War Without Garlands: Operation Barbarossa 1941-1942

by Robert Kershaw

  Tank crewman Alexander Golikow’s last letter to his wife was found next to his corpse inside a knocked-out Russian tank on the Ostrov road.

  ‘I can see the road, green trees and colourful flowers in the garden through the holes in the tank.

  ‘Life after the war will be just as colourful as these flowers, and happy… I am not afraid to lay down my life for this… do not cry. You will likely not be able to visit my grave. Will there indeed be a grave?’(25)

  Nobody knows. The only certainty is that the letter was recovered by German soldiers searching the shell-scarred hulk.

  Chapter 9

  Refocusing victory conditions

  ‘And now it seemed we were to turn away from our greatest chance to get to Moscow and bring the war to an end. My instinct told me that something was very wrong. I never understood this change in plans.’

  German soldier

  The longest campaign

  The day after Army Group Centre announced it had finally closed the Smolensk pocket, its commander received depressing news in the form of a new Führer directive. Von Bock confided bleakly to his diary: ‘the Army Group is being scattered to the four winds.’(1) Advance notice had been received four days before:

  ‘… which divides my Army Group into three parts. According to the instructions I am to divert one group of forces, including Panzer Group Guderian (Pz Gr. 2) south-east to Army Group South, a group without tanks is to go towards Moscow, and Panzer Group Hoth (Pz Gr.3) is to be diverted north and subordinated to (von Leeb’s) Army Group North.’(2)

  Splitting the effort was anathema to a professional commander conditioned and trained to plan and ruthlessly adhere to a single aim. A disconnect between aim and reality had been evident in ‘Barbarossa’ planning from the start. The loose correlation between operational and logistic planning was based upon Hitler’s ideological premise that a ‘kick in the door’ would be sufficient to collapse the Soviet Union ‘like a house of cards’. ‘Barbarossa’ Directive Number 21 issued in December 1940 gave only a broad outline to the conduct of operations. It aimed to create a barrier against Asiatic Russia on the line between Astrakhan on the Caspian Sea and Archangel in the Arctic. Apart from the need to annihilate the main enemy forces, there was no absolute strategic plan or objective to which all operations were subordinate. Three primary invasion objectives were identified: the coal and iron fields of the Donets Basin in the south, the capital Moscow in the centre and Leningrad to the north. One army group was assigned to each, with Panzergruppen to spearhead the way. Few plans in practice survive their inception on crossing the start line, and focusing the continuation of effort is invariably the next problem.

  The decisions faced by the Führer and his High Command at the beginning of August were unprecedented. No German campaign during this war had lasted so long. Obergefreiter Erich Kuby with the 3rd Motorised Division recalled a disgruntled infantry NCO muttering they were not ‘sprinting any longer as in the Polish autumn and French May (campaigns), they had been hard on the go for five weeks now’.(3) Blitzkrieg in the West and Scandinavia lasted six weeks, Poland was conquered in 28 days, the Balkans took 24 days and Crete was overwhelmed in 10.

  An intangible and unremarked watershed was passed on 2 August. The Wehrmacht was used to success, often against heavy odds and suffering casualties, but quickly. Little attention was therefore paid to the passing of a milestone that was to be superseded by momentous events to follow. Victory in Russia, whatever the propaganda aspirations, was never seriously thought achievable in six weeks by rational planners. But the tempo was beginning to falter. Vacillation and indecision became increasingly apparent at the Führer’s headquarters. The Wehrmacht had indeed ‘kicked in the door’, but there was little prospect of the Soviet edifice collapsing. One German housewife writing to her husband at the front mused, ‘when one hears in the reports what losses the Russians have had already, one can hardly imagine how he has kept up the fight for so long’.(4)

  General Halder made no mention in his diary at the six-week point that the campaign had exceeded the duration of the western Blitzkrieg. His only comment was that the logistic situation regarding shoes and clothing was ‘tight’. Winter clothing would require consideration alongside the ‘clamour for lost replacements’ by Panzer and infantry divisions. A considerable deficit had by now emerged between casualties and these replacements. Army Group South received only 10,000 reinforcements to compensate for 63,000 losses while Army Groups Centre and North were short by 51,000 and 28,000 men respectively.(5)

  Six weeks into the campaign Generalfeldmarschall von Bock was lamenting the difficulties of holding the Smolensk pocket perimeter. ‘We are at the end of our tether just now trying to prevent Soviet units escaping,’ he wrote. It was a far cry from the euphoric conditions that had existed in France barely one year before. Von Bock observed a perilous situation, commenting on signs of increasing strain. ‘The nerves of those burdened with great responsibility are starting to waiver,’ he said. Victory might be near but a terrible price was already apparent. The VIIth and Vth Corps were ‘proud of their success’ but had ‘suffered considerable casualties, especially in officers’.(6)

  The common perception among German soldiers was less that of pending victory, more a dawning realisation that the road ahead was going to be hard. One soldier in the 35th Infantry Division wrote home on 19 August:

  ‘Today is Sunday, but we didn’t notice. We are on the move again some 50km north-eastwards. At the moment we are part of the Army reserve – and high time – we have already lost 50 in the company. It shouldn’t be allowed to continue much longer otherwise the burden will be really heavy. We normally have four men on the [anti-tank] gun, but for two days at a particularly dangerous point, we only had two. The others are wounded.’(7)

  The longevity of the campaign was developing a sinister parallel to Napoleon’s 1812 experience. A transport battalion Gefreiter presciently wrote, ‘If we ended up here in the winter, something the Russians would dearly have us do, it would not do us a lot of good either.’(8) Another infantry soldier with Army Group Centre complained the following day, ‘our losses are immense, more than in France’. His company had been fighting around the Moscow Rollbahn since 23 July. ‘One day we have the road, then the Russians, and so it goes on, day after day.’ Victory did not appear imminent. On the contrary, time and intense combat was corroding the courage of the soldiers, in particular pessimism regarding life expectancy.

  ‘I have never seen such vicious dogs as these Russians. Their tactics are unpredictable and they have an inexhaustible supply of tanks and material etc.’(9)

  Unteroffizier Wilhelm Prüller, in a motorised infantry regiment accompanying the 9th Panzer Division with Army Group South, was dipping deeply into his courage bank at the six-week point. On 4 August his battalion lost four officers among 14 dead, 47 wounded and two missing, all within 24 hours.

  At Temovka his captain was shot through the head just after he left his side to cross a street. His close friend Wimmer from another company was killed the same day. ‘I’m so sorry for his wife,’ Prüller wrote in his diary, ‘especially since she’s going to have a baby in October.’ Wimmer he remembered – and this was a ‘funny thing’– had always been ‘quite sure nothing would happen to him’. Next, Prüller’s friend Schober was struck by a grenade splinter which penetrated his head below the left eye. He fell ‘dead on the spot’ at a place Prüller had barely vacated. Two others had already been killed at the same inauspicious place and a third comrade also fell, all within the space of a few hours. Prüller’s diary entry that night encapsulated the lot of the German infantryman in the sixth week of the campaign. 350 men had perished in his battalion over five weeks. At this point the year before in France it had been finished. He wrote :

  ‘At 22.00 I lie down, dog tired on some straw. It was a terrible day. But again luck was with me. How long will it last?’(10)

  Von Bock’s fear of being ‘scattered to the four
winds’ reflected the unparalleled scale as well as unprecedented length of the new campaign. In Poland in 1939 the front expanded from a 320km-wide start line to an area of operations 550km broad at its widest point. Depth did not become a problem to the 41 infantry and 14 Panzer and motorised divisions that were committed because the campaign was over within 28 days. The spring 1941 Yugoslav and Greek campaign involved 33 divisions, of which 15 were Panzer or motorised, advancing over narrow geographically constricted frontages, but to a depth of 1,200km. It was finished in 24 days. The western Blitzkrieg beginning in May 1940 was the Wehrmacht’s supreme test. Three army groups, totalling 94 divisions including 10 Panzer divisions and 46 in reserve, advanced on a broad 700km front across Belgium, Holland and France. A decisive victory resulted in six weeks (see map on page 119). These examples paled into relative insignificance compared to the scale and ferocity of the Russian campaign. The operation dwarfed its predecessors in terms of time and scale.

  The ‘Barbarossa’ invasion front was double that of the Western campaign and expanded a further one third in six weeks from over 1,200km at the start to a breadth of 1,600km. This time 139 divisions were committed. More Panzer and motorised formations were employed than in France, but the 19 Panzer divisions were smaller in size. By late autumn 1941 the front had broadened almost three-fold incorporating the Karelian Peninsula and Baltic states, stretching 2,800km from Murmansk to the Black Sea. Navigation problems dogged the advance from the beginning. Max Kuhnert, a cavalry NCO, said on crossing the border with Army Group South in June:

  ‘I had to be careful not to take the wrong route, for many units had branched off in different directions. There were no roads as such in the west, only field tracks established by tanks and all the other traffic.’

  It seemed as though the invading armies were immediately swallowed up by the vastness of the terrain. ‘I went strictly by compass,’ commented Kuhnert, ‘occasionally checking the divisional insignia on the vehicles going east.’(11) To place the scale of the expanding front in relative context, it could be assumed that a widely stretched division might defend a 10km frontage. The new front would therefore require 280 divisions; but only 139 were theoretically available. Geographical hindrances such as the Pripet Marshes and Carpathian Mountains would restrict manoeuvre space. In reality, combat probably only occurred physically over a 1,000km frontage, and then only haphazardly. German divisions moving forward over the difficult roads that formed a primitive network probably advanced sweeping an area about 3km wide. Most combat formations would elect to concentrate in depth, forcing routes on narrow fronts. German progress, in a sense, could be pictured as three arrow shots – the army groups – fired into an empty but expanding funnel. An advance into the depth of the Soviet Union meant also that divisions had to remain behind to guard vital communication and supply routes, and reduce isolated Russian pockets. As a consequence, forces in the advance were constantly diminishing while the land area to be conquered doubled in depth and tripled in width. At the 2,800km-wide point the front was 1,000km deep.

  The sheer scale of the objective was becoming part of the problem. If the Russian colossus could not be overwhelmed by the body blows being administered, a rapier coup degrâce might be the solution. In short, the conditions required to achieve victory needed to be reconsidered.

  Conditions for victory

  As a rapid Russian collapse did not materialise, Adolf Hitler and his army planners were obliged to reconsider uneasily the future focus as the width and depth of the Russian land mass unfolded before them. One German Army photographer wrote in the Ukraine, ‘we have no more maps and can only follow the compass needle to the east’.(1) There were no road signs and few landmarks enabling Germans to calculate their bearings across the limitless steppes of the eastern Ukraine. Patrols and despatch riders simply asked the women and old men in the fields for directions. Poor planning and a degree of unit directional floundering resulted in these vast uncharted territories.

  General Halder admitted on 11 August that ‘the whole situation makes it increasingly plain that we have underestimated the Russian colossus’. The enemy’s military and material potential had been grossly miscalculated. ‘At the outset of the war, we reckoned with about 200 enemy divisions. Now we have already counted 360’. These divisions may be qualitatively inferior to the German and poorly led, ‘but there they are, and if we smash a dozen of them, the Russians simply put up another dozen’.(2) As a consequence, German staffs had enormous difficulty reconciling their victories against tangible achievements. The Russians were obstinate. They would paradoxically fight bitterly to the death in one instance and surrender en masse at the next. The cumulative impact of such victories thus far, at considerable cost, seemed merely to be the attainment of ‘false crests’. Although the summit might be tantal-isingly ahead, planning fatigue tended to obscure the best means of achieving the most direct route to the objective: that of total victory.

  A diagrammatic representation of the vast area covered by the eastern campaign compared to previous shorter operations in the West and Balkans. Poland was conquered in 28 days, the Balkans in 24. The campaign in the West ended at the six-week point. Army Group Centre was lamenting its losses and commenting upon the difficulty of holding Russian forces inside the Smolensk pocket six weeks into the Russian campaign. Resistance at the very first pocket six weeks into the Russian campaign. Resistance at the very first pocket to be established, at Brest-Litovsk, ended only one week before.

  Hitler’s controversial change of direction introduced at this stage of the campaign is often discussed with the benefit of a strategic hindsight not available to those executing decisions. It is these contemporary perceptions influencing such deliberations that ought to be considered. One school of thought opined that the Wehrmacht, stretched to its physical limit advancing into an ever-widening land mass, should concentrate its resources against one objective at a time. Generalfeldmarschall von Bock and his Panzer-gruppen and army commanders Kluge, Guderian and Hoth gave united support, to von Brauchitsch, the Wehrmacht and his Chief of Staff Halder in making Moscow the primary target. Hitler, almost perversely it seemed, elected to concentrate operations against Leningrad to the north and the Ukraine in the south. Moscow would fall as a consequence of this pressure directed against the flanks. Political and economic reasons were cited for this diversification of effort. Führer Directive Number 33, issued initially on 19 July, outlined the concept of future operations. Army Group Centre was to be divested of its two Panzergruppen – 3 (Hoth) and 2 (Guderian) – which were to be diverted from Moscow to co-operate with von Leeb and von Rundstedt in advances north to Leningrad and south to Kiev. Vacillation and confusion followed during a subsequent ‘Nineteen-day Interregnum’ (4–24 August) as commanders debated or fought their preferred operational concept at conferences. Führer Directive 34A followed on 7 August when OKW and OKH, after conferring with Jodl and Halder, persuaded Hitler of the need to resume the advance on Moscow. This was, however, rescinded three days later when renewed resistance at Leningrad frightened Hitler into insisting Hoth’s Panzergruppe 3 move north to assist von Leeb. Hitler resolved to strike southward toward Kiev. He was not deflected by a spirited presentation from Guderian, recalled from the front to brief at Rastenburg on 23 August, arguing the Moscow option for von Brauchitsch and Halder. Recriminations among the top commanders exacerbated the already vitriolic debate. Hitler, backed by Feldmarschall Keitel, Jodl, Chief of the Operations Staff, and Schmundt, his chief Adjutant, patronisingly stated, ‘my generals know nothing about the economic aspects of war.’ Political, military and economic reasons were given for deflecting the advance southward into the Ukraine. Soviet air force bases in the Crimea could menace the Romanian Ploesti oilfields, economically vital to the German war effort. They had therefore to be neutralised.

  Following three weeks of inertia the Ostheer (army of the east) was to resume the attack with a full-blooded offensive to the south. Urgency was provided by the need
to conclude the Kiev operation in sufficient time to redirect an assault on Moscow before winter. The Russians, who anticipated an assault on Moscow, were astonished to see instead an attack suddenly directed to the south.

  The controversy over the importance of Moscow was bound up in the army staff debate of what to do, now that the Soviet regime was prepared to fight on despite catastrophic reverses. What were the preconditions for victory in this new and not previously considered scenario? Options to circumvent the impasse might be to capture cities to create a political impact or capture ground for economic acquisition. The economic option was not seen as a rapid war-winning strategy. Gaining popular support, a measure that proved particularly effective in 1917–18, was not seriously considered due to its ideological unacceptability to the Führer. In any case it would take too long. Annihilating the Red Army remained an unfulfilled aspiration. None of the proposed strategies appeared to be working. Leningrad, ‘the cradle of Bolshevism’, was an attractive objective to Hitler, a ‘party’ man, who appreciated the ideological fibre the Communist Party conferred on the regime. Communism resided in the cities and built-up areas, not necessarily in the countryside. Panzer Leutnant F. W. Christians remembered, as his unit crossed the Ukrainian border in the middle of summer, ‘we were greeted with real enthusiasm’. It was an emotive appeal never exploited. ‘They did not just bring salt and bread,’ the traditionally hospitable Ukrainian form of greeting, ‘but also fruit and eggs,’ he declared. ‘We were warmly greeted as liberators.’(3) Such a psychological undercurrent was irrelevant in the Blitzkrieg context, because it had no immediate significance for military operations. The ideological end-state was, in any case, to enslave these people for the economic benefit of the Reich. A more positive outcome from a change in the direction of attack would be to strike an unexpected blow with potentially damaging consequences for the Soviet southern salient bulging westwards. A Cannae was envisaged.