Ostkrieg

by Stephen G. Fritz

  Was Hitler engaging in hyperbole in claiming that this was the most important decision of the war? Not necessarily. Although virtually all his top military leaders believed that Germany would win, they also recognized the need to set priorities and make the best use of their increasingly limited resources. Moreover, there was a gnawing sense that the initial gamble had failed, that, despite the impressive victories, the Red Army remained an intact fighting force and, thus, that the Wehrmacht now needed to make use of all its considerable operational skills in order to resolve the situation satisfactorily. Thus, the ongoing assessments of the comparative strength of the Red Army and the Wehrmacht played a key role in influencing these deliberations over the sequence and timing of future operations. To the Germans, the summit seemed tantalizingly close; the problem was how to attain it. Hitler and the Army High Command were not sure how to proceed, an uncertainty reflected in the protracted discussions, confusion, vacillation, and contradictory orders that characterized the period from mid-July through August.

  Although Halder was clearly aware that the initial objective, the destruction of the enemy’s strength west of the Dnieper line, had not been accomplished, he nonetheless assumed that the serious losses suffered by the Red Army had nearly exhausted its ability to continue fighting. On 8 July, he estimated that 89 of the 164 known enemy infantry divisions, and 20 of the 29 armored units, could be considered destroyed or largely eliminated, with only 46 Russian combat divisions left to contest the Germans. By his reckoning, the Soviets were no longer in a position to organize a continuous front, nor would the activation of new units offer much help since they would lack officers, equipment, and training. To Halder, the Soviet goal seemed simply to drain German strength through ceaseless counterattacks. These attacks, in which the Russians fought “with wild ferocity and enormous human sacrifice,” were admittedly worrisome, but the very scale of the enemy losses encouraged his belief that the resistance must soon slacken. Using the rough formula that 1 million civilians could provide soldiers for two divisions, German experts assumed that the limits of Soviet manpower had been reached.68 Despite the continual appearance of new enemy divisions, the Germans were slow to draw the proper conclusions; when they finally did, it was too late.

  Not only the profligate manner of Red Army counterattacks, but also the size and quality of the Soviet tank force, came as an unpleasant surprise. In early July, enemy tank strength had been reestimated at fifteen thousand, but the total was likely closer to twenty-four thousand. The armament and thickness of armor on the new T34 and KV model tanks, which had come into service a few months earlier, also came as a shock, as German antitank crews often saw their shells bounce harmlessly off the Soviet tanks. “Each shot seems to be a direct hit,” one antitank gunner remarked in astonishment, “[but] the shells bounce off. . . . The fire doesn’t bother the tanks in the least.” German tactical ingenuity and experience soon began to level the odds, but the appearance of the heavier and obviously superior Soviet tanks chipped away at German confidence and assurance of victory. Even the mammoth destruction of Russian aircraft at the outset of the fighting proved a mixed blessing. Since most of the planes had been destroyed on the ground, Russian losses in crew had not been so severe, allowing the Soviets to rebuild their formations with new planes from factories beyond the range of German bombers.69

  The Soviets had also made a considerable effort to evacuate factories to the east, especially those engaged in aircraft manufacture and the production of arms and ammunition, tractor works, metallurgical installations, and chemical plants. In this regard, the stubborn Red Army resistance in Ukraine proved particularly important, for it allowed time to disassemble and remove entire factories from a key industrial region. Estimates of the total number of factories relocated to the Urals, western Siberia, and Kazakhstan vary from fifteen to twenty-five hundred, with the overwhelming majority related to the armaments industry. Although there were numerous problems with the evacuation—industrial equipment arriving damaged, at the wrong destination, or not at all—the action nonetheless secured roughly 8–10 percent of prewar Soviet productive capacity. Even more remarkably, despite the loss of highly important industrial regions, the Soviets managed to increase their output of key military equipment in 1941. In the first half of the year, Soviet factories had produced 1,800 tanks, 3,950 aircraft, 15,600 artillery pieces and mortars, 11,000 machine guns (and submachine guns), 792,000 rifles, and 18.8 million shells. In the final six months of 1941, however, the Soviets churned out 4,700 tanks, 8,000 aircraft, 55,500 artillery pieces and mortars, 143,000 machine and submachine guns, 1.5 million rifles, and an astounding 40.2 million shells. Stalin, using draconian tactics, far more effectively mobilized the Soviet population for the war effort than did Hitler. Even allowing for problems raised by the relocation, including a sharp slump in production in the winter of 1941–1942, the evacuation of industry was an impressive economic and organizational achievement.70

  At the same time Soviet military production was increasing, Halder understood that the fighting power of the frontline German combat units was eroding. The Wehrmacht had entered Russia with forces only marginally larger than those engaged in France the year before. As in France, it had gambled on hitting the Soviets with virtually all its available strength and, thus, had practically nothing left in reserve. Everything had been front-loaded, aimed at a knockout blow in the first round, with nothing held back in the event of a prolonged match. The 3,050,000 men who had invaded the Soviet Union on 22 June had been backed by only 385,000 men in the Replacement Army, a figure for trained reserves that the army estimated would be exhausted by the beginning of October. Army leaders had been willing to accept this risk, largely because they had been misled by the surprisingly low losses—fewer than 100,000 killed—in the first two years of war. Now, after three weeks of hard fighting, and with the size of the front expanding both in width and in depth, the Germans were hard-pressed to satisfy even the minimal replacement requirements of the individual army groups. On 6 July, Halder estimated that almost 12,000 Germans had been killed in the fighting to date, a number too low by at least half since in June alone 25,000 had died on the eastern front. A month later, his figures indicated that the Eastern Army had suffered a total of 180,000 casualties but had received only 47,000 replacements. Once again, the casualty figure was too small since in July more than 63,000 Landsers were killed, making the two-month death toll some 88,000. OKW figures from early January 1942 listed a total of 213,301 casualties from 22 June through the end of July 1941, with another 197,000 in August, for a two-month total of roughly 410,000, a figure larger than the total Replacement Army.71 The numbers were indisputable; the fierce Soviet resistance in July had begun seriously to erode the fighting strength of the German Eastern Army. Although the winter fighting in front of Moscow has received the bulk of attention, in terms of hollowing the Wehrmacht July 1941 remained for the Ostheer the single worst month, at least for deaths, until December 1942, when the savage struggle in Stalingrad finally surpassed it in deadly intensity.

  Not only were casualties rising and replacements lacking, but the materiel strength of the armored units, the key to success, had also declined significantly. Although the Germans had invaded with some 3,600 tanks, nearly 1,000 of those were obsolete Pz I and II models, while the panzer armies possessed only 444 of the modern Pz IV tank. Not only were these numbers wholly inadequate, but the war in Russia also quickly revealed deficiencies in performance, armor, armament, and tactical mobility. Most German tanks, it seemed, were suited only for fair weather and good roads. In early July, Halder estimated that the army had only 431 tanks in reserve. Nor were replacements at hand since earlier production estimates of 900 panzers a month gave way to 650, although even this lower figure could not be attained. By mid-July, the combat strength of the panzer and motorized divisions in Army Group Center had declined to 60 percent of normal, while in some units of Army Group South it had been reduced to 40 percent. Two months later, th
e four armored divisions of Guderian’s Second Panzer Army had been reduced to 20–30 percent of their combat strength.72

  To make matters worse, Hitler, still expecting a quick victory, ordered that new tanks being produced should remain in Germany in order to equip fresh panzer divisions for use in 1942 in offensives planned for the Middle East. Only under pressure from army leaders was he persuaded to release all captured Czech tanks, some new model Pz III and IV tanks, and some 350 tank engines, but this meager allocation did not suffice to maintain the strength of even depleted panzer units. Hitler implicitly acknowledged this, in late July ordering that panzer divisions suffering heavy losses should simply be disbanded and their personnel and equipment used to reinforce the remainder. With only minor exceptions, he clung to this policy through the end of 1941. By the end of August, the Eastern Army had lost almost 1,500 armored fighting vehicles (AFVs) and had been allocated only 96 replacements out of a total new production from June to August of 815. The Germans often had more tanks out of service owing to lack of spare parts than to enemy action. By the end of October, for example, the Eighteenth Panzer Division had lost 59 tanks to enemy action, but 103 were out of operation because of a lack of spare parts. Troops even resorted to obtaining spare parts directly from Germany rather than attempting to get them through army supply services. To compound problems further, the army groups lacked sufficient repair workshops, with the result that tanks knocked out of action but salvageable had to be sent back to Germany to be repaired. Since tank losses were greater than expected, this centralized system of panzer repair could not cope, especially since it added a further burden to the already overtaxed railway system. Many tanks needing repair were thus away from the front for long periods of time.73 As a result, operational successes could not be fully exploited. Even though German armored units had achieved astounding victories with inferior resources, Hitler failed to reinforce this success with the means by which to achieve a strategic triumph.

  The original operational plan had taken into account the need for rest and replenishment of units after the Dnieper line had been reached. This pause, following the assumed destruction of most of the enemy’s fighting strength, would be used for rehabilitation and stocking fresh supplies necessary for the next phase of the operation. Certainly, the German formations needed such a rest. Despite the fact that the infantry divisions still averaged about 80 percent of their normal establishment, the men were exhausted after marching three hundred miles in hot weather over dusty roads and engaging in constant, and often severe, fighting. For many men, the most vivid impression of the first weeks of the campaign, in addition to the sharp fighting, was the endless marching that “puff[ed] dust into the air so that it rose and clung to [them]”: “The loose sand was nearly as tiring . . . as deep mud. . . . The men marched in silence, coated with dust, with dry throats and lips.” As another Landser put it, “Each man’s war at this stage was circumscribed by the next few steps he would take, the hardness of the road, the soreness of his feet, the dryness of his tongue, and the weight of his equipment.” The stiff limbs, the blisters, the numbing fatigue, the sheer monotony produced by marching endlessly into the vast sameness, meant that skirmishes were often seen as a welcome respite. “We wished the Russians would make a stand,” said one soldier, “anything, a battle even, to relieve the painful monotony of this ceaseless, timeless tramping.” Closing with the enemy, however, added a psychological burden to the already enormous physical ordeal endured by the troops. After the outpouring of fear, nervous energy, and adrenaline produced by combat had subsided, many troops sank into a lethargy that was increasingly difficult to overcome.74

  In addition, with over 2,000 different types of vehicles, 170 kinds of guns, 73 different tanks, and 52 models of antiaircraft guns, the Germans faced a logistic nightmare in spare parts and maintenance in the best of circumstances. Yet the relentless Soviet resistance did not allow the necessary time for replenishment of the mechanized formations. Driving ahead constantly, fighting a seemingly endless series of engagements and encirclement battles, often isolated and alone deep in hostile territory, confronted by the enemy on all sides, and with little time for rest, the motorized troops were subjected to an enormous physical and psychological burden. Even as the advance continued, apparently successfully, the nearly constant fighting resulted in a steady casualty toll obvious to all. But, because of the dogged opposition of Soviet troops and their continual counterattacks, German units could not be withdrawn from the line for rest, nor, because of the dismal state of the logistic system, could large stocks be accumulated for decisive future operations.75

  Despite the prodigious efforts of the supply organization to maintain the momentum of the German advance, by mid-July the system was showing signs of collapsing. Because of anticipated railway problems, specifically the need to convert the differing gauges between the German and the Soviet lines, German planners had committed to a motorized, road-bound movement of supplies in the crucial first phase of the campaign. The materiel and infrastructure basis for such a system, however, was alarmingly slender. Despite Hitler’s attempt in the 1930s to motorize Germany, it lacked both the absolute numbers of vehicles and the requisite motor industry to supply the vast numbers of vehicles needed in Russia. In order to achieve the planners’ goal, the German motorized transport capacity would have had to be increased ten times, a task clearly beyond their ability. The severe fuel shortage as well as a lack of tires also complicated matters, as did the enormous need for replacement parts for an army that had a myriad of different types of vehicles in use. Moreover, the majority of roads in Russia were unpaved, which meant that they were choked with clouds of dust during dry weather while heavy rains, as in early July, turned them into rutted, impassable, muddy quagmires. The few surfaced roads proved incapable of bearing heavy truck traffic and were often ruined after a few days. The battering taken by the trucks resulted in breakdowns that led to a reduction of 25–30 percent in haulage capacity, while most repair facilities were sited far to the rear. These notoriously bad roads also led to an unexpected rise in fuel consumption, with the result that fuel sufficient for sixty miles in normal conditions sufficed for only forty miles in Russia. Even the occasional capture of enemy fuel stocks offered little relief since Soviet fuel had a lower octane rating and could be used in German vehicles only after adaptation. The Germans quickly turned to horse-drawn vehicles as a substitute, but they suffered problems as well. Not only were the rubber tires on the larger German wagons quickly torn to shreds, but German horses, perhaps in a fitting metaphor, were not up to the demands placed on them. The Germans soon found it better to replace them with the small Russian panje wagons pulled by lighter, more agile Russian horses.76

  Nor could the declining motor transport capacity be made good by the rail system. The Germans failed to capture large quantities of Soviet locomotives and rolling stock and, thus, faced the time-consuming, labor-intensive task of relaying rail network to German gauge. Even this proved more difficult than expected, however, since the Soviet rail beds were normally so weak and the rails so lacking in load-carrying capacity that only light model German engines could be used to pull freight cars. In addition, because of inadequate investment in the railroad between the wars, German locomotives and rolling stock were limited in number and already considerably overstrained. Increased wear and tear and inevitable breakdowns thus further reduced the efficiency of the Reichsbahn. Because of time pressures as well as constraints on personnel and materials for a thorough reconstruction of the railway network, necessary repair work was limited to a few main lines. Inevitably, bottlenecks resulted as the transportation system often became hopelessly jammed. As a consequence, adequate supply of the three army groups became impossible. By late July, Army Group Center needed twenty-five trains a day to meet its needs but often received as few as eight and never more than fifteen, while Army Group South secured on average only fourteen of the necessary twenty-four trains daily. Army Group North enjoye
d a relatively better situation as it had shorter distances to cover, the rail network in the Baltic states was better, and the capture of Baltic ports eased the strain on land transport. Even here, however, the attack on Leningrad in July had to be postponed for supply reasons on seven occasions. By the time the supply difficulties were resolved and the attack resumed in early August, the Soviets had gained valuable time to build defenses.77

  The constraints on the transportation system also forced difficult choices. The incessant Soviet counterattacks had caused German troops to consume huge quantities of ammunition. When priority was given to ammunition trains, however, drastic reductions in the supply of fuel and rations were necessary, which limited the mobility of German units and forced troops to live off the land. By mid-July, the unprecedented problems of supplying a rapidly advancing army over great distances in a country with poor infrastructure with the necessary equipment, ammunition, fuel, and supplies to maintain a simultaneous offensive on three fronts had nearly broken the German supply organization. The original assumption—that the Eastern Army could be adequately supplied only to the Dnieper line—had proven accurate. In the absence of the anticipated Soviet collapse, the Germans now faced the prospect of creating a new supply chain that reflected the changed situation. Failing this, they had hardly any likelihood of being able to provide the troops with the supplies they needed for large-scale operations beyond the Dnieper. In the summer of 1941, time, distance, and the very primitive nature of its transportation system was helping ensure the Soviet Union’s survival as a state.78