Stormtide Rising

Chapter 31

In Orenburg, Ivan Volkov was watching the progress of Operation Phoenix very closely. He had not been informed by the Germans about it, and the dramatic advances achieved by Guderian were quite startling in February. At the same time, the Germans were massing troops just south of Rostov for Operation Edelweiss. He knew it was coming, and welcomed it in many respects, but it also made him somewhat edgy.

Shaking hands with the Germans on the Volga was one thing, he thought. There was no oil there, but now these new campaigns seem entirely aimed at the oil rich centers of the Middle East… and my holdings in the Caucasus.

He also could not fail to notice the changes that had recently been introduced on the battlefield, his astute mind keenly aware of the subtle message they were sending. Six months earlier, when German troops had linked up with his forces and the battle for Volgograd was being fought, he had been very pleased with the outcomes. The Germans drove back the stubborn Soviet defenders, and both sides cooperated, particularly north of the city at the Rynok Bridge, where he committed one of his Guards Divisions to make the assault.

As German troops concentrated on the city fight, he gladly offered to send elements of his 2nd Kazakh Army, and 5th Orenburg Army to man quiet sectors of the line. His new ‘Ally’ was doing what his own armies had failed to accomplish over decades of bitterly contested fighting with Sergei Kirov’s Army of the Volga. As that river extended north, it also stood as the demarcation line between the Orenburg Federation, and Soviet Russia.

As circumstances came about, the Commander of Armeegruppe Sud, Eric Manstein, had little use for the city of Volgograd itself. He saw it as a liability, extending his troops into a difficult city fight that his panzers were ill suited for. General Zhukov helped that thinking along when he launched his Operations Uranus and Saturn against Manstein’s lines of communications to Volgograd, prompting him to withdraw Steiner’s elite SS Korps to parry those attacks. After that, the Germans committed twelve infantry divisions to slowly reduce the Soviet defenses in the city, and then quietly turned the whole affair over to Volkov. Those divisions were needed elsewhere, and one entire Army, the 11th under Hansen, was instead sent south into the Kuban to join 17th Army for Operation Edelweiss.

Volkov was elated to gain complete control of the Volgograd sector, his forces now taking over all the ground between the Volga and Don. Then came the subtle message, when German troops that had been covering the west bank of the Don were pulled back to the Chir, which forced the local Orenburg Army Commander to quickly shift assets to cover the Don bridges. What was Hitler doing, or was this another expedient ordered by Manstein?

Volkov soon learned that it had been a direct order from Hitler himself, and noted how shortly thereafter, the Germans moved Italian troops all along the line of the Don, many soon crossing to the south bank to cover the rail line between Salsk and Kotelnikovo. That route was used by Hansen’s 11th Army on its march to the Kuban, so Volkov thought little of it… Until the Italians showed up. He quickly summoned the German Ambassador, formally requesting a meeting with the German Foreign Minister, Joachim von Ribbentrop. He had engineered the tense German-Soviet Pact in 1939 and 40, before Operation Barbarossa made an end of that, and he was also the man who had negotiated Orenburg’s Pact with the Reich.

“Mister Foreign Minister,” said Volkov. “It has been a long time since we met face to face, and perhaps that is best between two parties with similar minds and aims. The need to discuss matters is always a sly indication of hidden discord, so forgive me if I come right to the point. I wonder if you can explain the recent troop movements made by your southern group of forces along the Don? I make specific note of the presence of Italian troops south of that river, in territory liberated by the forces of Orenburg.”

“General Secretary, having made inquiries before my arrival here, it would seem that this is nothing more than a screening force for the lines of communication used by our 11th Army. As you must know, those troops deployed across the Manych River at Proteletarsk and established their headquarters in Salsk, relieving your 1st Kazakh Army of the burden of further deployment and combat against Soviet troops in the Kuban.”

“Well enough,” said Volkov. “Yet my army was more than willing to continue its campaign in the Kuban—until your 11th Army Commander made a specific request that our troops withdraw.”

“I was informed that our operational styles being so different in a campaign of this nature, the 11th Army request was merely meant to ensure maximum efficiency in the campaign ahead.”

“You are suggesting our troops have become a nuisance—a hindrance to your own operations?”

“That is put in terms a little more abrasive than I would have devised,” said Ribbentrop.

“Ah, yes,” said Volkov. “All Ambassadors and Foreign Ministers are gifted at birth with honeyed tongues. I am just a little more forthright. I have subsequently learned that the Yegorluk River has now become a sort of demarcation line for this Kuban operation, with your forces operating west of that river, and ours to the east.”

“Correct,” said Ribbentrop. “I was told the river formed a convenient line. In such operations, all Armies and Korps level formations routinely adjudicate such operational boundaries. There is nothing more to it.”

“I see… Mister Ribbentrop, perhaps we should now discuss the division of territory within the Kuban Region at the conclusion of this campaign. Considering our long investment of men and material in the Caucasus, it would seem appropriate that the forces of Orenburg would assume control of the Kuban District after this campaign, with the line of the Don River again forming a convenient demarcation boundary. Are you in agreement with this proposal?”

At that, Ribbentrop hesitated briefly, something that Volkov did not fail to perceive. His request was clearly a matter that had made the Foreign Minister somewhat uncomfortable. “Mister General Secretary,” he began. “You may also be aware of a recent Führer Directive stating that all territories liberated by German forces would henceforward be considered German occupied zones.”

“Are you telling me that Germany now wishes to assume control of the Kuban District indefinitely? I would have thought this matter would have followed the template set down in the Volgograd campaign. While Orenburg welcomed and appreciated German military cooperation and support, we were equally gratified to see that Germany acknowledged our longstanding claim upon that city and district, and that also applies to the Kuban. My forces had operational control of that district until 1940, when the Soviets launched their offensive into the Caucasus, which took them deep into our territory—our territory, Mister Foreign Minister. We stopped them, but have not yet mustered sufficient strength there to roll them back. Then, when our forces linked up, we again welcomed German military support as before. But I am afraid I must insist that I expect all German forces to withdraw from the Kuban at the conclusion of these operations, and control of that district to return to our jurisdiction.”

“Is this a formal request?” asked Ribbentrop.

“It is.”

“Then I will take it to Berlin for consideration.”

“Please do so.”

Ribbentrop nodded. “Yet considering the contradiction with the Führer’s recent directive, I cannot promise anything to you here and now regarding an agreement.”

“You should not have to. The territorial rights concerning this district are clear, and there is a long historical precedent. The Kuban belongs to the Orenburg Federation. Sergei Kirov occupied it illegally with his surprise offensive, and now we will be most glad to see his brigands rounded up and sent to the prison camps we are preparing out on the Kalmyk Steppe. That will be something else your military will not have to worry about, and then you will have all those divisions available for deployment elsewhere. We are also prepared to cede control of Rostov to your forces, it being largely north of the Don. I’m sure the Führer will be eager to make good use of those 24 divisions for his upcoming offensive in the north.”

“Military deployments are not my responsibility,” said Ribbentrop. “I suppose all this will be a matter for the Führer to decide. If he wishes to waive control of the Kuban in this instance, so be it, and I will inform you directly.”

“And if he does not wish to issue such a waiver?” Volkov gave Ribbentrop a hard look.

“Then I would ask you to consider your overall interests in this war, and the value of the support you now have where German arms are busy settling matters that have been unresolved by your own forces for the last twenty years….”

The veiled insult behind Ribbentrop’s words was clearly heard, though Volkov maintained a cold, emotionless front. “I remind you, Mister Foreign Minister, that German troops are about their business at the invitation of this government. Concerning the Kuban, we are not inclined to compromise. It has been, and will remain, the sovereign territory of Orenburg. I also note that we recently offered you military support, at some cost, by sending troops all the way from Baku through Persia to assist with the campaign in Iraq. Yet there, it seems our troops are also now viewed as a nuisance. I just received a report that German paratroops have occupied Baba Gurgur and Kirkuk. That was also territory that Orenburg was ready to administer. After all, we have long decades of experience in oil well development, and have promised Germany to supply all her war needs in that category once clear shipping lines and lanes can be secured.”

Ribbentrop smiled. “That is, I suppose, the heart of the matter where the Kuban is concerned. Germany is prepared to commit its Todt Organizations to restore the pipeline from Maykop to Rostov, rebuild the rail lines, clear the Black Sea ports, eliminate the Soviet Black Sea Fleet, and open sea lanes to Odessa and other ports. Again, we are most efficient when retaining full control of territories where such operations are undertaken.” Ribbentrop poured out his words like a man quietly pouring a glass of wine for an important guest, but Volkov clearly smelled the poison. If the Germans wished to restore the pipeline from Maykop’s burgeoning wells, they would have to occupy that zone as well, which was now firmly in Volkov’s hands, some 40 kilometers behind the Soviet front to the west.

“Then you are suggesting German occupation of the Kuban would be temporary—until such time as these infrastructure projects are completed?”

“That may be the case, but Berlin would have to confirm.”

“Mister Foreign Secretary…. Let me be clear. That must be the case. We build pipelines and railroads easily enough. As your operation aims solely to benefit Germany, by opening avenues for Orenburg to ship much needed oil and gas to the Reich, such small territorial squabbles should not enter into this picture. Surely you can agree on that.”

“I may, indeed, believe that to be suitable. But I am not Adolf Hitler. I must tell you, with equal clarity, that the Führer is in the habit of seeing his directives carried out to the letter, and his decisions are the final word on such matters, and not subject to negotiation.”

“I see… Well, you may tell the Führer that the General Secretary of the Orenburg Federation also makes decisions and issues directives and orders, and he has just done so concerning the disposition of the Kuban District, which will be returned to the control of Orenburg immediately following the conclusion of hostilities with the Soviet forces currently operating there illegally. Allies should not be outlaws—if they wish to remain Allies.”

Volkov smiled, upping the ante considerably by taking this hard line with Ribbentrop. He waited now to see what the Foreign Minister would say next.

“Mister General Secretary. Would it please you to see all German forces withdraw immediately? In that instance, your own armies would be free to continue prosecuting their unsuccessful campaign against the Soviets in the Kuban. Considering it has been three years since the Soviet incursion, during which time not one drop of oil has arrived from Orenburg, Germany thought to settle the matter. If we are prevented from doing so effectively, it would mean even further delays in your promised oil shipments, which would, I may point out, mean that Orenburg is in default concerning the agreement to supply the Reich. If Allies wish to remain Allies, they might also look to fulfilling their promises and agreements.”

Volkov continued to smile. “I will look forward to discussing this further after you have consulted with Berlin. Thank you for coming all this way. I know you are a very busy man, and the plane to Rostov will be leaving shortly. Good day, Mister Foreign Minister.”

Ribbentrop stood, quietly collecting his briefcase and was soon politely escorted out. He was on that plane an hour later, a 750 mile flight to Rostov, where he would meet directly with Eric Manstein and inform him of what had been discussed before returning to Berlin.

“Under the circumstances,” he would tell Manstein a day later, “it would be wise to set aside additional strong reserves for commitment to the Kuban region if needed there. I do not have to tell you what Berlin’s answer will be. The Führer’s directive already decided the matter when it was first issued. In fact, it was this very question that Hitler was addressing with that directive.”

“I hope you did not tell that to Volkov,” said Manstein.

“Of course not, but that man is not stupid. He raised the stakes with me, implying that the continuance of the alliance itself was on the table if he was not ceded control of the Kuban.”

“That may not be too much of a price to pay for Orenburg’s continued cooperation,” said Manstein. “After all, they are tying down six to eight Soviet Armies, above and beyond those in the Kuban.”

“Volkov may have only wished to see what my reaction would be,” said Ribbentrop, “and I was firm.”

Manstein nodded, his mind already thinking about what more he could sent to the Kuban. Diplomats, he thought. They are always a complication where military matters are concerned. Just when I get a few Panzer divisions set aside as a reserve, they will now all be shunted off to the Caucasus. And I have little doubt that Ivan Volkov is already looking over his troop rosters as well. Once I commit my reserves there, who knows if I will ever get them back?

Manstein was not wrong in that, for that very same day Volkov sent a message to the Commander of his 2nd and 7th Armies, telling him that he was to make reserve formations—particularly mechanized and armored units, available for transfer to the Kuban at a moment’s notice. His last question to Ribbentrop had been a deliberate test, and when he got back tit for tat instead of a polite deferral of the matter to Berlin, he realized that Ribbentrop already knew what Hitler’s response was going to be concerning the Kuban. The Germans had no plans to withdraw, and now the deployment of those paratroop units to Baba Gurgur was seen in an all new light.

The Führer is getting thirsty for oil, he thought, and here I am facing a war with three enemies! Thus far I’ve managed to delay shipments as a lure to get the Germans to clear away the Soviet armies opposing me on the south front. Yet it seems I will just be replacing one uninvited guest with another after the Kuban campaign. That same day he summoned his Ambassador to Siberia. The man did not have to travel far, for he had already been expelled by the Siberians and he was right there in Orenburg.

“Make a request for a formal meeting with the Siberians,” he said. “A secret request—be very discreet. I will have a draft proposal in your hands by tomorrow.”

So the Germans want Baba Gurgur, he thought. And now I think they want Maykop as well. If I let them into the Kuban, who knows how far they will go? If push comes to shove there, they could go all the way to Baku. My forces would be no match for them. We could hold for six months, but if they have the means to reinforce this Operation Edelweiss, we would certainly lose Baku. That was where the historical Operation Edelweiss wanted to go, and for me, that foresight is most informative. Forewarned is forearmed. I must find the troops to muster a new army for the Caucasus, but at the moment, all my regular forces are tied down along the Volga—and so are many armies deployed there by Sergei Kirov.

My, what a change would be worked if he had all those armies free to deploy elsewhere—if I had all those armies free myself. Then I think I could wipe that quiet grin off Ribbentrop’s face, for I would have the means to concentrate my forces on any one point and prevail. Then it would be the Germans who go scraping for troops to try and hold the line. Could I really mend fences with Sergei Kirov—after all these decades of opposition, and all the bitterness and blood spilled in this long civil war? And what about Vladimir Karpov and his damn Free Siberian State? Trying to approach the Soviets now might not yield results. They would demand that I immediately rescind my pact with Hitler and commit all my forces against the Germans. The situation has clearly not come to that yet.

But the Siberians…. I need tanks, artillery, planes, and there is only so much I can do with the factories of Orenburg. Even with my generous assistance, our armor development program has a long way to go. I just don’t have the industrial capacity of the Soviets. But Sergei Kirov moved all his factories to Siberia. He’s all nice and cozy with Karpov—troops for tanks and artillery. That’s been their bread and butter together. Sergei Kirov and I may not be able to bury the hatchet, but I might still reach an accord with the Siberians, and they could give me the weapons I need in exchange for peace with me, and my pledge of support once my armies refit with new equipment. Those negotiations would not be easy, but it is worth exploring them.

One should not ever wish to fight a two front war, he thought. While he saw his current position as a member of the Axis as very advantageous, he also knew the long term history of this war. He had done everything possible to further Germany’s war effort, but he knew that if they prevailed he would have a most dangerous neighbor on his doorstep, and one he could never hope to defeat alone. One day he would need Siberia as a friend, and it would be better if that happened before Soviet Russia was destroyed—better sooner than later.

Enemies become friends when it suits them, and friends can become enemies at the drop of a hat….

Chapter 32

Operation Edelweiss would be swift and violent, not the grinding fight that many on Manstein’s staff had predicted. The Soviet formations had been on their own for many long months, receiving no new munitions or equipment from the motherland. This would make the divisions somewhat brittle, as they would be receiving few manpower replacements, and ammunition was rationed.

On March 1st The German infantry of Fetter-Pico’s 54th Korps took Krasnoye 50 kilometers south of Rostov on the main road to Krasnodar. The 17th Panzer Division was waiting in the second wave to exploit any gains, a time honored German assault tactic. Hansen’s 11th Army was east of this town, and it threw the mountain divisions of its 44th Gibergs Korps against the line. Ott’s 52nd Infantry Korps took Belaya Glina that same day and continued to push for the vital road and rail junction city of Tikhoretsk.

This attack kept the Yegorluk River on its shoulder, which was the demarcation line the Germans had negotiated with the forces of Orenburg. Yet lines on a map are seldom secure, even when they ran along natural barriers like the winding course of a river. It was necessary to post the 3rd Motorized Division there, which had interrupted its conversion to 3rd Panzergrenadier Division to make this deployment.

On March 2, the Germans pushed back the Soviet 12th Army, which had only three rifle divisions and a number of ad hoc brigades. They then invested Port Katon, taking it by that evening as the Soviets reestablished their line 20 kilometers to the south. Yet it was 37th Army in the center that had taken the worst of the German attack. Three of its rifle divisions had been battered, the 146th reduced to 50% its normal establishment. The Army HQ was forced to withdraw south from Pavlovskaya to Beysug, and if those weakened rifle divisions gave way, it would compromise 12th Army’s positions on the coast.

It was therefore decided to abandon the long peninsula jutting west to the port of Yelsk and beyond in the interest of shortening the overall front by taking up new positions on the River Chelbas. That thin water obstacle ran from the heavy coastal lake and marshland region east to Tikhoretsk, and this withdrawal would shorten the defensive front by at least 40 kilometers.

The Chelbas River line held until the 5th of March, when the Germans were able to close up on it and begin hammering at it with their infantry divisions. 37th Army saw its 385th Rifle Division cut off and surrounded, and on its right, the 56th Army was involved in a tough fight for the city of Tikhoretsk, where the 80th Fortress Division was bravely holding off attacks by German mountain troops. 18th Panzer had crossed the Don at Rostov two days earlier, and now it entered the battle for the city, until the Germans had the place completely surrounded. It was captured by nightfall, and the Soviets could feel their defense was slowly being eroded away. They were the lost souls that Sergei Kirov had stubbornly left in place the previous year, but the sand was running thin in the hourglass of fate where Kirov’s Soviet Armies of the Kuban were concerned.

The withdrawals, however, had helped by compressing the front from an original 180 kilometers to about 120, so losses were offset and the actual concentration of units on the defensive front remained about the same. Yet one by one, the front line rifle divisions were wearing out. The 385th was killed in that small pocket where it was trapped. The 146th and 253rd were so disrupted, that they could not respond to Army level commands. 37th Army was, in fact, disintegrating, which left 12th Army on the coast, and 56th Army shouldering its withdrawal on the mighty Kuban River. As they continued to retreat, they would be abandoning the immobile fortress Divisions and gun forts along the major crossing points of that river—defenses that had kept Volkov’s troops at bay for years. The Germans pushed their 44th Korps down to the river north of those fortifications, and Volkov’s forces were on the south bank of the river, though they made no move to try and cross to attack. They were content to watch the Germans reduce the forts.

On the night of March 7th, Headquarters of the 1st Kazakh Army at Elista issued orders to move its artillery brigade forward to Khar Buluk so as to be in range of the front it had established with five rifle divisions east of Zimovinki. At the same time it sent its Turkomen Rifle Division from a reserve position along the Manych River to approach the Yegorluk River demarcation line near Novo Egoriyk where it soon encountered a German motorized battalion watching the river line.

Further southwest along that line, the Timur Rifle Division of 3rd Kazakh Army had advanced from Komunar to Mekleta near that same river, and it again met with another German motorized infantry battalion. Moving in the pre-dawn darkness, shots were fired on both sides until they finally realized that they were supposed ‘Allies’ and calmed down. There were two more incidents that night, where the Samar Rifle Division and the Amir Guards met with German Sturmgeschutz assault gun battalions that had been posted to watch the flank of 11th Army.

Why these orders had been given to probe forward towards the demarcation line remained a mystery, but the encounters did little to improve tensions along the border. German intelligence would discover that troops in Orenburg were marshaling at the rail yards, and Abwehr spies would soon learn the destination of those trains.

They were moving south, over the wide dark empty steppes of Kazakhstan to the Volgograd District. On the morning of the 8th of March, the 3rd Mech division of Orenburg regulars boarded trains in Astrakhan, along with a brigade of tanks. They took the new rail line that had been built through Elista, and moved all day and night on to Voroshilovsk, called Stavropol by the men from Orenburg. These troop movements were observed by German fighters up on recon operations over that sector, and subsequently reported to OKW.

The Soviet lines now extended from the Kuban near the town of Dinskaya up through the larger settlement of Timashevskaya and on towards the coast, there it thinned out considerably. Reserve ‘Divisions’ of the Caspian Militia were sent to help fill gaps, but they were mostly the size of a brigade, and not very reliable. The normal tactic of trading space for time could not apply here much longer, for the Soviet controlled area was being slowly compressed towards the Kuban. It was then decided that that substantial water barrier would do much more than those militias to keep the German storm tide at bay, and orders went out at noon that the line was to be withdrawn to the south bank of the Kuban.

There were only three bridges over that river, at Krasnodar, then 45 kilometers further west near Slavyansk, and at Temryuk near the Black Sea on the Taman Peninsula. 12th Army made for the latter bridge, the remnant of 37th Army for the centermost bridge, and 56th Army fell back into an arc of defense just north of Krasnodar. A thin screen of cavalry deployed as rear guards to cover the general withdrawal, which would take nearly two days to complete.

On the 9th, the German mountain troops of 44th Korps began storming the gum positions and forts from Kropotkin to Labinsk on the Kuban, well east of Krasnodar. “The Kuban” was effectively under German control, and now the battle of the Taman Peninsula would begin, the last stand of Soviet forces in the Caucasus.

All this time, there was no attempt whatsoever on the part of Orenburg forces to attack the Soviet positions, where the line stretched from the Kuban south to the port of Tuapse on the coast of the Black Sea. Instead, all those divisions received orders to remain in place, and continue to improve their defensive positions.

That night, an order was received from Manstein that read simply “Der Mensch.” It was directed to the headquarters of General Walter ‘Papa’ Hörnlein, commander of the elite Grossdeutschland Division. It was a prearranged signal that the division should begin moving to the rail depots near Kharkov, and it would soon be no mystery as to where the powerful unit was going. As if in answer, trains continued to roll from Astrakhan, bringing more mechanized units to Stavropol. From there, some would move south by road towards Maykop, while others remained near that strategic railhead, the tanks and vehicles moving to concealed positions in the heavy woodland to the west of the city.

On March 10th, the infantry of the German 52nd and 54th Korps began to take up positions around the arc of defense north of Krasnodar, harassed all the while by Soviet artillery that had been placed safely south of the city. It would not impede them. This was just another Russian city, one of a hundred that had already been smashed and reduced to rubble, and there were the men who had fought at Volgograd, now experts in the deadly art of street fighting.

Far to the west, cruising in the wine dark sea, Admiral Raeder was leading his heavy Flotilla towards the Kerch Straits, while soldiers of two German infantry division boarded transports at both Maripol and Kerch. Soon the big German battleships began to fire their heavy 15-inch shells at the port town of Taman, just opposite Kerch on those straits. Even as they did so, the last surface units of the Soviet Black Sea Fleet were getting up steam and planning to make their final sortie of the war. The battle was about to begin its final cathartic stage.

On the 11th of March the 336th Infantry Division made a surprise landing on the north shore of the Taman Peninsula, about 10 kilometers west of the mouth of the Kuban River. It was accompanied by a small battalion scale airborne drop staged by KG Kolnbrau south of the bridge over the river. At the same time, while Friedrich De Gross pounded the most likely landing site at Taman, the 198th Infantry Division boarded ships and Siebel Ferries at Kerch, but moved north into the Sea of Azov instead of attempting a direct landing over the Kerch Strait.

The Russians had two very good NKVD divisions in that area, the 19th and 21st, and they converged on the landing site, launching an immediate counterattack against the 336th. It caught the Germans still trying to reform after the landing, driving the outlying battalions back towards the shore. The other division was chasing those German paratroopers, scattering them into the countryside, their submachineguns cutting the stillness in the fields and farms where the landing had occurred.

Relief came when planes off the two German carriers began swarming overhead, the Stukas beginning to bomb the lines of 19th NKVD to give the German troops some much needed close air support. With the 198th Division landing further east, the two German divisions were able to organize a coordinated counterattack by mid-day. Then word came to Raeder of the approach of a flotilla of Russian surface ships out of Novorossiysk. His operation had finally flushed out his real quarry, the Black Sea Fleet.

The Soviet flotilla was composed of heavy cruisers Molotov and Voroshilov, both fast Kirov Class cruisers at 36 knots, and with three triple 7.1 inch turrets. They were accompanied by two older light cruisers, the Krasny Krym (Red Crimea) and Krasny Kavkaz (Red Caucasus), slower at 29 knots and with fifteen 5.1-inch guns. Destroyer leader Kharkov, a speedy 40 knot ship with five 5.1-inch guns and eight 533mm torpedoes was in the van leading destroyers Bodry (Brisk), Boiky (Bold), and Soobrazitel’ny (Shrewd) This fleet had no chance against Raeder’s force, but it had bravely sortied to try an interdict the Kerch Strait, unaware that the Germans had chosen not to attempt a landing there.

The flotilla was spotted by German Zeppelins just after it worked up steam, and though two glide bomb attacks were made, the ships were simply too fast and maneuverable and both were clean misses. But Raeder had been forewarned, and now Hans Rudel and his cohorts off the carriers went out hunting again. The German ace, who achieved his fame in the real war with his incredible precision bombing of Russian tanks, found even these speedy ships easy prey. Rudel dove on the Molotov, the Jericho trumpets, his ‘sirens of death,’ wailing in his wake. He again scored an immediate hit to open hostilities. His 250kg Bomb penetrated the aft deck of the cruiser, destroying part of the steam plant and damaging the propulsion shaft. Molotov broke off to port, making a wide circle and wallowing at only 12 knots, which made her an easy target for the rest of the German squadron. She would take one more hit, and be raked by shrapnel from a near miss.

Out to challenge the enemy fleet, the three fast French destroyers, now renamed Hildr, Sigrun, and Mist, were every bit as fleet footed as the Soviet DDs. They were the forward screen for Raeder, accompanied by three more German built destroyers, all SPK Beowulf class ships, Odin, Agir and Thor. But by the time they approached the enemy flotilla, they saw three long columns of black smoke marking hits scored by Stukas off the Prinz Heinrich. Krasny Krym and Krasny Kavkaz were also hit and burning when the two groups of destroyers met in a swirling naval duel that lasted twenty minutes. Both sides surged in, guns firing, and fans of torpedoes scored the sea in all directions.

DD Hildr ran afoul of four of those lances, evading all but the last as it sped off on a high speed turn. That hit would be enough to gut that ship, and the Russian sailors cheered to have their first kill in the battle. All the while, the 5.1-inch guns cracked away, with hits on both sides adding fire and smoke to the chaos of that battle. Of the Soviet cruisers, only Voroshilov managed to break away from that action, intent on reaching the Kerch Strait. But fifteen minutes later, the dark silhouettes of the three German capital ships loomed ominously on the horizon, and five minutes later those steely shadows erupted with the bright flame of heavy naval gunfire.

The sea began to erupt all around the brave cruiser, her Captain finally realizing that his mission was doomed to fail. Thinking to try and save his ship and crew, he ordered a quick turn to run for the coast, but the Bismarck would lay down a perfect pattern from the two forward turrets, and one of those 15-inch shells would strike the Russian cruiser dead amidships.

A terrific explosion resulted, as the shell had penetrated to magazine #3. The Captain had hoped to run down the coast, but now, his ship burning, and shipping water from several breaches below the waterline, he aimed his bow right for the shore. Ten minutes later the ship scudded onto the rocky coast, wallowed to one side, and men began leaping from the gunwales. It would later be found by German Stukas and hit two more times, but Bismarck and Kapitan Lindemann would claim that kill.

Closer in towards the big German ships, the six Italian vessels had been held in reserve. When one spotted a torpedo wake, the fast light cruisers, Regolo, Mario and Silla began a frenetic hunt for enemy submarines. Destroyers Maestrale, Alpino and Ascari were rushing about, dropping anti-submarine mines, but the ships ended up mostly churning up seawater. Nothing more was seen of enemy subs, for of the 41 that were still in the Soviet order of battle, only twenty were serviceable, and fueled for possible action. Twelve others had been caught in the harbor at Novorossiysk days ago, and hit by German bombs. So most of the serviceable boats had been moved south to Tuapse.

They had been prowling off the Georgian coast, some scoring hits on supply ships moving ammunition and food stores from Orenburg controlled ports of Batumi and Sukhumi on up to Soche near the front lines just beyond Tuapse. Of these twenty boats, three were prowling south of the Kerch Strait, and it was one of these that took a pot shot at the Kaiser Wilhelm, which easily avoided that torpedo. Four others were screening Novorossiysk, six were at Tuapse, and four more were off the Georgian coast.

Two hours after the fracas started, the Russians would see all their cruisers sunk, and of those four destroyers, only destroyer leaderKharkov would escape and run south for the safety of the harbor. The last sortie of the Soviet Black Sea Fleet was a disheartening disaster, and Admiral Raeder would soon report that he had destroyed it as an effective naval threat. His destroyers and U-Boats would now begin hunting down the Russian subs, the Germans hovering off Tuapse like hungry sharks to look for Russian boats. As for his heavy ships, Raeder would take the fleet back to Sevastopol later that day, and then send a message directly to OKW. It read simply: “We are masters of the Black Sea.”

Chapter 33

“An interesting development,” said Tyrenkov as he made ready to deliver his daily intelligence report to Karpov. He was not briefing the Siberian, but his ‘younger’ self, who had settled into his position as acting General Secretary of the Free Siberian State quite nicely in the last year. The doppelganger had taken control of the airship fleet, and all ground force operations as well, and Tyrenkov was amazed at how quickly he worked into the same level of devious skill as his elder self.

He had capably reinforced and held the Ob River line, eventually forcing Volkov’s troops to abandon that offensive and fall back to Omsk. He had supervised the buildout of two more Tunguska Class airships, the Baikal and Siberian. He had conducted a timely and effective operation against the Japanese pushing south beneath Lake Baikal, clearing the rail line north of the old Manchurian border, and securing Chita. Now, as he was busy assigning new divisions to his 4th Army in the west, Tyrenkov came with most unusual news.

“What is it?” Karpov asked nonchalantly, his eyes playing over the troop manifests he had been reviewing.

“We’ve received a request for a high level meeting with the former Ambassador from Orenburg.”

“You mean the man we chased out of Irkutsk a year ago, old Doctorov?”

“One and the same. Yet the message was passed through several dark contacts before it eventually was vetted by my people as being authentic.”

“What does it say?”

“Just that—a meeting is requested with a high level diplomatic contact of the Free Siberian State. Permission is asked to transit Siberian airspace to deliver the Ambassador to a location to be specified by us—assuming that we will agree to such a meeting.”

Karpov looked up, his eyes narrowed beneath the dark wool Ushanka that he always wore. The winter had been particularly severe this year, with bitterly cold temperatures literally freezing most military operations, and persisting through February and now into March.

“There will be no overflight of Siberian territory,” he said. “This request could be nothing more than a ruse for a good reconnaissance mission. However, this does sound somewhat interesting, so set up the meeting near Omsk. That’s right on the old frontier. What do you make of this, Tyrenkov?”

“Most unusual, sir. It could be an attempt at defection, but I find it hard to believe that anyone would try to pull something like that. The message indicated that this was an official request sanctioned by the Government of Orenburg. If it’s legitimate, then it would seem that someone wants to discuss something, and they want it kept very quiet.”

“Might this man be a rogue diplomat? Anything could be written in such a message. How would we know whether or not it was truly sanctioned by Orenburg?”

“I suppose we could find that out in the meeting, or at least get a better assessment than we can by making assumptions here.”

“Agreed,” said Karpov. “So let’s see what this man has to say. You will make the initial contact at a small village east of Omsk. I’ll be listening, of course, but you can ask the questions—and get the answers we need.”

“Very good, sir. I’ll arrange security.”

“Excellent. I’ll be with the 17th Siberian Rifles for just a little more manpower if we need it. That division was scheduled for transfer to the front near Omsk this week.”

That meeting was held on the 1st of March, just as Operation Edelweiss was kicking off into the Kuban, and Tyrenkov arranged it in the cellar of a meat packing house, the most unlikely place he could find. His agents were all wearing white butcher’s aprons and cold storage gloves and hats to blend in, and they were everywhere. The Ambassador’s plane was given clearance to land on Siberian territory, and driven to the facility to be literally “kept on ice” until the following morning. Then, when the worker shift arrived, one among them was Tyrenkov, all dressed out in similar working man’s garb.

“I have had cold receptions in the past,” said Doctorov, an elderly man, short, with thin grey hair and a visible paunch beneath his heavy overcoat. “Yet never have I had one like this!”

“Sit,” said Tyrenkov, gesturing to a small table where two chairs and a tea set were laid out by a samovar. “Surely you did not expect a greeting at one of the palaces. After all, there are no formal diplomatic relations between our two countries, and you were expelled over a year ago.”

“I am well aware of that,” said Doctorov, eyeing that hot samovar of tea. A fire was burning in an old rusty barrel across the room, and he wished the table was sitting closer to those warming flames. His breath was frosty cold, and a chill shook his frame.

“Please,” said Tyrenkov, sitting down at the plain wooden table. “Help yourself. A little civility cannot hurt. But do explain. What is so important that it needed this level of secrecy and security?”

Doctorov poured his tea, his hands still quivering a bit with the cold. “Forgive me,” he said. “I passed a most uncomfortable night. And for a man of my years, I get all too many of those these days. I was told to arrange this meeting by the General Secretary of the Orenburg Federation—yes, by Volkov himself. I bear a document for review and consideration by your government, and assuming any interest evolves from such a review, it will ask for the restoration of diplomatic relations, and reissuance of credentials to me as Ambassador, as things were before our unfortunate disagreements.”

“Disagreements?” said Tyrenkov with a half smile. “Yes, I suppose you could call it that. Omsk has changed hands three times, though it will not do so again after we retake it soon. Casualties on both sides along the River Ob must have amounted to at least seventy thousand. Yes, I would say we have had our disagreements.”

Saying nothing, Doctorov grunted as he reached to open his brief, extracting a plain folder harboring the document he had referenced. “You will note this document is bearing the seal of the office of the General Secretariat of the Federation of Orenburg, and the signature is authentic, of that I can assure you. I witnessed it myself.” He extended it to Tyrenkov, who sat, motionless, arms folded over his butcher’s apron, complete with typical stains to add authenticity. Eventually Doctorov placed the folder on the table.

“I am empowered to discuss the contents of this document, if you so desire, but if you are not inclined to either accept it, or review it here, I was told to wait 48 hours before departing—though I hope you might arrange for quarters that are just a little more comfortable in that interval.”

Tyrenkov leaned back, head inclined, his eyes like blue ice beneath his dark hair. “Now what would a document signed by the General Secretary have to say?” he said. “Is it another threat? Another demand? That is all that has come our way in the last year, though we note that not one of those threats was ever realized, nor did we accede to any demands made of us, as you must certainly know. What makes this one any different?”

“You have it all wrong,” said Doctorov. “No demands are made here, nor do I come here to make threats. Your brief perusal of that document will make this immediately clear.”

Tyrenkov reached slowly and took up the folder. “I should take this and throw it in that barrel fire across the room,” he said coldly. “After that, I should have you dragged upstairs to the butchery and cut into small pieces to feed the pigs. Do not think you have the benefit of any diplomatic cloak here. You, and everyone else who is a part of your Orenburg Federation, are considered enemies of the Free Siberian State.”

“Of course, of course,” said Doctorov. “Yet things change, Mister Tyrenkov. Things change. If my horrid death in the manner you describe would satisfy you, at least let me finish this cup of tea before you sharpen your knives. Within that folder you will find a sincere overture for peace. You may roll it up, place it between the teeth of my severed head, and send it back to Ivan Volkov if you wish, and then our little war will carry on. If, however, you might see the possibility of some positive direction in our relations, then give that document careful consideration.”

“I forgot just how good you are at calling another man’s bluff,” said Tyrenkov, but he had no further questions, nor did he make any further threat concerning the wellbeing of the would be Ambassador. He took the folder and stood up. “A truck will be waiting outside the packing facility. My men will provide you with the appropriate garb, and then you will be taken to a safe house where you may take some rest. After all, we are not barbarians here, even if I have to sound like one from time to time. You will be brought here, as if employed, at six AM tomorrow morning on that same truck. If there is any interest in the content of this folder, you will be informed at that time. Good day, Mister Doctorov.”

Meeting later with Karpov at another safe house, Tyrenkov discussed the unexpected overture from Orenburg.

“My,” said Karpov. “This was the last thing I ever expected out of Volkov. There must be something behind it. Do you think those unusual troop movements you reported could be spooking our old nemesis?”

“We may have underestimated those reports,” said Tyrenkov. “Just to be thorough, I looked over the latest, and there seems to be something afoot. The Germans ordered the Grossdeutschland Division into the Kuban three days ago. It is now north of Kropotkin on the big bend in the river Kuban. That is one of their most elite formations, and most powerful.”

“Has it been committed to combat?”

“Not yet, but it seems that it sent an equally powerful message to Volkov. He has been shipping in all the reserve divisions and mechanized elements of his 3rd Army—from Astrakhan to the lower Kuban. And what is more, several divisions of his 7th Army have also been given orders to move by rail south, and now we know they are not going to stop at Volgograd. The 7th Mech, an armored brigade, and cavalry regiment moved on through Astrakhan.”

“Something is clearly going on,” said Karpov. “Your thoughts on this, Tyrenkov?”

“Control of the Kuban. Hitler’s latest directive stated that Germany would henceforth retain control of all territories liberated by its own troops. They have just liberated the Kuban, and now the fighting there has reached Krasnodar and beyond. The two panzer divisions they committed have crossed the river to the west of the city, and there have been landings on the Taman Peninsula from the Crimea, and from Maripol. The Soviets tried to interfere with their Black Sea Fleet, but it was largely destroyed by Raeder’s task force. The Germans now control the Black Sea and Sea of Azov.”

“And Volkov is getting nervous,” said Karpov. “He wanted the Kuban back, and now Hitler won’t give it to him. Most interesting. And here we get this little peace overture as day follows night in that man’s mind.”

“Should we entertain it any further?” asked Tyrenkov.

Karpov thought about that, and decided they should. “They propose a cease fire and demilitarization of our mutual borders,” he said. “They offer cooperation on the shipment of oil and other needed resources to Siberian territory, and make the startling suggestion that our two nations should cooperate in the development of military arms.”

“He needs tanks,” said Tyrenkov. “His own designs have not been successful, except the T-44. Yet he has not been able to ramp up production on that tank. And his air force continues to languish. There has not even been any further airship production on their side for the last six months.”

“They still have the edge on us in numbers, even with Baikal and Siberian added to the fleet,” said Karpov.

“Strange that he should come to us this way,” said Tyrenkov. “Over 70 percent of his total armed forces are deployed against Sergei Kirov.”

“Tyrenkov, do you think he may be making a similar proposal to the Soviets?” Karpov shifted in his chair.

“Thus far, my network has not picked anything of that nature up. But considering the trouble they went to in order to keep this meeting secret, that is not surprising. We’re watching key Soviet officials who might typically respond to such a proposal. If they make any unusual movements, it may tip us off.”

“The secrecy doesn’t surprise me,” said Karpov. “They certainly would not want the Germans to know about this little proposal, and they took a great risk in even going this far with it here. If Hitler learns about this, Volkov may have the devil to pay—and quite literally.”

“What should we do, sir? Shall I open further discussion with Doctorov, or send the man home?”

Karpov smiled. Then he gave Tyrenkov a respectful look. “Tyrenkov… Thank you for coming to me with this.”

“Sir? Who else would I take this to?”

“My brother. You could have gone directly to him for any discussion or decision on this matter, but instead you came to me. Perhaps that was more convenient, as my brother is out to sea, but it is nonetheless appreciated. In fact, I am grateful for the respect you have always shown me, and your flawless efficiency. Have you also informed my brother of this?”

“No sir. You are acting head of the Free Siberian State. If your elder self needed to be informed, it was my assumption that you would make this decision yourself.”

Karpov took a deep breath, feeling very gratified. “I think we’ll have a further chat with Doctorov—only here. Our theater with the meat packing dungeon has had its effect. Bring him here, Tyrenkov. Let’s get to the bottom of this. Then I will take it to my brother and see that he is properly informed.”

The Siberian would eventually learn of the proposal, or rather he would have what he felt to be an inner hunch confirmed when Nikolin received a coded message about it later on. It was something that he could feel in his bones, some sea change in the winds of war that promised either terrible disaster, or a great windfall for his cause in arms. It was as if he instinctively could feel, and know, all the things his brother self was privy too, even though he was separated from him by thousands of miles. That strange connection would continue to deepen over time, but for now, he experienced it as an inner muse, a subtle feeling emerging from his unconscious mind, a hunch.

Something was happening, and his thinking about the war, and all their aims here was also caught up in the same inner shift of that wind. As he often did when considering such things, he would eventually seek out the one man that had been a consistent sounding board for him—Anton Fedorov.