Tigers East

Chapter 7

It had come from nowhere, appearing behind British infantry in France, shocking them with the speed of its movement, and the determination of its troops. It was there that the division first was given the nom du guerre of the ‘Ghost Division,’ renowned for its valor, skill in battle, and yet also for the honorable way in which it fought. Prisoners were always treated fairly, enemy officers respected, cease fires honored to allow removal of wounded men on the field. Patton would later exclaim that the 11th Panzer was “the fairest and bravest” of all the German divisions he had encountered in the war.

Its commander had a quicksilver mind for maneuver in battle, that one man in every hundred with the warrior’s soul, and complete mastery of the art of violence that became the energy of war. He was a dynamic and active defender, yet also fierce in the attack. In Fedorov’s history, Hermann Balck had been one of the very few men to receive the Knight’s Cross with Oak Leaves, Swords and Diamonds, joining Erwin Rommel in that honor. Born to a military family in Prussia, his father was highly decorated, and a master of strategy and tactics, rising to the Imperial General Staff.

Like father, like son. Now he was about to step out from behind his father’s shadow and fight what would later be noted as one of the most brilliant tactical defenses ever conducted. It was Balck who first suggested to Guderian that tanks should always fight in mixed battlegroups with supporting infantry and other weapons. In effect, he was the originator of the concept of the German Kampfgruppe, and he put that doctrine to use immediately He organized a counterattack with his 15th Panzer Regiment, a unit that had just been fitted out with a good number of the newest Panther V tanks in one battalion. The remainder were Pz IV-F2s, but they were bolstered by 18 of the heavier Lions that had already gained a fearsome reputation wherever they appeared on the front.

Balck took companies of Panzergrenadiers, mated them with platoons of armor, added in mobile flak guns and SPGs, and sent them off to battle, He held one regiment of his infantry in hand, forming a defensive front, and then studded it with his AT guns. Then he sent the Kampfgruppen sweeping out on his flanks. One built on the fast moving recon battalion would seek out the line of enemy advance, relay the information by radio, and then the KGs would swoop in like vultures. Just as the Russians stopped to engage one such attack, another fast moving KG would suddenly appear on its flank or rear. The Ghosts were out in force that day, steel grey specters haunting the steppes.

Learning that a Soviet Cavalry division was following these enemy tanks south, he shifted his Panzergrenadier regiment west, assigned it several SPG batteries, and told it to drive the remaining horsemen back. Then, knowing he was now the center of the defensive line, and his right flank was hanging on thin air, he quickly organized several Kampfgruppen. One was formed from his pioneer battalion reinforced with several companies of AA guns. He would use it as a quick holding force on one flank.

In that hour, the highly trained men of Balck’s division moved like a well-oiled machine. It was going to be very bad luck for the Soviet attack emerging from the Boguchar Bridgehead, and to make matters worse, the 23rd Panzer Division was close by, as was a new brigade of heavier tanks, the 102nd, which was at Martovka, about 30 kilometers southwest of Kantirmirovka. That unit had 28 Lions, two dozen Panthers and another 50 lighter tanks, the IV-F2s and the fast new Leopard medium recon tanks. Between the three formations, Balck would have command of well over 250 tanks. In fact, in this one small segment of the vast battle line that stretched for hundreds of miles in either direction, Balck commanded a force with greater striking power than Feldmarshall Erwin Rommel had in his Afrika Korps at that moment.

That was a clear lesson on just how impoverished Rommel’s forces had been in North Africa, and at the same time how massive the Russian front was by comparison. The Soviets were going to throw a force twice the size of the British 8th Army in Africa at Balck, and it would be all in a day’s work for him to dismantle those divisions, one by one. Yet, as strong and capable as it was, Balck’s division could not be everywhere. To his immediate left and right, the Armies attacking on either side of his defense also created battles that doubled and even tripled the size of a typical engagement fought by Rommel.

The most serious penetration was 120 miles east of Balck’s position, the main attack staged by Zhukov that had achieved a spectacular breakthrough. Kempf’s column had barely slipped by its leading elements as it hastened west again at Steiner’s urging, and not really knowing just how bad the breakthrough was, Steiner ordered the Wiking SS Division north immediately, sending them towards a small hamlet called Perelazovsky. The division had been re-supplying on the Chir, and now it trucked north with its three motorized infantry regiments, arriving to fill a 15-kilometer-wide hole in the line between the 46th Infantry on the left, and the 50th Division on the right—and that was not even the main breakthrough zone.

Steiner’s appraisal of this action as nothing more than a spoiling attack was gravely wrong. The nearest German division to the west of the 46th was over 30 kilometers away, defending just southwest of Veshenskaya. It was therefore a combination of insufficient reconnaissance and pure hubris that led Steiner to continue with his battle in the Kalach Bridgehead, where both Grossdeutschland Division and the Brandenburgers were still locked in a death grip with Chiukov’s Volga Guard Rifle Corps. He was also busy supervising the opening of a new pontoon bridge south of the main bridge at Kalach, where he sent the 102nd Infantry Division across to pressure that flank. They would cross and storm directly into the teeth of the newly arriving 18th Tank Corps, another surprise delivered by Georgie Zhukov.

General Felix Steiner had once commanded the 5th SS, and when he moved up to Korps level, his shoes were filled by the very capable Otto Gille, a man who was destined to become the most highly decorated SS officer of the war. Gille was a hard fighting realist leading hard fighting men, yet when he arrived at the position Steiner had ordered him to take, he was shocked to see that the line there was already outflanked to the west.

The Soviet 5th Cavalry and 17th Tank Corps went right through that gap in the front, and raced south, completely unopposed. By the morning of the 24th, a disgruntled supply clerk was awakened by the sound of rumbling vehicles. It was most likely a column coming in for fuel or parts or some other bothersome request, and well before breakfast. He got up from his cot, stuck his head out of his field tent, and was amazed to find the column pulling into his small forward depot in a village north of Morozovsk was composed of Russian tanks.

Gille could see what was happening all around him. Fast moving enemy cavalry were already 30 kilometers to his southwest, and the 46th Infantry Division was now entirely swamped by the pressing mass of Russian infantry. To make matters worse, he found his troops arriving in the middle of a big attack through the gap in the line his division was filling. No less than four Rifle Divisions, two of them Guards units, were joined by a cavalry division for this push, and The Wikings were all that barred the way.

Those odds were not really as steep as they sounded, for each of Gille’s three Motorized Regiments, Nordland, Germania and Westland, had the fighting power of a full Russian Rifle Division. So it was really more like five to three in that face off, but the units already behind him were of some concern. He got on the radio to Steiner at once.

“Herr General,” he said. “We have plugged the dike, but the water has already spilled through. We’ve spotted enemy cavalry well south and west of our position. I’m sending the recon battalion to slow them down.”

“That’s the least of my problems now,” said Steiner, the frustration evident in his hard voice. “The Russians are already approaching Morozovsk!”

“My God! You can’t allow them to take that. If they cut that road, then your entire force is cut off.”

“Not entirely,” said Steiner with just an edge of sarcasm in his voice. “We have a bridge at Tormosin where we can always move in with Volkov’s boys south of the Don. Very well, I pulled the Totenkopf Division from Tormosin last night. They need rest and have very little in the way of supplies and ammunition, but I will send them to Morozovsk.”

“Do you still want me to stand my ground here? There’s another big attack coming in right now.”

“Hold as long as practical. Can you make contact with 46th Infantry?”

“They are well to our west.”

“Well try to fold back your flank there, and yes, stand your ground. This is much bigger than I realized. If we can’t stop it soon, we’ll lose the bridgehead at Kalach, and I will not want to be the man who reports that to OKW and the Führer.”

The next call went all the way to Eric Manstein at Armeegruppe South HQ in Kharkov. It was Steiner, laying out the situation in no uncertain terms, a massive Soviet attack all along his northern flank, the infantry buckling, but holding, enemy penetration and fast moving columns sweeping to interdict any road or rail they could find. When Manstein learned that his reserve 48th Panzer Korps was already heavily engaged, he knew things were quite serious. He needed another strong mobile force to plan a counter move, but the only existing formation in the entire army was von Wietersheim’s 14th Panzer Korps, well west of Kharkov. It was on good rail lines, and rolling stock was at hand. The only complication was that he would now need OKW approval to use that Korps, which meant he had to confer with Hitler and Halder.

Manstein knew that there was also a big offensive underway in the center. That force was held where it was to be a central reserve, and von Rundstedt would want it to further his drive east. If he merely sent a telegram requesting the panzers, he knew Halder would likely refuse. He had to go in person, and so he rushed to the nearest airport and got aboard a fast He-111.

Hitler had wanted to get closer to the front, and had taken his personal train, Führersonderzug Brandenburg, to move from the Wolfsschanze in Rastenburg to HQ Werewolf in Vinnytsia, Ukraine. That HQ was well named, for he had been in high spirits, until the news of what was happening fell upon him like cold moonlight, and a terrible transformation ensued. Suddenly, all the progress made over the last few weeks counted for naught. The fact that von Rundstedt’s thrust had been stopped, and now hearing that Manstein’s attack was faltering and under heavy counterattack, enraged him. Steiner had been his unfailing sword. He had pierced the last river barrier before Volgograd, but now that sword was stuck in the hard steel wall of the Volga Guard Rifles.

Then in walked Manstein, his cheeks red with the cold night air. He found Hitler leaning sullenly over the map table, a noticeable twitch in his right arm. Without even looking at him, Hitler spoke: “Why are you not at the front? What are you doing here?”

It was the first time he had snapped at Manstein that way, and Halder, who had come along when the Führer moved, tried very hard to restrain a smile. Yet Manstein remained cool, ignoring Halder, and focusing his attention on Hitler. He simply walked slowly up to the map table, removed his gloves and set them down, and then leaned in beside Hitler, who was eyeing him with sidelong glances as he did so.

“Ah,” he said with a definitive tone. “Just as I expected. Von Rundstedt piled on. He sent Hoth in right behind Model—good for quick yardage, but now he has no southern pincer to bag all these troops he leaves in his wake. It is clear what must be done.”

Hitler had been squinting through the fog of his anger trying to ascertain what to do himself for some hours, tapping the map, muttering under his breath, casting about for staffers and shouting them down whenever they would speak. Yet now, strangely, when Manstein spoke, he quieted, looking at the general for the first time.

“I see you have correctly positioned the one tool I will need now,” said Manstein. “And look, you have cleaned up that mess at Kirov. There is your answer for von Rundstedt’s dilemma. Well done, my Führer. It is obvious that my plane ride here was for naught. Seeing these dispositions, obviously carried out on your personal orders, is most encouraging. With your permission then, I will move Wietersheim’s 14th Panzer Korps immediately, and we will put a complete stop to this Russian Summer offensive over the upper Don. I have already sent in Kempf’s 48th. Excellent divisions, but frankly, he is too slow. May I suggest von Knobelsdorff as a replacement?” Now he clucked, shaking his head as he stood upright. Hitler stood with him.

“Did they think they could fool you with this nonsense?” he said to Hitler with a wry smile. “Not at all. We’ll cut them to ribbons. I will restore the situation immediately, and then Steiner can get back to business as usual.”

Halder’s jaw fell open, his eyes widening, but he waited to see if the werewolf would throw himself upon Manstein as he had every other officer that had approached him in this mood.

“You came here to consult with me on this?”

“Of course. I would have ordered Wietersheim’s troops to move this morning when Steiner informed me of what was happening, but one does not pick up a knight and move it without a good appraisal of the overall situation. The infantry you have ready at Kirov will be exactly what von Rundstedt needs. He can feed it onto the positions he has had to hold with his Panzergrenadiers, and relieving them, he regains his mobility and striking power. Infantry, my Führer. One must always have a balanced force in the attack.”

“I have already sent him two divisions,” said Hitler matter of factly.

“Of course. Now send the rest. It looks to me like you have readied Forster’s 6th Korps, and Heitz with the 8th Infantry Korps. They can take the trains through Orel immediately. Don’t worry about them after that. Model will know exactly what to do when he receives your gift—a good sturdy shield so he can get moving again. As for me, I need a hammer, and von Wietersheim is the only force for the job just now. 14th Panzer Korps will do nicely.”

“But my Führer…” Halder’s voice appealed from across the room, though he did not approach the map table.

“What now Halder? More protests? Can’t you see we are busy here? Where are those adjutants and staff officers? I’ll need runners for these orders at once!” An hour earlier, Hitler had threatened to have the next man that brought him bad news shot, and since that time, the junior officers had kept their distance.

“You realize that is the last Army reserve we have?” said Halder.

“Of course I realize that. And what good is a reserve if it simply sits about when the enemy attacks like this?” He looked at Manstein now. “You may call von Wietersheim directly. Get him moving east at once.”

“I have already taken the liberty of seeing that the necessary rolling stock is available,” said Manstein. “Thank you, my Führer. Just give me a week and I will send you good news.”

That was that. Manstein’s personal intervention had worked its magic yet again, much to Halder’s chagrin. He had it in his mind to take those panzers and move them up to a point just south of Kursk, intending to strike northwest towards Voronezh. Instead, von Manstein had wheedled them away in just five minutes!

So it was that the last of the Valkyries would take wing that night, four good divisions in the hands of an able commander. Wietersheim had fought with Hoepner on the drive to Moscow, getting there when Guderian failed in his wide envelopment strategy. Now Hitler envisioned him as a kind of unfailing remedy, particularly when this notion was seconded by Manstein. The Führer had been hesitating about those divisions, not knowing exactly where he should send them.

Now he knew.

Chapter 8

Kurt Ruschel stopped in his Panther, opening the hatch to get a better look at the ground ahead. He had come up on the slopping banks of a narrow stream, one of the few terrain features he might use in this otherwise flat ground. The infantry assigned to his Kampfgruppe was just now arriving behind him, and he signaled that they should take up positions along the stream. He had a mind to then move his Panthers back, a platoon of 12 tanks, and wait for the enemy to try and force their way over the stream. Then up came a Kubelwagon, and he turned to see an officer stepping out, striding quickly towards his tank.

“Hauptmann,” the officer called. “What are you doing here?”

Ruschel suddenly saw this was no mere officer, it was Hermann Balck, and he was well forward, right at the point where the enemy attack was expected. He saluted immediately. “Sir, I want to spring an ambush here. My men can take cover in the depression of the stream, and I will move my armor about 300 meters back.”

Balck looked the ground over. “Wrong,” he said simply. “Their optics may not be worth much, but they will still see your tanks at that distance. You don’t hold the line of a water obstacle from only one side like that. Send two platoons of infantry 200 meters forward and have them dig in on the other side of the stream. Then put your tanks down there in the depression—they’ll be hull down. Hold the last platoon of Panzergrenadiers in reserve on this side of the stream. If they hit your forward infantry with tanks, they reveal their intention to cross here, and then you pop up with your Panthers and give them a nasty surprise.”

That advice worked for Ruschel’s KG, but Balck would tailor his commands to the unique composition of each KG he encountered, and he always led from the front. A good commander up front at the critical spot with a reliable radio was worth three Generals in the rear areas at their desks with field phones. This is why Balck, like Rommel, was constantly on the move, motoring from one point to the next. He would make an assessment of the situation, then radio back to his Chief of Staff behind the lines to tell him what orders to issue to various elements of his division.

He wanted his troops lean, fast and light, thinning out excess vehicles in the division, which he said would only clog up the few available roads. These he sent to a vehicle pool at the rear, and then used them to replace damaged vehicles in his maneuver elements. In the same fashion, Balck would never use his Feldersatz Battalion as a standalone unit if he had one. Instead he would use those troops as direct replacements for his line infantry battalions, which was the correct employment of that battalion as he saw things. In this way his line battalions would have what he called resilience in combat, and be kept up to strength.

In like manner, he swept his division and culled out specialized units for what he called his “Commander’s Reserve.” These might be experienced artillerymen, reserve tank crewmen, an infantry platoon, mortar men, AT gunners. This group would amount to two or three companies in overall size, and he would never allow it to be employed as a standalone unit in combat. It was there for him to send the necessary replacements to existing units, and as a kind of toolkit for him to man up a specialized Kampfgruppe he might need to build.

If he came across three orphaned AT Guns, he might call for reserve gunners, round up two or three trucks, assign a single tank in support, and a squad of infantry with good MGs. So at the drop of a hat, he had the experienced men he needed in his Commander’s Reserve to build such units, and nobody touched that unit but Balck.

“Alright then,” he said. “Ruschel, you are left of center on my line here. I’ll have a Pakfront set up to your right and rear. If you get too much attention here, then jog even further left, and don’t get too attached to that watercourse. Be ready to maneuver at all times.”

“Are you sending me the new Nashorns?” asked Ruschel.

“Those monstrosities?” Balck shook his head. They had been assigned to his Pz Jaeger Battalion 61, a small unit equipped with a dozen of the latest Marders, and an equal number of Pak 75s. When the ten new mobile 88mm guns arrived, the Nashorns, he just smiled. “Somebody has a wild imagination back in the factories. Nashorn? That’s a good name for it.”

The name meant ‘Rhino’ in German, an apt handle with that long deadly 88mm horn, it was also called the Hornisse, or Hornet, and with a very dangerous sting. Balck would make good use of them, but he never liked them.

The reliable towed AT gun was essential in Balck’s thinking, an integral part of all his panzer operations. One might think such guns were unnecessary in a division heavy on tanks, but that was not the case. As he saw it, attrition in tanks would always far exceed that of his PzJaeger battalion. A Panzer battalion might start the day with 50 tanks, and after a hard day’s fight have only 20 left running, but such attrition was rare for the PzJaegers. The guns he most preferred were the 7.5cm AT guns, and towed when he could get them as opposed to guns mounted on a mobile specialized chassis. The 88s would usually be assigned to flak units, and unlike Rommel, Balck found them too large, slow and unwieldy for panzer warfare in Russia.

The Pak 37s were now useless, and the Pak 50’s growing less effective each month, so he loved the 75s. A good towed AT battalion was every bit as mobile as self-propelled guns, and their vehicles could be put to many other uses as prime movers. He felt the same way about his artillery and mortars, wanting everything towed when he could get it. The vehicles could remove damaged guns, fetch ammunition, go back and bring up additional infantry, all while the Pakfront stayed in action. The guns they towed were far easier to conceal from air strikes than a self-propelled gun. If a prime mover broke down, its AT gun could always be moved by another vehicle.

He would allow Ruschel to stage his defensive action where he was that morning, but would much prefer to keep his Panzers in small, fast moving groups to envelop, enfilade, and surprise enemy advances by slashing at their flanks and rear. The Pakfront was his line of defense, supported by infantry and artillery. The Panzers were to fight like wolves against a flock of sheep, which was a fitting metaphor for how the Russians sometimes advanced. They had a herd mentality, as he saw things, with poor radio communications, equally poor radio security when they did have that equipment, and were often too ponderous and inflexible. They would go for their objectives, heedless and brave to be sure, but failed to make adequate appraisals of the overall situation, and react appropriately.

“Look here,” Balck produced a threadbare map and pointed out the line of the stream where he now determined they were standing. “This stream runs north to south, so they will probably come on your left. There is a small state farm here, and I am posting a battery of 75mm AT guns there. If they do not turn as you expect, and attack your position, then I will need you here.” Balck stuck his finger on the map where he wanted Ruschel to go. Then he squinted at the terrain around them. “There,” he said. See that little group of trees? Swing south of that and you’ll be on the right course.”

This was another aspect of Balck’s command style. He never issued written orders, even well before a well-planned battle, and certainly not in a situation like this. Instead he preferred to conduct map briefings and terrain walks with his officers, and this was a perfect example. And that map he had in hand was also stored in his head. The General had an uncanny sense of where he was at any given moment. “Getting anywhere that matters,” he said, “must begin with knowing where you are when you first decide to go.” It was a maxim that he demonstrated time and again, appearing where things mattered most, and in the heat of battle, heedless of his own personal safety. All the really great commanders of mobile warfare would act this way, O’Connor for the British, Patton for the Americans, and men like Erwin Rommel and Hermann Balck for the Germans.

“Hauptmann Ruschel,” he said. “I will call you when I need you, and you must be ready to move in the blink of an eye.”

Ruschel saluted, then smiled as he watched Balck run to his Kubelwagon, slapping the hood as he mounted, and then the driver gunned the engine and he was gone in a swirl of dust. He was off to find the commander of his 61st Motorcycle Recon Battalion, Lt. Colonel Paul Freiherr von Hauser. (Not to be confused with the SS officer with a similar name Paul Hausser). Balck had great confidence in the man, for Hauser was a master of the fine art of reconnaissance, even with his noisome motorcycles. He knew how to scout a position like few others, was audacious in the advance, and tenacious if asked to defend. Balck would come to call him simply, “the incomparable Hauser.”

Knowing Hauser was from a noble Austrian family, he took to addressing him as Herr von Hauser in their personal discussions, according him a measure of respect he believed was his due. One of the very best, Hauser would eventually rise to command the elite Panzer Lehr Division in the West, but for now, he was one of Balck’s chief military spirits in the Ghost Division, and he often relied on him in situations where no other man might prevail.

He found Hauser about ten kilometers east, his lead company feeling its way toward the expected line of the Russian advance. “Herr von Hauser,” he said with a smile, greeting the man with a warm handshake. Balck always felt he was at the root and stem of the division when he was with the motorcycle troops. In fact, the division itself had been converted from the older 11th Schutzen Brigade after the campaign in France, a fast moving formation on motorcycles.

“What does it look like out there?” he asked. “Any sign of our Infantry?”

“Not yet,” said Hauser. “I had 1st Company well north a while back. They made radio contact, with a Leutnant in the 73rd, and I’m told everything has gone to hell up there. The troops were all at the morning mess pits when the attack came in. The divisional commander got drunk last night and was still asleep. The poor Leutnant was trying to pull the defense together himself.”

“God bless the Leutnants of this army,” said Balck. “They are a special breed and without them how could our Generals drink and sleep?” Balck flashed him his characteristic broad smile, eyes alight. He never lost his sense of humor, even at the height of a crisis like this.

“Very well, Hauptmann, I want you to find that infantry for me. Note their position on a map when you do, and then send a fast biker back here to look for me. Can you get up there?”

“Certainly,” said Hauser. “This advance here has a lot of heavy armor—many KV type tanks in small battalion formations. That’s going to be a lot of work for the Panzer Jaegers. The really big breakthrough is to our east from all I can gather. We picked up a lot of Russian radio traffic. They moved several corps through a big hole last night, and I even heard Steiner on the radio talking about Morozovsk. The situation is very scattered. They have cavalry milling about over there, then charging off in every direction and getting nowhere fast. There are also tanks, however. I heard clear radio traffic that identified the 17th Tank Corps, and some units from the 6th—T-34s for the most part.”

“Yes, we’ve already killed all their older tanks,” said Balck. I’m afraid all we did was encourage them to build more of these new ones. Well, we have a few new tanks as well. I have Hauptmann Ruschel not far from here with a Kampfgruppe. He’s watching the stream bed on your right for the moment, but his cats will come when I whistle. Let me know if you need them. I think we had better finish up here quickly, and then move east at mid-day. Pass the word. We’ll regroup at Roshok on this secondary road to Morozovsk. That will put the division on the flank of that breakthrough, and that’s when we do what we do best.”

That became the order of the day. The 23rd Panzer had blunted the attack pushing out of the Boguchar Bridgehead, and then shifted to its right where Balck had been engaging those heavy tank battalions Hauser had scouted out for him. In that he had the support of the 102nd Heavy Panzer Brigade, and with that unit, one Kurt Knispel was having a field day, racking up an astonishing 13 kills in the space of an hour.

“My,” said Balck, watching through his binoculars as the Lions roared. “Look at that lead tank there, number 507. I want that man in my division!” He had unknowingly pointed to Knispel’s tank, seeing it turn and engage, the crack of its heavy gun sharp on the afternoon air. Balck first thought he had fired much too soon, until he saw the enemy tanks burning, well over 1500 meters away. Knispel’s penchant for long range kills was in rare form that day, and he got seven of his baker’s dozen at ranges where the Panzer IVs could never consider engaging.

By late afternoon it wasn’t a runner who came looking for Balck, but Hauser himself. “I heard this is where the action is tonight,” he said. “But I have good news. The 9th Panzer Division has arrived by rail at Millerovo.”

“That’s Walter Scheller’s outfit now,” said Balck. “Good for him. He can smell where the fighting is.” Balck had taken command of the 11th Panzer from Scheller, who then went to the 9th.

“His division has been assigned to Kempf’s Korps,” said Hauser, “only Kemp is going somewhere else. It’s Knobelsdorff commanding the 48th now.”

“Knobelsdorff? I thought he was in the hospital. In any case, that’s a step in the right direction. He did excellent work with the 19th Panzer Division. Kempf is good with the infantry, but not with tanks. This is very good news.”

“It gets better. Scheller has an infantry division with him.”

“Just what we need. Good! Then we attack until sunset—keep them off balance. After dark we pause, and we’ll let them think we’re sleepy. Instead we move to see if we can coordinate with Scheller’s division. This is going to get very interesting. Stay sharp, Herr von Hauser. I will want your eyes and ears on my right flank now. That’s where we hit them tonight.”

Hermann Balck wasn’t the only one with good eyes and ears. The Soviets had enjoyed a rare local air superiority in the last two weeks, as Manstein’s advance outpaced the ability of the Luftwaffe to reposition and supply squadrons to airfields close enough to support it. Therefore, General Zhukov had a good bird’s eye view of what was happening on the ground. When he saw the dramatic breakthrough in his main attack, he clenched his fist with elation.

He had pushed a tank corps and supporting cavalry divisions through that hole and seen them race over 120 kilometers to the south, all the way to threaten Morozovsk. He had killed the German 46th and 50th Infantry Divisions, cut the line of communications for the SS Panzer Korps, stopped the flow of supporting infantry, worsened its supply status, disrupted its attack at Kalach, forced Steiner to pull units out of that hard won bridgehead to cover his north and even western flanks. The Wiking Division had gone north, Totenkopf west to Morozovsk, Das Reich was pulled into reserve, its troops too exhausted and supplies too low to be used in the bridgehead battle any longer. There his two Aces still fought with the Volga Rifles, now heavily reinforced with the arrival of several independent tank brigades. The Germans would eventually restore their supply corridor, but not this week. He smiled.

Now, however, he could also see the slashing counterattacks that began to bite into the western end of his offensive. A pair of fast moving German Panzer Divisions had punched, moved, punched again, until they had restored order and stabilized the entire German line from Boguchar to Veshenskaya. A third division was seen arriving on the trains at Millerovo, and he knew what was coming next. “Signal Yeremenko—Summer Fox,” he ordered.

It was the prearranged code for consolidation and pullback. He wasn’t going to sit there and watch the Germans tear up his scattered dividions. So on the night when Balck was planning to strike, the Russians pulled back. Only the formations that had broken through near Morozovsk were to be sacrificed. They were too far south, so Zhukov ordered them to turn for the big bend of the Donets, tear up rail lines, blow bridges, and attempt to join Rokossovsky.

His brief summer offensive was over, but he had gained nearly a month of valuable time for the citizens of Volgograd. As far as he was concerned, Operation Mars was a success.

Chapter 9

The German assessment of what had happened in that attack was quite different. The Russians had definitely caught them by surprise, and for eight long days their shock armies had rampaged across the steppes. Yet from the German perspective, they had seen the enemy throw the mass of all the forces they had available along the line of the Don against a string of German infantry divisions that had only recently taken up positions. The line had buckled, was pierced in at least two locations, with one very serious breach that led to the startling enemy drive on Morozovsk.

Yet the presence of two panzer divisions, the 11th and 23rd, had stopped the wound at Boguchar, then swung east to smash into the flank of the enemy’s most serious penetration. The timely arrival of the 14th Panzer Korps had finally put an end to Zhukov’s offensive, but at some considerable cost.

When Steiner sent the Wiking Division north into the breach at the height of the crisis, casualties had been high. When finally pulled off the line, the Germania Regiment was down to the strength of a reinforced company. There were only 18 rifle squads left of the 120 that had started the offensive a month earlier. Nordland had only 24 squads, battalion level strength. Only Westland survived reasonably intact, with 69 squads still on the line reinforcing a battered infantry regiment that had been whittled down to battalion strength. The rest of the Wiking Division had to be pulled back to the Chir for extensive rest and reorganization to a traditional Panzer Division structure. Nordland and Germania would combine their resources, and tanks and other assault guns were on the way to form a panzer regiment.

Morozovsk was cleared of enemy infestation by the tired 3rd SS Division. 1st SS relieved the Wikings to fill the hole in the north, and the supply corridor would reopen by August 3rd. Manstein considered the affair nothing more than a spoiling attack, as massive as it was. His troops had even counterattacked to retake Kursk and change the headlines there once again, and all this news reaching Hitler restored his hopes and calmed his mood considerably. Manstein had done what he said he would do, and the outcome only increased the Führer’s confidence in his strategy, much to Halder’s displeasure. What might have happened if Manstein had not wrangled away the 14th Panzer Korps as he did, was not discussed, nor was there any mention of the fact that now there was no mobile reserve anywhere else on the front.

In the meantime, Ivan Volkov was elated that his troops had finally made contact with the Germans at Tormosin. He ordered his bridging engineers to improve that crossing, expecting visitors soon, though none came. Then, knowing the Germans were in a fight to cross the Don at the Kalach Bridgehead, he gathered the disparate elements of two Army Korps and committed them in a drive north along the south bank of the Don towards Nizhny Chirskaya, a small town about 45 kilometers south of Kalach in a very marshy region of the Don bend. That was where the rail line from Morozovsk crossed the river before running up to Volgograd.

A regiment of the Brandenburgers had taken that bridge, and now his troops cleared the southern and eastern banks of the Don to enable German bridging engineers to get to work on repairing the span. So the Germans had two bridges over the Don, and it was now only a matter of resting their shock troops, resupplying, cleaning up Zhukov’s mess, and bringing up the rest of Wietersheim’s 14th Panzer Korps. The 13th Panzer Division arrived on August 6th, moving up to finally seal off the massive breach those Shock Armies had torn in the German line. Balck moved his division, and other elements of the 48th Panzer Korps into reserve, and went off to look for von Knobelsdorff.

Back at OKW, Halder was determined to get his hands on fresh troops for Armeegruppe Center. The collapse of the Kirov Pocket provided a massive pool of infantry that had been tied up there for over six months. He immediately began sorting through the available divisions, and sending them east towards the big operation by Model and Hoth. They had been the missing element there, as Manstein had correctly pointed out. There had been nothing to hold the shoulders of the German breakthrough, and so as it advanced, the Panzer Divisions had been roped into that duty, stopping their advance. It was only the commitment of Hoth’s 3rd Panzer Armee that allowed the drive to get as far as it did. Now the job was to get infantry east, move them into the shoulders of the breakthrough, free up those Panzers and get moving again.

Both the 6th, 8th and 9th Infantry Korps would be sent, slowly arriving by rail and feeding into the line to relieve positions held by 2nd Panzer Armee. Hoth was already consolidating his divisions and front loading the tip of the spear, the most advanced positions attained after the initial breakthrough. If seen on a map, the German penetration was like a vast arm, reaching for Lipetsk, but there was no southern pincer moving on Voronezh. Halder had to settle for half an offensive, counting on the sheer mass and mobility of his Panzers. As long as he got up additional infantry support, he was ready to strike southeast yet again. It was going to produce another dramatic blow to the front.

With the infantry relieving 2nd Panzer Armee, Model shifted the bulk of his divisions south, right at the junction of the Soviet 49th Army and the 1st Red Banner that had been sent up to form the southern shoulder of the initial penetration. Five Rifle Divisions were smashed, the headquarters of the 49th Army overrun, artillery positions decimated and the Germans were suddenly through, and pushing for Livny. At the same time, Hoth’s 3rd Panzer Armee broke through at the Schwerpunkt of the drive where he had been forced to stop weeks earlier, and his divisions came barreling into Yelets. By the 13th of August he had advanced elements 25 kilometers beyond the city. Halder finally had something to crow about at OKW.

From the Russian Perspective This was yet another disaster, but one which Zhukov had anticipated. Where were all the Tank Armies? There was only one formed officially, composed of 22nd, 23rd and 24th Tank Corps. All the other Tank Corps were operating independently, but these three combined as one under General Kusnetsov. They had been positioned behind Lipetsk, the apparent objective of Hoth’s drive weeks ago. And now, with the Germans on the move again, they crossed the upper Don River there and moved northwest of the city, preparing to strike at the German flank should the enemy attempt to take the city itself. Only one Motor Rifle Regiment of the as yet unformed 21st Tank Corps was posted in the city.

In the meantime, the last surviving units of 17th Siberian, and all of Yeremenko’s 1st Red Banner Army, were being swarmed over by Model’s 2nd Panzer Armee. Any unit that was not pinned down in combat began a massed stampede south away from the onrushing tide of German steel. The axis of this new German breakthrough was going to take it behind Berzarin’s 27th Army, and the 40th Army under Podlas defending near Kursk. Behind the great bulge in the line created by those two armies, about 100 miles east northeast of Kursk at a small town on the rail line, sat Zhukov’s Central Front Reserve, the 11th Army under Morozov. It was a small force composed of four Rifle Divisions, an independent Rifle Brigade, a security regiment and supporting artillery. The first desperate refugees from the front were already straggling down from the north, and the 1st Heavy Artillery Division was in full retreat.

It was a tense hour when Zhukov got the news. He had to decide quickly whether to commit his reserves to try and blunt this attack, or to attempt to extricate the 27th and 40th armies. His instinct warned him of the terrible danger he was facing. He could lose both armies, or see them trapped in a pocket, while the Germans pushed down towards Voronezh, and Morozov’s infantry was all he could put in their way. If Voronezh fell, then the whole line from Kursk to Boguchar on the middle Don was essentially cut off. It was either block the breakthrough in the north and hope the front could hold, or attempt to withdraw all six armies between the breakthrough zone and Boguchar, and fall back to the line of the Don running through Voronezh. Without consulting Sergei Kirov, he ordered the retreat.

At least I’ll save something from this wreck, he thought. If I can get the bulk of the rifle divisions back to the Don, and hold in front of Voronezh, then we’ve got that city as a good supply center, and we can stop them from using this offensive to unhinge my entire front on the lower Don. 2nd Guards Army was trying to get to Valuki during my offensive. Of course it could not get there, but now it remains intact, reasonably well equipped, and still mobile. I will relieve it with the 11th Rifle Corps, and get it back to the nearest rail line. It can hold Voronezh for me. It must hold that city. This is all or nothing. If I don’t stop them and stabilize the front by September, then God only knows what might happen. I have nothing else in reserve—nothing!

A day after he ordered that retreat, in walked a heavy set man, balding, round faced, and with a prominent mole near his nose under his left eye. He claimed that he had been sent directly to Zhukov’s HQ at Voronezh to determine what was happening and report to Sergei Kirov.

“And you are?” asked Zhukov curtly.

“Commissar Nikita Sergeyevich Khrushchev.”

“Ah,” said Zhukov. “Then you are here to check up on me as well, eh Commissar?”

“You might see things that way. We are abandoning Kursk, and losing a good deal of terrain with those orders you issued yesterday. Care to explain yourself, or should I simply tour the front and come to my own conclusions before I return to Leningrad with my report?”

Khrushchev had become known as a troublemaker, a henchman, a watchdog all in one. And he always seemed to appear at the point of crisis. He had been at Kiev when that city was surrounded and so many were lost, and again at Kirov, where he had stayed in the pocket for several months before being flown out when Moscow burned. Wherever there was disaster, chaos, or calamity, Khrushchev would be sure to put in an appearance. Some whispered that he was one of Beria’s old men, though any who had sought to denounce him came to a swift and deadly end. And now, here he was again.

“You may draw whatever conclusions you wish,” said Zhukov, not intimidated in the least. You were at Kiev, were you not? You were in the Kirov Pocket? Well, I do not have to tell you what happened to all those troops, when one timely backward step might have saved many armies to continue this struggle on other ground. The Rodina is a very big place, at least on my maps.”

Khrushchev smiled. “May I see your map? I wish to review the dispositions of your forces given this sudden change in the front lines.”

“They are there on the table, and as you will soon see, I am trying to save six armies from becoming the Kursk Pocket. I think we have had quite enough of that sort of heroic stand. Would you agree?”

“Your offensive on the lower Don,” said Khrushchev, ignoring the question. “Has it been terminated?”

“It has served its purpose, and I have consolidated on the ground we won with that attack.”

“Then you have no further intention of pressuring the enemy line there?”

“The mere presence of those troops is pressure enough—assuming I can keep them there and reform them. This new situation is the real crisis.”

“Not Volgograd? Sergei Kirov is very determined to hold that city. We have held it for decades against Volkov’s troops, and he will not see it given away as you so lightly hand the Germans Kursk.”

That remark irritated Zhukov, and he made no effort to conceal his displeasure. “Commissar, I can have you flown to Kursk if you like, and you may organize the defense there—you and your NKVD.”

Khrushchev looked at him, again with a smile. “General, nobody likes me. Yes, I am well aware of this. Yet someone must look over a shoulder or two in this mess, and sort things out. Where do you mean to make your next stand?”

“On the line of the Don.”

“Then you will cede the enemy half of Voronezh?”

“Commissar, one always holds both sides of a major water obstacle at a critical point like that. Rest assured, we will hold that city. I am sending the entire 2nd Guards Army there, and Kusnetsov’s 1st Tank Army is poised to deliver a strong spoiling attack if they persist towards Lipetsk. As for the armies I have ordered east, I would prefer to still be in command of them this winter. If I left them in the Kursk bulge, they would either be dead, in a German concentration camp, or perhaps huddling with you around a few last camp fires, making another heroic stand as at Kirov. Only they will have no plane ticket out.”

“My,” said Khrushchev, “insult on top of injury. Very well, General Zhukov. I believe I have seen quite enough here, and yes, I do have another plane to catch—to Leningrad.”

Zhukov cast a derisive glance over his shoulder as the man left him, shaking his head. Commissars, he thought. The world would be a much better place if we rounded them all up and shot them. Because if we don’t, that is what they will do to the rest of us one day—the high and the low.

Khrushchev made one brief stop before he went to the airfield, taking a personal car to an isolated village east of Voronezh. He got out, the driver waiting, and made his way to a small insignificant farm house, ostensibly to visit a distant cousin, and deliver a bottle of good vodka, which he had in hand.

No one was there, and once inside and alone, he sat himself down at the plain wood table and took out a small booklet. Leaning over, he grunted as he moved one of the floor boards, finding there a small box that hid a radio telegraph set. It would operate using the traditional key to tap out code, but send the signal wirelessly, like a radio might. His message was brief.

That was that, a very brief message in a special cyphered Morse, and it would be picked up by the nearest friendly listening station. There was just one catch—the nearest friendly listening post was not under Soviet command, because the rumors were all true. Nikita Khrushchev was a Volkov man, through and through. His operatives would repeat the message, until the signal hopped east, over the Volga, and right into the eager ears of the security forces of Ivan Volkov. Khrushchev had been promised the entire province of the Ukraine after this was all over, and he intended to speed things along, any way he could.

Unbeknownst to him, Berzin had men on the front lines as well, and with all the key headquarters. One had taken a particular interest in Nikita Sergeyevich Khrushchev, and he, too, would send a coded signal that night, right to Berzin himself. The Intelligence Chief would read it with some interest in his evening conference with Sergei Kirov.

“What is it?” asked Kirov. “You look like you’ve eaten some bad borscht.”

“Khrushchev,” said Berzin. “He visited Zhukov tonight as we ordered, but afterwards he did not go directly to the airfield, but to a farmhouse ten kilometers east of Voronezh.”

“What would he be doing there?”

“Who knows, but we picked up an enciphered signal about that same time. It might have originated with him….”

Kirov took that in. “I know what you think of him, Grishin,” said Kirov, calling Berzin by the nickname he always used. “And I also know you expect me to protect him, but we can take no further chances after that little theater Beria pulled in Moscow. I know you did everything possible to root out his network. Red Rain was quite extreme. Yet we must accept the fact that Volkov still has men embedded within our own security system, and what better place than the ranks of the Commissars. Watch him,” he finished. “Watch him very closely….”