Stormtide Rising (Kirov Series Book 29)

by Schettler, John

  On the night of March 7th, Headquarters of the 1st Kazakh Army at Elista issued orders to move its artillery brigade forward to Khar Buluk so as to be in range of the front it had established with five rifle divisions east of Zimovinki. At the same time it sent its Turkomen Rifle Division from a reserve position along the Manych River to approach the Yegorluk River demarcation line near Novo Egoriyk where it soon encountered a German motorized battalion watching the river line.

  Further southwest along that line, the Timur Rifle Division of 3rd Kazakh Army had advanced from Komunar to Mekleta near that same river, and it again met with another German motorized infantry battalion. Moving in the pre-dawn darkness, shots were fired on both sides until they finally realized that they were supposed ‘Allies’ and calmed down. There were two more incidents that night, where the Samar Rifle Division and the Amir Guards met with German Sturmgeschutz assault gun battalions that had been posted to watch the flank of 11th Army.

  Why these orders had been given to probe forward towards the demarcation line remained a mystery, but the encounters did little to improve tensions along the border. German intelligence would discover that troops in Orenburg were marshaling at the rail yards, and Abwehr spies would soon learn the destination of those trains.

  They were moving south, over the wide dark empty steppes of Kazakhstan to the Volgograd District. On the morning of the 8th of March, the 3rd Mech division of Orenburg regulars boarded trains in Astrakhan, along with a brigade of tanks. They took the new rail line that had been built through Elista, and moved all day and night on to Voroshilovsk, called Stavropol by the men from Orenburg. These troop movements were observed by German fighters up on recon operations over that sector, and subsequently reported to OKW.

  The Soviet lines now extended from the Kuban near the town of Dinskaya up through the larger settlement of Timashevskaya and on towards the coast, there it thinned out considerably. Reserve ‘Divisions’ of the Caspian Militia were sent to help fill gaps, but they were mostly the size of a brigade, and not very reliable. The normal tactic of trading space for time could not apply here much longer, for the Soviet controlled area was being slowly compressed towards the Kuban. It was then decided that that substantial water barrier would do much more than those militias to keep the German storm tide at bay, and orders went out at noon that the line was to be withdrawn to the south bank of the Kuban.

  There were only three bridges over that river, at Krasnodar, then 45 kilometers further west near Slavyansk, and at Temryuk near the Black Sea on the Taman Peninsula. 12th Army made for the latter bridge, the remnant of 37th Army for the centermost bridge, and 56th Army fell back into an arc of defense just north of Krasnodar. A thin screen of cavalry deployed as rear guards to cover the general withdrawal, which would take nearly two days to complete.

  On the 9th, the German mountain troops of 44th Korps began storming the gum positions and forts from Kropotkin to Labinsk on the Kuban, well east of Krasnodar. “The Kuban” was effectively under German control, and now the battle of the Taman Peninsula would begin, the last stand of Soviet forces in the Caucasus.

  All this time, there was no attempt whatsoever on the part of Orenburg forces to attack the Soviet positions, where the line stretched from the Kuban south to the port of Tuapse on the coast of the Black Sea. Instead, all those divisions received orders to remain in place, and continue to improve their defensive positions.

  That night, an order was received from Manstein that read simply “Der Mensch.” It was directed to the headquarters of General Walter ‘Papa’ Hörnlein, commander of the elite Grossdeutschland Division. It was a prearranged signal that the division should begin moving to the rail depots near Kharkov, and it would soon be no mystery as to where the powerful unit was going. As if in answer, trains continued to roll from Astrakhan, bringing more mechanized units to Stavropol. From there, some would move south by road towards Maykop, while others remained near that strategic railhead, the tanks and vehicles moving to concealed positions in the heavy woodland to the west of the city.

  On March 10th, the infantry of the German 52nd and 54th Korps began to take up positions around the arc of defense north of Krasnodar, harassed all the while by Soviet artillery that had been placed safely south of the city. It would not impede them. This was just another Russian city, one of a hundred that had already been smashed and reduced to rubble, and there were the men who had fought at Volgograd, now experts in the deadly art of street fighting.

  Far to the west, cruising in the wine dark sea, Admiral Raeder was leading his heavy Flotilla towards the Kerch Straits, while soldiers of two German infantry division boarded transports at both Maripol and Kerch. Soon the big German battleships began to fire their heavy 15-inch shells at the port town of Taman, just opposite Kerch on those straits. Even as they did so, the last surface units of the Soviet Black Sea Fleet were getting up steam and planning to make their final sortie of the war. The battle was about to begin its final cathartic stage.

  On the 11th of March the 336th Infantry Division made a surprise landing on the north shore of the Taman Peninsula, about 10 kilometers west of the mouth of the Kuban River. It was accompanied by a small battalion scale airborne drop staged by KG Kolnbrau south of the bridge over the river. At the same time, while Friedrich De Gross pounded the most likely landing site at Taman, the 198th Infantry Division boarded ships and Siebel Ferries at Kerch, but moved north into the Sea of Azov instead of attempting a direct landing over the Kerch Strait.

  The Russians had two very good NKVD divisions in that area, the 19th and 21st, and they converged on the landing site, launching an immediate counterattack against the 336th. It caught the Germans still trying to reform after the landing, driving the outlying battalions back towards the shore. The other division was chasing those German paratroopers, scattering them into the countryside, their submachineguns cutting the stillness in the fields and farms where the landing had occurred.

  Relief came when planes off the two German carriers began swarming overhead, the Stukas beginning to bomb the lines of 19th NKVD to give the German troops some much needed close air support. With the 198th Division landing further east, the two German divisions were able to organize a coordinated counterattack by mid-day. Then word came to Raeder of the approach of a flotilla of Russian surface ships out of Novorossiysk. His operation had finally flushed out his real quarry, the Black Sea Fleet.

  The Soviet flotilla was composed of heavy cruisers Molotov and Voroshilov , both fast Kirov Class cruisers at 36 knots, and with three triple 7.1 inch turrets. They were accompanied by two older light cruisers, the Krasny Krym (Red Crimea) and Krasny Kavkaz (Red Caucasus), slower at 29 knots and with fifteen 5.1-inch guns. Destroyer leader Kharkov , a speedy 40 knot ship with five 5.1-inch guns and eight 533mm torpedoes was in the van leading destroyers Bodry (Brisk), Boiky (Bold), and Soobrazitel’ny (Shrewd) This fleet had no chance against Raeder’s force, but it had bravely sortied to try an interdict the Kerch Strait, unaware that the Germans had chosen not to attempt a landing there.

  The flotilla was spotted by German Zeppelins just after it worked up steam, and though two glide bomb attacks were made, the ships were simply too fast and maneuverable and both were clean misses. But Raeder had been forewarned, and now Hans Rudel and his cohorts off the carriers went out hunting again. The German ace, who achieved his fame in the real war with his incredible precision bombing of Russian tanks, found even these speedy ships easy prey. Rudel dove on the Molotov , the Jericho trumpets, his ‘sirens of death,’ wailing in his wake. He again scored an immediate hit to open hostilities. His 250kg Bomb penetrated the aft deck of the cruiser, destroying part of the steam plant and damaging the propulsion shaft. Molotov broke off to port, making a wide circle and wallowing at only 12 knots, which made her an easy target for the rest of the German squadron. She would take one more hit, and be raked by shrapnel from a near miss.

  Out to challenge the enemy fleet, the three fast French destroyers, now renamed
Hildr, Sigrun, and Mist , were every bit as fleet footed as the Soviet DDs. They were the forward screen for Raeder, accompanied by three more German built destroyers, all SPK Beowulf class ships, Odin, Agir and Thor . But by the time they approached the enemy flotilla, they saw three long columns of black smoke marking hits scored by Stukas off the Prinz Heinrich. Krasny Krym and Krasny Kavkaz were also hit and burning when the two groups of destroyers met in a swirling naval duel that lasted twenty minutes. Both sides surged in, guns firing, and fans of torpedoes scored the sea in all directions.

  DD Hildr ran afoul of four of those lances, evading all but the last as it sped off on a high speed turn. That hit would be enough to gut that ship, and the Russian sailors cheered to have their first kill in the battle. All the while, the 5.1-inch guns cracked away, with hits on both sides adding fire and smoke to the chaos of that battle. Of the Soviet cruisers, only Voroshilov managed to break away from that action, intent on reaching the Kerch Strait. But fifteen minutes later, the dark silhouettes of the three German capital ships loomed ominously on the horizon, and five minutes later those steely shadows erupted with the bright flame of heavy naval gunfire.

  The sea began to erupt all around the brave cruiser, her Captain finally realizing that his mission was doomed to fail. Thinking to try and save his ship and crew, he ordered a quick turn to run for the coast, but the Bismarck would lay down a perfect pattern from the two forward turrets, and one of those 15-inch shells would strike the Russian cruiser dead amidships.

  A terrific explosion resulted, as the shell had penetrated to magazine #3. The Captain had hoped to run down the coast, but now, his ship burning, and shipping water from several breaches below the waterline, he aimed his bow right for the shore. Ten minutes later the ship scudded onto the rocky coast, wallowed to one side, and men began leaping from the gunwales. It would later be found by German Stukas and hit two more times, but Bismarck and Kapitan Lindemann would claim that kill.

  Closer in towards the big German ships, the six Italian vessels had been held in reserve. When one spotted a torpedo wake, the fast light cruisers, Regolo, Mario and Silla began a frenetic hunt for enemy submarines. Destroyers Maestrale, Alpino and Ascari were rushing about, dropping anti-submarine mines, but the ships ended up mostly churning up seawater. Nothing more was seen of enemy subs, for of the 41 that were still in the Soviet order of battle, only twenty were serviceable, and fueled for possible action. Twelve others had been caught in the harbor at Novorossiysk days ago, and hit by German bombs. So most of the serviceable boats had been moved south to Tuapse.

  They had been prowling off the Georgian coast, some scoring hits on supply ships moving ammunition and food stores from Orenburg controlled ports of Batumi and Sukhumi on up to Soche near the front lines just beyond Tuapse. Of these twenty boats, three were prowling south of the Kerch Strait, and it was one of these that took a pot shot at the Kaiser Wilhelm , which easily avoided that torpedo. Four others were screening Novorossiysk, six were at Tuapse, and four more were off the Georgian coast.

  Two hours after the fracas started, the Russians would see all their cruisers sunk, and of those four destroyers, only destroyer leaderKharkov would escape and run south for the safety of the harbor. The last sortie of the Soviet Black Sea Fleet was a disheartening disaster, and Admiral Raeder would soon report that he had destroyed it as an effective naval threat. His destroyers and U-Boats would now begin hunting down the Russian subs, the Germans hovering off Tuapse like hungry sharks to look for Russian boats. As for his heavy ships, Raeder would take the fleet back to Sevastopol later that day, and then send a message directly to OKW. It read simply: “We are masters of the Black Sea.”

  Chapter 33

  “An interesting development,” said Tyrenkov as he made ready to deliver his daily intelligence report to Karpov. He was not briefing the Siberian, but his ‘younger’ self, who had settled into his position as acting General Secretary of the Free Siberian State quite nicely in the last year. The doppelganger had taken control of the airship fleet, and all ground force operations as well, and Tyrenkov was amazed at how quickly he worked into the same level of devious skill as his elder self.

  He had capably reinforced and held the Ob River line, eventually forcing Volkov’s troops to abandon that offensive and fall back to Omsk. He had supervised the buildout of two more Tunguska Class airships, the Baikal and Siberian . He had conducted a timely and effective operation against the Japanese pushing south beneath Lake Baikal, clearing the rail line north of the old Manchurian border, and securing Chita. Now, as he was busy assigning new divisions to his 4th Army in the west, Tyrenkov came with most unusual news.

  “What is it?” Karpov asked nonchalantly, his eyes playing over the troop manifests he had been reviewing.

  “We’ve received a request for a high level meeting with the former Ambassador from Orenburg.”

  “You mean the man we chased out of Irkutsk a year ago, old Doctorov?”

  “One and the same. Yet the message was passed through several dark contacts before it eventually was vetted by my people as being authentic.”

  “What does it say?”

  “Just that—a meeting is requested with a high level diplomatic contact of the Free Siberian State. Permission is asked to transit Siberian airspace to deliver the Ambassador to a location to be specified by us—assuming that we will agree to such a meeting.”

  Karpov looked up, his eyes narrowed beneath the dark wool Ushanka that he always wore. The winter had been particularly severe this year, with bitterly cold temperatures literally freezing most military operations, and persisting through February and now into March.

  “There will be no overflight of Siberian territory,” he said. “This request could be nothing more than a ruse for a good reconnaissance mission. However, this does sound somewhat interesting, so set up the meeting near Omsk. That’s right on the old frontier. What do you make of this, Tyrenkov?”

  “Most unusual, sir. It could be an attempt at defection, but I find it hard to believe that anyone would try to pull something like that. The message indicated that this was an official request sanctioned by the Government of Orenburg. If it’s legitimate, then it would seem that someone wants to discuss something, and they want it kept very quiet.”

  “Might this man be a rogue diplomat? Anything could be written in such a message. How would we know whether or not it was truly sanctioned by Orenburg?”

  “I suppose we could find that out in the meeting, or at least get a better assessment than we can by making assumptions here.”

  “Agreed,” said Karpov. “So let’s see what this man has to say. You will make the initial contact at a small village east of Omsk. I’ll be listening, of course, but you can ask the questions—and get the answers we need.”

  “Very good, sir. I’ll arrange security.”

  “Excellent. I’ll be with the 17th Siberian Rifles for just a little more manpower if we need it. That division was scheduled for transfer to the front near Omsk this week.”

  That meeting was held on the 1st of March, just as Operation Edelweiss was kicking off into the Kuban, and Tyrenkov arranged it in the cellar of a meat packing house, the most unlikely place he could find. His agents were all wearing white butcher’s aprons and cold storage gloves and hats to blend in, and they were everywhere. The Ambassador’s plane was given clearance to land on Siberian territory, and driven to the facility to be literally “kept on ice” until the following morning. Then, when the worker shift arrived, one among them was Tyrenkov, all dressed out in similar working man’s garb.

  “I have had cold receptions in the past,” said Doctorov, an elderly man, short, with thin grey hair and a visible paunch beneath his heavy overcoat. “Yet never have I had one like this!”

  “Sit,” said Tyrenkov, gesturing to a small table where two chairs and a tea set were laid out by a samovar. “Surely you did not expect a greeting at one of the palaces. After all, there are no formal diplomatic relations betwee
n our two countries, and you were expelled over a year ago.”

  “I am well aware of that,” said Doctorov, eyeing that hot samovar of tea. A fire was burning in an old rusty barrel across the room, and he wished the table was sitting closer to those warming flames. His breath was frosty cold, and a chill shook his frame.

  “Please,” said Tyrenkov, sitting down at the plain wooden table. “Help yourself. A little civility cannot hurt. But do explain. What is so important that it needed this level of secrecy and security?”

  Doctorov poured his tea, his hands still quivering a bit with the cold. “Forgive me,” he said. “I passed a most uncomfortable night. And for a man of my years, I get all too many of those these days. I was told to arrange this meeting by the General Secretary of the Orenburg Federation—yes, by Volkov himself. I bear a document for review and consideration by your government, and assuming any interest evolves from such a review, it will ask for the restoration of diplomatic relations, and reissuance of credentials to me as Ambassador, as things were before our unfortunate disagreements.”

  “Disagreements?” said Tyrenkov with a half smile. “Yes, I suppose you could call it that. Omsk has changed hands three times, though it will not do so again after we retake it soon. Casualties on both sides along the River Ob must have amounted to at least seventy thousand. Yes, I would say we have had our disagreements.”