On to Smolensk
The German Army was making headway but at some cost. The original conception of a great pocket extending from Bialystok to Minsk broke into several fragmentary pockets created during desperate fighting, first around Bialystok and then around Volkovysk. General Günther Blumentritt, Fourth Army Chief of Staff, explained:
‘The conduct of the Russian troops, even in this first battle, was in striking contrast to the behaviour of the Poles and of the Western allies in defeat. Even when encircled, the Russians stood their ground and fought.’(1)
There were insufficient German troops in Panzer units to seal off the larger encirclement completely. Motorised units obliged by necessity to fight on or near roads were powerless to prevent Russian columns using forest tracks to slip away eastward at night. In the large trackless spaces between German units, Russian units were left unmolested. Confusion reigned in uncertain circumstances. During one battle the I/‘Grossdeutschland’ Regiment drove into a village on captured Russian trucks and fought a mobile engagement with Russian troops driving out with captured German vehicles. ‘Everyone fired at everyone else – it was pure chaos,’ related the unit historian.(2) The greatest pressure was on the eastern side of the pockets, the focus for Russian attempts to break out.
Commanders were presented with a dilemma. Panzers disrupted Soviet units by cutting their rearward communications, providing the optimum conditions for further advances. But because of the imperative to keep moving forward, they were unable to create solid rings around encircled Soviet forces. These pockets could only be closed and reduced by the 32 infantry divisions of Army Group Centre forced-marching their way forward. Unexpectedly bad roads and tough fighting on the edges of pockets with Russian formations which refused to surrender disrupted the previously assumed schedules of marching performance. Inevitably the gap between marching infantry and driving Panzers widened. The infantry was the substance of Wehrmacht fighting power; its role was to grind down and crush resistance. Panzer thrusts bludgeoned the enemy, but were incapable of inflicting the coup de grâce. Panzergruppen commanders strove to maintain momentum to exploit surprise and disrupt Soviet command and control. These were the basic conditions that ensured success. Von Bock confided his exasperation with High Command’s apparent inability to recognise this basic tenet. He declared in his diary:
‘They are even toying with the idea of halting the Panzer groups. If the latter happens, they will have failed to exploit the bloodily-won success of the battle winding down; they are committing a major error if they give the Russians time to establish a defensive front at the Dnieper and the Orscha-Vitebsk land bridge. In my opinion we have already waited too long.’(3)
It was becoming increasingly clear that manoeuvring alone onto tactically advantageous positions was not going to finish this enemy.
The Bialystok-Minsk battles fought from 24 June onwards were nearing conclusion on 8 July. They cost the Soviets an estimated 22 rifle divisions, seven tank and three cavalry divisions, and six motorised brigades. During the fighting two Panzergruppen, numbering nine Panzer and five motorised divisions, were employed to seal the pockets. These were joined by 23 more infantry divisions, which closed and annihilated them.(4) In short, 50% of the entire strength of Army Group Centre, 51 divisions, was tied to destroying units of its own comparable strength; a devastating blow. The experience in Poland and the West was that Blitzkrieg tactics achieved operational success once armies had been outmanoeuvred. Denied space and resources, the enemy’s political will collapsed when faced with pointless casualties. Surrender invariably followed. In Russia established norms became perverted when Soviet units fought on in hopeless conditions with no prospect of success. Up to 50% of German attacking potential was thereby constrained during the first decisive phase without achieving the initial operational objective. This was the Smolensk land bridge, the historically significant jump-off point required to mount an offensive against the political heart of the Soviet Union – Moscow.
Although out of reach of German land forces, the Luftwaffe already had this operational prize firmly within its sights:
‘Smolensk is burning – it was a monstrous spectacle this evening. After a two and a half hour flight we did not need to look for our objective; the blazing torch lit our way through the night from far away.’
Hans August Vowinckel’s Heinkel He111 bomber avoided ‘a spire’ shape of searchlights and Flak before negotiating a series of wide curves and setting course for the city centre. ‘The inside of the aircraft was as light as day,’ he later wrote to his wife. As his aircraft flew over the River Berezina on its return, Vowinckel found himself reflecting upon Napoleonic history.
‘Smolensk – once the point of destruction for a great conqueror; Berezina, where the downfall occurred. The sound of these names produce a strange historical thrill from the past. But they will not be repeated, their meaning has altered.’
It was a tiring flight, 91/2 hours from taking-off at 18.00 hours until landing at 03.30 hours. Artillery fire could clearly be seen on the ground far below, where the advance continued unabated. On return to his home base Vowinckel ironically found time to read Friedrich Holderlin’s The Peace. ‘Everything that is important,’ he wrote to his wife, ‘is already in there.’ But he was never to experience it. Two days later, flying in formation during a dogfight, a Russian fighter shot into flames by another German bomber collided with his aircraft from above. His commanding officer wrote to his wife explaining, ‘the whole crew were likely killed in the crash.’ As the incident occurred well beyond the advancing German line, he had sadly to conclude:
‘The crash site cannot be investigated yet, and due to the expanse of the Russian area, we could not say for certain whether later he might be found.’(5)
When the Minsk pocket capitulated to Army Group Centre on 9 July, General Günther von Kluge was already far beyond, creating an even larger encirclement at Smolensk. His two Panzergruppen, 2 and 3, had continued moving considerable Panzer formations eastward, despite daily crises keeping existing pockets closed. It had been a calculated risk. On 3 July German Army Commander-in-Chief Walther von Brauchitsch, merged the two Panzerkampfgruppen forming Fourth (Panzer) Army, under von Kluge, rationalising the necessary command arrangements to achieve a breakthrough in the direction of Moscow. It was accepted the infantry would follow at best speed, but at a distance. Fourth Army units were taken under the new command of Second Army under General Maximilian Frhr von Weichs.
Panzergruppe 2 succeeded in forcing the River Dnieper either side of Mogilev at Stary Bykhov and Shklov, after hard fighting, between 10 and 11 July. Meanwhile Panzergruppe 3, following the line of the River Dvina between Polotsk and Vitebsk, was ordered to break into the region north of Smolensk. Vitebsk fell on 9 July, animatedly recalled by soldier Erhard Schaumann, who witnessed its fiery capitulation:
‘Driving through Vitebsk we were suddenly surrounded by fire – to the left and right, and ahead of us – it was burning everywhere. So we turned around to get out. We thought we’d never get out of the burning city alive. I thought the trucks would blow up, it was so hot. But we were lucky. Then we attacked Vitebsk from the west. The Russians expected us to come in from the south. That’s how Vitebsk was stormed.’(6)
Panzergruppe 3 pressed on, bypassing Russian forces on the Orscha-Smolensk road. It had, following intense fighting, set in motion the beginning of the Smolensk encirclement by 13 July. Two days later a bold surprise attack on the city itself resulted in its capture.
On 17 July a new pocket had been created around the Dnieper-Dvina land bridge containing about 25 Russian divisions centred on Vitebsk, Mogilev and the city of Smolensk. It was estimated some 300,000 enemy soldiers were inside. Von Bock’s infantry formations were anything up to 320km behind the Panzer spearheads at this point, with many units still extricating themselves from mopping up the Minsk pockets. The Panzers and motorised formations of Fourth (Panzer) Army strung a noose around the highly dangerous Ru
ssian formations and hung on, tightening the pressure and waiting for the marching infantry to arrive. The grip was tenuous. On 18 July only six German divisions were in place against 12 Soviet divisions in the pocket.(7) Soviet pressure built up quickly from within and outside der Kessel (the cauldron). Everybody was now focused on the progress of the infantry. Where were they?
Finale: Brest-Litovsk
Even as the enormous pocket at Smolensk was being formed, the 45th Infantry Division had still to reduce the very first Soviet pocket that had been established on day one of the campaign.
At the end of June isolated resistance points had gradually succumbed to the German investment of Brest-Litovsk. German soldiers forced to engage in hand-to-hand fighting to clear confined spaces in the bitterly contested outposts took no risks. Casualties were heavy. Mercy was neither anticipated nor freely given. Medical Sister Katschowa Lesnewna from the surgical hospital on the South Island said:
‘After being under siege for a week, the Fascists penetrated the fortress. They took out all the wounded, children, women and soldiers, and shot them all before our eyes. We sisters, wearing our distinctive white hats and smocks marked with red crosses, tried to intervene, thinking they might take notice. But the Fascists shot 28 wounded in my ward alone, and when they didn’t immediately die, they tossed in hand-grenades among them.’(1)
At 08.00 hours on 29 June, the eighth day of the siege, the much-vaunted Luftwaffe sortie was finally flown. A single bomber dropped a 500kg bomb onto the Ostfort. It was intended that German lives would be saved by blasting defenders into submission. The resulting massive explosion caused only superficial damage to the brickwork. Preparations were made for a close-in ground attack the next day, using incendiary devices. Barrels and bottles were filled with a mixture of petrol, oil and fat. These were to be rolled into the fort’s trenches and ignited with hand-grenades and Very pistols. Nobody relished the task. The Luftwaffe was given one last chance.
The solitary bomber returned and languidly circled the fortress while final aiming instructions were radioed to it. All attention focused on the Ostfort. Soldiers moving through the devastated wasteland of surrounding parkland and on the scarred walls of the citadel paused and gazed skyward. Another 500kg bomb whistled into the fort with minimal impact. The scene had taken on a relaxed, almost bizarre troop trial atmosphere. Cameras rolled to capture the moment on film. Interested spectators from the 45th Division headquarters staff gathered on the roof of a nearby building to watch. Circling above, the lone Luftwaffe bomber steadily came on line and lobbed a solitary 1,800kg bomb. The black cylindrical speck descended with slow effortless ease until it struck the corner of the massive ditch-fronted wall. A violent crack and boom echoed around the streets of Brest. Windows shattered and the whole population started as a huge pall of smoke spurted up above the stricken fort. This time there was massive damage, signalling the end for the survivors. Russian soldiers began to emerge from the fort: there were women and children among them. By dusk, some 389 men had surrendered.(2)
During the early morning hours of 30 June the Ostfort was searched and cleared of Russian wounded. German bodies, which had been pathetically sprawled for days around the fort’s deadly apertures, were finally recovered. Jets of bright flame marked by incandescent eruptions of black smoke marked the progress of flamethrower teams burning and incinerating likely hiding places rather than risk a look inside. Victory appeared complete. The town and fortress of Brest-Litovsk had been cleared. Panzer ‘Rollbahn 1’ moving eastward and the Warsaw-Brest railway were open to uninterrupted convoy traffic. Elements from two Soviet divisions, the 6th and 42nd, with over a hundred officers and 7,122 NCOs and men, were captured. In addition, 36 tracked and 1,500 badly damaged vehicles of other types were taken, along with 14,576 rifles, 1,327 machine guns and 103 artillery pieces of various calibres. Although victory appeared total, and the Panzer spearheads were already hundreds of kilometres into the Russian interior, psychologically it was an empty result.
PK-cameramen filmed the last exhausted Russian survivors as they emerged from the devastated Ostfort. Dirty and bandaged, they looked directly and unashamedly at the cameras. Adopting a relaxed stance, smoking cigarettes, they exuded a grim confidence that was not lost on their captors, and probably not the message intended for the cinema audiences in Germany who would later view the weekly Wochenschau newsreel. The 45th Division report stated, ‘they were in no way shaken, appearing strong and well fed, giving a disciplined impression.’ The major and commissar who had maintained resistance to the last were never found. They had committed suicide.(3)
The 45th Infantry Division had entered the Russian theatre as a veteran formation, having lost 462 men in France. Its chaplain interred 482 men in the first divisional cemetery of the Russian campaign at Brest-Litovsk, including 32 officers. Another 30 officers and about 1,000 other ranks were wounded.(4) Some 2,000 Russian dead were actually found in the vicinity of the citadel and fortresses, but it is estimated as many as 3,500 may have died. The experience of the 45th Division at Brest was to prove a microcosm of the fate soon to befall its sister divisions in Russia. It lost more men during this initial action in the east than it lost during the entire campaign in the west the year before. It was a sobering calculation. The 45th Division became part of the newly formed Second Army on 3 July and marched eastward far behind the renamed Fourth (Panzer) Army, with which it had started the campaign.
Even after 30 June, and following 45th Division’s departure, German soldiers needed to be alert in the vicinity of the fortress, because isolated sniping continued. Frustration at this ‘unfair’ – to the German mind – form of guerrilla warfare was vented on innocent bystanders. Gefreiter Willi Schadt, a motorcycle NCO from the 29th Motorised Division, recalled how Unteroffizier Fettenborn from his company shot dead 15 defenceless civilians in Brest, ‘before,’ as the perpetrator explained, ‘these red swine start something’. The hapless victims were forced to dig their own graves before execution.(5)
Security had improved little by mid-July. Helmut K___(6) a 19-year-old Reichsarbeitsdienst driver employed in Russia immediately after the invasion, wrote to his parents about continuing resistance in Brest. Even as the battle at Minsk was concluded he wrote on 6 July that ‘the citadel was still held’ and pockets of resistance were still active. ‘Twice the Reds had hoisted a white flag, and every time a company of Waffen SS were sent in, the doors were slammed in their faces.’ Driving close to the citadel walls with another truck, Helmut narrowly missed being killed during a reprisal Stuka dive-bombing raid. The strike was only 300–400m away, and ‘if I am truly honest, I wet my pants a little,’ he confessed. On 11 July two German officers were shot in the streets of Brest. Helmut K___ wrote again the following day, complaining:
‘There are tunnels beneath the earth in a 3km stretch from the citadel to the barracks, inside which the Russians are still sitting. Our unit is in the barracks. The streets are often strewn with scattered nails. We have already patched up our tyres many times … our troops are already 300km ahead en route to Moscow’(7)
Even today, messages carved into concrete by bayonets in cellars and casemates throughout the old fortress of Brest-Litovsk are preserved. ‘Things are difficult, but we are not losing courage,’ reads one. Another proclaims: ‘We die confidently July 1941.’ ‘We die, but we defended ourselves. 20.7.41.’ is crudely scratched elsewhere.
Isolated shooting incidents carried on throughout July. Few people knew about these lonely deaths.(8)
Chapter 8
Smolensk
‘We wished that the Russians would make a stand – anything, a battle even, to relieve the monotony of this ceaseless, timeless tramping.’
German infantry officer
The infantry
On 8 July 1941 the Fourth (Panzer) Army staff had established their headquarters at Borisov on the River Berezina. Problems lay ahead. It was vital, in order to avoid the catastrophic implications of the developing gap between
Panzers and infantry formations, to hurry the foot soldiers forward. General Günther Blumentritt declared:
‘A vivid picture which remains of these weeks is the great clouds of yellow dust kicked up by the Russian columns attempting to retreat and by our infantry hastening in pursuit.’(1)
The Smolensk pocket offered the tantalising prize of effecting much of the destruction of the western group of Soviet Armies originally planned, as well as securing the vital ‘land bridge’ for the eventual advance on Moscow. At Borisov there were traces of Napoleon. A few kilometres north, almost 130 years before, Napoleon’s Grande Armée had been compelled to cross the frozen River Berezina during the winter of 1812, and suffered appalling casualties doing so. It was not an auspicious omen. General Blumentritt, the Fourth Army Chief of Staff, noticed, ‘when the water is clear the remains of the props driven into the river bed to support the bridges built by the French engineers are still visible’.(2) The German bridges had been built. They awaited the arrival of the infantry.
Further to the rear, Harald Henry, a 22-year-old foot soldier, was marching forward with an Army Group Centre infantry regiment ‘in scorching heat with rest stops whereby one slept like the dead’.(3) Leutnant Heinrich Haape, a doctor with Infantry Regiment 18, recalled the briefest of rests by night during early campaign days:
War Without Garlands: Operation Barbarossa 1941-1942 Page 22