Turning Point

Chapter 4

When the long overdue Soviet counterattack finally came it was still a great shock to the Germans. They had been huddling in the charred and broken remnants of Moscow, controlling two thirds of the massive city, which then settled into a nightmarish quagmire of fighting from cellars and sewer lines to rooftops and attics, block by block. And as Russia stretched on for thousands of kilometers, the city never seemed to end. It became work for small assault teams, engineers, snipers, with the entirety of the war being reduced to small and bitter contests over a particular house or building that promised decent shelter, a commanding view of some important intersection, or fresh furniture that could be used for firewood. Through it all, one of the coldest winters in a hundred years had descended over the land, and it would stay that way for longer than any realized.

From Moscow the lines stretched west to the Baltic and south to the line of the Don, and the German assault sat frozen in Fahrenheit temperatures that often reached 30 to 50 degrees below zero. On January 26th it reached 63 degrees below. It was so cold that the oil froze in the Panzers, and to even start the tanks, the crews had to kindle fires beneath them to warm the engines. Needless to say, that was not going to make those units capable of any rapid reaction to an enemy attack. At other times, field mice found their way into the vehicles, and chewed on electrical cables and rubber hoses, rendering them unusable.

In places, the major roads would become impassible unless plowed, which ended up creating huge snow berms on either side that would harden to near ice, restricting any lateral movement. Vehicles broke down, and the sluggish supply deliveries saw no spare parts readily available. So other vehicles were cannibalized to keep some still running, and the landscape was soon haunted by the derelict trucks, tanks and prime movers that were now good for little more than shelter from the wind for nearby troops. In some cases, the men used working prime movers to haul these abandoned vehicles into metal laagers, and set up small encampments within. Everyone wanted to be the lucky ones who could spend the long cold nights inside a truck cabin, and small fire lit beneath the trucks kept water heated in the radiators, which the men used for many purposes.

Food would freeze on the short hauls from division mess kitchens to the men on the lines, leaving the troops icy bowls of frozen lumps to eat. Frostbitten feet swelled in the boots unless socks were changed regularly to keep them dry, a most uncomfortable task. Without adequate heavy winter clothing or boots, the troops, and horses they relied on to move heavy equipment, suffered terribly. Throughout the lines, more casualties were reported from frostbite than anything else, sometimes as many as 800 per day in a given division. Frostbitten cheeks, ears, noses hands and feet were the norm, and over 1.5 million horses would die that winter from wounds, cold, lack of food, and exhaustion. In such conditions, any shelter, even that of a few buildings in an isolated farm, became extremely desirable, and towns and villages were fought over with any strength remaining on either side.

In such conditions, mounting regular patrols and recon operations was near impossible. The thick white blanket of snow covered every landmark, transforming the terrain into a uniform carpet where the troops could easily lose their sense of direction and wander off, particularly when snow blizzards reduced visibility to near zero. The troops that could move identified the proximity of a village by listening for the sound of birds that would aggregate and roost there.

Out in the long lines of the infantry divisions, it was often so cold that the bolt action rifles froze when it was found that the grease used in them was not frost resistant. Soon many machineguns became useless beneath layers of ice. Trenches could not be dug into the hard frozen ground, so troops in the field had only snow bunkers, long icy tunnels stretching through the sea of white. Against enemy artillery fire, it offered no protection at all, so the men began melting segments of the snow to try and re-freeze them to harder ice for some modest protection against small arms and shrapnel. Even a minor wound in such circumstances could become an easy death sentence.

Troops that attempted movement in the deep snow, sometimes over twenty inches, soon became utterly exhausted. It was here that the winterized Siberian divisions, dressed in warm white parkas and with a high number of ski troops, truly excelled. They had mobility, and could infiltrate through gaps in enemy lines, encircling positions and further complicating any defensive reaction to the attack. The Soviet tanks, with higher ground clearance and much wider tracks, became the most mobile force available, yet they often blundered into near invisible German infantry positions, and units who were able to fire the new Panzerfaust weapon exacted heavy tolls on the enemy.

When it did finally come, the Russian attack had one major aim—cut the Germans off in their effort to secure the remains of Moscow and consolidate for any further operations. In the east, every available unit was thrown against the German defense on the long line of the road from Serpukhov to Tula and down through Orel, backed up by strong reserves finally arriving from rear areas. They did not have far to go, for in many places, the Germans being obsessed with their drive north, the road and rail was buffered by no more than ten or fifteen kilometers behind a thin line of infantry outposts. Even though movement along that corridor was limited by the awful weather, the Soviets nonetheless struck both north and south of Tula, and at all the places the Germans had fought for so bitterly on Guderian’s drive—Gorbachevo, Chern, Mtsensk and the principal attack aimed at the city of Orel.

Dmitri Lavrinenko was in on this attack, his 4th Tank Brigade fleshed out by newly arrived T-34s. As always, he moved with purposeful determination, cutting the road north of Tula in a drive that would eventually force some hard decisions on the Germans.

“The infantry will be following us, right in the hardened snow packed down by our tank treads,” he said. “We will make a particular effort to secure any small tree lines or woods where they can then form up for a major ground attack.” He would have the services of two rifle divisions behind him, and in places where there would be no covering terrain, these troops would begin to dig snow tunnels towards the enemy positions, their long, icy cold fingers reaching for the German troops already near frozen on the open exposed ground.

In places, the Soviets paid a high price for these attacks. Where the Germans could keep their machineguns operating, the casualties were very heavy in the first wave of any attack. Then the second wave would come forward, right over the dead and slowly freezing bodies of their fallen comrades, using them as a means of getting forward faster, and even falling to the ground behind the dead to use them as a shield from enemy fire. It was a cold, ghastly business, with the white snows stained red with blood on both sides. Five, then seven, or even ten waves of infantry would continue forward like this, until the manpower of the attacking Rifle Division was simply exhausted. Then a new rifle division would form up to roll forward over that grisly trail of death, and continue the relentless attack.

Since the German defensive doctrine saw the infantry clustered around farms and hamlets, creating an archipelago of strong points, there were deliberate gaps in the line through which the enemy infantry infiltrated, particularly the Soviet ski troops. They were aided by small partisan units, rising up from ungarrisoned towns behind the German lines, and raising havoc. At times, a mounted cavalry unit provided more mobility than any motorized formation, and these units, the hardy Siberian horsemen, swept through the lines like ghostly vapors. Some of these units even pulled sleighs laden with more infantry to bolster their attacks. Not having the benefit of roads and vehicles over decades of hard life in the cruel Siberian winters, these troops were well adapted, and knew how to move in these harsh conditions, the old fashioned way.

In the beginning the Germans thought these thrusts were merely massive spoiling attacks to try and close the major line of communications up to Serpukhov. Orel was the first real crisis point. There the Soviets threw the weight and mass of three full shock armies in an all out drive to break through and reach Bryansk. Once the extent of this attack was realized, the Germans finally knew this was much more than they expected from a foe they thought was already beaten.

The aim and scope of the attack was truly ambitious. Since so many German troops had been diverted to the drive on Moscow, the massive “Kirov Pocket” still remained encircled, shaped like a huge rib eye steak well behind German lines. The Soviets still held Bryansk at the bottom, Kirov at the center, and terrain stretching fifty to eighty kilometers from there in all directions. The Germans, thinking the fall of Moscow would result in enemy capitulation, never pressed any real concerted attack to reduce this pocket, largely because they kept pulling forces off the perimeter to support their drive on Moscow. Now the Soviets were going to attempt to reach these beleaguered troops from both sides of the battlefield.

The main drive was the attack aimed at Orel, which simply overwhelmed the defense, breaking through like a flood tide of Red Army soldiers. Though it moved slowly, the Russian advance was inexorable, and left small islands of resistance behind at both Gorbachov and Metsensk. The former town would have been lost if not for the timely intervention of the new 103rd Panzer Brigade, fresh off the train just before the attack, and with good operational vehicles. It joined elements of 29th Motorized and 4th Panzer Division, and shored up a shoulder of defense that marked the southern end of the German line near the breakthrough.

The Soviets cut the main road at Chern to the south, and then completely surrounded the 267th Infantry Division huddled around Mtsensk. The breakthrough pushed all the way to Bolkov behind the German lines where Von Schweppenburg had his headquarters. Both he, and then Guderian himself, with the entire army command staff, had to leap onto any vehicle they could get running and flee north. Hit by the main weight of the attack, Orel could not be held, and a massive gap opened in the line over a hundred kilometers wide. Soon 18th Panzer Division was another small island surrounded south of Orel, as were the remnants of the 167th Infantry Division.

Tired and cold, Guderian found von Schweppenburg near a small village to assess the situation. “This is much bigger than we may realize,” he said. “I can feel it. Under these circumstances, with Orel overrun in the south, we have two options. We can either hold these small resistance points at Mtsensk, and Tula, keeping the benefit of the shelter the cities offer our troops. But they will end up surrounded—isolated pockets until some relief can be mounted to reach them. The only problem is finding a force we can keep moving to do that, which could take considerable time.”

“And the other option?” asked Von Schweppenburg, now a haggard man after the hard fighting and precipitous retreat he had just made with his headquarters and staff.

“The river bends south from Serpukhov, and we still control that city. We could abandon the ground to the east and pull back behind the natural front of that river. Cover will not be as good for the troops as in Tula, but that was largely held by mobile troops. I don’t think we will want to leave them in a pocket there. If we get them back over this river, then I may be able to build several operational kampfgruppes to form fire brigades.”

“I agree,” said von Schweppenburg. “Can we hold Serpukhov even long enough to get the troops back over that river?”

“Model is there,” said Guderian, and that was enough to satisfy von Schweppenburg that the place would be held. So this was what the Germans decided to do, orders going out that day. 2nd Panzer Army was strung out like a tattered rope, and now Guderian was hoping to loop it back and coil it up behind that river and build up some semblance of a mobile force again.

“I think you are correct that this is bigger than we think,” said von Schweppenburg. “The last reports I had spoke of another big push from the northwest aimed at Smolensk.”

“They are trying to reach the Kirov pocket,” said Guderian. “It was foolish to leave such a large force encircled behind our main thrust at Moscow, and I said as much long ago. That’s where most of the infantry was tied up, but since we pulled all the good divisions out to push for Moscow, that infantry could not reduce the pocket before the really cold weather set in. Now we had better get moving. The Russians are still on our heels, and they could be here any minute.”

The decision reached in that abandoned farmhouse would end up having dramatic repercussions. As news of the great winter counteroffensive reached Berlin, and reports streamed in of the loss of Orel, the abandonment of Tula under Guderian’s plan, and the threats to other key cities like Smolensk and Orsha, Hitler went ballistic. It was not the first tirade he had leveled at Army planners in OKW headquarters, but it was certainly the most severe. He ranted for over an hour, his fist pounding the map table, shaking troop markers from their positions, which he would then reset to a place of his liking. The greater disaster was that he resolved to take personal command of the field armies, and a spate of “Führer’s Directives” began to stream forth from OKW, ordering that no German division would make a withdrawal.

As for Guderian, he was summarily recalled to Berlin, where the last battle he would fight for some time would be with Hitler himself.

“What did you intend by such a stupid and untimely withdrawal? In a few days you hand the enemy back terrain our troops fought for months to acquire!”

“Had I not done so the troops would now be completely isolated. This attack was far stronger than you may realize, and the men were simply worn out.”

“And the Generals,” said Hitler. “It is obvious that you have lost any command of your senses, let along the aggressive spirit necessary for a front line commander to lead his troops. What was the purpose of this withdrawal?”

Guderian decided he could not mince words here, and so he turned to the Führer with one blunt sentence. “To save the 2nd Panzer Armee from annihilation.”

Hitler stared at him, his lower lip quivering as he tried to hold his temper in check. But the shocking candor of Guderian’s words would haunt him for days after.

Chapter 5

“Annihilation? We had only just completed the capture of Serpukhov. Your forces were preparing to mount the final drive to enfilade Moscow from the southeast.”

“That may be what you believed was happening from the vantage point of OKW,” said Guderian, “but I assure you, the reports I sent were frank and straightforward. The army had lost 80 percent of its mobility. The roads were of minimal use in the heavy snows, and off road movement was near impossible—that is for the few units which still had fuel. As for supplies, I came across one platoon of Panzergrenadiers that had been collecting the boots of their fallen comrades, slicing up the leather and boiling it for food! All the living flesh in the horses that had died by the thousands in the freezing temperatures had already been consumed.”

Hitler brushed the lock of dark hair from his forehead, his eyes deep set with dark circles, his face pallid and drawn. Guderian could not fail to notice the slight tremor in his hand. The Führer had seen the dream of victory finally come to him when his panzers swept into Moscow behind the raging flames of the fires set by the traitor Beria and his renegade NKVD. Moscow had finally fallen, and the Nazi flag flew over the Kremlin. Yet all the city was good for was rudimentary shelter in the winter, and the charred remnants of the buildings that had burned were collected to make coals to be distributed to the men on the line. The long desperate struggle had finally given him his objective, but his enemy simply refused to capitulate.

It all had a haunting echo of the fate of Napoleon’s Grand Army. That force could defeat any enemy it faced, save one—General Winter. It sat in Moscow in 1812, and the city had also burned as it had here in 1942. 130 years of European history had passed, but it seemed that nothing had been learned. Half a million men in that Army died in that dreadful winter, and it was a decisive turning point in the wars of Napoleon against his many enemies.

“How?” said Hitler, with the despair obvious on his face. “How could they have found the troops to make such an attack?”

“It is our estimation that the collapse of Volkov’s Volga Bridgehead allowed the transfer of three full armies from that sector. We also identified three more Shock Armies, all Siberian troops freshly arrived and well winterized. Their ski troops moved like the wind, right between our strongpoints. Their T-34s rolled right on after them with those wide tracks for snow movement.”

“And what about the Lions! What about the Panthers! The Tigers!”

“My Führer, where those units fought, the line was held, but there were simply too few. Only two or three of the panzer divisions had received them, and the main allotment concentrated in those special brigades could not be everywhere. One bright note was the Panzerfaust. When the infantry had that weapon, the strongpoints could not be broken by the Soviet Armor. But they simply bypassed those resistance points and moved into rear areas. If I had not pulled the Army to the line it now occupies, I would be having this discussion with Sergei Kirov, in a Soviet prison camp. My headquarters was nearly overrun, and Von Schweppenburg and I barely escaped capture, or worse.”

“Very well, very well…” Hitler waved his arm. “Under the circumstances, I find it impossible to send you back to the front as an operational commander. I will take command of 2nd Panzer Armee personally, and you will be appointed Inspector General of the Panzertruppen. Your role will now be to make an overall assessment of the Panzer arm of the Wehrmacht, identify units needing refit and replenishment, and coordinate with homeland production centers to see to the timely delivery of new armor to the front. Understood?”

Guderian simply nodded, and then Hitler turned his back on him. “That will be all, Herr General,” he said with no emotion.

The decision made that day at OKW would end up being all for the good, and even Guderian had mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, seeing the reins of command taken from him stung, and the thought that Hitler would be trying to command his divisions from his post at OKW made him shudder. A sense of fatalistic shame fell over him, and the fatigue of these long months in the field now became utter exhaustion. After the long bitter struggle there was no sense of victory, no toast to the fallen heroes. All he had in his mouth was the taste of defeat. On the other hand, events were soon to see his Army pass to the hands of a most capable man.

On the other side of that massive pocket the Soviets had also put considerable pressure on the lines of communications from Moscow to Minsk. One main attack was pushed through to recapture Vyazma, eventually reaching the heavy wooded zone beyond. Further west, Wiktorin’s 22nd, Schubert’s 23rd, and Heinrici’s 43rd Infantry Korps were the object of a big Soviet pincer attack, the one von Schweppenburg had heard about in his hectic conference with Guderian. The left pincer stormed through Vitsyebsk, with the right pincer aimed at Smolensk on the other vital communications line leading to Moscow. The Germans did everything possible to get fresh infantry forward on the limited rail system. Orsha, west of Smolensk, became a vital communications hub that was nearly overrun by a fast moving brigade of Soviet tanks.

There, the newly arrived 85th and 100th Gebirgs Regiments pulled from Army Group North reserve had leapt from the trains and just barely managed to hold on to the city. It commanded the major rail line leading east to Smolensk, and if that city were to fall, and the Russians reached the lines of their encircled comrades that had been stubbornly defending Kirov, then that pocket would suddenly form the southern and western wall of a new pocket that would be four times its size—only this time the tables would be turned and it would be filled with German troops, every unit the Wehrmacht had thrown at Moscow. It would leave over 50 divisions encircled, and with no secure line of communications back to points south and west, and Germany.

One particularly vital train just squeaked through Orsha carrying units of the 11th Army that were taken from the forces assigned for the Crimea. These vital fresh infantry divisions would attempt to stop the encirclement of Smolensk, at least on the westernmost side of that double pincer attack.

This halted the retrograde movement made by those three infantry Corps between Orsha and the lines east of Smolensk, and now they would be under threat of encirclement should the Russians achieve their strategic aims in that sector. In other places, Hitler picked up wood blocks representing the panzer divisions that had been withdrawn to rear areas for refitting, and began to assemble them in a group he intended to use to smash the Soviet attack. The only problem was the fact that these unit markers could be moved on the map far easier than the units themselves could be moved on the field, and attack orders would soon reach bewildered Panzer Commanders where no concentration of battle ready troops even existed.

Halder was having his own fits, and threw up his hands in utter frustration with Hitler’s ceaseless fuming diatribe. It also galled him that, in the south, no major enemy offensives had been aimed at Manstein’s forces, which created the impression in Hitler’s mind that his new favorite General was now the only commander he could rely on, the only one not in distress and still contemplating offensive operations.

Yet soon the full breadth and scope of the Soviet attack would finally be seen, and Manstein’s offensive, poised to resume operations towards Volgograd as soon as weather and ground permitted, would find itself caught up in the winter war blowing in from the icy north.

Far to the south, where temperatures were less severe, Manstein’s drive between the Don and Donets had also ground to a halt in January. If viewed on a map, the line of his advance resembled a massive wolf’s head, with the eyes and forehead of the beast being the position of his tough SS Divisions. Realizing conditions were not favorable for continuing his attack, he had waited to bring up 14th and 16th Panzer Divisions, and the 25th Motorized Division into the snout of the wolf, where they were planning to strike south towards the vital crossing of Voroshilovgrad on the Donets. If taken, it would cut off 18 to 20 divisions north of that river above the Donets Basin. Without either destroying or forcing the withdrawal of these units, Manstein could not continue his planned offensive east towards Volgograd, which now had to be postponed until the Spring.

To smash this force and compel its withdrawal, he had been husbanding all the new heavy tank brigades being sent from Germany and holding them in the city of Kharkov. There were 501, 502 and 503 Schwerepanzer Brigades, and three more smaller Panzerjager battalions that had been receiving new equipment, with 88s mounted on a mobile chassis, called the “Nashorn.” He decided to move them east on the short open rail line to Kupyansk, and use this mass of armor as a hammer to break through there and aim another drive at Lischansk on a looping bend in the river.

Yet just as this force assembled to begin its operations, the news of the massive enemy offensive to the north came in, and Manstein himself was summoned to Berlin. After a long cold flight home, he met with Hitler in OKW headquarters and learned the real reason he had been recalled from the front.

“The incompetence of my Generals astounds me,” Hitler began. “After months of hard fighting, they have given the enemy vital ground back and put our forces in real jeopardy—particularly Guderian. He was the worst of the lot. His withdrawal order led to the collapse of the entire flank along the road from Orel through Tula to Serpukhov. I have had to relieve him of command and will now take control of the situation personally.” He pointed to the map, which Manstein now saw with updated positions neatly drawn in by Halder’s staff.

“As you can see, Guderian allowed them to push right through Orel and all the way to Bryansk to reach the Kirov Pocket. They have also reached this pocket from the north at two places, though I have ordered our infantry to hedgehog in place. To make matters worse, a second wave of this enemy offensive has begun north and south of Kursk. I cannot imagine where they have found all these troops to fling at our positions.”

“My Führer, I can tell you that in one word—Volkov.”

“Volkov? What did he have to do with this?”

“His offensive across the Volga north of the city has been stalled for some time, because the Soviets poured massive reinforcements into that sector. In one sense this was helpful for us, as those were troops that might have otherwise gone to the battle for Moscow. Yet now, Volkov’s position west of the Volga has collapsed. He gave the order to withdraw east of the river two weeks ago, and this has changed everything. I sent reports to this effect at that time. Were they heeded?”

“Halder has turned this entire headquarters into a shambles!” Hitler fumed. “I was not aware of this development until it was too late.”

“Well that is the reason the enemy has fresh, well tested troops to make this attack in the Kursk sector. Once Volkov withdrew, the defense on the Volga could be managed by a single army posting good divisions on the few available crossing points along the river. This left the bulk of the troops, possibly three or four field armies, free to be moves west to Kursk. Halder informed me there was a new enemy offensive underway there, but I was not aware of its extent.”

Hitler shook his head, his anger barely contained. “Under the circumstances, your big offensive in the south will have to be postponed. I will need your mobile troops and the new Panzer Brigades, to deal with this Kursk situation. Can you move them?”

Manstein studied the map. “My Führer, realizing the gravity of the situation, and knowing that you would take immediate steps to salvage it, I have already taken the liberty of withdrawing 14th Panzer Korps from the snout of the Wolf’s head, here. I am moving them west, back through Valyuki to Belgorod. As for the SS Korps, it is only now being relieved by newly arriving infantry. We have the enemy well contained on the Crimean peninsula. They are holed up in Sevastopol, and have no offensive capability there. So I took the liberty of sending the Italians there to relieve 17th Army. Those infantry divisions are well rested, and they can take over positions in the Wolf’s Head while I move the SS west to deal with this Kursk offensive. Once we restore the front there, then we can meet to plan how best to undo the enemy gains in the north. In the meantime, who has taken charge of 2nd Panzer Armee if Guderian was recalled?”

“I am managing that personally.”

“My Führer, as you will have much to do in the vicinity of Smolensk, may I suggest that Model take command in Guderian’s place?”

“Model? He is just a division commander.”

“I know the man. He has a particular genius for defensive operations like this. If you give him the latitude he needs for a flexible defense, rest assured, that that segment of the front will be rendered secure. Then we can focus on Smolensk. That city is vital. The Russians are attempting to cut the lines of communication back through Minsk, and this will take some smart generalship to undo. I will coordinate with Model in the east, and let us see what kind of pressure we can bring to bear. This may help relieve the situation around Smolensk. In the meantime, you will need a good man on the scene there to see that your orders are properly carried out. I recommend Rundstedt, but my Führer, you must allow him to make adjustments to the front lines to secure a proper defensive front again.”

“If you mean withdrawals, then I will have no patience with such a strategy.” Hitler folded his arms, his dark eyes smoldering.

“Tactical withdrawals may be necessary in certain circumstances,” said Manstein. “A blanket stand fast order ignores the situation on the ground, and communication to this headquarters may be spotty at best. We may think a division is securely in place, when it fact it may have its flank or rear areas exposed.”

“Then they should adopt an all around defense. The ground must be held. We have fought for it too long, and at great cost.”

“Mere terrain,” said Manstein dismissively. “There will be segments of that ground that are of no use to us. Look here, this sector being held by three valuable infantry Korps is one good example. See how the Soviets are attempting to encircle it? Note the lack of good roads into that area and then realize supplying those troops will be damn near impossible. Yet if those valuable infantry divisions were here,” Manstein pointed to the vital road from Smolensk to Orsha further west. “Then they would be well concentrated, and possibly capable of counteroffensive operations that will be impossible to contemplate where they are posted now. This is smart generalship.”

Manstein pulled off his gloves, then decided to reinforce his advice with flattery. “I am certain you would have seen this if properly informed of the situation on the ground. You would have ordered those troops to this vital road sector at all costs. Look how this Soviet push down from Vitsyebsk is so desperately reaching for that area as an objective. We must not allow them to occupy that ground. However… this position just southwest of Vitsyebsk should be held—not one backward step! We will need it later when we retake that city and pocket all these enemy forces west of Smolensk. As for this last pincer west of Orsha, it was meant merely to cut the rail lines coming up from Minsk and Vilnus. It is not a serious threat, and Armee Group North should be able to deal with it.”

Manstein’s manner, a calm deliberation that exuded confidence, impressed Hitler. While the entire center of German operations had been flung into disorder and distress, Manstein’s southern front was still secure, and so much so that all its mobile units could now be moved to stop the enemy offensive from Kursk. He had just pointed out things in the long sinuous front lines that Hitler’s mind had never even seen, let alone understood. His casual remark about the recapture of Vitsyebsk hinted at plans and strategies already hatching in his mind to restore the situation. It made Hitler feel as though the disaster he had been facing was now salvageable, and gave him some heart.

“Very well,” he said. “I will see that the orders go out to move those troops as you advise.”

“Excellent,” said Manstein. “With your permission, I will return to the front and get to work! Remember—Model and Rundstedt. They are your eyes and ears on the ground. Rely on them. They will not let you down.”

Chapter 6

The man who would now take command of 2nd Panzer Armee would become a whirlwind of dynamic energy on the field to replace the lassitude that had fallen on Guderian in those final terrible months in the snow. Model now began establishing his new line of strongpoints behind the river, and then he slowly pulled units out to build mobile kampfgruppes behind that line, also sending equipment and vehicles into certain units to begin building at least one or two divisions up to full strength. He had his shield well in hand, but now he needed a sword.

By the time Manstein returned to organize his counterattack the winter was slowly thawing into late March, though temperatures were still very cold, and the ground remained firm. He had selected the key road and rail hub at Belgorod north of Kharkov to form up his legions, with the 14th Panzer Korps north of that city, and his SS Korps to the northwest. Further west, the big second offensive launched from Kursk had already pushed outliers some 200 kilometers to the southwest. These were mostly small, fast moving cavalry, recon, and light tank units, probing forward on a wide front. Fighting continued well behind them, where the main attack had enveloped and swarmed around the unlucky 42nd Infantry Korps under General Kuntze near Oboyan. He was seeing his three divisions systematically destroyed, regiment by regiment being isolated and then stormed by continuous waves of Red infantry supported by tanks.

Realizing that more help was needed to stem the advancing tide, Hitler had ordered five fresh infantry divisions in a new 51st Korps under Von Seydlitz to the scene, and Manstein used them as a blocking force to stop the enemy outliers from advancing further, and slowly roll them back. In the meantime, he began throwing his mobile divisions against the main enemy attack, which had pushed down through Oboyan and was aimed right at him. There at a small hamlet called Prokorovka, Germany’s new heavy tank brigades would lead the assault in what would become a smaller version of the much greater Battle of Kursk that was fought later in the old history.

Yet his divisions had taken some time to be relieved from the Wolf’s Head position, and get onto trains leading into Belgorod, so they were arriving piecemeal. He kept jogging left, hoping to find the flank of the enemy advance while the situation was still fluid, but these moves only pulled in more Soviet units freed up as the 42nd Korps was overcome. Soon a great bulge was formed in the front, the Kursk Bulge, and whether by happenstance or fate, many of the units now assembling near Belgorod were the very same troops that had made an ill fated attack there in one recording of the history in 1943.

Kuntze would be captured with his men and go into a long cold life in a Soviet prison camp. By the time Manstein’s forces even got close to Oboyan, the 42nd Korps had virtually ceased to exist. On April Fool’s Day the Spring thaw would finally set in, making the ground soft and boggy. Both sides knew it would only get worse over the next few weeks, and so the fighting was more aimed at staking out a good line on either side, and positioning forces in favorable locations for renewed offensive operations after the ground firmed up again.

Even though it had come late, the Soviet Winter offensive had achieved remarkable gains. The massive pocket they had formed by breaking through to their own beleaguered troops around Kirov was now holding most every unit that had participated in the drive on Moscow. There were 7th, 9th and 53rd Infantry Korps, the SS Poletzei Division, all of Guderian’s old 2nd Panzer Armee, (now commanded by Model), and all of 3rd Panzer Armee under Hoth. Another six divisions and scattered units from other broken formations were in a much smaller pocket about 100 kilometers from the city of Kirov, and now the action was focused on German efforts to re-establish a line of communications to troops further south and west.

To this end, Model ordered Reinhard to take the two Panzer Divisions he had been laboring to bring up to strength, the new 24th and the veteran 6th, along with 36th Motorized Division. They were to move southwest and mount a breakout operation to reach that smaller pocket, which had no viable supply source.

“We cannot simply throw those divisions away,” said the fiery Model. “Infantry is worth its weight in gold these days. In places, those divisions are manning the line with headquarters companies and bridging battalions! We simply have to get through. Moscow is now serving as a supply hub. All the Army stores are there, and along the major roads in reserve depots. The engineers have even found a good number of small machine shops in the city that can be put to good use. We’ll use them for vehicle repair shops. But your job is to get through to that infantry. Then we can truck in supplies. Beyond that, this operation will be a preliminary move to reestablish communications with Armee Group Center.”

Now it was down to this, small thrusts to open supply corridors, mop up rear area pockets, and plug holes to tidy up the new front lines that had formed. After the long misery in the frozen winter, the mud returned again, imposing a forced halt to most major operations. The troops were exhausted on both sides, supplies low, everything sinking into a morass of boggy ground. Reinhard’s attack ran right into the veteran 91st Siberian Rifle Division, part of the 24th Siberian Army that had fought hard to link up with outside forces earlier. The action was in densely wooded terrain, with a single road that the Siberians stubbornly defended over two days of hard fighting.

This was going to be Germany’s war from that moment on. The Soviets had finally tasted blood. In spite of losing most of Moscow, they had not only surprised their enemy with the strength and scope of their attack, but they had recovered vast segments of lost territory, destroyed ten German divisions, pocketed another 50, and threatened or cut the two vital communications lines the Wehrmacht had used in their Autumn offensive. The line through Orel, Mtsensk, Tula and on to Serpukhov was now completely in Soviet hands. The line from Moscow through Mozhaisk to Vyazma and on to Smolensk had been completely overrun between those last two cities. The Germans managed to hold Smolensk, but were heavily pressed from the eastern quadrant of that city. Further west, they were still fighting to clear the road back through Orsha that led to Minsk.

Even with Sergei Kirov’s government operating from a farm house hundreds of miles north of Moscow, they had held the Soviet State together, and Georgie Zhukov had managed to do what he had long planned and promised—what had been foretold to Kirov in the scorched pages of the “the Material” burned in the old Red Archives. The mighty Wehrmacht had finally been stopped. If Germany would lose this war, this is where historians would say it had happened, where the sweeping tide of the German war machine had finally crested around the stolid rock of Moscow. The turning point in the long bitter war had finally been reached—the Soviet Winter offensive of 1941-42.

Now both sides would count their dead, mark the staggering losses, with over a million men dead for the Germans, and twice that number fallen for the Soviets. Hitler would think back on those early days of 1941 when Raeder was urging him to go all out and smash the British in the Middle East, and come to regret that he had not heeded that advice. For now a strong new enemy had come to stand with the British, and the Western Front was already simmering up with plans for operations to turn the tide there as well. What ten or twelve divisions might have done in early 1941, would now be on the shoulders of over 250 divisions in Russia.

Yet something had happened in the restless waters off Africa in the middle Atlantic. It was a little drama compared to the hundreds of thousands of men struggling in the winter with their machines, and dying in that terrible cold. It was just three ships at sea engaged in a long anticipated battle after a frenetic chase. Close at hand, a fourth ship wallowed to one side, stricken and burning, the last hours of the auxiliary tanker Ermland. The submarine Trident had seen to her fate, but the Germans had come raging back in reprisal.

Marco Ritter could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw what Hans Rudel had just done. He dropped his small 250 KG bomb right on his target, but then gave the enemy both his fuel tanks as well! Rudel’s plane came up out of that dive, his wings wagging with defiance. Below him, the lead British ship had sustained that bomb hit well enough, but Rudel had poured 300 liters of aviation fuel on the small fire, and it ignited with short lived fury, though it looked much worse than it actually was. The second fuel tank narrowly missed the enemy ship, but it was amazing that the first had even struck home.

“My god Hans!” said Ritter over his short range radio. “That was certainly dramatic, but now how in the world will you get to Africa?”

“I won’t get to Africa,” said Rudel in his ear. “If I can’t land back on the Goeben, I’ll bail out and they can fish me out of the water. I’ve a good two hours fuel now. This weather could break by then.”

“Good enough Hans. I’ll get you a medal for that one.”

“Keep it,” said Rudel. “Just get the other boys down after those ships.”

Two other Stukas were already in a dive, both straddling that same lead ship and shaking up Sandy Sanford’s teacups on the officers dining table. They had been left there abruptly when the sighting came in, and now Sanford was on the bridge, dismayed when he suddenly found his cruisers under enemy air attack.

“Mister Laurence! What’s happened with that hit amidships?”

“A ruddy fire sir. Engineers say it took out both seaplane catapults, and they’re trying to keep it off the torpedo mounts.”

“Launch all Torpedoes,” said Sanford. “Can’t take the chance they’ll go off in the tubes, for then we’d really have a problem amidships. Any threat to the engines?”

“No sir, we’re running well at 33 knots. In fair seas we’d be at 35, but it’s this weather, sir.”

“Good, good. Well mister Kingston, that damn aircraft carrier is launching everything it has at us here. Get after it with the guns!”

“Range is 16,200, but we don’t seem to be closing Captain. They’re running sir.”

“As well they should. Then get busy with them. There’s nothing wrong with our guns.”

Sanford was not happy. Why hadn’t the enemy chosen Sir Galahad for their parlor tricks? Now his nice new cruiser was burned and charred amidships, though reports indicated the crews would get the fire under control in another twenty minutes. His bloody gunners were firing, but they hadn’t yet scored a hit, which was most aggravating. The Captain was somewhat of a busybody, and he was hovering around the fire control station like a mother hen, watching the men work. He knew it would be difficult shooting. The seas were still high, and the pitch and yaw of the ship was going to make for a most unstable and changeable gunnery platform.

It was that, more than the brave but largely fruitless effort of the German pilots, that served to frustrate the British gunners. They managed to put rounds very near their quarry, putting some splinter damage on the Goeben’s hull, but the carrier then slipped into a bank of low clouds and the action was down to Ack Ack fire at those bothersome planes. Five of the six Stukas had dropped their bombs, but only Rudel had scored a direct hit. The last, flown by Hansen, came very close to putting a bomb right in front of that quad turret on Sir Galahad, but the seas conspired to move the ship out of harm’s way.

Captain Sanford saw them wing away to the northeast after a final strafing run by a speedy Messerschmitt. The bullets snapped off his conning tower armor, and one round shattered a glass pane, which prompted him to shake his fist at the enemy. Then the last of the fighters banked away, and a calm fell over the scene. To Sanford it was a most unwelcome calm. He had his mind set on fighting his gun battle with that carrier, though not one single enemy round had been fired back at the two cruisers for the hundred rounds they sent Goeben’s way without scoring even a single hit.

That was par for the course. One or two percent would be a typical hit ratio for gunnery under these conditions, but Sanford was not at all happy.

“Radar? Do we still have them?”

“Contact at 18,000 meters, but they’re slipping away sir.”

“Mister Laurence, are we running full out?”

“Aye sir, engines all ahead full.”

“Well my lord, that’s a fast ship out there, but to my mind they were running low on fuel. Otherwise what would they be doing here with that tanker?”

“A fair assumption, sir.”

“Yes… Well let’s keep after them. Keep after them. Mister Kingston, keep nipping at their hind quarters. Fire by radar while we still have a link on them.”

Kingston knew that was mere fist shaking at this range, but he nonetheless ordered B turret to put out two rounds to satisfy the Captain. A moment later they lost that radar contact, and the Goeben had broken away, off over the grey, uncertain horizon.

“Damn,” said Sanford, stroking his chin. “Now they might turn anywhere. They could turn south and we’d run right by them, wouldn’t we. Then again, I doubt if they’ll go south if they have a fuel problem. No, they’ll want to get north and then northeast, right in the wake of those planes. Where in blazes are those planes off to?”

“Africa, sir,” said Laurence. “It’s clear they won’t make a landing on that carrier under these circumstances.”

“Right you are. Then this carrier will want to get to the African coast as well, so what we’ll do is stay inshore of the little demon, and keep ourselves in a good position to cut the bastard off at the knees if he tries to slip by us. But we’ll have to do better than that on the gunnery, Mister Kingston. We’ll have to do a good deal better. I want the first hit to go to Lancelot. After all, we took the first enemy bomb. That will only be fitting. Is Galahad still firing?”

“No sir,” said Laurence. “They’ve secured main guns as well,”

“Oh we haven’t secured ours, Mister Laurence. No sir. We simply have nothing to fire at. Crews will remain at action stations., and now we’ve a difficult decision here. If we stay together, we’ll be putting both our chips on the same number. If we split up, we might have a better chance of one or another making contact again.”

“A sound assessment, sir.”

“Yes, but we’ll be halving our firepower.”

“Yes sir, that we would, but I’d say either one of us can handle that carrier out there. Particularly now that the crows have flown.”

“Right. Well then, order Galahad to make a 30 point turn to Starboard. They’ll look for that devil up north. We’ll carry on this heading for a while, and see what we find.”

It was as good a move as Sanford might make, trying to cover as much seascape as possible, and sending his ships into different segments of the compass rose. But high overhead, one of the crows was still lingering. Marco Ritter had loitered for a time to see that the British would do. He saw the maneuver made by Galahad, and then radioed Captain Falkenrath.

“Sorry we couldn’t get you more hits,” he said. “You’ll have one ship on your present heading, just over your horizon. The second has come about 30 points to starboard. They’re splitting up. You’ll know what to do.”

Kapitan Falkenrath smiled. “Come left full rudder. We’re swinging off to port. Assume a heading of 180 true south. We’ll run on that for 20 minutes ahead full, then go ahead one third. That damn cruiser will run off west thinking he’s still on our hind quarters, but we’ll be well south. Then we’ll double back and ease on up to the northwest. Any plane that hasn’t taken off will remain aboard. We may need them later.”

The flight and fate of the Goeben was still in the wind, but as for Kapitan Heinrich on the Kaiser Wilhelm, he would make an easy run up north that day under considerable escort from flocks of JU-88s and Heinkels. By dawn the following day his battlecruiser would slip into Casablanca, and he would make his report to Admiral Raeder. The German navy had a naval rocket! And it had a load of complicated looking radar equipment and antennae that had been stripped from the Norton Sound. It also had something that neither man would be aware of for some time, a small, fully functioning atomic warhead sleeping quietly in the tip of that missile.

The Grand Admiral had flown to Casablanca to be there when Kaiser Wilhelm arrived, and he was elated. When he first set eyes on that rocket.

“Shall we have it moved ashore, sir?” Heinrich suggested.

“Certainly not. What good would it do there? No. Leave it right where it is, in the belly of a fast armored battlecruiser. I want you to refuel today, and then tonight you steam for Gibraltar. From there you will move to Toulon the following night, and I have arrange a heavy escort for you the whole way. From Toulon, we’ll put that rocket on a fast train to Germany. Well done, Kapitan Heinrich. Let us hope the Goeben gets through as well, and Kormoran with that prize ship. The more, the merrier. Now then, let us meet over dinner to discuss this mission. I want to hear your entire report.”

Heinrich smiled. He was holding a plain leather brief, and inside it he had placed many of the papers and logs his crew had taken from that strange American ship, and the most unusual magazine he had shared with Kapitan Detmers. It was going to make for very interesting dinner conversation, to say the least.