by Gee, Colin
“Go on, you said something extra. Explain Comrade,” the Dictator presiding benignly over proceedings almost purred the words.
“They had unequalled military skills, zeal, comradeship and esprit de corps, Comrade General Secretary, which combined with a fanatical belief that they were without equal militarily. That made them the very worst of enemies.”
Beria rallied.
“Under German leadership remember that. Eisenhower and his cronies are lesser men as we have seen already.”
“That is true Comrade Marshall. However, Leopard identified SS officers Bittrich and Knocke as part of the command group for this Legion Corps.”
Beria contemplated saying nothing, but immediately understood that he would need the GRU’s agent.
“In which case, we will be able to interfere with their effectiveness.”
This time, it was Zhukov who was taken by surprise.
“How so, Comrade Marshall?”
“Knocke has a wife and two young girls, presently within the control of the NKVD, Comrade Marshall Zhukov.”
Pausing for the briefest of moments to permit his plan to form, he addressed Nazarbayeva in a friendly tone.
“So Comrade PodPolkovnik, one assumes that you can communicate with your agent in the field? Give him orders to follow, messages to deliver?”
Nazarbayeva understood perfectly.
“Yes, Comrade Marshall.”
“Then NKVD and GRU can between us,” he conceded, “Affect this SS Group.”
“Excellent, Comrade Marshall. Liaise with GRU and sort the SS bastards out swiftly. Anything else, comrade?”
Nazarbayeva passed the sole copy of the Leopard report to Stalin.
“No, Comrade General-Secretary.”
“Thank you, Comrade Nazarbayeva. Excellent work. You may go, but wait outside so that Comrade Marshall Beria can organise the SS solution with you.”
Nazarbayeva departed the room, the faintest trace of her limp apparent.
When the door closed behind her, Stalin chuckled openly.
“A formidable woman. Would that all Russian women had balls like that, eh Lavrentiy?”
Beria ignored the obvious retort.
“She is confident and efficient for sure, Comrade General Secretary. What say you, Comrade Zhukov?”
The bald Marshall ripped his eyes away from the closed doors, extinguishing the vision of the departing GRU officer.
“Would that all Russian soldiers had balls like her, Comrade Beria.”
Zhukov exited the room and found Nazarbayeva scribbling out a copy of the Leopard report from memory.
She sprang to her feet as he approached.
“Relax, Comrade. Thank you for your input, but do watch Marshall Beria. You have an enemy there.”
Tatiana went to reply but remained silent, the doors opening in her peripheral vision as Beria came in search of her.
Zhukov extracted a notebook and quickly penned a message. Folding the paper, he held it out to the GRU officer as Beria hung back, waiting for the Marshall to move on.
“My vehicles will leave in thirty-five minutes time. Just in case you are not with us, I would welcome your briefings in my headquarters on a regular basis, if General Pekunin can spare you, Comrade. Please give him this note.”
The paper changed hands and Zhukov nodded his goodbye to Nazarbayeva, who saluted smartly.
As the military man withdrew, so the NKVD chief drew near.
“Comrade PodPolkovnik. I need you to get a message to your agent as soon as possible. I believe we can exert some pressure on our man.”
A notebook appeared, and a second message was pressed into Nazarbayeva’s hand.
“Simple enough, Comrade?”
She read the message.
“Yes, Comrade Marshall. I will inform Comrade Polkovnik General Pekunin, with my explanation and endorsement, and I am sure he will have it sent straight away.”
“With your fucking endorsement? Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Tatiana meant nothing more than she would support the concept and relay events from the meeting, but Beria heard what he wanted and interpreted it in the same jaundiced way.
He counter-attacked.
“Good. I was sorry to hear of the death of your son.”
The change in tack threw the woman, a fact not wasted on Beria.
“Thank you, Comrade Marshall. He was a soldier and took a soldier’s risks.”
“True, true. But we should look after our sons and husbands, and do all we can to keep them safe from harm.”
‘Sympathy from Beria?’ she thought, ‘Out of character.’
“All we can, Comrade Nazarbayeva. You still have three sons and a husband in service to the Motherland. They should be kept safe.”
“That is beyond me, Comrade Marshall. I can but hope that victory will come, and they will be delivered home to me alive.”
“Nothing is beyond anyone prepared to sacrifice themselves for others.”
A chill went through Nazarbayeva as she realised that the NKVD boss was examining her form, very deliberately studying her breasts through the tunic, his mind obviously on matters other than Agent Leopard.
“I will ensure the agent gets this message, Comrade Marshall.”
Her hasty salute and departure broke Beria’s train of thought, but not enough for him to stop imagining himself exploding hard inside the bitch and inflicting pleasurable pain upon her body.
“Sometime soon, Comrade Tatiana. You will know what happens to those who cross me.”
Nazarbayeva presented herself in front of General Pekunin and handed him the notes from Beria and Zhukov.
The journey back by car to Ostafievo had been relatively quiet, Zhukov studying a new report on the military situation.
Once on board the aircraft, the two had talked for a while, until Zhukov called a halt and decided to get some much needed sleep.
Nazarbayeva did not inform him of what had transpired after he had left her with Beria.
Pekunin’s chuckle roused her from her thoughts as she stood in front of his desk.
Placing the document from Zhukov on the table, the GRU commander returned to the dilemma posed by his Chinese puzzle box.
“So it appears that you have made a good impression on Marshall Zhukov, Tatiana. Do you know what this note says?”
Sliding one inconspicuous part across, the old man pursed his lips in triumph.
“I believe the Marshall wishes for a GRU raw brief at his headquarters on a regular basis, Comrade General.”
“That is part of it,” he paused in his attempt to conquer the box and the message was passed back to Nazarbayeva.
“Read it aloud, Tatiana. I may have misunderstood it.”
She missed the grin on Pekunin’s face, clearing her throat and feeling the first wave of chills as her body fought the virus.
“Comrade Pekunin, please arrange for this officer to deliver briefings at my headquarters on a regular basis. Promote her to full colonel immediately or risk losing her to my personal staff. Zhukov.”
Another panel slid away, permitting Pekunin to move the final piece, exposing the interior of the box.
“No, I did not misunderstand it. I will draft the paperwork shortly. In the meantime, you look awful. Take yourself off to your quarters and I do not want to see you until breakfast tomorrow. Clear Comrade Polkovnik?”
“Yes, Comrade General, but there is the other matter.”
Beria’s note lay unread.
“It will wait, Polkovnik.”
“No, Sir, it wil...”
Pekunin stood and moved to the door, opening it wide.
“It will wait, Polkovnik.”
“Clear, thank you, Sir.”
There is no victory at bargain basement prices.
Dwight D. Eisenhower
Chapter 62 – THE RETREAT
Wednesday, 15th August 1945, 0215 hrs, SHAEF, Headquarters, Versailles, France.
Colonel Thomas Bel
l Hood was exhausted, having been on the go constantly since day one of the Soviet attacks.
His shift had started at 0130 hrs, when an orderly had awakened him with his favourite breakfast tea.
By 0200 hrs, the fifty-four year old staff officer was downstairs in the centre of operations, examining the progress of the Russian thrusts.
The Allied troops were fighting hard, but the main campaign map left no doubt that the situation was dire. Five main Soviet developments were cutting through Allied defensive positions.
Around Hamburg, north and south, advances had been made. The British were performing miracles but having to give ground, their whole position weakened now that Hamburg itself has fallen.
A Soviet force had struck out north-west from Hannover whilst others reduced the city. Hood expected to have to report its loss to Eisenhower when the General was roused at 0430.
A dangerous pincer movement seemed to be forming, the northern jaw based upon Kassel, the southern part on Giessen. Bradley’s command was desperately pulling their troops out of the way but it would be a close run thing.
Taking up the newly arrived mug of coffee, his eyes sought the next major threat.
The thrust could be going to a number of places, one or all of Mannheim, Karlsruhe or Stuttgart. That it was already threatening the rear of Nurnberg was a severe issue and one that Bradley was addressing by the only means available to him; giving up ground to preserve his force.
Hood gulped the caffeine laden drink down as he found the final problem.
Munich.
Thrusts north and south of the city threatened to surround it but it had not yet been abandoned. Fighting was severe, but the Soviets were being bled white for every yard and the commanders on the ground were optimistic that the advance could be stopped.
The situation map reflected other smaller successes for the Red Army but the five that stood out had exploded into life with their renewed offensive last Monday morning.
Two more reports arrived in front of Hood, which matters he would include in a folder for Ike’s morning brief if important enough. Unless they were absolute dynamite, he would not wake his commander in Chief.
Finishing the last of his coffee, he examined the preliminary reports of RAF night attacks on numerous river crossing points on the Elbe, Leine, Main, Donau and Tauber.
Seeking out a refill, he waited as the orderly did his job. The document seemed encouraging, although initial reports of aircraft losses dented his enthusiasm. RAF Bomber Command had suffered fearful losses since the start of hostilities, from flak to sabotage, night-fighters to accidents. Losses were certainly exceeding the ability to replace, both in crews and aircraft.
USAAF squadrons would do their work in daylight. but they too were suffering high losses.
None the less, the Soviet advances were slowed by the Air force’s efforts to interdict their logistic and support infrastructure, unless something hitherto unsuspected was causing the Soviets problem.
Drinking more coffee, he started to re-read the report, a useful habit he had acquired following a small error in his early staff days.
Movement caught Hood’s eye, and he noticed the expansion of the Russian advance to the outskirts of Heilbronn.
‘Stuttgart then?’
He posed the question without being able to confidently answer.
From the look of the allied dispositions, the Army Commander was protecting the Rhine in preference, whilst still holding as much of the Neckar River barrier as he could.
An extremely tired looking USAAF Major placed another air combat report in front of Hood, turning and walking away like a zombie.
‘The staff are out on their feet here. We need to get the people rested.’
Immediately snorting at the words of his inner compassionate voice, his sensible and realistic side reminded him of a military maxim, the origin of which was lost in time.
‘We can all rest when we are dead.’
In the meantime, there was a war to be won.
Hood downed the hot drink in one, hoping the caffeine rush would give him the kick start he still needed.
Skimming the new report, the Colonel noted with satisfaction that the Elbe bridges at Lauenburg were believed totally wrecked.
He assembled the paperwork and into the morning brief folder it went, and the tired officer went in search of yet more coffee.
0514 hrs 15th August 1945, Heroldhausen-Eichenau Road, Germany.
Allied forces – Fox Company, 2nd Battalion, 255th Infantry Regiment, Battalion HQ and HQ Battery, 861st Artillery Battalion, all of 63rd US Infantry Division, US 23 Corps, US 15th Army, 12th US Army Group.
Soviet Forces – 2nd and 3rd Battalions, Anti-Tank companies 179th Guards Rifle Regiment, 127th Guards Artillery Regiment, 59th Guards Rifle Division of 34th Guards Rifle Corps, 242nd Tank Brigade of 31st Tank Corps, all of 5th Guards Army of 2nd Red Banner Central European Front.
The soldiers of Fox Company had received the order to pull back, abandoning their positions between the two villages of Werdeck and Heroldhausen, covering the road south from Beimbach. Despite suffering grievous casualties, the unit had not seen a single Soviet ground soldier from day one of the new war. None the less, just under half of the men alive on the 6th were still capable of carrying a rifle, the rest succumbing to air and artillery attack, either filling hospital beds or shallow graves.
Morale was low. 2nd/255th had advanced with the 12th Armored, only to be caught up in the debacle of Reichenberg, covering the retreat of the shattered CC’B’.
Yet again, with no enemy in sight, the company was ordered back.
Captain Pritchard consulted his map and drew his surviving commander’s close.
“Regiment wants us back at Diembot soon as, securing the river crossing. No immediate threat is known, but they want us there by 0630 latest.”
He made sure each of the six men could see where he was pointing.
“Once there, they want us to send vehicles down to here,” he dabbed his finger at Eichenau, “Where some of our engineers are wiring the bridge. We bring some of them back and prep the Diembot Bridge for the same.”
“I intend to go through Eichenau and pick up the engineers on our way. It’s a better route and even though it’s longer, we should make good time, plus we stay together. Questions?”
Five of the faces suggested nothing but compliance, all of them young and inexperienced. Only one seemed to have doubts.
“Sergeant Hässler, you don’t agree?”
Long before the Russians had launched their attack, Hässler and Pritchard had hated each other.
One because he saw an incompetent officer who would some day cost men their lives, the other because he saw a German from the same breeding stock as put his father in a soldiers grave in the Great War.
“No Sir, I don’t. This route is far and away the quickest to Diembot. Falling back through Eichenau leaves the road south to Diembot wide open. It’s simply a bad idea, Captain.”
Tact was never the German-Moravian’s strong suit, particularly when it came to Pritchard.
“Don’t agree, Sergeant?” in itself a veiled insult as Hässler was a Master-Sergeant and the battalion’s top NCO.
“Right then, noted, Sergeant.”
The Captain turned to face the others.
“That’s that covered. We do it as stated, for the reasons stated, plus, it has the advantage of getting the engineers to their work quicker.”
Rolling the map up, Pritchard indicated that the briefing was over and that his orders stood.
Hässler stood his ground none the less.
“Perhaps you could consider splitting your force then, Captain? Send the artillery boys to get the engineers, and drop Fox back down the quickest route?”
“Perhaps I could, Sergeant.”
Ordinarily, Pritchard would have left it at that, openly undermining his NCO, as he did at every opportunity. This time he saw an opportunity of a different sort.
&n
bsp; “Actually, that’s not a bad idea for a change. You take your track and the boys of the MG platoon, and go straight to Diembot. I will take the rest of the company via Eichenau. If you get there before us you can start digging in and securing the bridge.”
His look challenged the Master-Sergeant to disagree. For his part, Hässler could see the advantage of being out from under the idiot’s feet, even if only for a moment, so he nodded his agreement in such a way as that no-one there thought he agreed for one moment.
“Oustanding.”
Pritchard spoke in such a way as that no-one there thought he was changing his orders for any reason other than to put the NCO out in the cold.
‘That gets the kraut bastard out of my sight for a while.’
“OK, let’s get the troops mounted up and moved out. Sergeant, you will remain and cover out withdrawal.”
Looking at his watch he made a swift calculation.
“Ten minutes from the time the rear vehicle gets out of sight. Clear?”
The German-American smiled without smiling.
“Crystal, Captain,” and turned on his heel leading the group out from the flimsy lean-to in which the meeting had been held.
The smaller man hawked and spat as the Captain shouted orders at the top of his voice, unnecessarily harrying those that were doing their best to strip down weapons and load up vehicles.
“Oy vey, but that man is the biggest schmuck I’ve seen since Uncle Solomon circumcised Rollo the Elephant at the Ringling Circus!”
The comment hit the spot intended. Hässler snorted spontaneously and was forced to wipe away the products of his nasal passages.
“Corporal Rosenberg, I agree with the sentiment but for a god-fearing man you are one hell of a lying bastard!”
The wiry little Jew held his hands up in mock horror.
“Feh! Not only do I have a commanding officer who is an idiot, but the Gentile Master Sergeant is calling me a liar! I did so have an Uncle Solomon, may he rest in peace.”