Thor's Anvil (Kirov Series Book 26)

by John Schettler

  The Russians had learned to fear and respect the Tiger when it appeared. It outgunned their own tanks, with far more hitting power at range, and during the war in Fedorov’s history, it achieved a kill ratio of 8 to 1 over all Russian adversaries it faced. It was to be an equally lopsided duel here, with the more experienced German tank crews halting their advance just outside 700 meters, and then letting the long barreled Panthers and Tigers cherry pick the onrushing enemy tanks. One of the Tigers scored a particularly spectacular hit, blowing the turret right off a T-34, the tank crews hooting when they saw it spin madly up from the hull on a column of black smoke and fire.

  Hörnlein had taken all his key objectives by the end of the following day. He had men in the main cemetery, where fighting still continued at the extreme east, and on the opposite western neck of the graveyard, where a cluster of larger mausoleums stood like ghostly pill boxes manned by both the living and the dead. As squads of German infantry pushed forward, if any fell dead from enemy fire, they would soon be attended by a small penal squad.

  These unlucky soldiers, having run afoul of regulations or fallen out of favor with their Sergeants for one reason or another, would be assigned to crawl forward over the cold snowy graves, and literally dig into the frozen earth then and there, all under enemy fire. Their mission was to bury the dead where they fell, and they were to bring back all the personal effects of the fallen, their helmet, belt, sidearm and any medals or other documents.

  Heintz Romer was one such private, finding himself in the penal squad that day for pilfering an officer’s personal stash of tobacco. He had dragged himself over the deadly ground, through a ghastly scene where tracer rounds zipped past his exposed head. No helmets were issued to the men on that squad, so as to motivate them to get out to their fallen grenadiers, where it was permitted that they could then wear the helmet of the stricken soldier.

  Fighting for a damn graveyard, he thought, bemoaning his fate. Damn bullets snapping off the tombstones, the ground frozen over and cold as hell on my belly, and another twenty yards to that Grenadier out there.

  Then came the reassuring drone of an MG-42, and he saw the enemy line ahead enveloped in that hail of bullets. Covering fire! On an impulse, he reasoned that ten seconds on his booted feet would get him much farther than ten minutes on his belly, so he grunted up into a low crouch, running from one headstone to the next. Behind him, he heard the cheering of the other members of the penal squad, but they all had ulterior motives. If Heintz were to be gunned down, then it would be one of the remaining five men out there on his belly in the middle of that boneyard.

  Private Romer made it to the fallen man, hugging the ground behind his body, the cold reaching right through his trenchcoat. First things first. He began to search through the man’s pockets, pulling out anything he could find. At one point, a rifle bullet nearly struck his hand, thudding into the fallen soldier instead.

  “Nice of you to take a bullet for me,” he said aloud, “seeing all the trouble I’ve been put to here.” He looked at the man’s personal billfold, seeing his name on an identity card—Klingmann, Private First Class—and behind the card he found a photograph, presumably of the man’s wife, and two small children. He passed a moment of sadness, thinking of them being out there, far away, at that very moment, and not knowing that Private Klingmann had already joined the dark, silent battalion of the dead buried beneath that ghastly ground. They were to be his family now, and the only embrace he would ever have again would be the mingling of his corpse, his bones, with those of the enemy he had come here to conquer. He was joining them soon, as Heintz stuffed the billfold away in a pocket and closed his frigid fingers on the haft of his shovel. His back protected by a thick headstone, he began to scrape at the cold earth, his breath frosty white, deathly white with the exertion of his labor.

  The Germans were going to take that burial ground that day, but they were going to have to pay for it with the lives of men like Private Klingmann, and the madness that would soon fall on men like Private Heintz Romer, digging as he stared at the frozen blood of his fellow soldier, a macabre sheen of red ice darkening the area around the man’s body.

  Yet if the camera pulled back from this silent little drama in the cemetery, it would have seen that Steiner’s plan was working as he supposed it might. The considerable weight of the Grossdeutschland Division was now firmly within the gap between Novo Kirovka and the town of Maxim Gorki, north beyond the captured Radio Station. The stalwart Grenadiers and Fusiliers were in all three cemeteries, and had the small Brick Factory set up as an observation post for their mortars. The wedge they had secured was very dangerous to the defense, for the easternmost cemetery by the hospital was no more than six kilometers from the river.

  The Brandenburgers to their north had also hit hard, enfilading Maxim Gorki from that side, where an entire regiment of the 204th Rifle Division was now cut off. That division had also stormed the Kirov Airfield, and taken the steelworks beyond the barracks, but the Soviet 196th Rifle Division was still firmly entrenched in that old military base, fighting from behind the stockade wall, and low wood barracks buildings that made up the place. The loss of the airfield, however, forced the Russian Guardsmen on the Rampart to abandon that position as Steiner predicted. They fell back into the slowly thickening trees that crept up the western slope of Hill 115.

  To make matters worse for the Russians, the Leibstandarte Division was pushing hard near the Airfield Settlement at the northern end of that rampart. The division had been pushing up the rail line that crossed the Don near Golubinskaya and ran down through Gorodische and Aleksandrovka, eventually running on to the Flight School near Mamayev Kurgan. Chuikov could see what was happening, a classic pincer attack by two of the steely German divisions against his center. The question was whether or not he should attempt to hold, or fall back. There was so little ground to give, and the 12 kilometers from the big mass of Mamayev to the rampart seemed like an endless luxury of space which he did not wish to relinquish unfought.

  Yet the fighting had already pulled in a good number of reserve units, and now he had only a single Machinegun Regiment and the 189th Tank Battalion parked along the rail line by the Flying School. The 124th Special Brigade was in the Red October Worker’s Settlement, but they had limited offensive value, being lightly armed civilian recruits. He also had the entire 13th Guards Rifle Division back in the factories, but he would not touch it, not now, not on the first days of what might be many weeks of hard fighting here. So he sent one battalion from the MG Regiment north to shore up the Airfield Settlement, and a second battalion to the airfield itself, which was now being overrun by German infantry from the Brandenburg Division.

  The Rampart, as perfect an anti-tank ditch as anywhere else on the battlefield, had fallen with scarcely a shot being fired. The telephone rang in his underground HQ bunker, the quavering of the sound jarring his nerves. He reached for it, expecting nothing but bad news, and Shumilov did not disappoint.

  It’s that damn SS division I told you about—the one that has come up from Nizhne Chirskaya. How did Rokossovsky’s boys ever compel them to withdraw? They hit the Minina Mining Workers Settlement hard today, and have nearly overrun the entire sector.”

  “What about Beketova?” said Chuikov. “What about the Siberian Division?”

  “I pulled it out safely, but just barely. Volkov has that city now, all but the ferry bunker, where I left a single battalion to hold out for a while. We’re placing charges on all the quays and boat docks. No sense making things easy for Volkov’s brats when they smell the river.”

  “Then where is the rest of the 1st Siberian?”

  “All the heavy weapons went by the coast road through Kupersnoye as we planned. There was a traffic snarl over the railway bridge at the Leopard Gorge. The damn Germans are no more than two kilometers west of that bridge! That said, I got it sorted out, and most of the infantry came up on the river barges to the Lumber Trust Ferry, and we’re damn lucky they a
re there. If that SS division keeps on coming like they have these last two days, they’ll be in Yelshanka tomorrow.”

  “What about your 185th Division? It was holding west of Yelshanka, yes?”

  “Not for very much longer. Those SS troopers fight like demons. They busted up that division very badly. My men are still fighting—we hold the Yelshanka Quarry, a small section of the Menina Settlement, the local hospital. But they’ve already taken Verknaya Yelshanka, and soon they’ll push right on through Kupersnoye to the river. Thankfully, the evacuation of Sarpinskiy Island is coming off smoothly. Volkov hasn’t lifted a finger east of the Volga. They’re just sitting over there gloating and listening to the artillery fire.”

  “It’s a lot of ground to give, more than all we still hold.” Chuikov was still worried about the decision.

  “True Vasyli, but we pulled three more divisions into the fight for Volgograd. Sergei Kirov won’t want to know what happened on Sarpinskiy Island. It’s this city he’s concerned about.”

  “They made a big push into the gap between Novo Kirovka and Maxim Gorki,” said Chuikov. “It looks like they are trying to carve up the city like a steak—create smaller enclaves that they can invest and reduce one by one. It’s what I would do.”

  “Is it?” said Shumilov. “Then start thinking of how we can stop them.”

  “Stop them? General Shumilov, that won’t take much thinking, but it will take a good deal of muscle, bone, and blood. Their offensive push is slowing a bit tonight, but they’ll be back at it again tomorrow. The only place that held firm today is the northern segment. They sent the Das Reich Division near the aqueduct east towards Rynok. Rokossovsky was kind enough to return our 2nd Volga Rifles, and he even fleshed it out with a good many new squads. They are holding the line beyond the Mushrooms.”

  “Good,” said Shumilov, then he was silent for a moment. “To think that division was once a corps, and it stood watch here for ten years. Volkov could never move them, and now the wolves are at the gates. God be with them.”

  “With us all,” said Chuikov. “The death toll from the enemy bombing is fierce. Thousands died again today, and we have no way to evacuate the civilians.”

  “Then let them stay and fight,” said Shumilov. “We’re going to need every man, woman and child that can lift a finger.”

  See Map: “Action in the South” at www.writingshop.ws

  Chapter 23

  Operation Saturn

  Volgograd was, after all, a city where people lived. Though the advancing German troops had seen tens of thousands evacuate before the battle, there were still too many to be consumed by Richthoven’s rain of bombs. But the bombing wasn’t as severe here as it had been in Fedorov’s history. The German 8th Air Corps was matched by a growing Soviet presence in the sky, a fact that darkened Steiner’s thinking like a shadow over his right shoulder when he would stare down at the city map.

  In spite of the initial breakthrough, particularly in the south where his old Wiking Division proved to be a whirlwind of fighting, Das Reich had not yet reached Rynok, so the Russians were still getting in much needed supplies along that road, and over the river at night. Now, on the third day of his opening offensive, Steiner was already beginning to receive reports from artillery battalions attached to his five elite divisions, all requesting more ammunition.

  Ammunition… That was his real problem. The loss of Surovinko was beginning to matter now, for no trucks had reached him since his hasty retreat to this place. He had only those supplies he had trucked in from the forward depots at Oblivskaya and Surovinko, and no way of knowing how long that supply route would be closed. Volkov used guns of a completely different caliber, 76 and 100, 152 and 203mm shells. The Germans used 75, 105, 150 and 210mm. Volkov made no bullets that would fit into the new German MG-42 machinegun. He had no Panzerfausts to send, and no replacement ammo for any of the panzers.

  All that had to come by air now. The route that was open through Tormosin provided a small bridge near the confluence of the Askay River with the Don, and some supplies were getting in that way from the depot at Chern, a roundabout journey of over 200 kilometers one way. Steiner was gambling now, thinking that if he threw the full wrath and ire of his crack SS Panzer Korps at the city, he could storm it before the defense there could calcify. For any long battle here, he needed that supply route through Kalach open again, and then he needed that rail line restored to the bridge at Nizhne Chirskaya. So every moment now was like a candle burning for him. Each day of fighting was going to bring him that much closer to a point of depletion, and the flights of bothersome Shturmovik overhead weighed heavily on him. If the Luftwaffe could not make regular deliveries….

  So much depended on events west of the Don, where Manstein had officially christened his offensive counterattack towards Kalach as Operation Wintergewitter—Winter Storm. It came as the first snows of an early winter had fallen, freezing the shallow streams that laced through the rolling landscape. His attack had been led by Hermann Balck’s 11th Panzer Division, which had swept around the right, falling on State Farm 79 like that winter storm, and driving back the ill-prepared 5th Guards Rifle Division. On his left, 9th Panzer had broken through the lines of 7th Guards, and the full weight of the division was pouring through. Now the Soviet defense astride the road to Surovinko was completely flanked, and by mid-day on October 23rd, elements of both German Panzer Divisions were within three to five kilometers of Surovinko.

  Yet there sat a great spider, the 1st Guards Tank Corps that had been refueling and rearming all this time. It had responded sluggishly to the crisis, not realizing the gravity of the situation. Then, one by one, it began dispatching units to shore up threatened sectors. The Motor Rifle Brigade deployed astride the main road, and several tank brigades crossed the Chir only to run directly into that winter storm.

  9th and 11th Panzer Divisions had effectively pinched off and encircled the Guards Rifle Corps, catching many of the Soviet brigades out in the open, advancing, and not in any prepared defensive positions. Units that might have been very difficult to move if properly deployed were instead steam rolled by the fast moving German panzer units, the infantry following in halftracks right on their heels. It was a lightning swift blitzkrieg attack by two full panzer divisions, and it broke through all the way to the banks of the Chir a kilometer south of Surovinko.

  At the same time, the Totenkopf Division was grinding up the main road on a concentrated front, and it had both the Schwerepanzer Battalions in the attack. It had smashed the 81st Motor Rifle Division, and now it was systematically destroying 25th Tank Corps. Just as it seemed the newly designated 5th Tank Army was about to deliver the coup de grace by enveloping Oblivskaya, Manstein and his able Lieutenants had delivered yet another stunning counterblow, like a fighter leaning on the ropes suddenly landing a flurry of punches. Hermann Balck was the stinging jab, 9th Panzer the right cross, and Totenkopf the thundering uppercut. 5th Tank Army was staggered, driven back, and now on very unsteady legs.

  The bewildered commander of that army, General Romanenko, had but one last reserve intact, the 24th Tank Corps. It had been positioned along the main rail line, which ran north of the Chir into Surovinko. While his 2nd Guard Rifle Corps had been shattered by this sudden unexpected attack, he still had the three divisions of the 3rd Guard Rifle Corps to the right of 24th Tank Corps, facing off against the newly arrived German 3rd Motorized Division that had relieved 3rd SS to enable their participation in the German offensive. He considered launching 24th Tank Corps in an attack right over the Chir, aimed at cutting the main road and stopping 3rd SS, but that would only put his last mobile reserve in the bag. The Germans were already fighting at the southern fringes of Surovinko!

  Romanenko passed his problem up the line to Rokossovsky, who had now been given overall local command of Soviet forces west of the Don. He looked at the map and selected the simplest solution—do nothing. Leave the 24th Tank Corps right where it was, but deploy it north of the Chir on de
fense, and send anything left over to help defend Surovinko. The offensive in that area was involuntarily suspended, and the Chir River itself would now become the new defensive front line. The 9th Rifle Corps that had been deploying towards Nizhne Chirskaya was to pull back so as to establish contact with Surovinko.

  The decision boldly highlighted the differing capabilities of each side at that time. Rokossovsky knew that if assembled in mass as they had been at the outset, well supplied and fueled, Zhukov’s Shock Armies could bull their way through the German defense to deliver this first stunning victory and cut the main supply line Steiner needed. The question now was whether they could keep that line shut tight.

  While the German reaction had been to circle and dance with those hard hitting Panzer Divisions, Rokossovsky knew that Romanenko’s tankers could not fight a battle of maneuver now, not at the end of their long offensive drive, even while the Tank Corps had been trying to get fuel and ammunition. The best they could do would be to try and hold the line of the Chir. His real response to Winter Storm would have to be Operation Saturn, which was only now beginning to move into the early stages as the 1st Tank Army and 5th Shock Group began to move forward to their assigned jumping off points.

  The offensive began by first taking all the units on the line and easing them forward into closer contact with the German front. Desultory mortar and artillery fire began to come in, aimed at pinning down the German infantry divisions, sending their riflemen into their trenches and revetments. The Germans responded by forming up the newly arrived 23rd Panzer Division, and repositioning a few battalions to shore up their line. 24th Panzer Division had already been placed on the line at the seam between the 2nd and 3rd Shock Armies, and this deployment allowed the 336th Infantry to be pulled off that line into reserve. It was already in road march column, approaching Chern on the main road where it had been ordered to begin moving towards Surovinko to bolster the push there. The division was eventually slated to cross the Don to support Steiner, but now that was by no means a certain prospect.