Thor's Anvil

Chapter 25

“They are trying to break through to get at Novo Kirovka,” said Shumilov. He had taken the hazardous journey from his headquarters at the Cannery to Chuikov’s command center near the Red October Factory.

“They are trying to break through everywhere,” said Chuikov, “but Kirovka is the least of my worries. The situation in the center is far more serious. They came out of the cemetery region, and there’s a big push underway towards the heart of the city. I sent two tank Brigades in, but we can’t stop their armor. Those new tanks of theirs are just too good.”

“Will they get through?”

“I managed to plug the gap with two battalions of the 154th Naval Brigade, but I have nothing else in reserve there, except Zholudev’s 37th Guards Brigade. I pulled it off the line and moved it south yesterday. It crossed the Tsarista Gorge this morning, but now there’s trouble with the 196th?”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Just the usual sort, it was defending the Army Barracks near the airfield, now it’s been cut off and largely surrounded.”

“The whole division?”

“Most of it.” Chuikov gave the stolid Shumilov a shrug.

“What about the other two Guards Brigades in that Provisional Division? They’re all fresh. The Germans have been wise enough not to attack them directly for some time. Take the Engineer Battalion and spread it out through this wooded area here. Then pull the 39th Guards Brigade out and move it south towards the Barracks. The 37th can then go and stop this thrust towards Central Volgograd.”

Chuikov nodded. It seemed a reasonable solution, unless the Germans got wise to the fact that the old front occupied by those troops had been thinned out. Yet, there was a good deal of ground to give there, a lot of open woodland that ran up to Mamayev Kurgan. He decided to take Shumilov’s advice.

“Now we have the north to consider, and this is the real problem. They shifted the axis of their attack this morning. They were trying to push through 2nd Volga Rifles, now they have shifted south of Rynok.”

“The bridge,” said Shumilov flatly.

“The bridge,” Chuikov echoed. “Rynok is the real crisis point. Everything we slip in on the night barges must land there, and then go by road to the city. We can’t move barges beneath that bridge, it’s too well guarded. Rynok must be held, so I have no choice but to send a brigade of the 13th Guards. I posted one in each of the three factories in the north. 1st Brigade is in the Tractor Plant, and I’m going to move it north through Spartanovka at noon. I have nothing else to send but Special Brigade 115, and they won’t hold half a day.”

“Do what you must,” said Shumilov. “I agree that we must hold Rynok. For that matter, look at the bulge forming in the woodland north of the Tractor Worker’s Settlement. Why not give that up and reform your line here?” He traced a fat thumb on the map in an arc much closer to Spartanovka. “You can get some of the Samara Rifles into the fight if you do that.”

“Agreed,” said Chuikov. “And the south? Can you hold?”

“We’re in much better shape there than it seems. Moving those Divisions out of Beketova made all the difference. Don’t worry, I’ll hold.”

On the morning of October 28th, Manstein got some much needed relief. The 50th Infantry Division had been slated to go to the Crimea to begin building up a nucleus of a shock group to take Sevastopol. But when the Russians moved most of the garrison troops out by sea to try and save Rostov, the 50th was instead re-routed to the Donets Basin. Now it was close enough to be brought into the fight on the steppes west of the Don. The trains came up through Tatsinskaya, ordered to stop about 10 klicks west of Morozovsk and detrain there. Division commander Schmidt went on to the city to confer with Manstein as to what he expected of his division.

“Are the men fit?” asked Manstein.

“Very fit. They have been itching to get into a fight ever since the mission to Sevastopol was cancelled.”

“Good,” said Manstein. “Well, they will find one here. Have a look at the map. You are detraining just south of the Bystraya River. This enemy penetration has already come to within ten kilometers of your position as it stands. Move your men up to the river, hold that line and make sure nothing gets around your left flank. Expect enemy armor. In fact, they ran right over 24th Panzer when it was on the line, so be ready. I am trying to get 23rd Panzer off the line to backstop a new defensive front, and your division was the missing piece of the puzzle. As you come forward, the 305th is on your right, then the 336th here, just north of the city. You are the left flank, and I hope to move 23rd Panzer to that sector as soon as possible.”

“I see,” said Schmidt. “I thought we were to move farther east to Volgograd.

“Nobody gets to Volgograd without a 200 kilometer road march,” said Manstein. “As you can see, they have cut the road between here and Kalach. That is what all the fighting is to the east. If I had my wish you would be on the Chir between Surovinko and Chern relieving the Totenkopf Division so that it can continue to attack. If wishes were horses. The lack of good infantry here had been our most serious problem. I’ve been wrangling for every division I could find. Army Group Don now has a total of nine infantry divisions in this sector, and that includes the four Steiner took with him east of the Don. Give me three more and I would settle this affair rather quickly. As it stands, we must squirm a bit.”

That was what it was now coming to in the Wehrmacht—every division mattered, and the infantry every bit as much as the mobile divisions. Schmidt nodded. Then, echoing the words lately spoken by Shumilov, he told Manstein not to worry. “Rest assured, we’ll stop them,” he said with a salute. Then he went off to get his division into the fight.

Schmidt and his men were going to need every bit of the confidence they exhibited. The force coming their way was now so big, and so heavily concentrated, that it was getting in its own way. 3rd Tank Corps had arrived, strung out in a column some 5 kilometers long, but there were too many vehicles, tanks and infantry, all mixed together, so it was forced to halt and wait for the traffic snarl to get sorted out. An impatient man, General Rulenko simply decided to turn his Corps off the road and move due east. Crossing a small balka, he ran right into the 305th Infantry, deployed in a concave hedgehog position some ten to twelve kilometers north of Morozovsk.

In the ensuing battle, the tanks looked like a herd of war elephants as they swirled around the hedged defensive positions of the German infantry. But the Tank Corp was a well-balanced combined arms force by now, with three mech infantry battalions, three tank brigades, recon elements, engineers, and its own fast moving artillery. Furthermore, when concentrated at any given point on a defensive front, the sheer mass and cross country speed of the tank brigades was almost impossible to stop. The Germans would get kills with their AT guns, but far more tanks would race on through, and then the infantry would select one spot for a concerted attack, some leaping from the backs of the tanks themselves, others carried to the scene on fast moving halftracks or trucks.

The three battalions and engineers would target a single German battalion on the line, and with ample fire support from all that armor. A breakthrough was almost inevitable, and there was then usually another full tank brigade as yet in reserve, soon rushing to this breach to exploit. If the Germans did not have a mobile reserve behind the crust of their infantry, it was very difficult to stop such attacks, and when they were followed up with the swamping human wave attacks of one or two Rifle Divisions, the breach became a gap that would grow wider with each passing hour.

Now the loss of 24th Panzer Division when it was forced into line duty was really beginning to matter. It should have been that fast moving reserve to counterpunch at the critical hour, but instead, for lack of infantry to hold the line, it had found itself right at the center of an attack that was led by Volsky’s revitalized 4th Mech Corps, an enormous formation that had been further bolstered by the addition of heavy tank battalions.

With the timely arrival of 50th Infantry Division, Manstein was now desperately trying to swing 23rd Panzer down towards Morozovsk, and have a sword in hand to meet a thrust like this, but it was still fighting a fast moving battle of disengagement, the tank companies moving, stopping to fire, then racing south again, the infantry leaping to their halftracks and vehicles behind the thrumming stream of fire from the MG-42s.

As 23rd Panzer moved south, it was actually moving parallel to the Russian advance, catching up with some of their fast recon units. A running gun battle ensued, with tanks and APCs on either side racing over the snow covered terrain, guns blasting away at one another. The 126th Panzergrenadier Regiment turned, with the pioneer and recon battalions and a company of tanks and stugs. In so doing, it ran right into the 7th Tank Corps, and the battle thickened.

It was the arrival of 50th Infantry that stabilized that front, slowing the soviet advance and forcing it to consolidate. Yet Manstein now had a most difficult decision, and he requested that Steiner fly to meet with him at Morozovsk, a short but hazardous jump from Gumrak Airfield.

“This is the situation,” said Manstein pointing to the map. “We may stop them, though that has yet to be determined. The loss of most of 24th Panzer Division was a very severe blow. As you can see, they are within 5 kilometers of the rail line at the 161 marker, and also here at this bend west of the city. The main axis of their attack is coming down this road, and it is ten kilometers from us as we speak.”

“Enough to tighten one’s collar,” said Steiner. “What about Winter Storm?”

“We’ve take Surovinko, destroyed three Guards divisions and two of the three Tank Corps they had there, and now we have forced the withdrawal of their 3rd Guards Rifle Corps, relieving the pressure on Oblivskaya. In all this action, 3rd SS has been exemplary. They saved that town, standing like a rock, and now, with the heavy panzers adding weight to their attack, they have been unstoppable. The only question is what to do next? If we do stop this attack on Morozovsk, that will be the best we can accomplish for the moment. Pushing it back is beyond our means without substantial reinforcement. I could take 3rd SS and send it west, or leave it where it is. The latter option will probably guarantee a breakthrough to Kalach.”

“The other two divisions cannot get through?”

“Possibly, if I at least leave one of the Schwerepanzer units there. But you could also prepare an assault group to break out of the Kalach bridgehead at an appropriate time.”

Steiner considered that, rocking on his heels. “My men are very well occupied as it stands,” he said. “Das Reich is driving for the Volga Bridge, but they are fighting very hard to try and stop us. To allow that division to concentrate, I had to extend the lines of Leibstandarte and put the entire division in a defensive posture. I even had to commit all the Korps level assets to beef up Das Reich. This is no easy fight.”

“Nor is it the battle I wanted here,” said Manstein, “particularly not for your Korps. You will not reduce that city easily, or quickly. I think you have already seen this, and your men have not even worked into the heart of the city yet. However, if we can inflict a decisive check on the enemy here, west of the Don, then we would be free to make some prudent changes. I have six infantry divisions out here. They should all be east of the Don fighting for Volgograd. You have five of our very best mobile divisions in that kessel, and they should be here, smashing each and every attack the Russians throw at us.”

“Yet I promised the Fuhrer I would deliver this city,” said Steiner.

“And Rommel promised him all of Egypt,” said Manstein quickly. “You must put aside your personal pride in that. Now we do what makes best military sense. Clear? Winter Storm proved what we can do. At the moment, our forces are simply not balanced, and the enemy is taking good advantage of that. I intend to correct it.”

“Then how do we proceed?” asked Steiner. “The forces I have are barely enough to cover the frontage. The city is over 80 Kilometers long.”

“Can you clear the Volga Bridge to allow for Volkov’s 5th Army to cross?”

“That is the plan,” said Steiner. “I think another day or two will do the job.”

“Then his troops can form up opposite the Soviet 66th Army along the aqueduct. We need to redeploy in such a way as to allow you to build a strong force at Kalach. I’ll leave the particulars of that to you, but establish a force there capable of breaking out through 24th Army. I will continue with Winter Storm, and when the time is ripe I will signal to begin your breakout operation. Let us call it operation Thunderclap. Once we link up, reestablish communications and a good supply line, then your situation will look a little brighter. We can begin swapping in the infantry I have accumulated in trade for your mobile divisions.”

“Operation Thunderclap,” said Steiner. “I like that. Herr General, I will do as you ask. It may mean temporarily suspending the operations currently underway with Grossdeutschland and the Brandenburg Division, but I can build a strong force for Kalach. And Totenkopf? It would be nice if it was there to greet us when we break out.”

“No I think I will move it west, General Steiner. I want the SS Panzer Korps out of that mess. We should never have committed that force to a big street fight like this. So you come to Totenkopf.” He smiled. “They’ll be waiting for you. But first, it is imperative that you gain control of the Volga Bridge.”

Chapter 26

Steiner’s attack had continued through the 28th of October, with Das Reich summoning troops from the Deutschland Regiment that had been watching the aqueduct line. They were relieved by three battalions of 11th Army Pioneers that had come up from the Don sector after Volkov sent men to keep an eye on the river. So the precious infantry moved like pawns to hold key sectors and enable the mobile forces to move and strike—exactly the opposite of what Manstein wanted.

The addition of that fresh SS regiment put more steam into the attack towards the Volga Bridge, and now the lines of battle were drawing the shape of a man’s head, all the troops of 2nd Volga Rifles posted from Rynok north. The narrowing neck of ground where the Surchaya Balka wrinkled down to the bridge was the throat, and then the arc of the Samara Rifle Division the chest of the defense to the south. The SS Korps pioneers and assault gun battalions kept up heavy pressure on that chest, enabling Das Reich to take hold of the throat and attempt to choke the breath out of the enemy.

Some of the leading elements that had made the initial breakthrough from De Führer Regiment, and the supporting panzers, were now running low on ammunition, so the arrival of the Deutschland Regiment was just what the attackers needed. The Germans had pushed to within four kilometers of the bridge when the first battalion of the 13th Guards arrived from the Tractor Factory. It was followed by the 137th Tank Brigade, with 19 T-60s, eight T-34s, and six late model KV-1 tanks. The reached a balka separating Spartanovka from the approaches to the bridge, and began to deploy for a counterattack about 2000 meters behind the Guards.

All along the river, the thunder of artillery resounded from the gorges and cliffs. Many of the shore batteries positioned from the Rynok Ferry north had been turned about to rain fire on the crucial sector, and from across the river, Volkov’s guns answered by opening a preparatory barrage on the heavy concrete bunkers that defended the west end of the bridge.

East of the bridge, an unseen buildup of troops was assembling, the men of Volkov’s 12th Orenburg Guards Division. And just a little south, at the ferry sites along the river at Volkovskiy, another crack unit was quietly using the darkness to load weapons and supplies aboard their assault barges. Such a cross river attack had never been possible while the defenders of Volgograd could stand their watch unbothered by other foes. Now it was mustering with a real chance of success. Ivan Volkov had been receiving regular reports from the front, and when he learned of the German thrust towards the bridge, he immediately ordered well laid plans to be pulled out of the General’s briefcases and put into motion. He was ready to send this heavily reinforced division over that bridge, and to land those Marines on the river banks to the south, where that balka ran to meet the river a kilometer north of Spartanovka.

On the morning of the 29th, the troops crouched in the low fog that hung over the river, the restless vapor of their own breath seeming to feed and build the mist. Their adrenaline was up, for before them lay the massive steel girders and bed of that bridge, fully two kilometers wide. With silent hand movements from their officers, the first of the rifle squads began to rush forward onto the approached to the span. They would pass their own heavy defensive bunkers, MG posts and concrete guard towers, their movement rustling the fog like wind. The farther they went, the farther from their own defensive shore they would be, and now the sappers took the lead, the men trundling forward with long metal tubes that looked like Bangalore torpedoes.

Conceived in the mind of the British Captain McClintock in 1912, the long tubes housed explosives that could be slid forward as sections of fresh pipe were added from the rear. It allowed a sapper to crouch low, and push the explosive charges toward the obstacle to be attacked and cleared. Volkov’s men called these brave sappers the “Chimney Sweeps,” clearing out the soot of the enemy defense, and they were to be the fire and smoke at the other end of that chimney, as the full division was poised to push on over that bridge.

It had been thoroughly checked the previous night to see that no enemy demolition charges had been mounted. They were reasonably assured that the span was cleared out to at least the mid-point, but no one was entirely certain whether the western end was wired. They had studied the big supports with fine telescopes for years, looking for any sign of a charge being mounted that might be big enough to destroy the bridge. None was ever seen. In the event of a demolition from smaller, more hastily mounted explosives, it was not really thought that the massive girders could be brought down. That would take careful placement, and considerable engineering. Yet the road bed itself might be severely damaged or destroyed by smaller charges, and so behind the sappers came men pushing metal plating on small carts if the attackers needed to lay down new bedding.

As this was going on, the Orenburg Marines were already on their barges, grateful for the heavy mist and fog over the river. The thick airs would even dampen the growl of the barge engines, and they hoped to get very close to the western shore before their bold attack was actually discovered. Nothing like this had been attempted since well before the war, and the last time it had ended in disaster for the attackers. So the men were justifiably edgy. The barges slipped away from the concrete quays, and the Marines were soon taking what seemed like the longest ride of their lives. South of the bridge, the river widened considerably.

As the barges reached the midpoint of the river, the fog was at its thickest and they remained unseen. Now the men could hear the mutter of battle growing ever louder, for the Germans were achingly close to the bridge, with the armored cars of the Recon Battalion in De Führer Regiment no more than a thousand meters from the western bunker defenses.

The fighting was raging all along the Surchaya Balka south of Rynok, where the Saratov Sapper Regiment had come down the river road from the north to attack the enemy penetration towards the bridge. On the other side of that reaching thrust, the tanks of the 137th Brigade and now the full weight of that regiment of the 13th Guards was being thrown at the Germans. The Russians were desperately trying to pull that hand from the throat of the city, for that was their last overland life line. Even the excess factory workers had been mustered into a brigade and they were marching to the scene from the tractor worker’s settlement.

The entire sector near the western end of the bridge was erupting with artillery fire from every quarter. Powerful rounds were landing, some exploding high up in the metal framework, the black smoke leaving an angry weal in the grey sky, the shrapnel raining down on the sappers and riflemen on the bridge. The span was only wide enough to permit a reinforced company to be at the point of attack at any given time, and so the operation was a little like feeding a sturdy wood beam into a saw mill.

Volkov’s engineers and guardsmen pushed those Bangalore torpedoes forward under machinegun fire and heavy guns in the fortified bunkers. When they were mowed down, the metal torpedoes clattering to the steel bedding of the bridge, others would bravely come forward to take their place. But it was no place for the soft flesh of a man to be that hour. The western end of that bridge was a place where only steel and concrete could survive the terrible rain of fire being put in from every side. Some rounds striking the bunkers sent big shattered fragments up into the sky, stunning and deafening the men inside. Yet they shook themselves to life and fought on, the blood running from their busted eardrums.

It was then that the noses of the first assault barges slipped into a clear spot on the river, and a watchful sentry near Mechetka Landing in Spartanovka rushed to give warning. Minutes later the sound of a siren cranked up and began to wail on the cold morning air, like the wheezing breath of the defenders as two hands pressed that choking attack from both sides of the river.

3rd Battalion of the 13th Guards had been moving along the shoreline towards the bridge, rushing to stop those German armored cars, the men bringing the AT rifles to the front of the column. Then the sirens alerted them to the danger, and officers looked to see the first assault barges coming up onto the sandy river banks, about 1000 meters south of the bridge. There was a small cove there, but it was a dangerous spot, overlooked by a fortified position that those Marines had undoubtedly come to attack. The armored cars would have to wait. The Soviets could not allow an enemy landing behind them.

The sharp report of gunfire from the south caught Lieutenant Anton Kuzmich Dragan’s attention, and he turned to see that two Soviet river boat flotillas were emerging from the fork of the river as it flowed around the long fish shaped body of Denezhny Island. They were obviously firing at other assault barges another two kilometers to the south, so these landings were bigger than they seemed. His men were already rushing to set up their machineguns and mortars, and the riflemen fell prone on a low ridge. They would have a decided advantage on the attackers from that higher elevation.

The Marines landed, rushing onto a sward of scrubby undergrowth as the Soviet machineguns opened fire. Many were cut down in the water as they leapt into the shallows from the barges. Lieutenant Dragan was crouching low, directing the fire, even as his own men came under artillery barrage from the east bank. Now a second enemy battalion that had landed unopposed to the south was working its way towards his flank, and behind him, the German Panzergrenadiers had finally broken through behind those armored cars. They were already firing at the rear of the concrete fortifications guarding the bridge.

The first waves from those barges were completely stopped, but then the Germans played a trump card. Dragan heard the growl of heavy engines, thinking some of the armored cars must have broken through to his position, but when he looked, he saw instead a dangerous looking hunk of armor approaching from the rear, then another, then two more.

They were heavy assault guns the Germans called the Sturmpanzer IV. In the months ahead, those that fought against them would call them the Brummbär, or Grouch, and it was an ornery beast indeed. Only a very few of these had been made, but here were 24 of them, collected into a heavy assault battalion and played out in this critical moment to bring devastating support fire to the German attack. A squat grey beast, its squarish main gun housing had 100mm frontal armor, through which a short barreled 150mm howitzer protruded like a sawed off heavy shotgun. When they fired at close quarters, the roar of that gun was ear splitting, and the Brummbärs began blasting away at Dragan’s battalion, driving his men from that ridge. Just when it seemed that the Guardsmen would drive the Orenburg Marines into the river, the sudden appearance of this heavy armor turned the tide of the entire battle.

Das Reich, heavily reinforced by the SS assault engineers and all those Sturmpanzers, had now driven a hard steel spike right through the seam between the Volga and Samara Rifles. The former was holed up in Rynok, its lines extending back through the Big Mushroom to the Aqueduct, the latter was holding ground west of Spartanovka. That regiment of the 13th Guards was down near the river, locked in a desperate battle with enemy Marines, tanks, infantry and armored cars. Meanwhile, Volkov’s 12th Guards kept hurling one battalion after another at the central fortification that defended the bridge, and now the Brummbärs were slamming 150mm rounds into the concrete walls and blasting at the heavy iron doors to the rear. The sound of each heavy round striking them rang out like a great bell, tolling out some inevitable doom.

The attack from the eastern bridge span was gruesome, as the leading troops were mowed down by machinegun fire. Then, special engineers came forward bearing steel shields, crouching low as they pressed forward like a phalanx of ancient warriors, the long metal tubes bearing explosives jutting from the squad sections like pikes. Inside the bunkers, light 45mm cannon took the place of machineguns, blasting the assault teams time and again. Yet there was a full division behind the tip of that spear, and Volkov’s troops kept coming.

One section with a flamethrower team immolated a gun port, allowing an engineer squad to get close enough to get its demolition charge placed. The resulting roar of the explosion shook the bridge, knocking men off their feet, and three fell to their doom into the river below. The 45mm gun was silenced, but the solid structure remained intact. As the next rifle squad rushed forward, a submachine gun challenged them and the entire play began to repeat itself, with the dead mounting higher. At one point, an assault squad had to literally crawl forward over the bodies of their fallen comrades, one man dragging a dead soldier on his back for cover.

On the night of October 29th, that sturdy redoubt finally fell. Its heavy walls were battered and blackened by smoke and fire, its great metal doors bruised and dented, though they still barred the way. There was simply no one inside still alive, and so one by one, the riflemen of the 12th Orenburg Guard climbed through the gun portals to claim that battered tomb. There were still Soviet troops in the two adjoining redoubts to the north and south, and the fighting was far from over, but the bridge over the Volga was now technically in enemy hands, the black eagle banner scored by that dramatic red V was draped over the far end of a battered steel girder.

While this drama had played itself out, Hörnlein’s Grossdeutschland Division had pushed out from the cover of that balka, and in heavy fighting that lasted all through the 27th and 28th, they managed to get 2500 meters south into the outskirts of the central city. There, the enemy had rushed in every available reserve, their 56th Tank Brigade, men of the 97th Special Workers Brigade, the whole of 39th Guards Regiment from the Provisional Division, and a battalion from the 154th Naval Marines.

The grenadiers had fought their way right to the edge of the 1st of May Plaza, and beyond it were two shattered smoke towers of the Nail Factory, jutting like broken teeth against the pallid sky. Just beyond that, was Hörnlein’s objective, The Gorki Theater, overlooking the river. But then, strangely, word came to suspend operations. Similar orders went out to the Brandenburgers.

There was some confusion as to what was happening until Steiner found Hörnlein in the shattered Hospital that had been fought over so bitterly near those cemeteries. “A change of plans,” he said. “Manstein has Surovinko, and they are pushing for Kalach even now. We are to form a strong assault force there to break out and restore communications. No more 200 kilometer truck rides to get in supply.”

“I see,” said Hörnlein. “Well, do you want that damn theater or not?”

“At the moment, all operations except those involving Das Reich at the Volga Bridge are suspended. In fact, we may be pulling out.”

Chapter 27

“What? We are leaving the city to them? The Führer will not be pleased, to say the least.”

“We will not give up the fight here, but Manstein tells me he has spoken directly with Volkov requesting stronger support, and Volkov then made a personal appeal to Hitler, with a pledge that he will commit all of his 5th Army, and new forces coming up from Khazakstan.”

“Volkov had ten years to try and take this city, and he could never do so.”

“Yet now he will have our help,” said Steiner. “At the moment, he is moving up more troops from Beketova in the south to take over positions presently held by the Wiking Division. It galls me to do so, leaving the city to Volkov like this, but orders are orders, and so I am sending 5th SS west to Nizhne Chirskaya, and I will want the whole of your division to go to Kalach. Under the circumstances, the salient in which you now find yourself is somewhat hazardous. You should make arrangements to pull out and then establish contact with the Brandenburgers.”

“Give back all the ground we’ve fought for these last two days?”

“It can’t be helped. Manstein doesn’t want the mobile divisions here.” There was a harried look in Steiner’s eyes now. “I told him I had promised this city to the Führer before Christmas, and we have ample time to finish the job, but he is set on pulling the entire Korps out. He wants the infantry here in our place.”

Hörnlein nodded, and with a smile. “No offense, General Steiner, but thank god someone is using his head. We should never have crossed the Don without adequate infantry support.”

“Well enough,” said Steiner. “So now we will correct the situation. You are going to Kalach; the Wikings further south where the engineers have scouted good crossing points, and back to the railroad bridge. The Russians pulled out of that sector last night.”

“Then they know what we are planning,” said Hörnlein, “or at least they are smart enough to see the threat. General, they have fought very well here, better than any of us ever expected. The operations they mounted west of the Don were quite a surprise, and in more than one way. Let us not forget what happened last winter. It is only going to get colder here, the snows deeper, the roads more and more impassable.”

“All the more reason to take Volgograd for winter quarters.”

Again Hörnlein smiled. “There won’t be much of a city left if we do take it,” he said. “These last five kilometers took me nearly three days of very hard fighting. Casualties have been heavy; supplies are never adequate. This place will soon be hell frozen over. We will do much better west of the Don, believe me.”

That difficult but correct decision was now going to change the entire complexion of the battle, at least for the SS. Manstein had the wisdom to see what had gone wrong, and the backbone to take appropriate action. Enlisting the direct support of Ivan Volkov himself was much akin to having Mussolini make a direct appeal to Hitler, but when mated with Manstein’s strongest possible endorsement, Hitler let go of his initial resistance to the idea. Anything that remotely looked like a withdrawal was an anathema to the Führer, but even Halder and all the Generals at OKW had sided with Manstein, stating that the situation west of the Don had to be resolved before the city could be reduced. And if Volkov could help provide the much needed infantry for that fight, all the better.

On the morning of All Hallows Eve, the combined forces of Orenburg and Germany crossed the Don near Tormosin and Nizhne Chirskaya to establish a new front south of the main road between Kalach and Surovinko, and the Wiking Division would become the centerpiece of that thrust. Bridging engineers worked tirelessly, and that evening, the recon battalion of 5th SS was over the river and moving north, the infantry of the Nordland Regiment lining up to begin moving over the newly constructed pontoons.

At Kalach, the 129th Infantry moved up its reserve regiment and began the attack there under a thunderous artillery barrage from hordes of guns Steiner had assembled. They were able to punch a hole in the lines of the Soviet 84th Rifle Division, which had a chilling effect on 24th Army headquarters, particularly when the long column of the Grossdeutschland Division was spotted on the road heading west away from the city. Confusion reigned, as it does in any major tectonic shift of the battle fronts like this. Rokossovsky was soon on the telephone to Zhukov.

“The situation is suddenly very fluid again,” he said. “Chuikov tells me that many of the German divisions that have been pushing into the suburbs of Volgograd have now suspended operations and they are pulling out.”

“Don’t sound so happy about that,” said Zhukov. “I’ve already had reports indicating they are crossing the Don to the south of Kalach. 5th Tank Army was virtually destroyed at Surovinko. Only 1st Guard Tank remains viable.”

“I have had to order the withdrawal of both 9th and 11th Rifle Corps in the Don Bend,” said Rokossovsky, “so that leaves the entire lower Don open to crossing operations. They are trying to break out at Kalach as well.”

“And they will,” said Zhukov.

“What about Operation Saturn?”

“It achieved a remarkable penetration, but they brought in yet another infantry division and managed to stop it four to six kilometers from Morozovsk. Now they are reinforcing that position further with elements of that damn Death’s Head Division. The question now is what to do about this development. What is your situation?”

“I managed to pull 11th Rifle Corps back. They are deployed south of the main road to Kalach. 9th Rifle Corps is getting beat up in the fight to stop their 48th Panzer Corps. But the flank is now hanging in thin air there, and they are beginning to push out patrols to the north. I have no mobile reserve, and 1st Guard Tank is still engaged. There is now a 30 kilometer gap in the front centered on Surovinko, and I have nothing to send there.”

There was silence for some time before Zhukov spoke again. “We have done what we could,” he said. “They have finally seen the error they made in crossing the Don with their best mobile divisions. So now our party is over. The only mobile force we presently have is 1st Tank Army near Morozovsk. I will have no choice but to suspend operations there and pull that force out. So we have driven them to the ropes, but those ribs are tougher than we thought. Now we move to the center of the ring again. As for 5th Shock Army, we will leave it where it is for the moment. That will keep a lot of forces preoccupied near Morozovsk.”

“And Volgograd?” asked Rokossovsky.

“The bad news is that they have taken the Volga Bridge. The good news is that they are now pulling out their better divisions, and it will be some time before they can move in significant reinforcements to replace them. Volkov’s dogs are moving up from Beketova. They have also begun reoccupying Sarpinskiy Island.”

“Like the scavengers they are,” said Rokossovsky. “They’ll take nothing we don’t give to them first.”

“This allows us some time to reorganize the defense of the city,” said Zhukov. “Unfortunately, with the bridge lost, it will be difficult, if not impossible, to get supplies in by river as we were doing. So now I must look to building up the 66th Army. That is the only force we can use to attempt to relieve the city.”

“How very strange,” said Rokossovsky. “Last year Volkov’s troops were sitting right where 66th Army is now, trying to get at Volgograd from the north. Now here we sit contemplating the same thing.”

“The tides of war become rip currents around places like that city,” said Zhukov. “Don’t worry, we will hold it again this year. I have given Sergei Kirov my word.”

“Like we promised him we would save Moscow?”

“That was different. That traitor, Beria, had everything to do with the difficulty there. That said, we still have a third of the city, for what it’s worth.”

“What is Volgograd worth? We get no supplies from it. Now that it is cut off like this, all the industry there will serve only to try and keep Chuikov supplied. Why do we sacrifice two armies there? They will be much needed elsewhere. And for that matter, how long can we leave these shock armies this far south of the Don with the Germans east of Voronezh?”

“It is winter,” said Zhukov. “Their operations will come to a halt, just as they did last year.”

“Only this year we have little left to throw at them,” said Rokossovsky.

“Be patient,” said Zhukov. “The factories in Leningrad are working night and day to build new tanks. There is more in the works than you realize. Everything depends on that city now—everything. Sergei Kirov has moved the government there now that Berzin has cleaned everything up after Beria’s treachery. If we can manage to hold on to Rostov and Volgograd until spring, then things will look a little different.”

“But what did we gain from all of this?” asked Rokossovsky. “2nd Guards Rifle Corps is nothing more than a headquarters now. We lost both 24th and 25th Tank Corps as well.”

“What did we gain?” Zhukov asked him back again. “Time, Konstanty, time. It was all about getting us to General Winter. Now we have time, and those tank corps will be replaced. Just wait and see.”

Things were already starting to look very different on the front as divisions began moving in all directions. A kampfgruppe from 3rd SS of four battalions and a company of tanks arrived at Morozovsk, but given the withdrawal that night of the 1st Tank Army, that front had already stabilized.

“Thank you for coming,” said Manstein. “Rest here tonight and we will see what things look like in the morning. I may be sending you right back east to join the rest of your division, only this time I have a ride for you. There is fresh rolling stock here, and the rail line is open, at least as far as Oblivskaya. I think 48th Panzer Korps, and the backbone in this infantry we deployed here, has won the day. Soon I will have Steiner bring out the rest of your Korps. Then we do some broken field running again. I am going to continue north into the gap in the front above Surovinko, and I expect that will soon move the enemy mobile group here. Tonight I must fly to meet with Halder to plan the redisposition of forces on the front. I will personally recommend that Totenkopf gets a unit citation for exceptional valor and skill in these battles along the Chir.”

For the Russians it was now a case of “so close but yet so far.” They had taken ground, taken losses to do so, but the premature offensive had threatened to bottle up the cream of Steiner’s SS, though Manstein was now taking steps to correct that. They had cut the rail line that had taken months for the Germans to convert, and now it would take another three weeks to a month to repair all that damage. The shuffling of forces that would soon be underway would give a much needed respite to the defenders if Volgograd. Steiner would have to swallow his pride and turn that battle over to someone else.

Come the 1st of November Manstein was meeting with the Führer to explain what had happened, and why he had made the decisions he took. “A city fight is no place for a Panzer Division,” he lectured. “Particularly that city. The streets are piles of rubble from the bombing and shelling, and the enemy moves through that debris like rats. In fact, the troops have already coined a name for the fighting: Rattenkrieg. They are in the sewers beneath the streets, and in the cellars of every building. We will leave the Assault Gun Battalions there, as they can give the infantry excellent fire support, but that is what we need now, good infantry. In my estimation, it will take no less than ten divisions.”

“Ten divisions?” It sounds like we will have a second Verdun there,” said Hitler.

Halder’s eyes narrowed. Here was Manstein again, the oh so reasonable, smooth talking General come to scavenge for more troops.

“Can’t we send in specialists trained for this type of city fighting?” he suggested.

“Yes,” Hitler echoed. “Richthoven suggested the same thing to me days ago. What about the Pioneers, the Engineers? Are they not specially trained in demolition and urban warfare?”

“A very good point, my Führer,” said Halder. “Such units could be combed from the ranks and assembled into a special Sturmpioneer Brigade. In fact, such a unit already exists in Steiner’s SS Panzer Korps.”

“And it will be left behind, along with perhaps one of the Divisions presently there,” said Manstein. “My preference would be Brandenburgers, though they should be reinforced and reorganized as an infantry division. Armored vehicles are no good in that rubble, nor can we take them into the sewers. 1st and 2nd SS should be withdrawn immediately, and the entire SS Panzer Korps reassembled for mobile operations west of the Don. This brings us back to the infantry. Assault Pioneers can be the tip of the spear, but we must have men to take and hold captured ground, especially on the shoulders of salients driven into the city. At times, good divisions like Grossdeutschland had to assign fully half their combat units to such work, limiting troops available at the Schwerpunkt of the attack. So I say again—if you must have that city, then we must have the infantry, and no less than ten divisions.”

“How many are available in Army Group Don?” asked Hitler.

“Nine, and they are strung out for 120 kilometers between Surovinko and Morozovsk. I presently have them in two Korps groups under Hollidt and Fetter-Pico. Initially I have earmarked one division from each to go to Stalingrad, the 305th and 336th. Four others are already there, but that leaves a shortfall of four divisions. If Halder can find them for me, then I am prepared to prosecute that battle to a successful conclusion. If not, then I question even trying. What good is the city in any case? Now that we have the Volga Bridge, nothing gets in or out of the place. Why not just allow Volkov to invest it, strengthened by a few of our own infantry divisions, and then forget about it?”

“What?” Hitler flashed a disapproving glance. “Herr General, there are also political considerations here.”

“Political considerations? Are they worth what it will cost us to take that pile of rubble? There are certainly no economic considerations. We have bombed and blasted all their factories. The city is nothing but a massive concrete millstone around the neck of Sergei Kirov. Why he decided to try and defend it is beyond my understanding.”

“He decided to defend it because I decided to take it,” said Hitler, “just as I directed the Army should also take Moscow. We must show them that nothing can stop us, not their men, their steel, nor their will to resist. Once we take Volgograd, they will be completely broken in morale. You will see.”

“My Führer,” said Manstein, and with a sidelong glance at Halder now. “The city we should be thinking about now is not Volgograd, nor even Rostov. The former is of no use to either side, and the later will fall in good time, sealing the fate of all Soviet forces in the Kuban. No, the city we should be thinking about is Leningrad. Yes, I can hear you already, General Halder. I argued strongly for the southern approach, and it will achieve all its ends in due course. Now, however, particularly for the coming spring, we must look north to Leningrad. That city is presently their arsenal and major production site. It is also the heart of the relocated Soviet Government, and the principal economic engine of their nation. Leningrad… That is where the Army should now be directed.”

“With the Donets Basin not yet secured?” said Hitler.

“I will see to that as soon as we resolve this nonsense concerning Volgograd—that and the Kuban, they will both be on my dance card. As for Rundstedt, serious thought should now be given to a shift in gravity to the northern front.”

“I never thought I would hear you say such a thing,” said Halder.

“I say it now, because the time is ripe. All things in good time, Herr General. And I will say one thing more—if they do hit us again this winter, I predict that is where they will come from, the north, against Smolensk. At present, almost every panzer and motorized division we have is east of Voronezh! Where are you going, to Saratov on the Volga to fight another battle like we already have at Volgograd? Further operations in that direction will lead us nowhere.”

“Yet we could pocket all the forces you have been struggling with if we made such an attack,” said Halder. “We could destroy all those Siberian Shock Armies that now plague you.”

“Pocketing them is one thing, destroying them quite another. Have you forgotten the six months we sat outside the Kirov Pocket? We have already linked up with Volkov, and now it is time we let him shoulder some of the burden in the south so we can finish the job elsewhere. The decisive battle of this war will not be fought at Volgograd—it must be fought at Leningrad.”

Both men fell silent, for they knew that Hitler would be the one to make the decision here, and Halder could already see the stiffening of his posture, as if his inner resolve was hardening the lines of his body, his eyes narrowing, the festering anger that was always there beginning to waken.

The Führer leaned over the map table, his eyes alight.