Disaster at Stalingrad

by Peter G. Tsouras

  Werewolf, Vinnitsa, 20 September 1942

  Hitler had not been happy with Colonel Gehlen’s report:

  I have told you, Gehlen, that the Russian is kaput, finished. And now you give me a report that says they have a million and a quarter men in reserve. What do take me for, a fool? After their losses, such a thing is impossible!

  Gehlen’s Foreign Armies East had, in fact, done a superlative piece of order-of-battle analysis. If anything, they underestimated Soviet numbers.

  Hitler’s reasoning was confounded by the fact that, with almost the same number of men at the front as the Germans, Stalin had been able to amass 1,242,470 men in Stavka reserve while the Germans essentially had no strategic reserve. Gehlen’s office estimated that the Soviet class of 1925 was providing Stalin with 1,400,000 more men. The German class was little more than one-third that number.9

  Halder received another disquieting report that went into his next briefing for Hitler. The information was as of the 14th and rated the fighting strength of all the infantry battalions in 6th Army. Seydlitz’s LI Corps, which had been in the hardest fighting, was bleeding away. Of its 21 infantry battalions, 12 were rated as weak, 6 as average, and 3 as medium-strong. The pioneer battalions were rated average.10 Halder knew that Hitler would not want to hear this; his mind always needed to assume every division was at full strength. He then kept assigning missions that dead men could not fulfill.

  Gehlen’s statistics-laden briefing which Halder supplemented with LI Corps’ waning strength had been the last straw. Hitler acted quickly to decapitate the General Staff that he so despised. He summoned Halder and told him, ‘Herr Halder, we both need a rest. Our nerves are frayed to the point that we are of no use to each other.’ Halder took the hint and resigned.

  Halder went to his room to pack and pen a note to his protégé Paulus. ‘A line to tell you that today I have resigned my appointment. Let me thank you, my dear Paulus, for your loyalty and friendship and wish you further success as the leader you have proved yourself to be.’ Even before Halder’s aide could drop the note off at the OKW dispatch office, Paulus was reading the message from Werewolf giving him his old boss’s job. He was to report immediately and turn his army over to Seydlitz. He felt an immense sense of relief even though his men had just raised the swastika flag over the huge and now shattered Univermag department store in the city centre. He would no longer be responsible for bleeding 6th Army to death. Over the last six weeks, his army had suffered 7,700 dead and 31,000 wounded; fully 10 per cent of 6th Army had been lost. Every day the fighting got harder, the Russians more determined, and his losses were not replaced. He thought that now perhaps his near uncontrollable tic might go away.11

  Next it was Jodl’s turn to be humbled. Hitler assembled the OKW staff to announce the immediate promotion of Major von Stauffenberg to Generalmajor (brigadier general) and his appointment as deputy chief of OKW’s Operations Staff. He came over to shake the stunned Stauffenberg’s hand. The new general noted that the Führer’s hand was trembling. Stauffenberg’s appointment was seen for what it was, a rebuke to Jodl. Hitler clearly thought he needed a minder.

  Most angry was Bormann. Hitler apparently had not known that Stauffenberg was a deeply religious Catholic. It was too late to get to Hitler to warn him off. The Führer would lose too much face. What Bormann did not know was that Stauffenberg had come to find Hitler and his Nazis repugnant and had been so alarmed at the treatment of the Jews and the assault on religion that he been drawn into the anti-Hitler plot by Tresckow.

  Now that he had got their attention, Hitler had one more announcement. ‘I have decided to replace Weichs as well. A man with more ruthlessness is required at this decisive stage in the struggle against Bolshevism. Manstein will now command Army Group B.’12

  Sevastopol, Crimea, 21 September 1942

  Within twenty-four hours of his appointment, Manstein ordered the siege train of heavy guns that had been left at the shattered Soviet fortress to be moved to Stalingrad. At the same time rail construction troops were set to work to strengthen the line from Kalach to Stalingrad and a subsidiary line from Rostov through Kotelnikovo to Stalingrad.

  The most imposing of the guns were the two 600mm and one 800mm railway guns. The former were named Thor and Odin. The latter, named Schwerer Gustav (Heavy Gustav), weighed 1,350 tons and could throw a 7-ton shell as far as 23 miles that would destroy any fortification known at that time. Developed by Krupp in the 1930s specifically to destroy the fortifications of the Maginot Line, Gustav was not ready in time for that battle. It had been ready to crack open Sevastopol. It was the largest-calibre rifled weapon in the history of artillery to see combat, and fired the heaviest shells of any artillery piece.

  A second 800mm gun named Dora had already arrived at Stalingrad in mid-August. A train with a total length of almost a mile was needed to transport it to its siding emplacement 9.3 miles west of the city. It had fired its first shell on 13 September.

  Two 280mm rail guns as well as two 420mm and two 355mm howitzers were also sent north in addition to four 305mm mortars. Both of the 420mm guns were short-ranged and left over from First World War. Manstein could not give 6th Army more infantry, but he could give it crushing artillery.

  Stalingrad, 22 September 1942

  The sailors looked askance at the boat and barge that had come to pick them up to cross the Volga. It was badly holed and leaking energetically. The boat operator was throwing boxes of canned American meat into the hold to make room for the ammunition being loaded. Zaitsev joked, ‘What are you doing, Sarge? The Second Front is going to drown down there!’ Leaks or no, the men crossed the Volga that night without incident. By five in the morning the entire 284th Division had made it across the river. They were part of what would be called ‘feeding the fire’, the constant stream of replacement formations slipped across the river to keep going the conflagration that was burning out 6th Army.

  The Russians kept sending in new formations from the Stavka reserve while 6th Army received no reinforcements from outside its own army area except for half a dozen pioneer battalions.

  Its only augmentation consisted of 70,000 Soviet citizens. These were the Hiwis (Hilfswillige or volunteer helpers). Some were anti-Soviet volunteers, including many Cossacks, and others were recruited out of POW camps. They wore German uniforms and performed credibly, usually well treated by the Germans but sure to be shot on the spot if captured. Some German divisions had as many Hiwis as Germans. Among the many non-Slavic nationalities, there were six battalions of Turkmen alone in 6th Army, as well as Balts, Armenians, Georgians, Azeris, Kazakhs, Uzbeks, Khirgiz, Tatars and many more. Hatred of communism also drove large numbers of Slavs including Russians into German uniform. The Ukrainians were especially well-represented, steeped in hatred for the seven to ten million of their people purposely starved to death by Stalin in the evil winter of 1932-3, the murder by hunger, they called it. Without their willing support, 6th Army would have been an empty shell by the time it reached the Don.13

  As a counterweight to German air superiority, the massed guns on the east bank of the Volga smashed German communications and battalions massing for attack. Vassily Grossman, the Soviet war correspondent, wrote, ‘On the other side of the Volga, it seemed as if the whole universe shook with the mighty roaring of the heavy guns. The ground trembled.’14

  As Zaitsev and his sailor buddies were climbing into their barge, an anonymous figure was being driven along the northern flank of the German salient, sometimes within 200 yards of the German lines. It was the Deputy Supreme Commander himself. Zhukov. The next night he made a similar inspection to the south of Stalingrad. The genesis of the visit was when Zhukov had been summoned to Stalin to explain the failure of his offensive against the northern German salient. He told Stalin that he needed more reserves. Stalin picked up the map showing the location of all Stavka reserves. While he was studying it, Zhukov mentioned to Vasilevsky that they needed to find another solution.

  S
talin’s acute hearing picked it up, and he asked, ‘And what does “another solution” mean?’ The generals were surprised, and Stalin told them to go back to the General Staff and come back with something.

  The next morning they presented an audacious plan. The German salient with its head at Stalingrad offered an enormous opportunity. Its flanks were increasingly being held by the Germans’ Romanian allies, not the best of troops, to be charitable. Keep Stalingrad alive, they argued, feed just enough troops to keep the fire hot and the Germans’ attention there. At the same time assemble the mass of the Stavka reserves on either flank. Then conduct a deep encirclement on both flanks, deep enough so that 6th Army’s mobile divisions could not intervene. Late on the night of the 13th Stalin gave the plan his full backing. ‘No one, beyond the three of us, is to know about it for the time being.’ They assigned the codename Uranus to it.15

  Now Zhukov and Vasilevsky were conducting an inspection of the forces north and south of Stalingrad, the jumping-off points for the planned offensive.

  Stalingrad, 22 September 1942

  Manstein did not prowl the front lines like Zhukov. He was close enough, as far as he was concerned, at 6th Army headquarters. He had flown in almost immediately after his appointment to command Army Group B. Perhaps no senior officer on either side had as keen a grasp of battle at the operational-strategic level of war. He said to Seydlitz and Tresckow, ‘Anyone who can read a map should be horrified at the opportunity we are providing the enemy.’ He traced with his finger the salient’s long flanks.

  The enemy is not stupid. Presumably, his maps show the same things. We are spread thin and not strong anywhere. Only half of 6th Army has been engaged in the fighting for the city. The other half is spread out on the northern arm of the salient against the enemy’s constant attacks. Our allies…

  He hesitated and looked amused at the term:

  Our allies are also spread thin on both arms of the salient. Thus our salient consumes most of the fighting power that should have been directed at Stalingrad. And Ivan keeps feeding just enough men across the river to keep the objective out of our grasp.

  Seydlitz spoke up. ‘My old corps is about burnt out; we just keep getting weaker and weaker, suspended in this endless Rattenkrieg as my men call it now.’ Manstein could see that the man was as exhausted as his old corps. The experience of throwing away lives for this pile of rubble and twisted steel had shaken him.

  Why, in God’s name, we didn’t manoeuvre around this damned place in the first instance, I don’t know. All Paulus ever said was ‘Führer’s orders’. Führer’s orders! I told the man to object in the most forceful terms, but he seemed to think that Hitler was an infallible genius who shit Knight’s Crosses with Oak Leaves and Diamonds for those who followed his orders to the letter.

  Months of inadequate sleep showed in him. He was made of far sterner stuff than Paulus, but the campaign was hollowing even him out. Of this Manstein took careful note. ‘I tell you, Herr Feldmarschall, that we are like a candle that is about to sputter out. We need reinforcements immediately. The army is eating itself alive.’

  The field marshal said, ‘There are no reserves left on the Eastern Front that can be released.’

  ‘No reserves? You have seven divisions of your old 11th Army sitting around. We need them here. And Grossdeutschland is in reserve as well.’

  ‘They are the small change in my account. I must save them for a crisis.’

  Tresckow could see that his boss was becoming distraught and changed the subject. He asked, ‘What is the situation at OKW, Herr Feldmarschall?’ He did not mention his clandestine communication with Stauffenberg who had kept him abreast of every one of Hitler’s increasingly histrionic departures from reality.

  ‘Well, meine Herren, it all comes down to my little bank account.’ They looked puzzled, as Manstein half smiled:

  You see, when I got my marshal’s baton for taking Sevastopol, a small deposit was made to my credit in the bank of the Führer’s trust. A very small amount, I can assure you. Almost every other account has been cancelled. You see, our Führer no longer trusts any general in Feldgrau.16 You and I, Seydlitz, are in our new commands because the Führer fired the whole lot of our predecessors because they could not transmute his will into miracles. Believe me, that can happen again. In any case, that small account of mine must be husbanded until the right time. I can draw on it only once, and then if I fail, I join the rest of the Feldgrau crowd.

  That means, gentlemen, that I have for a short time more operational discretion than any other German commander. That is until I stop pulling rabbits out of hats, turning water into wine, changing the laws of physics, human and mechanical endurance. And understanding women.

  Werewolf, Vinnitsa, 24 September 1942

  Manstein had been summoned back to the Werewolf by Hitler to report on his findings at Stalingrad. Stauffenberg joined the meeting. The field marshal was shocked by Hitler’s condition. He had not seen him since their meeting in July. ‘Well, well, Manstein. What have you found out? When will the city fall now?’

  ‘It’s not going to fall, mein Führer.’ Hitler jerked as it struck. His face started to redden as rage rippled through his body. ‘It’s not going to fall unless we act more boldly than we have.’ He laid it on thick. ‘We are beating our heads against a stone wall at Stalingrad. The Russians just keep feeding men into the city. It’s become another Verdun.’

  Hitler stood up and began to pace. He screamed, ‘I will never give up Stalingrad! Do you hear me, Manstein. Niemals! Never! It is a battle of prestige between Stalin and myself.’

  ‘Mein Führer, there is another way to win this battle.’ He then laid out his plan. Hitler focused intently on it. Stauffenberg made a few positive and insightful comments. As Manstein finished he said, ‘Mein Führer, I will present you Stalingrad as an early Christmas present, a very early present.’17

  That night Stauffenberg invited the field marshal to dine with him alone to discuss details of the plan. It became clear that he had something else to discuss.

  You have seen the Führer. I tell you frankly, he cannot continue to exercise the high command in his present physical condition. He is near a complete breakdown. Herr Feldmarschall, you are the one who is predestined, through talent and rank, to take the military command.

  Since that was Manstein’s goal, he could only have been flattered that the man who had been described by everyone as the most brilliant officer on the General Staff had come to the same conclusion.18 His brief time with Stauffenberg convinced him that the man more than lived up to his reputation; he had breathed new life into OKW and was bringing very able men with front experience onto the staff. Hitler clearly favoured him. His unheard-of promotion had surprised but not alarmed Manstein. War requires fresh, young talent.

  Manstein could take a hint. ‘I will be quite willing to discuss the matter of the high command with Hitler, but let me make this clear, Stauffenberg. I will not be a party directly or indirectly to any illegal undertaking.’

  Stauffenberg replied,

  While the operational solution you have discussed is brilliant, and no one but you could execute it, Germany is at the end of its resources. There are no reserves on the Eastern Front. Every army group is under pressure and is becoming weaker by the day. It is not every day that we will capture an Allied convoy to live off its booty. If no one takes the initiative, everything will continue on like before, which signifies that we will eventually slide into a major catastrophe.19

  ‘You could not be more mistaken,’ Manstein replied with some heat. ‘It is the course that you suggest that will lead to the collapse of the fronts and even civil war. A war is not truly lost as long as it is not considered as being lost; he stated firmly. ’The Reich has not yet met that crisis you speak of, but if and when it comes I am positive the Führer will recognize it and turn over the high command to someone qualified.’20

  You clearly have not been around him these last months, Herr Feldmarsch
all. I do not think he is capable of such a decision because it would be a repudiation of his leadership. Consider what title we call him by? The Leader! Leadership is the essence of his power. To turn over the high command to someone else would be like committing suicide.

  ‘Stauffenberg, you will not discuss this matter with me again.’21

  The younger man said only one word. ‘Tauroggen.’

  Manstein reddened in the face and struck the table with his fist. ‘Tauroggen has nothing to do with it.’ Tauroggen was where the Prussian General Yorck von Wartenburg had defied the orders of his king and taken his army over to the Russian emperor in the struggle against Napoleon. His was an honoured place in German military history where his disobedience was the supreme act of patriotism for he had disobeyed his king to serve the higher needs of the nation.

  Stauffenberg would not give up. ‘Tauroggen also entails an extreme loyalty.’

  The field marshal drank it in and suddenly became affable. ‘What good would a staff be if the staff officers could no longer speak with complete freedom?’ He then recited a famous quotation. ‘Criticism is the salt of obedience.’ They finished their meal in near silence.22

  Tiflis, 27 September 1942

  Panic ran through Tiflis like the plague. People remembered that Ordzhonikidze had once been named Vladikavkaz — Master of the Caucasus — by its Russian founders as they spread their rule over the mountains. Now a new master was spreading his power over the mountains, coming down the Georgian Military Highway that had not seen a foreign boot since it had been built a hundred years before. The Germans were coming. Every possible soldier in the city, to include its military school students, had been sent north to hold the descents from the passes through the mountains, but the 3rd and 5th Gebirgsjäger Divisions had swept around them and taken them from the rear one by one, making way for the panzers and motorized infantry.