“Then we can expect deliveries in late September,” said Hitler. “This is wonderful, just what I had hoped, and well before the winter sets in. Do you foresee any problems?”
“Nothing is ever certain in war, as we must all know,” Manstein cautioned. “That is what makes it all so interesting. One thing I do know is that we can expect they will fight hard to prevent us from doing all of this, and they will definitely plan a counterattack.”
“Where?” Hitler’s eyes played over the map.
“The most likely spot would be here, along the line of the Don. That is undoubtedly why they are trying to establish bridgeheads there, and so our infantry must operate to reduce those positions and push the enemy north of the river at the earliest opportunity.”
“48th Panzer Korps is in reserve,” said Halder. “It can be used to break any stubborn resistance south of the river, and then stand as a fire brigade for the winter, for yes, they will certainly attack there when the snows come again.”
“But we will stop them,” Hitler smiled. “We will stop them just as we stopped their last offensive. Gentlemen, carry out this plan to the letter. Once we take Volgograd and Rostov, then Sergei Kirov is finished. Now then—when can we expect to destroy what remains of his forces in the Kirov Pocket?”
“That should still be considered a secondary objective,” said Halder. “Resistance is collapsing there, but it will take some weeks to mop everything up. It’s work for the infantry, as we are repositioning our mobile forces for further operations to the east. We already have Orel back, and we will shortly begin the offensive to retake Tula in the north, then Kursk in the center, with our final objectives being Lipetsk and Voronezh. After that, they will have very little left—no major industrial centers worth mentioning—except Leningrad.”
Halder glanced at Manstein, for the two men had clashed the previous year when Manstein was elevated to overall commander of Army Group South, and so many troops were taken from Group Nord. Leningrad still sat well behind the front lines in the north, the one major Russian city that had been spared the ravages of war.”
“That will be work for next year,” said Hitler, “assuming they survive our summer offensives. Admiral Raeder just smashed a big convoy bound for Murmansk, and with our strong base at Nordstern operational, he promises me he will stop them all. So the Soviets will soon feel us choking the breath out of them, and I would be most surprised if they do not collapse before year’s end. You see? All that doom and gloom last winter is forgotten now. Even Guderian is in better spirits, and I have him supervising all the upgrades for the Panzer Divisions. Given that the situation is favorable, he has asked me to withdraw certain divisions to France for refitting. Do you object?”
“How many divisions?” asked Halder warily.
“Three, perhaps four at the most. The British and Americans show no sign of bothering us in France any time soon, but they will get around to it one day. In that instance, we should have a mobile reserve in the West.”
“Agreed,” said Halder. “With your permission, I will meet with Guderian to discuss this further, and we will select the most suitable divisions.”
“Well enough.” Hitler was in such a good mood that he did not stick his thumb in the pie, much to Halder’s relief. It was Manstein, he knew, though he hated to admit that. Manstein’s cool presence, his unshakable morale, his keen eye for strategy, had an equally calming effect on Hitler. At the height of the crisis the previous December, it had been Manstein, arriving on a cold windy night, who had intervened in a badly deteriorating OKW staff meeting with the Führer, and within an hour, he had settled everyone down, established a plan for holding operations, and laid out how the spring counterattack would unhinge all the Soviet gains in due course.
Yes, while I juggle numbers, pour over casualty lists, manage the logistics, Manstein pushes divisions around the map and gets the Führer clucking like a fat hen. Yet one day we will have to address the matter of Leningrad, for that will surely be the last refuge of the enemy if they continue to resist into 1943. This war is far from over. Let us hope our miracle worker delivers on the promises he makes here today. Oil deliveries by late September? I will personally drink a cup from the first arrivals if Manstein manages that.
Of course, Halder would never say that aloud, not to Manstein, and certainly not to Hitler. No, he would simply do what was necessary now, provide the infantry requested if possible, and keep a firm hand on the 48th Panzer Korps.
What about Army Group Center, thought Halder? Manstein promises to deliver Volgograd and all of Volkov’s oil, and he wants the infantry to fight in the cellars and sewers of the city. I will send him 48th Panzer Korps, and the divisions needed to hold the line of the Don, but as for von Seydlitz and the 51st Korps, I will need that for Armeegruppe Center, so that is where it will go. If Manstein actually gets to the city, I will find the infantry for him somewhere else. Hitler will never have to know about it, and will likely forget the names and numbers discussed here in any case.
Something tells me that the one thing we can be sure of in all these plans was Manstein’s statement about the uncertainties of war. Surely the enemy has plans of their own. Might they have recovered enough to act before winter?
We shall see….
* * *
The Germans seemed to be advancing into thin air, meeting only scattered resistance at Millerovo from a Soviet engineer battalion, but otherwise simply sweeping over the steppe country in the vast open spaces between the two great rivers flowing east. The weather was clear and warm, and the troops were in high spirits, with memories of the bitter winter of 1941 behind them. Long columns of vehicles followed the thin tracks of the roads, and many simply rolled off over the open country, as the ground was flat and firm. Elsewhere, Hansen’s 54th Infantry Korps was trudging over the grassy steppes, and slowly advancing on the long winding course of the Don as it flowed east. As they approached, enemy planes were spotted, and some made brief strafing runs to register their protest, though these attacks inflicted few casualties.
Kempf’s 48th Panzer Korps began to flow into Kantirmirovka with two infantry divisions, artillery, flak, engineers and other service troops. The first two Panzer Divisions assigned to this Korps had also arrived, the 11th and 23rd. Halder proposed that the two infantry divisions follow the SS for ready infantry support, but that the panzers should be retained behind the line of infantry that was now screening the Don. There the Soviets continued to move troops into several bridgeheads, the nails that these panzers would soon have to begin hammering down to clear the enemy from the southern bank of the river.
Kempf moved forward to observe the enemy positions, and seeing signs of earthworks and entrenchment, he immediately ordered both his heavy divisions forward to begin the attack. He soon found that he was up against far more than a simple bridgehead operation. The Soviets already had most of Cherevichanko’s 9th Army south of the river in a vast bridgehead served by roads and bridges from Verkhne Mamon and Boguchar. He quickly got on the radio to Steiner with the SS Korps.
“Look over your shoulder,” he said. “There is a substantial bridgehead south of the Don at Boguchar, and now Hansen is reposting he’s come up against similar forces further east approaching Veshenskaya and Serafimovich.”
“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” said Steiner. “Our main body has already reached Morozovsk.”
“Just be wary. This could be the makings of a planned counterattack. These are army level formations, not merely a few divisions.”
That was an understatement, for just east of Kempf’s operation, General Lukin had his 58th Army in position south of the Don to cover the crossings at Kasanskaya. Further east, the bulk of the 2nd Siberian Shock Army under Vlasov, the Heroes of Moscow, had also crossed between Veshenskaya and Zomovsky, and there was a similar operation underway at the big bend in the Don near Serafimovich involving Yeremenko’s 4th Shock Army. If any of these formations had been correctly identified, the Germans would have certai
nly realized that something big was in the offing. As it was, it was high summer in the Don Basin, and General Felix Martin Julius Steiner was already far off to the south, his mind fixed on the approach up the shallow river valley of the Chir.
A veteran of the first war, Steiner had gained the favor of Himmler and helped build the SS Panzer Korps to the formidable force it had become. After a command with the 5th Wiking Division, he was selected to lead the entire Korps. Born in Prussia, Steiner had a broad face with deep set eyes under heavy brows, and a visible scar on his forehead where a bayonet had wounded him in the first war. He already had his Knight’s Cross of the Iron Cross in Gold, and now he wanted those Oak Leaves and Swords.
His lead division, the SS Wiking, had already encountered a pair of small rifle divisions forming the 20th Rifle Corps at the hamlet of Oblivskaya on the Chir. These troops appeared to have been posted only as a delaying force, for they withdrew when pressed, and fell back toward Surovinko on the main road and rail line to Kalach. That was the town he really wanted, the only suitable crossing point on the Don west of Volgograd. He expected it to be hotly contested, but he was fully prepared to mass his entire Korps here, and bull his way through, one way or another.
It was a strange echo of the battle that was fought in Fedorov’s history, only most of the units involved were different. The strategic situation, however, would not change. Both Halder and Manstein had clearly seen the vulnerability of that long left flank along the Don. A successful offensive there could effectively drive south to Morozovsk, cutting the lines of communication to any forces that had gone on to fight for Volgograd. This time, Freidrich Paulus was nowhere to be found here, and the 6th Army was instead replaced by all these arriving infantry formations sent to screen that dangerous flank. They would be a tougher defense against any Soviet counterattack—much tougher than the Rumanian and Hungarian troops that had been placed there in the old history. That said, they would not now have the strength to reduce these strong Russian bridgeheads as Manstein had wanted—not with only the two Panzer Divisions in Kempf’s 48th Panzer Korps.
Steiner had other business, and while the Wiking Division pushed out the last of the 20th Rifle Corps at Oblivskaya, he sent his 2nd SS Reich Division on a wide sweeping maneuver south of the main road. That took them through State Farm 79, and on the high ground due east, they found the 180th Rifle Division dug in deep. The first battle on the River Chir was now well underway, for Steiner ordered all of the Das Reich Division to take those heights and clear the way forward. Division commander Paul Hausser notified him he would attack at once, but that he had reconnoitered the ground east of the hill and found it unsuitable for armor.
“There’s no decent ground for a crossing operation there. The river banks are too soft and marshy. I will kill this division, but you had better look north of the road for a better route to Kalach.”
Steiner wasted little time in doing that. In addition to the four SS divisions under his command, he also had a pair of aces in hand, the elite Brandenburg and Grossdeutschland divisions. The Brandenburgers moved north of the rail line to Surovinko, intending to go for Kalach. To their great surprise, the enemy had not covered the ground there with any appreciable defense. Steiner was soon notified that they had opened the route, and decided to send up Grossdeutschland.
“Be quick about it and we can get over that damn river in two days,” he said to General Hornlein, but the General did him one better. He raced on up the road, eventually swinging north and around the Brandenburgers where they deployed to clear another two Rifle Divisions screening Kalach. At a little after 15:00 on the 8th of July, his fast moving recon battalion reached the river, finding no defense. With boats in hand, and equipment available to build small pontoon rafts for their armored cars, they decided to cross.
And that they did.
It was the opening act in a very old and well known play, only this time it would have a cast of all new actors, and a very different finale.
Chapter 5
Georgie Zhukov had worked a miracle the previous winter, but now he was trying to pull the army together again, and build up reserves to face the onslaught that was now underway.
“They will drive on the Volga this summer,” he declared in a meeting with Sergei Kirov and Intelligence Chief Berzin. Kirov had finally re-established his government in Leningrad, old Saint Petersburg, the city he had been warned to avoid by Fedorov. As the old national Capitol under the Czars, it seemed a suitable place, the last real major city with resources, population and industrial capacity, still safe from war and well behind the front.
“That is no mystery,” said Kirov. “They want Volgograd, where they hope to shake hands with Ivan Volkov’s troops all along the lower Don. It’s a pity we could not hold our lines there.”
“That could not be helped,” said Zhukov. “Given your refusal to abandon the Caucasus and Kuban line, I had no choice but to evacuate the region south of the Don. There are only a few places an army can cross that river there, and so I can hold that line with just a few divisions. It would have taken three armies to hold it further south.”
“Well enough,” said Kirov, “but what will become of our troops in the Caucasus.”
“You tell me,” said Zhukov flippantly. “If I had my way, they would be on the line far to the north. As it stands, they will soon be encircled and cut off permanently, another nice fat Kirov pocket for the Germans to chew on.
Sergei Kirov flashed him a dark and angry glance. “We held off the Germans there for six months!” he said sharply. “We hold them still.”
“But not for very much longer,” said Zhukov. “Thankfully, I got the 24th Siberian out and sent it back through Orel. All the rest will be lost. It is only a matter of time now.”
“Yet we still have all the Donets Basin,” said Kirov. “We still have Rostov, the Kuban, all the Taman Peninsula. Hell, we still hold out at Sevastopol, and we will keep that city for months.”
“Only because the Germans pulled their 11th Army out and replaced the investing troops with Rumanians.” Zhukov folded his arms on his broad chest, a man with a reputation for speaking his mind, and one who was never cowed by political higher ups throughout the war. In his mind, he was the man who had saved Russia the previous year. He had planned and executed the counterattack, stopped the Germans, even if he could not keep them out of Moscow. Now he was patching the shattered fronts back together again, and trying to rebuild the army to a point where further offensives might be possible.
“That doesn’t matter,” said Kirov. “What matters is that we hold Sevastopol—we have heroes to speak of there, as we had heroes in Moscow.”
“Ah,” said Zhukov, “Yes, the Siberians. I put them to good use there, but now they must go elsewhere. The Germans seem to have no interest in trying to clear the northern segment of the city we still hold, and frankly, I have no interest in trying to take what they hold—all we would get back is a burned and blackened ruin.”
“We have that traitor Beria to thank for that,” said Kirov bitterly.
“Just the same,” said Zhukov. “We don’t want Moscow any more than they do. What they want now is Volgograd, a linkup with Volkov, and then they will most likely push into the central heartland—Kursk, Lipetsk, Voronezh. If they take all those cities, then they will likely consolidate to receive our winter offensive—assuming I have the troops to launch another such attack, and next year, they come for us here—Leningrad.”
“Then we must foil their plans.” Kirov was adamant. “We will hold our ground wherever they face us.”
“So this is your strategy? Simply hold in place? We have the Kirov Pocket, and then soon we will have the Volga Pocket, Donets Pocket, Kuban Pocket and so on.”
“You may see no purpose in my insistence that we hold ground. Yes, we will lose the Kirov Pocket this year, but the struggle there gave us something that was in very short supply last year—hope. Moscow was burning, but the defenders of my city held out. In just the s
ame way, we will fight them tooth and nail in Volgograd if they get there, and we will do the same in Rostov.”
“That may come sooner than you think,” said Zhukov. “They have broken through with a single Panzer Division on the northern segment of our defensive front screening the Donets Basin. We still hold Voroshilovgrad, but frankly, that whole northern front is mainly guarded by the Don itself. I have virtually nothing to send there. A few divisions got through by rail before the SS reached Oblivskaya and Morozovsk. The rest will become another of your heroic pockets, the largest ever seen in the world—all the Donets Basin, along with the Kuban and Taman regions are now completely cut off. I sent Rokossovsky there after his defense in front of Moscow, and there he shall likely remain for the duration of his war. Watch what happens at the Kirov Pocket over the next week or two. That is a preview of what will happen to all the rest.”
“Yes, Kirov may fall, but it will take the Germans half a year to take the other terrain we still hold on the Donets Basin and Caucasus. Its size alone is daunting, and so I will hold it as long as humanly possible. I spoke to Rokossovsky this morning. He is in Voroshilovgrad, fighting to stop the Germans from crossing the Don there.”
“Good for him. The 1st SS Division has already crossed further east at Donetysk.”
Kirov looked at Berzin, and the bristly haired Chief simply nodded, confirming the report.
“The SS have turned south?”
“Not entirely,” said Zhukov. “I think they merely want a bridgehead there. That single division was detached to secure that crossing point. All the rest are after Volgograd.”
“They crossed the Don north of Kalach this morning,” said Berzin.
“Only a single battalion,” said Zhukov. “Unfortunately, they will have a very brief stay. I moved the 8th and 19th Tank Corps down to Martinovka yesterday. They are now in a perfect position to counterattack.”
“Good,” said Kirov. “Drive those bastards into the river. Let them know we mean business here. They will not get Volgograd without a fight. Are we still on track with our planned counteroffensive?”
Tigers East (Kirov Series Book 25) Page 4