A Panzer group under Hauptmann Schroeder clattered across to the other side and the bridgehead swiftly began to take shape. Pandemonium resulted when a Russian armoured train appeared on the railway line and a group of several Russian T-34s began to attack German infantry digging in on the east side. A German Panzer company shot the armoured train into a flaming wreck. Smoke poured into the sky now growing lighter with the dawn and swirled about at ground level, smudging the snow. Very quickly three T-34s were hit, motionless and burning. At this moment a taxi cab drove incongruously onto the bridge and its surprised occupants were taken prisoner by the headquarters staff of Regiment 6. Inside was a Soviet officer with written orders and maps for the defence of the canal. Von Manteuffel remarked, ‘He was amazed to be told to get out because he had no idea we had already broken through the canal defensive positions and that the bridge was in our hands.’
Complete surprise had been achieved. Nobody in the town of Yakhroma realised anything was wrong. At about 07.00 hours, workers poured into the factories and even at 08.00 the huge bread factory was at work. When it became lighter, realisation dawned what was going on and the town’s noisy bustle resumed as the factories closed. Yakhroma’s citizens – such as 19-year-old Valentina Igorowna Belikowa – had previously ‘dug tank ditches so that the Panzers would not get through’. It was already too late. She said:
‘We suddenly heard engine noises during the night of 27/28 November 1941, but they were from a direction we would have never thought possible. They came with motorcycles and started searching immediately for partisans all over the town.’
Von Manteuffel, the battle group commander, strode across the Yakhroma bridge, grim-faced and seemingly oblivious to the shouted cries of congratulations from his men. They appreciated the significance of their achievement. Indeed, Generalfeldmarschall von Bock, on hearing the news, wrote, ‘I had been preoccupied with the idea for days; its execution might bring about the collapse of Moscow’s entire north-eastern front provided we simultaneously kept the advance by Fourth Army’s northern wing going … But,’ he added, ‘that is not yet assured,’ hence Manteuffel’s grave expression. His men had driven a wedge across the canal, forming a bridgehead within ideal defensive terrain on the other side. Transmissions picked up on his own radio net confirmed his own worse fears. ‘I realised,’ he said, ‘that apparently there were no worthwhile combat units quickly following up, to exploit this surprising success.’
First Soviet Shock Army, one of three armies building up for the proposed counter-offensive, had its concentration area nearby. It had yet to be identified by German forces. Von Bock noted in his diary later that day, ‘I was given further cause to consider when, toward evening, Panzergruppe 3 reported heavy attacks against the bridgehead at Yakhroma.’ He ordered the bridgehead to be held ‘at all costs’ but with ‘no unnecessary casualties’. Von Manteuffel, meanwhile, began to piece together a troubling intelligence picture. An ominous report from a recently shot-down Russian pilot disclosed that the roads leading from the capital, over which he had just flown, ‘were completely filled with marching Russian columns’; and they were heading his way.(12)
On the same day, 2nd Panzer Division came to a virtual standstill 30km south at Krassnaya Polyana, 18km north of Moscow. to their right was General Hoepner’s Panzergruppe 4 with 11th and 5th Panzer, the 2nd SS Division ‘Das Reich’ and 10th Panzer Division groups all probing and stretching fingers out to Moscow, but unable to grasp a hold. They were battering their way head-on into the minefields and fiercely defended earthworks ringing the city. Behind and in echelon were the 23rd, 106th and 35th Infantry Divisions seeking to move either side of the 2nd Panzer Division in support. Von Kluge’s Fourth Army northern flank was likewise making hesitant progress. Hoepner’s Panzer battle groups were stretched so thinly they were barely able to maintain contact. Second Panzer Army, meanwhile, was enlarging its substantial bulge south of Tula.
A thrust north to Kashira was drawing swarms of Soviet cavalry and tanks upon the doggedly advancing, but now vulnerable, 17th Panzer Division. A decision point had been reached. Army Group Centre was poised to ‘do or die’. As von Bock, its commander, expressed it: ‘If we do not succeed in bringing about the collapse of Moscow’s north-western front in a few days, the attack will have to be called off.’ He was emphatic in his resolve not ‘to provoke a second Verdun’.(13) This was the direction from which pressure was to be applied. The focus of the advance now began to shift south of 7th Panzer Division as the fingers of the laboriously advancing Panzer division battle groups scraped at the outer defensive crust north-west of Moscow.
The frozen offensive
At the end of November there were indications that the cold snap was coming to an end. Although frost, fog and some snow continued, temperatures rose to 0°C. This appeared to offer some physical respite. Meteorological statistics stretching as far back as the 19th century gave no reason to expect heavy snow and extreme low temperatures before mid-December. Until now, weather conditions had resembled the worst one might anticipate on an exercise during a bad winter in the Berlin area. Difficulties were encountered because of the lack of winter training. Units generally occupied warm barracks in such weather, sallying out to train for only short periods. On 1 December temperatures plummeted. The 2nd dawned sunny and clear but with temperatures at −20°C. A north-west European winter began now to give way to the merciless embrace of its Asian variant. Until this point OKW Kriegstagebuch (war diary) entries had referred only to frost and snow in its daily weather summaries, with occasional reference to comparable western European extremes. Now it was different. Temperatures slipped to −25°C on 4 December and then −35°C and −38°C on subsequent days. ‘General Winter’ had entered the field.
By the light of a freezing moon, which had already risen by 17.00 hours on 1 December, armoured half-tracks of the 6th Panzer Division infantry regiment combat group began to crawl forward laboriously through frozen snow. Ahead, their objectives were the villages of Ipleura and Swistuela, north-east of Moscow. Vehicle after vehicle began to break down in the freezing conditions. Before long, 15 had fallen by the wayside, left behind with skeleton and watchful crews. Most of the soldiers had already spent three complete nights in the open in conditions for which they were totally unprepared. The Division Supply Officer (1b) had already noticed that ‘the lack of fat [in their rations] is having a detrimental effect upon the soldiers’ body resistance’. They had received barely two days’ equivalent (60 grams) over the previous 10 days. The last PzKpfwIV heavy tank in Panzer Regiment 11 also broke down that day in temperatures of −22°C.(1)
Soldiers require a substantial calorific intake to fight in these temperatures, otherwise they become increasingly lethargic. This, combined with living unprotected in the open, sapped physical and mental resilience. Winter clothes had still to be issued. The 98th Infantry Division had received only ‘some winter coats and some gloves’, and these had been set aside for drivers. ‘It was like a drop of water on a hot stove,’ commented one witness.(2) Winter warfare clothing layers need constant adjustment to control body temperature when undergoing strenuous tasks. Sweat clogs the airspace in material with moisture, reducing its insulating qualities. Perspiration when it evaporates chills the body and can cause freezing in extreme conditions.
Lethargic and tired soldiers tend not to take the trouble to adjust their clothing or regulate layers. The normal reaction is to add more clothing, which compounds the problem. During combat or when marching, soldiers perspire, get wet and then chill. At the end of November the 2nd Panzer Division anti-tank battalion received only a partial issue of winter clothing, enough for only one greatcoat per gun crew.(3) Fighting ability decreases with temperature and slows the rate of operations. After it drops below a bearable point, survival replaces the previous combat imperative. Organised manoeuvre involving combined activity becomes correspondingly difficult. Even today, NATO armies with high-tech lightweight ‘breathable’ and layered c
lothing reduce training activity at temperatures below −25° and virtually cease at −35°C, when survival is declared the paramount consideration. Training stops, snow holes are dug, mobility is reduced or troops return to accommodation. Conditions in front of Moscow began to vary between these two parameters, both judged unacceptable for operations other than war today. German soldiers possessed little to combat the cold. Their Russian counterparts were more fortunate, receiving padded clothing, ear muffs, gloves and felt boots. Zhukov pointed out, ‘by the middle of November our soldiers were a great deal more comfortable than enemy troops, who wrapped themselves in warm clothes confiscated from local residents.’(4) Oberleutnant Ekkehard Maurer, serving with the German 32nd Infantry Division, declared:
‘I felt terribly angry. We had no gloves, no winter shoes – we had no equipment whatsoever to fight or withstand the cold.’(5)
Inexperience in such sub-Arctic conditions was lethal. The body can lose liquid at an exceptional rate in freezing temperatures. Soldiers bundled themselves up in as many layers of clothing and materials they could find and became dehydrated, not imagining such conditions might exist aside from hot and humid weather. Infantry officer Heinrich Haape ‘had gathered together an assortment of clothing,’ he said, ‘that kept me reasonably warm’. On his feet he wore outsize boots with two pairs of woollen socks wrapped in flannelette. The soles were padded with newspaper. He wore two pairs of ‘long john’ woollen underpants, two warm shirts, a sleeveless pullover, a summer uniform temperate overcoat and, over all this, ‘a special prize’ – a loose leather greatcoat. His hands were protected by an inner layer of woollen gloves, with leather gloves on the outside, and he wore two woollen caps. String was tied around his wrists to prevent the wind blowing up his sleeves. Any violent movement by the non-acclimatised German soldiers resulted in a bath of perspiration. Liquid was further lost breathing in cold air which, on being heated to body temperature inside the lungs, absorbs large amounts of moisture which is then expelled as body fluids. Soldiers ate snow because there was rarely time or opportunity to boil it: 17 times the volume of snow is required to produce an equivalent volume of water. Body ‘cores’ became chilled taking in snow, which often initiated diarrhoea.
Dysentery was an Ostfront affliction caused by poor food, unhygienic conditions and lice bites, and was a death sentence in certain conditions. Leutnant Heinrich Haape, a medical officer intent on keeping his men in the line, recognised ‘these poor fellows’ who, despite being badly weakened, attempted to keep up with their comrades as best they could. ‘If they exposed themselves more than three or four times a day to the demands of nature,’ he said, ‘they lost more body warmth than they could afford to lose.’ Soiled clothing might cause frostbite and death. A crude remedy was instituted:
‘Without regard for the niceties, therefore, we cut a slit 10–15cm long in the seats of their trousers and underpants so that they could relieve themselves without removing their garments. Stretcher bearers or their own comrades then tied up the slit for them with a string or thin wire until the operation had to be repeated. All the men had lost weight so the trousers were roomy enough to permit this solution.’(6)
All these afflictions impaired fitness. Considerable energy was burned simply struggling through deep snow, burdened with heavy weights. An inadequately protected and exhausted man might freeze to death in his sleep. Unfit soldiers were more susceptible to cold injuries and frostbite. The latter occurs when blood supply to chilled areas of the body diminishes. Dehydration and the adrenaline surges that frightened soldiers experience in combat inhibit blood flow. All these conditions applied to the inadequately equipped German soldiers advancing on Moscow. ‘People seemed to go grey overnight,’ commented infantry soldier Harald Henry. ‘Our best strength was murdered here on these snow fields,’ he wrote in front of Moscow at the beginning of December.(7)
If the chilling process is brief, only minor damage occurs to flesh tissue, sometimes termed ‘frost-nip’. Complete constriction leads to a discolouring of flesh and, if not treated, tissue damage resulting in gangrene. This might, at worst case, necessitate amputation. A steady trickle of such casualties began to occur. The 3rd Battery of Artillery Regiment 98 recorded, ‘Ten men were passed on to the field hospital’ on 8 December, ‘including four men with second-degree frostbite’.(8) It was infinitely worse for the infantry forward. Walter Neustifter, a machine gunner, claimed ‘most soldiers froze to death in temperatures under −30°C; they were not shot, simply frozen’. Icicles, he graphically described, would form around nasal passages, and ‘fingers!’ (he demonstrated with a sharp tap of the hand) ‘would drop off! Real shitty!’(9)
Arctic temperatures brought planned operations to a frozen impasse. The 6th Panzer Division war diary recorded a temperature drop of −32°C on 4 December and −25°C to −32°C the following day, dropping to −35°C at night. Cold injury casualty figures were passed by radio, not in writing, to corps headquarters, so as not to alarm the soldiers unnecessarily about the true situation. Infantry companies down to 30 men needed three reliefs of sentry per hour to cope with the biting cold. Five soldiers standing guard meant ‘half of the company was on duty while the other half got some rest’. On 5 December the operations officer reasoned:
‘As a consequence, combat effectiveness, even security, was practically impossible to achieve. Twenty cases of frostbite were appearing in the battalions on average each day. The care of weapons and their maintenance for readiness is a matter of considerable urgency but difficult to accomplish. At times about two-thirds of the artillery guns are unable to fire because their barrel brakes and recoil mechanisms are frozen up. Feverish work is required to free them. Both infantry regiments are organised and maintaining their fighting strength… but in both regiments the available companies cannot be maintained at acceptable strengths.’(10)
Other complications were caused by the intense cold. Shock from wounds developed more quickly and was more lethal; cases of snow blindness increased in incidence. Carbon monoxide poisoning and eye irritations resulted from constant confinement in lice-ridden, ill-ventilated and overcrowded smoky hut and bunker conditions. Compressed living space in unhygienic conditions, coupled with winter darkness and the depressing attrition rate of dead and wounded, frayed nerves and shortened tempers. The cumulative impact this had on fighting power is difficult to quantify. Morale in general was maintained, but not easily. Opinions varied in relation to the proximity of the front. Panzer soldier Götz Hrt-Reger reflected with hindsight:
‘In my opinion I believe the advance would have been a lot quicker with more material. Given fresh divisions and in sufficient numbers we could have reached Moscow before winter. Because of this we had delays. The troops were – let’s say – overtired with the effort. There were heavy losses but, despite that, morale was “tip-top” – first class. Nobody wanted to [carry on the advance], that was another story, but you can’t say the troops had no morale. In my opinion it was good, up to the zenith of the high point – otherwise it could not have lasted so long.’(11)
This high point was reached at the beginning of December. There were alternative opinions. Artillery soldier Josef Deck argued, ‘our morale was actually in a catastrophic state, because constant combat with its incessant changes of accommodation grated on the nerves.’ Infantryman Harald Henry held a similar view, declaring, ‘A tremendously deep hatred, a resounding “No” collected in our breasts – Ach, it was so awful!’ In order to counter collective dismay, officers and NCOs had to exercise their leadership qualities more often. In practical terms this meant more exposure to the enemy, and their casualties rose in order to maintain the momentum of the advance. Oberleutnant Ekkehard Maurer, fighting in the Leningrad area, described the inertia that had to be overcome.
‘We could hardly take care of our own wounded, not to mention dealing with the enemy. We were afraid to become wounded and become the prey of the very bad winter climate, as much as the prey of the enemy. We had seen
enough of the enemy to know that in cases like that prisoners were hardly ever taken, so a good many people, when it came to a decisive moment, opted not to stick his head out as far as he might have done otherwise.’(12)
Casualty reports reflected this drain on the junior leadership. The 6th Company of the IInd Battalion Schützen Regiment 114 reported being led by its sole surviving officer, an artillery observer, on 2 December. That day, nine men died and three were officers, as also one of 10 wounded. Total battalion losses had been 11 dead and 24 wounded.
While 7th Panzer Division clung to its tenuous bridgehead across the Moscow–Volga canal, on its right the 6th Panzer Division pushed on ahead. Gefreiter vom Bruch, advancing with Schützen Regiment 4, watched the explosions of bombs dropped from high-altitude Soviet bombers on the hilly wooded areas on the German side of the canal in bright freezing sunlight. As they entered the village of Goncharowo, he asked a little girl standing amid the ruins how far it was to the canal, Panzergruppe 3’s objective. ‘11km to the canal and 12 to Yakhroma,’ she said. ‘And Moscow?’ enquired the corporal. ‘60km,’ was the reply.(13) Fighting began again in earnest as they penetrated the village of Bornissowo. Arctic temperatures were producing weapon malfunctions, which impeded operations with depressing regularity. Metal becomes brittle with intense cold and this, combined with the rapid increases of temperature by working parts during firing, caused breakages. Machine guns, in particular, needed substantially more spare parts. Belt-fed weapons had their feed pans regularly snarled up with snow, or fired intermittently due to the difficulty of controlling the gas flow to produce rapid rates of fire. Repeated reference is made in the 6th Panzer Infantry Regiment war diaries to heavy casualties caused by machine guns seizing up. Weapon stoppages and casualties among junior leaders attempting to remedy them were endemic across the front. Karl Rupp, commanding a PzKpfwII with Panzergruppe 4, recalled that, apart from the distraction of constantly turning over his tank engine to keep it working:
War Without Garlands: Operation Barbarossa 1941-1942 Page 52