct role during a state visit to an unnamed non-aligned nation.2 This country, possibly Egypt, Indonesia, or India, was a recipient of Soviet military aid.3 Through discreet negotiations, Yugoslavia arranged the clandestine purchase of approximately 2,000 AK rifles from a batch supplied by the USSR.2 This covert acquisition, bypassing official channels and Soviet oversight, provided Zastava with the critical mass of samples needed for thorough analysis. The fact that such a significant acquisition required top-level political maneuvering underscores the project’s importance as a national priority, essential for breaking the technical deadlock and enabling the engineers to finally unlock the secrets of the Kalashnikov.
The question of which country they bought those 2,000 AKs from has never been formally answered but I have a real strong hunch and that will be the next blog post.
Unlocking the Kalashnikov: The Zastava Challenge
With a substantial number of Soviet AKs now available for study, the engineers at Crvena Zastava, which translates into English approximately as “Red Flag” works, in Kragujevac could finally begin the complex process of reverse engineering in earnest.1 This historic arms factory, the heart of Serbian and later Yugoslav weapons manufacturing, became the crucible for Yugoslavia’s Kalashnikov ambitions.2
In 1959, the effort was formalized under the project designation FAZ – Familija automatskog oružja Zastava (Family of Automatic Weapons Zastava).2 This name itself revealed a strategic vision extending beyond merely cloning the AK-47. The goal was to develop an integrated family of infantry weapons tailored to the JNA’s needs, encompassing not only an assault rifle but also potentially a self-loading rifle and, significantly, a light machine gun (LMG).2 This mirrored the Soviet small arms doctrine (which featured the SKS carbine alongside the AK rifle and RPD/RPK machine guns) but aimed for entirely domestic design and production. This indicated a comprehensive, long-term strategy for infantry armament, rather than a simple stopgap measure.
The FAZ project was a collaborative effort, spearheaded by a team of talented Zastava engineers and designers. Key figures included Božidar Blagojević (who would later design the CZ99 pistol), Major Miloš Ostojić, Miodrag Lukovac, Milutin Milivojević, Stevan Tomašević, Predrag Mirčić, and Mika Mudrić, with engineer Milan Čirić leading the project.2 Their task was immense: to meticulously disassemble, measure, analyze materials, and create complete technical drawings for a weapon system they had no license or official documentation for.1 Every dimension, tolerance, and material property had to be painstakingly deduced through careful examination of the acquired Soviet rifles.
The First Yugoslavian AK: Enter the M64
By 1964 and 1965, the intensive work at Zastava bore fruit. The first prototypes of a distinctly Yugoslavian Kalashnikov emerged, designated the M64A (featuring a fixed wooden stock) and M64B (equipped with an underfolding metal stock).1 Alongside these rifles, prototypes for a companion light machine gun, the M65A and M65B (featuring a quick-detach barrel), were also developed, though these LMGs would ultimately not see mass production.2
While based on the Soviet Type 3 AK-47, the M64 prototypes incorporated several unique features and modifications, reflecting both Yugoslav ingenuity and specific JNA requirements. This early design demonstrated that Zastava‘s engineers were not content with mere replication; they sought to adapt and potentially improve upon the Kalashnikov design. Key differences included:
Milled Receiver: Like its Soviet progenitor, the M64 utilized a robust milled steel receiver. However, the Yugoslav receiver had distinct geometry: the characteristic lightning cut above the magazine well was present only on the right side, while the left side featured a unique profile incorporating a visible pin intended to retain the bolt hold-open mechanism.5
Bolt Hold-Open (BHO): Perhaps the most significant innovation was a fully functional bolt catch mechanism. This device locked the bolt to the rear after the last round was fired from the magazine, offering a potential tactical advantage by speeding up reloads and providing immediate visual confirmation of an empty weapon. However, this system required specially modified magazines featuring a unique cutout on the follower or feed lip.1
Integrated Grenade Launching Capability: Reflecting a strong emphasis in JNA doctrine, the M64 was designed from the outset to launch rifle grenades. It featured a built-in, flip-up grenade sight mounted on the gas block and incorporated a gas cut-off mechanism, allowing the rifle’s gas system to be shut off to safely propel grenades.2 This was a notable difference from standard Soviet AKs, where grenade launching often required separate attachments.
Distinct Furniture: The M64 sported longer wooden handguards compared to the Soviet AK, giving it a different profile. These handguards were not interchangeable with standard AK parts.1 The M64B underfolding stock was borrowed directly from the existing Yugoslav M56 submachine gun, showcasing resourcefulness in utilizing existing production lines.2
Modified Sights and Charging Handle: The rear sight was positioned further back on the receiver compared to the standard AK placement on the rear sight block (though some very early prototypes experimented with receiver cover mounting), providing a longer sight radius for potentially improved aiming accuracy.1 Additionally, engineers pragmatically adopted the hollow cylindrical charging handle design from the domestically produced M59 rifle (Yugoslavia’s licensed SKS variant, known colloquially as the Papovka), again leveraging existing manufacturing capabilities.2
These modifications highlight a design philosophy that blended adaptation to specific military needs (grenade launching), innovation (BHO), and practical resource management (reusing existing parts). The M64 was clearly shaping up to be more than just a copy; it was becoming a uniquely Yugoslavian interpretation of the Kalashnikov system.
Feature Comparison: Soviet AK-47 Type 3 vs. Zastava M64 Prototype
Feature
Soviet AK-47 (Type 3)
Zastava M64A/B Prototype
Snippet Reference(s)
Receiver Type
Milled
Milled (Yugoslav pattern)
6
Bolt Hold-Open
No
Yes (requires modified magazine)
1
Grenade Sight/Gas Cut-off
No (added later/separate)
Yes (integrated)
2
Handguards
Standard length
Longer, unique design
1
Rear Sight Location
Standard (rear sight block)
Further rearward on receiver
1
Charging Handle
Standard AK
Hollow cylindrical (from M59 SKS)
2
Folding Stock (M64B)
N/A (AKS was different)
Underfolder (from M56 SMG)
2
Towards a Standard: Trials, Tribulations, and Transition
Despite the successful development of the M64 prototypes and reportedly satisfactory performance during initial field trials 1, the path to mass adoption by the JNA was not immediate. A degree of conservatism existed within the military leadership; some senior officers remained skeptical about the utility and cost-effectiveness of equipping every infantry soldier with a fully automatic rifle, fearing it would lead to excessive ammunition expenditure.2 Yugoslavia had, after all, only recently standardized its licensed version of the semi-automatic SKS, the Zastava M59.8
This institutional hesitation was significantly challenged by external events. The Warsaw Pact invasion of Czechoslovakia in August 1968 served as a stark demonstration of modern Soviet military doctrine, where entire infantry units were equipped with Kalashnikov assault rifles. Witnessing the effectiveness of massed automatic fire likely swayed opinions within the JNA command structure, highlighting the urgent need for a comparable domestic capability.2 The geopolitical situation acted as a catalyst, pushing the JNA to overcome its previous reservations and accelerate the process of adopting a modern assault rifle. Interestingly, around this period, warming relations with Moscow led Yugoslavia to briefly enter negotiations to purchase Soviet AKs directly, primarily for special forces units.2 This development undoubtedly put pressure on Zastava and proponents of the domestic FAZ program to prove their rifle was ready.2
However, the M64 faced a critical technical hurdle on the path to standardization: its innovative bolt hold-open mechanism. While potentially useful, the BHO necessitated the use of proprietary magazines, incompatible with the standard AK magazines that were becoming increasingly common worldwide.6 From a logistical perspective, introducing a non-standard magazine for the army’s main service rifle presented significant challenges. The JNA leadership ultimately prioritized interoperability and logistical simplicity, deciding that the new standard rifle must be compatible with commonly available AK-pattern magazines.6 This pragmatic decision, favoring ease of supply and potential use of captured magazines over a unique but non-standard feature, sealed the fate of the M64’s BHO system.
As the design moved towards finalization for mass production, the Vojnotehnički institut Beograd (Military Technical Institute Belgrade – VTI) likely played an increasingly important role.10 While Zastava engineers had driven the initial design and prototyping of the M64 2, the VTI, as the JNA’s central research and development body, would have been involved in refining the technical requirements based on trial results, overseeing final testing protocols, and preparing the definitive technical documentation for the production rifle.2 This included incorporating the mandated changes, most notably the removal of the bolt hold-open feature, paving the way for the weapon that would become Yugoslavia’s standard assault rifle.
Conclusion: On the Brink of the M70
The journey from Yugoslavia’s post-war isolation to the verge of mass-producing its own Kalashnikov variant was a testament to national determination, engineering skill, and political will. Blocked from acquiring licensed Soviet technology due to the Tito-Stalin split, Yugoslavia embarked on a challenging path of independent development.1 The opportunistic acquisition of initial AK-47 samples via Albanian defectors in 1959 provided the crucial spark.1 Overcoming the limitations of these few examples required high-level political intervention to secure a larger batch of rifles through clandestine channels, enabling Zastava engineers to undertake a comprehensive, unlicensed reverse-engineering effort under the ambitious FAZ program.1
The resulting M64 prototypes were far more than simple copies. They represented an innovative adaptation of the Kalashnikov design, incorporating features tailored to JNA doctrine, such as integrated grenade-launching capabilities, alongside novel additions like the bolt hold-open mechanism and resourceful use of existing domestic components.1 However, trials, evolving military thought spurred by events like the 1968 Czechoslovakia invasion, and pragmatic logistical considerations—specifically the need for standard magazine compatibility—led to crucial design revisions.2
These are photos of M64 prototypes overlaid on a map of Yugoslavia
This is a photo of a Zastava M64B (B designating that it is an underfolder model) shared on Wikimedia by AZ2001
By 1970, the culmination of over a decade of effort was at hand. The lessons learned from the M64 program, the strategic decisions made by the JNA leadership, and the collaborative work between Zastava and the VTI had refined the design into a production-ready rifle. In that year, the Yugoslav government formally approved this modified design for serial production, designating it the Automatska Puška Model 1970 (Automatic Rifle Model 1970), or AP M70.1 The stage was set for the introduction of Yugoslavia’s first mass-produced Kalashnikov, a rifle born from political necessity and forged through ingenuity and perseverance. The detailed story of the M70 itself would be a new chapter, but its foundations were now firmly laid in the experiences chronicled here.
My Complete Yugoslavian Smallarms Collection History (Zastava Trek VIII: Communist First Contact) – YouTube, accessed May 12, 2025, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kzJ5v_HREt0
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I’ve owned and built a number of AK-47 pattern rifles over the years and slowly one of my favorite series are the ones from Zastava when they were part of Yugoslavia partly because they are unique. Now, that opens the door – why were they unique? There is some very interesting history behind that and so let’s dive into this further. This first piece will set the stage by explaining why the Soviets didn’t share their AK-47 rifles or designs with Yugoslavia so let’s dive in.
I. Introduction: A Strained Fraternity and a Strategic Weapon
In the shadow of World War II, a brotherhood forged in shared ideology between the Soviet Union (СССР – Soyuz Sovetskikh Sotsialisticheskikh Respublik) and the newly minted Federal People’s Republic of Yugoslavia (ФНРЈ – Federativna Narodna Republika Jugoslavija) was destined for a dramatic unraveling. What began as a seemingly tight-knit alliance, cemented by the fight against fascism, quickly soured, descending into a bitter schism by 1948. A cautious, often fraught, attempt at reconciliation in the post-Stalin years would follow, but the scars of division ran deep.1 This turbulent political saga inevitably cast a long shadow over every aspect of their relationship, particularly in the sensitive arena of military cooperation.
At the heart of the Soviet Union’s rapidly expanding military and geopolitical might lay a revolutionary piece of hardware: the Avtomat Kalashnikova obraztsa 1947 goda (Автомат Калашникова образца 1947 года), the AK-47. Officially entering service in 1949, this assault rifle didn’t just arm Soviet soldiers; it became a potent symbol of Moscow’s technological prowess and a key instrument of its foreign policy.3 The Kremlin wielded the AK-47, and especially the rights to produce it, with calculated precision, using its distribution to reward allies and exert influence.4 Whether a nation received this coveted weapon, or its blueprints, became a telling barometer of its standing in Moscow’s eyes.
Yugoslavia, by the close of 1959, found itself on the outside looking in, denied both the AK-47 and its designs. This wasn’t a simple oversight. It was the culmination of a complex web of factors, chief among them the deep-seated animosity stemming from the 1948 Tito-Stalin split. That seismic event saw Yugoslavia unceremoniously booted from the Cominform (Информбиро / Informbiro – Информационное бюро коммунистических и рабочих партий / Informatsionnoye byuro kommunisticheskikh i rabochikh partiy), the Soviet-led bloc of communist parties, and subjected to a barrage of political and economic pressure.1 This rupture forced Belgrade to chart a new course.
The plot thickened as Yugoslavia embraced an independent, non-aligned stance on the world stage, a move that saw it increasingly reliant on military aid from the West, particularly the United States. Moscow, meanwhile, maintained a tight grip on its arms exports, prioritizing nations that toed the ideological line. Adding another layer to this complex dynamic was Yugoslavia’s own burgeoning ambition to build its own weapons, a drive that would eventually see the Zastava (Застава Оружје / Zastava Oružje) arms factory successfully reverse-engineer the very AK-47s it couldn’t officially obtain. The story of the unshared rifle is thus a tale of clashing ideologies, geopolitical chess, and one nation’s determined, and ultimately successful, quest for self-reliance in a world divided.
II. From Alliance to Animosity and Uneasy Reconciliation: Soviet-Yugoslav Political Dynamics (1945-1959)
A. Post-War Comradeship and Emerging Fissures (1945-1948)
The early days after World War II painted a picture of camaraderie between Moscow and Belgrade. United by communist ideology and their recent joint struggle against the Axis, the Soviet Union and the Federal People’s Republic of Yugoslavia seemed natural partners. A formal Treaty of Friendship and Cooperation, inked in Moscow (Москва / Moskva) on April 11, 1945, by delegations headed by Josip Broz Tito (Јосип Броз Тито) himself, appeared to seal this bond.1 The USSR officially recognized the new Yugoslav state on December 19, 1945, and Belgrade even became the headquarters for the Cominform in 1946, further underscoring the initial closeness.1
Soviet aid flowed into war-torn Yugoslavia: vital food supplies, assistance in repatriating prisoners of war, and the deployment of Soviet technical and military advisors.8 Soviet experts even helped organize Tito’s personal security detail.8 On the economic front, joint ventures like the “Juspad” (пароходство «Юспад») shipping company and the “Justa” (ЮСТА – Югославско-советское акционерное общество гражданской авиации / YUSTA) civil aviation firm were launched, aimed at fostering economic growth and integration.8 For the Yugoslav leadership, who had largely liberated their nation through their own partisan efforts, the Soviet Union was initially seen as an indispensable ally and a blueprint for building a socialist society.9
But beneath this veneer of cooperation, cracks were beginning to show. Tito, a leader with his own strong vision, harbored ambitions for Yugoslavia that didn’t always align with Moscow’s grand strategy. He envisioned Yugoslavia as a dominant force in the Balkans, pursuing plans for a Balkan Federation (Balkanska federacija) that might draw in Bulgaria (Бугарска / Bugarska) and Albania (Албанија / Albanija; Albania – Russian), and he actively backed communist insurgents in the Greek Civil War.2 These moves, often made without Moscow’s full blessing, were viewed by Joseph Stalin (Иосиф Сталин) as potentially reckless and disruptive, especially concerning delicate relations with Western powers.1 Moscow also eyed Yugoslavia’s assertive territorial claims – against Italy over Trieste (Трст / Trst) and Austria (Аустрија / Austrija) regarding Carinthia (Корушка / Koruška; Каринтия / Karantiniya – Russian) – with a degree of apprehension.1
Stalin expected unwavering loyalty from the Eastern European communist states, seeing them as a vital buffer zone and an extension of Soviet might.2 Tito, however, having led a successful indigenous liberation, saw Yugoslavia as an equal partner, not a subordinate.2 This fundamental clash of perspectives was starkly illustrated in November 1945 when Tito, speaking to The Times, declared that while Yugoslav friendship with the Soviet peoples was deep, there was “nothing exclusive about it,” firmly asserting his nation’s independence.1 Even the early Soviet aid, including the presence of advisors, likely served as an intelligence channel for Moscow. As Yugoslavia began to assert its own path, these points of contact may have become sources of friction, with Soviet officials in Belgrade reportedly sending dispatches to Moscow accusing the Yugoslav leadership of ideological straying and “leaderism” (вождизм / vozhdizm).8 The initial “comradeship,” it seemed, was built on shaky ground, with Moscow perhaps viewing its assistance as an investment that demanded Yugoslav compliance, making Belgrade’s subsequent divergence all the more galling to the Kremlin.
B. The 1948 Tito-Stalin Split (Raskol Tito—Staljin / Раскол Тито—Стаљин): A Bitter Divorce and the Informbiro Storm
The simmering pot of Soviet-Yugoslav tensions finally boiled over in 1948, erupting into the infamous Tito-Stalin split (Раскол Тито—Стаљин / Raskol Tito—Staljin; Советско-югославский конфликт / Sovetsko-yugoslavskiy konflikt – Russian) – a dramatic and acrimonious divorce that sent shockwaves through the communist world.7 The Kremlin’s patience with Yugoslavia’s independent streak had worn thin. Tito’s ambitious plans for a Balkan Federation, his assertive stance on Trieste, and his continued support for Greek communists – all actions Stalin feared might provoke a Western backlash – became intolerable to Moscow.2 Stalin’s attempts to tighten his grip on Yugoslav internal affairs, from its economic blueprints to its security forces, met with staunch resistance from Tito, who commanded a loyal and powerful base within the Communist Party of Yugoslavia (КПЈ – Komunistička partija Jugoslavije) and the state apparatus.2
The crisis escalated with alarming speed in early 1948. In a clear signal of displeasure, the Soviet Union abruptly withdrew its military and civilian advisors from Yugoslavia in March.8 What followed was a volley of increasingly venomous letters exchanged between the Central Committees of the Yugoslav and Soviet Communist Parties. The Soviet missives were laden with accusations, painting the Yugoslav leadership as anti-Soviet, nationalistic, Trotskyite, and guilty of straying from the sacred tenets of Marxism-Leninism.8 The Yugoslavs, unbowed, fiercely defended their policies and their sovereign right to forge their own path to socialism.10
The conflict reached its zenith on June 28, 1948. Meeting in Bucharest (Букурешт / București), Romania (Румунија / Rumunija; Румыния / Rumyniya – Russian) – a gathering from which Yugoslav delegates were notably absent – the Cominform adopted a resolution that formally cast Yugoslavia out. The KPJ leadership was condemned for pursuing policies hostile to the USSR, for abandoning Marxism-Leninism in favor of bourgeois nationalism, and for cultivating a “terroristic regime” within its own party.1 This act marked the dawn of the “Informbiro period” (Информбиро период), an era of intense political, economic, and psychological warfare waged by the Soviet Union and its Eastern Bloc allies against a defiant Yugoslavia.7
The Soviet bloc slapped a comprehensive economic embargo on Yugoslavia, hoping to bring its economy, heavily reliant on trade with these nations, to its knees.7 Ominous military maneuvers were conducted along Yugoslavia’s borders with Hungary (Мађарска / Mađarska; Венгрия / Vengriya – Russian), Romania, Bulgaria, and Albania, creating a very real threat of invasion.7 A ferocious propaganda war was unleashed, with outlets like Radio “Free Yugoslavia” (Радио Слободна Југославија / Radio Slobodna Jugoslavija), broadcasting from Bucharest, and newspapers such as “For Socialist Yugoslavia” (За социјалистичку Југославију / Za socijalističku Jugoslaviju) and “New Struggle” (Нова борба / Nova borba), relentlessly denouncing Tito and his government.8 Moscow also threw its weight behind anti-Tito Yugoslav émigrés and allegedly backed plots to topple the Yugoslav leadership from within, including a failed coup attempt linked to high-ranking military officer Arso Jovanović (Арсо Јовановић).11
Yugoslavia’s response was one of unwavering defiance. Tito rallied the nation, framing the struggle as a defense of Yugoslav sovereignty and independence.1 Internally, the regime unleashed a brutal crackdown on anyone suspected of Soviet sympathies. These individuals, derisively labeled “Cominformists” (информбировци / informbirovci or ибеовци / ibeovci), faced arrest, imprisonment, and horrific conditions in notorious camps like Goli Otok (Голи оток, literally “Bare Island”).7 Isolated from the East and staring down the barrel of potential Soviet military action, Yugoslavia had little choice but to turn to the West, primarily the United States, for economic and, critically, military lifelines.1
The repercussions of the Tito-Stalin split were immense. It cemented Tito’s authority at home and dramatically boosted his international standing as a leader who had dared to defy Stalin.1 It set Yugoslavia on the unique path of “Titoism” (титоизам / titoizam), a brand of socialism characterized by worker self-management and a non-aligned foreign policy.7 The split also triggered purges of suspected “Titoists” in other Eastern Bloc countries as Stalin moved to consolidate his control.7 For Yugoslavia, the immediate economic and military fallout was severe, forcing a wholesale reorientation of its foreign and defense strategies.7 The failure of the Informbiro campaign to unseat Tito, despite its ferocity, not only hardened Yugoslav resolve but also, ironically, spurred the development of a more self-reliant defense posture and a domestic arms industry. The very real threat of invasion, coupled with the initial uncertainty of finding alternative arms suppliers, drove home the strategic necessity for Yugoslavia to bolster its own defenses – a lesson that would profoundly shape its approach to national security, including its eventual quest to produce its own version of the AK-47, and later leading to its “Total National Defence” (Општенародна одбрана / Opštenarodna odbrana) doctrine.15
C. Navigating the Thaw: Khrushchev’s Olive Branch and Lingering Shadows (1953-1959)
The death of Joseph Stalin in March 1953 signaled a potential sea change in the icy relations between Moscow and Belgrade, ushering in a period of gradual, though decidedly cautious, normalization.1 The new Soviet leadership, with Nikita Khrushchev (Никита Хрущёв) eventually emerging at the helm, embarked on a broader policy of de-Stalinization and sought to dial down international tensions. Mending fences with Yugoslavia was part of this new playbook.17 The Kremlin hoped to repair the rift within the socialist world and perhaps coax Yugoslavia back into a closer orbit.
A pivotal moment arrived with Khrushchev’s landmark visit to Belgrade in May-June 1955. The visit culminated in the signing of the Belgrade Declaration (Београдска декларација / Beogradska deklaracija; Белградская декларация / Belgradskaya deklaratsiya – Russian) on June 2, 1955.1 This document was a diplomatic breakthrough, formally acknowledging the legitimacy of “different paths to socialism” and enshrining principles of mutual respect for sovereignty, independence, and non-interference in internal affairs.8 Diplomatic ties were fully restored, and trade agreements were struck, easing the economic vise that had squeezed Yugoslavia since 1948.17
But this thaw, while welcome, had its limits, and a deep-seated distrust lingered beneath the surface. Tito’s Yugoslavia remained fiercely committed to its non-aligned foreign policy, carefully navigating a path between the Eastern and Western blocs.1 Tito famously quipped that Yugoslavia would receive Soviet overtures “with a grain of salt,” a clear indication of Belgrade’s enduring skepticism about Moscow’s true intentions.17 While Khrushchev harbored hopes of bringing Yugoslavia back into the Soviet-led “socialist camp” (often dubbed the “Lager“), Tito was resolute in safeguarding Yugoslavia’s hard-won independence.22 Suspicions cut both ways: Yugoslav leaders feared Moscow’s ultimate aim was to reassert dominance, while the Kremlin remained wary of Tito’s independent spirit.17
The fragility of this rapprochement became starkly clear by late 1956. The Soviet military crackdown on the Hungarian Uprising (Мађарска револуција 1956. / Mađarska revolucija 1956.) and the events of the Polish October (Пољски октобар / Polski oktobar) drew criticism from Yugoslavia, reigniting ideological clashes and chilling the recently warmed relations.13 Soviet accusations of Yugoslav “revisionism” resurfaced, and in a throwback to earlier pressure tactics, the USSR in 1958 postponed previously agreed-upon loans to Yugoslavia.8
Military relations during this period of normalization mirrored this complex dance. High-level military delegations were exchanged. Yugoslav State Secretary for National Defence, General Ivan Gošnjak (Иван Гошњак), journeyed to Moscow in June 1957, and Soviet Defence Minister Marshal Georgy Zhukov (Георгиј Жуков / Georgiy Zhukov; Георгий Жуков / Georgiy Zhukov – Russian) paid a return visit to Belgrade in October 1957.23 These visits saw discussions on potential military cooperation and Soviet offers to showcase their latest military hardware.23 However, a significant catch remained: the Soviets consistently tied any substantial military-technical assistance, especially the provision of modern weaponry, to Yugoslavia severing its military aid relationship with the West – a price Belgrade was unwilling to pay.23 Since 1948, Yugoslavia had become a major recipient of US military aid, a lifeline crucial for modernizing the Yugoslav People’s Army (ЈНА – Југословенска народна армија / Jugoslovenska narodna armija).13 While Yugoslavia did announce the end of the US grant aid program in 1957, it continued to purchase spare parts and sought to diversify its arms suppliers, signaling no intent to become wholly reliant on Moscow.14 Adding another twist, Marshal Zhukov’s sudden ouster from his posts in late October 1957, immediately after his Yugoslav trip, further complicated and ultimately derailed the tentative military rapprochement.23
The post-Stalin normalization, therefore, while politically important in ending the overt hostility of the Informbiro era, failed to forge deep military-technical trust, particularly when it came to advanced offensive weapons like the AK-47. Yugoslavia adeptly used the thaw to cement its non-aligned status and maintain its vital Western military connections. This independent posture, heavily reliant on Western arms, was fundamentally at odds with the Soviet Union’s strategic desire for bloc unity and tight control over its key military technologies. The “thaw,” in essence, remained more of a political maneuver than a genuine strategic military partnership that would have justified Moscow sharing its sensitive arms designs with Belgrade.
III. The Kalashnikov Doctrine: Soviet Arms Export Policy and the AK-47
A. The AK-47: Birth of an Icon (1949) and Early Years (up to 1959)
The Avtomat Kalashnikova obraztsa 1947 goda (АК-47) was born from the harsh lessons of World War II and the Soviet Union’s urgent post-war drive to modernize its infantry. Drawing inspiration from weapons like the German Sturmgewehr 44 (StG 44) and built around the new intermediate 7.62x39mm M43 cartridge, the AK-47 was the brainchild of a design team spearheaded by Mikhail Timofeyevich Kalashnikov (Михаил Калашников).3 Early prototypes, dubbed the AK-46, underwent a significant overhaul with input from Aleksandr Zaitsev (Александр Зайцев), leading to the version that would become legendary.4 Following successful trials, the rifle was officially adopted by the Soviet Army in 1949, earning the GRAU index 56-А-212.3 The green light for its technical documentation and initial experimental production at the Izhevsk Motozavod (Ижевский мотозавод / Izhevsk Motozavod) came from Minister of Armaments D.F. Ustinov (Д.Ф. Устинов) on January 21, 1948.29
Getting the AK-47 into mass production wasn’t without its headaches. The initial design called for a receiver made from stamped sheet metal – a method ideal for churning out large numbers. However, difficulties in welding crucial components like the guide and ejector rails led to a high number of rejected units.4 To overcome these hurdles and speed up production, a heavier, more expensive machined (milled) receiver was temporarily adopted. These milled receiver versions, known as Type 2 (from 1951) and the later, lightened Type 3 (from 1954/55), became the standard for several years.4 As a result, the AK-47 didn’t reach Soviet troops in large numbers until around 1956, with the older SKS carbine continuing in production as a stopgap.4
The quest for a more efficient and cost-effective design didn’t stop there. By 1959, the Soviet military rolled out the AKM (Автомат Калашникова Модернизированный / Avtomat Kalashnikova Modernizirovanniy), or Modernized Kalashnikov Automatic Rifle.3 The AKM boasted a redesigned stamped sheet metal receiver that was lighter and cheaper to make, a distinctive slanted muzzle brake to counter muzzle climb, and a hammer retarder to boost reliability during automatic fire.4 This evolution underscores that the AK-47 platform was a top-priority, constantly developing system for the Soviet military throughout the 1950s. The rifle’s own lengthy development, early production snags, and its significant upgrade to the AKM by decade’s end suggest an intense internal focus. This, coupled with its immense strategic value, naturally meant Moscow would be extremely cautious about exporting it, especially when it came to sharing the latest designs with nations not firmly under its military and political thumb.
B. Moscow’s Armory: The Politics of Soviet Arms Transfers
During the Cold War, the Soviet Union’s arms export strategy was less about profit and almost entirely about politics and power.5 The Kremlin’s main goals were to bolster the socialist bloc, support nations taking an “anti-imperialist” line, cultivate allies in international arenas like the United Nations, and, crucially, to foster dependencies that would tie recipient countries closer to Moscow.5 This was clear in the preferential treatment given to Warsaw Pact members, who got first dibs on Soviet weaponry and were pushed to standardize their arsenals along Soviet lines to improve coalition fighting capabilities.5
But this didn’t mean an open tap for all military technology. The Soviets were careful, keeping a tight rein on what went where. They generally avoided sending arms to countries that might use them aggressively, destabilize a region, or whose political loyalty was shaky.5 Secrecy often shrouded the technical details of exported weapons, especially newer systems, to protect Soviet security and prevent sensitive information from falling into enemy hands.5 Notably, the export of nuclear weapons, strategic missiles, and the most cutting-edge military technologies was severely limited or outright banned for most countries, even many socialist allies.5 Often, arms packages included a mix of modern gear and updated, but essentially older, systems.5
Licensing weapon designs, like that of the AK-47, was a meticulously controlled affair, typically reserved for the most trusted allies within the Warsaw Pact or key strategic partners who showed unwavering political devotion. China, for example, received a license to produce its AK-47 variant, the Type 56, in 1956 3, and other Warsaw Pact nations also set up their own production lines.6
The Khrushchev era (1953-1964) saw Moscow extend its reach to newly independent and non-aligned nations in the developing world, courting countries like India, Egypt, and Indonesia.34 This was a pragmatic move to chip away at Western influence, gain Cold War allies, and project Soviet power globally. Aid, including military assistance and arms, was a key tool in this game.34 However, this didn’t translate into freely sharing the most advanced Soviet military tech or production licenses with every non-aligned state. Even under Khrushchev’s more flexible foreign policy, Soviet arms exports operated on a tiered system of trust. Full licensing and transfer of top-tier infantry weapons like the AK-47 were likely kept for nations deeply embedded in the Soviet security sphere (i.e., Warsaw Pact members) or those, unlike Yugoslavia, that weren’t simultaneously cozying up to Western powers for military hardware, training, and political backing. Yugoslavia’s unique tightrope walk – a socialist state outside the Soviet bloc, actively cultivating ties with the West, and a major recipient of Western military aid – put it in a distinctly less trusted category when it came to accessing Moscow’s sensitive military technology.
C. The AK-47: A Crown Jewel in the Soviet Arsenal
The AK-47 wasn’t just another rifle for the Soviets; it was a game-changer in infantry firepower. Renowned for its straightforward design, ruggedness, reliability in the toughest conditions, and suitability for mass production, it was a weapon perfectly adapted for both conventional armies and revolutionary fighters.3 These qualities made it an incredibly valuable military asset, and Moscow was understandably careful about who got their hands on it.
The early spread of the AK-47 illustrates this cautious approach. Even a close ally like the People’s Republic of China was initially supplied with the older SKS semi-automatic carbine before eventually receiving the license to manufacture its own AK-47 version, the Type 56, in 1956.3 This points to a deliberate, phased rollout of this critical technology, even with ideologically aligned partners. The introduction of the modernized and more cost-effective AKM in 1959 only increased the strategic value of the Kalashnikov system, and the Soviets would have been keen to control the dissemination of this improved design.3
Ideologically, the AK-47 was often portrayed as the weapon for the “liberation of the proletariat” and the arming of “socialist workers and peasants.”6 This framing implied that any nation receiving such a weapon, particularly the know-how to make it, needed to be deemed ideologically pure and politically reliable by Moscow. Yugoslavia, after the 1948 split, was seen by the Kremlin as an ideological traitor, guilty of “revisionism” and nationalism.8 Despite the later political thaw under Khrushchev, this deep-seated ideological mistrust never fully evaporated.17 To provide the AK-47 or its designs to a nation that had so publicly defied Soviet authority, was charting its own “path to socialism,” and was actively building ties with the West would have flown in the face of core Soviet principles of ideological conformity and strategic control. The AK-47’s status as both a revolutionary icon and a vital military tool meant its export, especially licensing, was a decision freighted with significance. For Yugoslavia – a nation that had not only broken from the Soviet orbit but had also become a major recipient of Western military aid – the chances of getting this premier Soviet rifle or its blueprints were slim to none.
IV. Yugoslavia’s Armament Dilemma: Between Western Aid and Indigenous Ambition
A. Rearming the JNA Post-1948: A Lifeline from the West
The 1948 Tito-Stalin split threw the Yugoslav People’s Army (JNA – Југословенска народна армија / Jugoslovenska narodna armija) into a perilous situation. Suddenly facing open hostility and the looming threat of invasion from the Soviet Union and its Eastern Bloc allies, Yugoslavia was in desperate need of modernizing its armed forces.15 The JNA’s arsenal at the time was a patchwork of captured World War II weapons (German and Italian), some pre-war domestic models, and the limited Soviet aid received before the bitter divorce – hardly enough to deter a potential Soviet-led onslaught.1
Out of necessity, Yugoslavia turned its gaze westward, primarily to the United States, for military assistance. Beginning in late 1951, under the Mutual Defense Assistance Program (MDAP), Washington began to supply substantial quantities of military hardware and provide crucial training to the JNA.13 This aid was a game-changer, transforming the JNA’s inventory. By 1957, when Yugoslavia requested an end to US grant aid (which officially ceased in 1959, though some purchases continued), it had received a massive infusion of military support.14
Table: Major US Military Equipment Deliveries to Yugoslavia (approx. 1951-1959)
Equipment Type
Model(s)
Approximate Quantity
Delivery Period (approx.)
Sources
Jet Fighters
F-86D Sabre, F-86E Sabre, F-84G Thunderjet
405 (total US jets)
1950s
14
Tanks
M4A3 Sherman, M-47 Patton
860 (US models)
1950s
14
Self-Propelled Guns
M7 Priest, M18 Hellcat, M36 Jackson
715
1950s
25
Armored/Scout Cars
M3A1 Scout Car, M8 Greyhound
565
1950s
25
Artillery Pieces
105mm, 155mm, 203mm howitzers
760
1950s
25
Trainers
T-33 Shooting Star (TV-2)
70
1950s
46
Transport Aircraft
C-47 Skytrain, DC-6
27 (C-47), 2 (DC-6)
1950s
46
Helicopters
H-5, S-55 Whirlwind, H-23
Small numbers
1950s
46
Naval Vessels
Minesweepers, Patrol Boats
Some
1950s
14
Small Arms & Other GFE
Various (e.g., M20 recoilless rifles)
Large quantities
1950s
46
Note: Quantities are approximate and reflect data available for the period. “GFE” refers to Ground Forces Equipment.
Yugoslavia also procured limited military equipment from other Western nations, such as the United Kingdom, which supplied items like Anson aircraft, destroyers, and jet engines for Yugoslav-made aircraft.14 This massive influx of US military aid, while indispensable for Yugoslavia’s defense in the early 1950s, simultaneously widened the gulf with Moscow regarding sensitive military technology. The aid cemented a Western orientation in much of the JNA’s equipment, training, and operational thinking.13 Such strong Western military ties made the idea of integrating a key Soviet system like the AK-47 not only politically thorny for the USSR but also practically challenging for the JNA. Handing over AK-47s to an army largely equipped and trained by the West would have been counterproductive to Soviet goals of bloc unity and risked their top small arms technology being compromised. Yugoslavia’s termination of US grant aid in 1957 was a nod to Moscow during the normalization period, but it didn’t signal a complete break from Western military ties or a wholesale embrace of Soviet arms.14
B. Zastava Arms (Zastava Oružje / Застава Оружје): Forging an Independent Path to the AK
The Yugoslav People’s Army’s approach to small arms in the post-war era was deeply influenced by its partisan roots and the changing face of infantry warfare. Initially, the JNA fielded a diverse collection of weapons, including captured German Mauser Kar98k rifles. The Zastava factory in Kragujevac (Крагујевац / Kragujevac) began reworking these and producing its own version, the M48 bolt-action rifle.44 Soviet-designed small arms, like the SKS carbine (later made domestically as the Zastava M59) and various submachine guns, also filled the JNA’s racks.43 However, the world was moving on. The limitations of bolt-action rifles in terms of sheer firepower and the shorter reach of submachine guns were becoming increasingly obvious with the rise of intermediate-cartridge assault rifles.55 Having witnessed the effectiveness of weapons like the German StG 44 during the war, the JNA knew it needed a modern automatic rifle.56
As early as 1952, Zastava Arms began experimenting with automatic rifle designs, often drawing inspiration from the StG 44.56 This early interest signaled Yugoslavia’s intent to keep pace with global military advancements.
The year 1959 became a pivotal moment in Yugoslavia’s quest for the AK-47. Shut out from official Soviet designs or licensed production due to the chilly political climate, Belgrade turned to unconventional methods. In a stroke of luck, or perhaps shrewd opportunism, two Albanian soldiers defected to Yugoslavia in 1959, carrying their Soviet-made AK-47s. These rifles were swiftly delivered to Zastava’s engineers for meticulous inspection.56 While these initial samples provided a crucial first look and even allowed for metal castings, they weren’t enough to unlock all the secrets of the rifle’s precise technical data and manufacturing tolerances needed for full-scale reproduction.56
Later that year, or soon after, Yugoslavia managed a more significant acquisition, secretly purchasing a batch of reportedly around 2,000 early-pattern AK-47s. Legend has it this deal was struck during one of President Tito’s visits to an unnamed African nation that was a recipient of Soviet military aid.57 With a larger pool of rifles to dissect and study, Zastava’s engineers finally had what they needed to effectively reverse-engineer the prized weapon.
This clandestine effort culminated in the Zastava M64, Yugoslavia’s first domestically produced, unlicensed version of the AK-47.30 Based on the milled receiver design of the Soviet AK Type 3, the M64 incorporated several distinctly Yugoslav features. These included modifications for launching rifle grenades – a key element of JNA doctrine – different handguard designs (often with three cooling slots instead of the Soviet two), and, on some early prototypes, a mechanism to hold the bolt open after the last round was fired.56 The Zastava design team, featuring engineers like Božidar Blagojević (Божидар Благојевић) and Major Miloš Ostojić (Милош Остојић), worked under the “FAZ” (Фамилија Аутоматика Застава / Familija Automatika Zastava – Family of Automatic Weapons Zastava) concept, aiming to create a whole family of weapons based on the Kalashnikov system.57
Yugoslavia’s success in acquiring AK-47s through these back channels in 1959 and then launching its own reverse-engineering program was a testament not only to its ingenuity but also to its unwavering commitment to an independent defense. This proactive stance was a direct result of the post-1948 reality, where relying on former allies had proven a dangerous game. It sent a clear message: if denied critical military technology by one bloc, Yugoslavia was ready and able to get it elsewhere, reinforcing its non-aligned position and diminishing any leverage Moscow might have hoped to exert through arms denial. This bold move set a precedent for Yugoslav technological autonomy and significantly boosted the capabilities of its burgeoning domestic arms industry.
V. The Withheld Design: Why Moscow Said No
The Soviet Union’s refusal to hand over AK-47s or their blueprints to Yugoslavia by 1959 wasn’t a simple “no.” It was a decision born from a complex cocktail of deep-seated political mistrust, cold geopolitical calculations, established arms export policies, Yugoslavia’s own determined push for military self-reliance, and the AK-47’s own development and rollout schedule.
A. The Ghost of ’48: A Chasm of Mistrust
The 1948 Tito-Stalin split wasn’t just a diplomatic disagreement; it was a seismic ideological and political earthquake that shattered the foundations of trust between Moscow and Belgrade.1 In the Kremlin’s eyes, Tito’s defiance was nothing short of a betrayal of the socialist cause. Stalin himself reportedly harbored such intense animosity towards the Yugoslav leader that he even sanctioned assassination attempts.1 This profound bitterness didn’t simply vanish with time. Even after Stalin’s death and Khrushchev’s attempts at reconciliation, a thick fog of suspicion hung heavy in the air between the two nations.16 Yugoslav leaders remained deeply skeptical of Soviet intentions, fearing a renewed push for dominance, while the Soviets doubted Tito’s commitment to any form of socialist solidarity that didn’t place Moscow at the top.17 The Soviet Union had, after all, publicly and vehemently denounced the Yugoslav leadership for “anti-Soviet” policies and dangerous “revisionism.”8 In such a poisoned atmosphere, the idea of transferring a premier military technology like the AK-47 design – a weapon that embodied Soviet military might – to a nation seen as ideologically wayward and politically untrustworthy was almost unthinkable. The essential ingredient for such a sensitive deal – mutual confidence – was conspicuously absent. Moscow simply couldn’t be sure that Yugoslavia wouldn’t share the technology with its newfound Western friends or use it in ways that undermined Soviet interests.
B. Geopolitical Chess: Yugoslavia’s Western Embrace as a Deal-Breaker
Yugoslavia’s strategic pivot to the West for military support after the 1948 schism was a game-changer in Soviet calculations. The substantial military aid flowing from the United States and other Western countries from 1951 onwards forged undeniable links – both in terms of hardware and doctrine – between the JNA and Western militaries.13 This wasn’t just a trickle; it was a flood of modern tanks, jet aircraft, artillery, and extensive training programs.14 Adding to Moscow’s alarm was the formation of the Balkan Pact (Balkanski pakt) in 1953-1954, a mutual defense treaty that brought Yugoslavia together with Greece and Turkey – both NATO members.10 Although Tito tried to downplay its military significance to Khrushchev, the Soviets saw it as a move that, at least indirectly, pulled Yugoslavia into a Western-aligned military orbit.22
A fundamental rule in the Soviet arms export playbook was to prevent its advanced military technology from falling into Western hands or bolstering countries with strong Western military ties.5 During military discussions in 1956-1957, any Soviet offer of significant military aid, including modern weaponry, came with strings attached: Yugoslavia had to cut its military ties with the West and send the US military mission in Belgrade packing.23 Tito, however, wasn’t willing to pay that price, as Western support remained crucial for Yugoslavia’s security and economic stability. Consequently, from Moscow’s perspective, providing AK-47s to a Yugoslav military heavily equipped, trained, and influenced by the United States would have been akin to indirectly arming a Western-leaning force. Worse, it risked the rifle’s technology being dissected, exploited, and potentially countered by NATO. The potential for technological leakage or strategic misuse far outweighed any slim chance of wooing Tito with this particular weapon, especially while Yugoslavia kept its Western military lifelines open.
C. Moscow’s Prudence: Guarding Key Tech from an Independent Outsider
The AK-47 was more than just an effective rifle; it was a cutting-edge piece of Soviet military innovation, a prized technological asset.3 Soviet policy on licensing and exporting such critical military designs was notoriously tight-fisted, generally reserved for its most loyal Warsaw Pact brethren or exceptionally close, ideologically pure states, like China in the early days of their alliance.3 Yugoslavia, an independent, non-aligned nation that had openly thumbed its nose at Moscow’s authority and carved out its own distinct foreign policy, simply didn’t fit the bill as a trusted recipient for such a crucial weapon system.1
A general principle of Soviet arms export strategy was caution, especially with its most advanced systems. Moscow aimed to prevent uncontrolled proliferation, avoid unnecessarily inflaming regional conflicts, and maintain a degree of control over the capabilities of recipient nations.5 The Cold War was, in many ways, a technological arms race, and both superpowers were intensely wary of their key military innovations falling into the hands of, or being exploited by, states they couldn’t fully control. Yugoslavia, with its unique geopolitical balancing act and proven independence, was a textbook example of such a nation. Handing over AK-47 designs or large quantities of the rifle would have meant relinquishing control over a vital military technology to a state operating outside its direct sphere of influence, risking its adaptation or spread in ways that didn’t serve Soviet strategic interests.
D. Yugoslav Autonomy: Belgrade’s Go-It-Alone Spirit
The shock of the 1948 split and the subsequent Soviet-led blockade left an indelible mark on Yugoslavia’s approach to national security. It drove home the harsh lesson about the dangers of relying too heavily on a single foreign power for essential military gear.15 As a result, building a strong domestic arms industry became a top strategic priority for Belgrade. Zastava Arms in Kragujevac already had a history of arms manufacturing, churning out Mauser-pattern M48 rifles and other small arms in the post-war years.51 This existing industrial foundation provided a springboard for more ambitious endeavors.
The clandestine acquisition of AK-47 samples in 1959, followed by Zastava’s dedicated efforts to reverse-engineer the weapon and develop the M64 prototype, stands as a powerful testament to Yugoslavia’s proactive and determined pursuit of modern military technology, even without Moscow’s blessing or a license.56 This independent streak demonstrated a clear commitment to achieving a degree of self-sufficiency in critical defense areas. It’s plausible that even if the Soviets under Khrushchev had offered the AK-47 designs or a license, the political strings or economic terms attached might have been unacceptable to a Yugoslavia fiercely protective of its sovereignty. Having already embarked on a path of diversifying its arms sources (thanks to Western aid) and nurturing its own capabilities, Belgrade might have preferred the longer, more challenging road of independent development over a Soviet deal that could have entailed unwelcome dependencies. The Soviet refusal to provide the AK-47, therefore, met a Yugoslav determination to acquire the capability one way or another. This, in turn, ultimately strengthened its military-industrial complex and reinforced its non-aligned defense posture, making Yugoslavia less vulnerable to future political pressure through arms supplies from any bloc.
E. The AK-47/AKM Timeline: A Premier System, Sparingly Shared
The AK-47’s own development and deployment timeline also played a role. Though officially adopted in 1949, getting the rifle into the hands of Soviet troops in large numbers took several years due to initial production hiccups, especially with the stamped receiver.4 The significantly improved and modernized AKM version, featuring a more easily mass-produced stamped receiver, only made its debut in 1959.3 This means that throughout the entire period of Yugoslav-Soviet normalization (1955-1959), the AK-47 was the USSR’s primary, relatively new assault rifle, and its definitive mass-production iteration, the AKM, was just appearing on the scene as the decade closed.
The transfer of such cutting-edge military technology, particularly its production license, typically followed a strict pecking order: first, equip your own forces, then provide it to your most trusted and strategically vital allies. Even a major communist power like China only began licensed production of its AK-47 variant, the Type 56, in 1956 – several years after the AK-47’s formal adoption by the Soviet Army.3 This points to a deliberate and controlled process for sharing AK-47 technology. Given this internal Soviet timeline for the AK-47’s own development, production refinement, and initial dissemination, Yugoslavia – with its complicated and often strained political relationship with Moscow – was simply not high enough on the priority list to receive such a sensitive and relatively new technology transfer by 1959. Even if political relations had been significantly warmer and free of the deep-seated mistrust, it’s likely that widespread licensing or export of the AK-47, let alone the just-emerging AKM, to a non-Warsaw Pact country like Yugoslavia would have been deemed premature from the Soviet strategic viewpoint, which naturally prioritized its own forces and its closest, most reliable allies. The profound political issues merely sealed a fate already influenced by the weapon’s own lifecycle and Soviet dissemination practices.
VI. Conclusion: Forging Arms and Independence
The Soviet Union’s decision to keep its AK-47 rifles and their designs out of Yugoslav hands by the end of 1959 was not a simple “no.” It was a complex verdict shaped by a potent mix of factors. The deep, lingering mistrust from the 1948 Tito-Stalin split, which painted Yugoslavia as an ideological maverick in Moscow’s eyes, set the stage.1 This fundamental distrust was amplified by Yugoslavia’s determinedly non-aligned stance and its significant reliance on Western military aid, particularly from the United States, making any transfer of sensitive Soviet military technology to Belgrade a geopolitical non-starter for the Kremlin.13
Moreover, Soviet arms export policies during the early Cold War were notoriously restrictive when it came to advanced weaponry. Moscow prioritized its Warsaw Pact allies and ideologically compliant states, exercising extreme caution with nations like Yugoslavia that charted an independent foreign policy course and maintained strong Western ties.5 The AK-47, and its successor the AKM (which arrived in 1959), were crown jewels of Soviet military technology, and their dissemination was tightly controlled.3 The AK-47’s own development and deployment timeline meant it was still a relatively new and evolving system within the Soviet military itself, making widespread export or licensing to a country outside its immediate security bloc highly unlikely by 1959.4
Meanwhile, Yugoslavia, steeled by the hard lessons of the Informbiro period and driven by a powerful imperative for self-reliance, was actively building its own domestic arms industry.51 The clandestine acquisition of AK-47 samples in 1959, followed by the impressive reverse-engineering efforts at Zastava Arms that led to the M64 prototype, showcased Belgrade’s resolve to obtain modern assault rifle technology, with or without Soviet approval.56 This bold initiative not only highlighted Yugoslav ingenuity but also underscored a deep commitment to an autonomous defense posture.
In the end, the Soviet refusal to share the AK-47 did not stop Yugoslavia from arming itself with Kalashnikov-pattern rifles. Instead, it spurred the nation’s engineers and defense industry to develop their own versions, most notably the Zastava M70 series. These rifles became a mainstay of the Yugoslav People’s Army and a significant export success in their own right. This outcome fostered a crucial degree of self-sufficiency in small arms production for Yugoslavia, a cornerstone of its independent defense doctrine and its distinctive non-aligned identity on the turbulent stage of the Cold War.
The story of the Soviet-Yugoslav AK-47 dynamic is a vivid illustration of how the intricate dance of Cold War power politics, ideological clashes, national interests, and technological ambitions shaped military relationships. It underscores that the transfer – or denial – of arms and military technology was a powerful tool of statecraft, with far-reaching consequences for industrial development, strategic autonomy, and the geopolitical paths nations chose to tread in a bipolar world. For Yugoslavia, the rifle Moscow withheld ultimately became a catalyst, driving it to forge not only its own weapons but also a more independent destiny.
Yugoslav Nuclear Diplomacy between the Soviet Union and the United States in the Early and Mid‑Cold War – OpenEdition Journals, accessed May 11, 2025, https://journals.openedition.org/monderusse/11239
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My 6.8L 300 bar/4,351 PSI Air Marksman tank had a slow leak. How slow? It would lose a few hundred PSI per month so real small and slow. I used the CRC Aerosol Leak detector to track it down. The seal between the 7/8ths inch valve stem and the tank/bottle is accomplished via an O-Ring and it needed to be replaced.
This how-to works in general but the o-ring size will change if your valve neck has a different diameter. Not all brands and tank volumes use the same diameter valve stem.
Removing the valve from the tank
The first step is absolutely the most important – open the valve and make sure the tank is competely empty. Before you go any further, open the valve and leave it open. This is your safety check that it is empty. I can’t stress this enough – make sure it is empty!!
The valve and tank are 7/8ths inch right hand thread. That means you turn left (counter clockwise) to loosen it and right (clockwise) to tighten the valve on the tank.
To remove the valve, you can first see if it will unscrew by hand but usually they are a bit “stuck”. I use a non-marring dead blow hammer to hit the valve and smack it loose. Hit a part of the valve body that sticks out like a lever arm and not knobs or gauges.
On the valve body, I smacked the right side of the valve body and not the fill nipple. I also did not want to hit the gauge.
It should not take very much force to get it to come loose. It’s the “whack” that knocks it loose more than just pure brute force. Think of it this was – the sudden jolt on the valve body knocks it loose while inertia is relatively holding the tank body in place. It’s actually way easier than trying to hold the body and apply a wrench or strap to the valve body.
If it isn’t budging, make sure all air is out of the tank before you try more force.
I used a 2 pound Neiko dead blow hammer. A dead blow hammer is filled with steel shot for weight.They do an excellent job of transferring the force of the hit without scratching or denting the target surface.
The Neiko dead blow hammer knocked it lose very easily. I then unscrewed it the rest of the way by hand.
Here’s the valve stem itself. Note the unknown brown flakes right under the o-ring. I was disappointed by the dirt and debris on the valves tem and the top of the tank.
What size was the o-ring?
Searching on the WWW said to use a size 212 o-ring on a 7/8ths inch valve stem. What you’ll notice in the next photos is that the 212 size o-ring is an approximation of the original. Odds are the Chinese manufacturer of the Air Marksman tank used a different specification but the SAE 212 o-ring will work.
You can see the sizes are slightly different in terms of the thickness and OD. I do want to point out the manufacturing defects with the original o-ring. See the rubber filament pointing into the inner area of the o-ring? There were multiple filaments at different places on the o-ring.
When I removed the o-ring I noticed the o-ring had a number of filaments left over from manufacturing. In theory these remnants from manufacturing an cause imperfect seals.
This is an example of the several filaments on the o-ring.
It took some digging to find out the size and specification I needed:
Material: Buna-N — need a resistance to chemicals
Inside Diameter (ID): 7/8″Nominal and 0.859″ Actual – the 7/8ths inch (ID) matches with the valve stem’s outer diamter (OD)
Outside Diameter: 1-1/8″ Nominal and 1.149″ Actual – this needs to fit in the pocket the o-ring sits in and the tank has pletty of room for this.
Thickness: 1/8″ Nominal and 0.139″ Actual — this is diameter of the o-ring’s rubber.
Hardness: 90A — it needs to be firm enough that the high-pressure air doesn’t litterally push it out of position. 90A is hard enough to stay put.
O-Ring Number Designator: 212 — these numbers are defined by Aerospace Standard AS568B, Aerospace Size Standard for O-rings and is published by the Society of Automotive Engineers (SAE). This is an American standard and other countries and the ISO have other specifications.
We dos sell the above o-ring on our site if you are interested – click here.
Reassembly
I wish I had taken a before and after photo of the pocket where the oring sits. It was filthy and I wiped it down with a paper towel before I took this next photo.
This photo was after I cleaned it up. I had already applied a very light film of silicone o-ring grease also.
Speaking of o-ring grease, absolutely use a quality silicone based grease and I would recommend one formulated for o-rings. I use Super Lube’s o-ring grease and it works great. The grease lubricates the o-ring so the parts slide around it during reassembly and it doesn’t tear. A film on the threads helps prevent seizing and corrosion.
Note: NEVER use petroleum grease or the high pressure air can cause it to ignite like in a diesel engine.
I use Super Lube brand o-ring grease. I tub like this will last a very long time. Just keep it clean and the lid on when not in use.
I carefully threaded the valve stem back into the tank and it turned very easily. I brought it down snug by hand and added a about an eigth to a quarter turn with the dead blow hammer. If it feels like it is firm then stop – you don’t need excessive force.
In theory, it is ready to fill but we want to test that. I like to add a 100 bar, stop and watch the pressure gauge for an hour. Why? Well, it takes a long time with a home compressor like my GX CS4 unit to fill a 6.8 liter tank. I’d rather fill it part way and watch vs. wasting extra time on the pump just to find out the leak was still there.
Here’s my GX CS4 compressor doing it’s thing. I use the small inline filter as a first stage to get rid of moisure and the big blue filter for final cleaning. I initially use a dead-head plug to make sure everything is sealed properly before I start filling the tank. It is so easy to have a leak at a quick connect that I make sure stuff is sealed first, then I connect the final hose head while making sure there is no movement of the other components.
So, I filled to 100, watched and everything was okay. I then went to 200 and watched. Finally I went to 300 and watched. None of my gauges agree with each other so I get at or close to 300 bar on the highest-reading gauge and call it done. To explain that, I have gauges on my pump, on the fill port side of the valve and one on the tank side. Whichever hits 300 first I stop at just to be safe. Yes, the tank should be able to handle way past its working rated pressure of 300 bar / 4,351 PSI but I don’t see any point in pushing it and finding out from a safety perspective.
I watched the gauge for two days with no movement. I literally take a photo to compare over time.
The link appears to be gone but I can’t tell you for sure if it was the o-ring with its filaments causing imperfect seals or the dirty condition of the pocket where the o-ring sits on the tank – or maybe even a combination – but it’s not leaking.
Summary
My Air Marksman tank was leaking around the valve stem through some combination of defective o-ring and debrise/dirt during assembly. I cleaned all the surfaces, applied a light film of o-ring grease on the surfaces including on the new o-ring and re-installed the valve on the tank. Problem solved.
Have you really stopped and looked at the modern tactical pistol, rifle, and range bags lately? They have evolved dramatically over the years to accomodate the needs of a wide range of shooters with tons of pouches, mounting points and straps all over them. What else do they have? Velcro. Wow. Most of them have a ton of velcro.
One thing I can tell you is that I have quite a selection of shapes, sizes, styles, colors and brands. So much so that I honestly reached the point that I would have to open bags and look inside to see what was there. Sure, I made use of the velcro on the cases and tried sticking on morale patches, caliber patches, and I bought custom patches with a firearms description embroidered on it. The problem was that none of these worked for me — I’d still forget what was inside or I’d pay for the custom patch only to sell the firearm a few months later. I have very few firearms that I keep long term. Most, I buy, tinker with them, get bored and sell them.
I just dealt with it until this past Fall when I ran into Savior Equipment’s “Tactical PVC Writeable ID Patches”. First off, Savior is my favorite vendor of pistol, rifle and range bags. I’ve been using them for years now. For some reason, I was searching on Amazon for something else and these ID patches popped up. [Click here to open the Amazon listing]
The Savior labels are sold in packages of eight. There are two sizes – 3.5″ and 4.75″ and they sell one version of the 3.5″ label that has a white panel vs. the grey-ish color I prefer. Note, the labels have the “hook” velcro surface on the back. They need the soft velcro “loop” surface to mount on.
The brilliance of the simple idea just knocked me over – give people a tag they can write on with a permanent marker and then stick on their case – any case – these labels have a velcro backing and you can put them anywhere you want on any velcro surface.
So, I bought my first package that contains eight of the ID labels and went through the whole thing. I then got a second … and a third and that’s where I’m at right now. No more guessing what’s in a case.
Here I have the Savior ID label and a US flag morale patch.
The labels can work on any case, bag or whatever as long as it has the velcro loop surface. Here is one of the labels on a PSA case.
I think Savior’s idea is brilliant because it’s simple, affordable, and immediately struck me in terms of “Wow – why didn’t I think of that?”.
Summary
If you want a easy, effective, and affordable means to label your cases and have velcro surfaces you can utilize, check out the Savior labels [click here for the Amazon listing]. They really simplified finding out what was in cases for me.
By the way, Savior Equipment has a store on Amazon. If you are looking for excellent cases, pouches, bags and so forth, be sure to check them out [click here to visit the store].
Note, I have to buy all of my parts – nothing here was paid for by sponsors, etc. I do make a small amount if you click on an ad and buy something but that is it. You’re getting my real opinion on stuff.
If you find this post useful, please share the link on Facebook, with your friends, etc. Your support is much appreciated and if you have any feedback, please email me at in**@*********ps.com. Please note that for links to other websites, I may be paid via an affiliate program such as Avantlink, Impact, Amazon and eBay.
My youngest daughter told me her favorite winter boots were leaking. She’s long since grown and on her own so I told her to bring them the next time she visited and I would see what I could do.
She showed up a few weeks later with some nice winter boots made by Columbia that were a year or two old. As a kid growinmg up in Michigan in the 70s, we’d call this style “snow mobile” boots – but they were a rubber bottom, fabric upper and then had a felt liner that you could pull out that seemed to always wear our first.
These new Columbia boots were far nicer with modern materials but they were leaking. My daughter said the bottoms of her feet would get wet. I took a quick look and the rubber bottoms were in very good shape and so were the uppers. This left the most likely culprit to be the stitching where the uppers are sewed to the rubber lowers.
I actually like working on boots. Don’t ask me why – it’s just one of my thousands of personality quirks. I used to take my dad’s old leather work boots, remove the leather thongs, clean then and then make them soft and water proof using mink oil. For a while we had this cool stuff called “bear grease” that was wax and some oil that worked pretty well. At any rate, rather than drying out and cracking, not to mention leaking real bad, you could really streatch the life of your boots out.
Many years ago, and I do mean “a lot” of years ago and any number would be a guess so maybe 20+ years ago, I heard about Atsko Sno-Seal. It’s basically beeswax and needs heat to really soak in. I’ve used it on more boot, tools and other uses than I can count. [Click here to buy it on Amazon]
To seal my daughter’s boots, I first warmed up the oven to 135F. That is the lowest setting of our oven and I didn’t want to harm her boots my getting the synthetics too hot. Once the oven was warm, I turned it off because otherwise the tops of the boots would be close to the heating elements and risk damage.
I then inserted her boots for about five minutes so they would get nice and warm. I pulled them out and pushed/rubbed a thick amount of wax into the seams. To be clear, I just did this on the seams – the uppers are synthetic and I didn’t want to risk discoloring them. I then put the boots back in the oven and let the wax melt and I would then rub in another thick batch of wax into the seams.
I repeated this three times. I wanted to make sure that any little openings, or “voids” in the seams were packed with wax. After the final heating, I removed the boots and wiped off the extra wax with a paper towel.
For the fabric parts of the upper and the tongue (the part under the laces in the front), I applied two coats of Scotch Guard Outdoor formula spray. I doubted the water was leaking in from these two places because of my daughter’s description that it was the bottom of her feet getting wet. However, since I had the boots, I figured I would do them also.
Note, ScotchGuard is a spray and is really easy to work with. I’d recommend you read their instructions first. I basically spray on a coat and let it dry then I do a second coat and let it dry. My wife hates the smell so I let them dry in my shop – so just bear that in mind if your spouse doesnt like chemical smells.
Applying Sno-seal to the seams took about 30 minutes. The ScotchGuard spray can be applied in less than a minute but the drying time depends on many factors – including temperature and if there is airflow from a fan. I usually let them sit and do other things.
Let me make one last comment – sealing boots isn’t a “do it one time and you’re set forever” activity. You might get a season or two and then you’ll probably need to do it again. Some guys treat it as part of their routine “getting ready for winter work” and some guys like me do it as needed or before some big outting like hunting, hiking, etc. Bottom line is that it works but needs to be maintained sooner or later.
If you do this and ever find yourself in a rush and don’t have Sno-Seal handy, you can try heating the seam up with a hair dryer and seeing if the remaining wax will seal the leak. This is a real gamble though as it depends on the amount of wax left. You could ideally seal the leak temporarily until you have time to do it right but you might also either accomplish nothing or even make the leak worse as the reamining wax moves and enlarges holes. So, it’s iffy and there’s no guarantee it will work.
Summary
The boots were sealed and my daughter was happy. I recommend Atsko Sno-Seal for a great many applications including sealing boot seams. The ScotchGuard Outdoor waterproofer works very well also.
I hope this helps you out.
Note, I have to buy all of my parts – nothing here was paid for by sponsors, etc. I do make a small amount if you click on an ad and buy something but that is it. You’re getting my real opinion on stuff.
If you find this post useful, please share the link on Facebook, with your friends, etc. Your support is much appreciated and if you have any feedback, please email me at in**@*********ps.com. Please note that for links to other websites, I may be paid via an affiliate program such as Avantlink, Impact, Amazon and eBay.
I was asked this question just the other day and the short answer is no – it’s just fine. The reason it is discolored is that the brass is annealed in that area. This means the brass is heated and allowed to cool to remove stresses when it is being formed. If you’ve ever heated up a metal really hot with a blow torch, you may have seen it change color.
The brass is annealed right around where the neck is formed. The brass is discolored from the heat. This is 5.56 M855 ammo as I am sure some of you already know from the green tip.
Want to know the funny part? All ammo that is necked down is annealed in that area.
Commercial ammo is polished to be nice and shiny as buyers think that discoloration means it is defective or cheap. Military inspectors want the discoloration there so they know the cases were properly annealed during forming and aren’t going to crack.
Removing a process step should lower the cost and thus the price — but who knows how effective governments really are at negotiating pricing.
Summary
I shoot a lot of surplus 5.56 NATO ammo and find it just fine for my needs at the range. I don’t shoot it in my target rifles but it’s very cost effective otherwise.
If you’ve been on the fence because of that discoloration, don’t be. It’s just fine. The ammo is just fine — assuming it is a reputable brand and vendor of course.
I hope this helps you out.
Note, I have to buy all of my parts – nothing here was paid for by sponsors, etc. I do make a small amount if you click on an ad and buy something but that is it. You’re getting my real opinion on stuff.
If you find this post useful, please share the link on Facebook, with your friends, etc. Your support is much appreciated and if you have any feedback, please email me at in**@*********ps.com. Please note that for links to other websites, I may be paid via an affiliate program such as Avantlink, Impact, Amazon and eBay.
Olin Corporation, who owns Winchester, annoinced they are buying Ammo Inc for $75 million on 1/21/25. The assets will become part of Winchester.
Apparently it is the brass shell case capabilties and 185,000 square foot production facility in Manitowoc, WI constructued in 2022.
At any rate, the whole press, release is here. I shot a few cases of Ammo Inc’s 10mm TMC ammo some years back and found it decent. They own Gunbroker so maybe they are going to focus more on that now.
I did see one comment that Ammo Inc has to restate their financials due to some problems with the accounting. Click here.