Nemesis

by John Schettler

  “It’s clear what they are planning,” said Kirov. “They do not want to leave Kharkov in our hands if they turn east to try to link up with Volkov’s Don crossing operation. So we must hold that city as long as possible. How many divisions do we have there?

  “Twelve.”

  “And here we thought the main threat would be in the south, through Rostov.”

  “That may still happen,” said Berzin. “Yet at the moment, the threat of this wider envelopment could cut off our entire southern front—the Kuban, Trans-Caucasus, and the Volga fronts will all be trapped in a vast encirclement—seventy-five divisions.”

  “If they stand their ground and fight?”

  “That has not worked out so well for troops we can no longer supply. They will be limited to stocks on hand, and when the ammunition and fuel run out…”

  “How long?” said Kirov. “Could they hold out until spring?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “The German 6th Army held out for months when they were encircled,” Kirov protested. “You’ve read the material.”

  “Yes, I’ve read it many times, but that isn’t happening now. It’s our troops that will be cut off defending Volgograd, with Volkov on one side and the damn Germans on the other. We could hope our boys would do as well, but most encirclements occurring in 1941 were disasters, which is why we tried so hard to avoid them. If this happens, we’ll lose all those troops and equipment, half a million men, and then we’ll have to find another half million to rebuild a new defensive line in the south.”

  “We can’t do that yet,” said Kirov, an exasperated look on his face. “It’s all we can do now to keep enough troops on the line in the north between Smolensk and Bryansk.”

  “Karpov kept his word and sent us the troops we needed,” said Berzin, “That army he sent, the 24th, has stopped the German push to bypass Smolensk to the south. They were breaking through to the Kirov line, and those men saved the day.

  “That is because they have been fighting Volkov for the last six months between Omsk and the Ob river line. That was Karpov’s personal little army. Once things got heated up here, Volkov’s operations against Siberia evaporated. He’s moved everything against us so he could force that crossing north of Volgograd!”

  “The Siberians are fighting well,” said Berzin. “They blunted that attempt to break through to our Kirov defense line, but now their major thrust has shifted further east, with Guderian’s group.” He was referring to the recent attack aimed at a big salient the German 2nd Panzergruppe had pushed east of Bryansk as it attempted a wide envelopment of that city. Now that attack was approaching Orel, flowing into a massive hole in the center of the front that now stretched all the way to Tula to the north. The Germans had been pushing out patrols, yet found little opposition as they approached Orel. The situation was quickly leading to yet another encirclement of the major industrial centers at Bryansk and the city named for Kirov to the north.

  “We can’t close that gap for some time,” said Berzin. “We have three Armies forming behind Ryazan, but they won’t be ready to move for several weeks.”

  “Well what more do they need, printed invitation cards? Send orders that they are to prepare for transit at once, and get rolling stock up there. In the meantime, we’ll just have to hold the cities as long as possible. They are well fortified.”

  “The material clearly showed us what happened to the troops trying to hold Bryansk,” said Berzin. “It’s happening again, sir. All the road and rail connections to that city have nearly been cut. We have 15 divisions there, and have even press-ganged bridging units and railroad workers into the defense. The Germans are about to close that trap.

  “Then send the Airborne Corps.”

  “From here? That was our fire brigade, sir. The only air mobile trained force we have.”

  “Yes? Well this is the fire.”

  “But we have no rolling stock available to get them there.”

  “Then they go by plane. That’s what they damn well trained for, isn’t it. Drop them here.” Kirov pointed to an area northeast of Bryansk. “They will dig in and stop that envelopment. If we can keep one or two roads open, the city might hold.”

  “As you wish, sir, but we will most likely find they simply join the cauldron the Germans have formed around this whole area. If not for the 24th Siberian Army, they would also add the city of Kirov to that cache.”

  “Damn,” said Kirov. “The Germans would love to announce they’ve taken the biggest city in the nation bearing my name, but that isn’t what worries me now. It’s the threat to Moscow this all represents, and it is shaping up much sooner than we thought.”

  “We’re still holding near Smolensk, sir,” Berzin offered, one more small bit of good news on this very gloomy morning.”

  “Yes,” said Kirov. “We are holding near Smolensk, and thank God that Karpov’s boys stopped the Germans push south of the city, or they would have gone all the way to Vyazma! That is only 200 kilometers from the outer defense of this very city—Moscow! And do you know what I have here to hold the capital? Beyond the militia divisions on the outer defensive ring, we have virtually nothing—three to five divisions at the most. We need the Siberians. Are more troops coming?”

  Kirov had sent Karpov a secret message three weeks earlier, telling him he was in desperate need of reinforcements, and asking if there were any troops that could be sent to participate in the defense of the capital. Karpov responded by pledging his personal army, the fighting 24th, and another reserve army, already forming at Perm. Kirov had fleshed out the units, equipped them with new uniforms, weapons, and even skis, and designated them the First Siberian Shock Army under Konev, as the two men had agreed.

  “I wanted to hold those troops back until we could form up more reserves for the Winter Offensive. Yet the situation has deteriorated so quickly that we will have no choice but to commit them now. Moscow must be defended, and to the last man if need be. What does Zhukov think we should do?”

  “You can ask him yourself,” said Berzin. “He’s waiting outside in the conference room.”

  Kirov needed another opinion, and Zhukov was waiting outside precisely because they knew his advice and performance had been sound, at least according to the material. Kirov had been quietly advancing the careers of men who had been proven winners, even though the circumstances of their lives were all somewhat different now. He believed in basic character, and was betting they would all again rise to the occasion here and help win this war.

  Chief among these men was Georgy Zhukov, a peasant son of a peasant farmer, who once thought he might learn the fur trading business as a young man in Moscow. In the Great War he had proven himself an able warrior in the Cavalry, twice receiving the Cross of Saint George, Imperial Russia’s equivalent of a Purple Heart, awarded for rankers exhibiting “undaunted courage,” and often suffering wounds for their effort. Zhukov got his wound along with the two crosses, and was then sent east after the war to try and check the advance of Imperial Japanese forces. He won a brief victory in Mongolia at Khalkhin Gol, but the Soviet Army was too preoccupied with trying to also control Orenburg and Siberia, and the troops were soon pulled out leaving the problem of the Japanese to the Siberians.

  But Zhukov gained much valuable combat experience in the brief battle, learning how to use tanks effectively, husband reserves, coordinate flanking maneuvers, make effective river crossings, and providing much valuable feedback on the performance of the tanks themselves, all of which was used in the design of the very successful T-34. Now he stood there when Kirov and Berzin entered the conference room, his cap tucked under one arm, short cut hair close on his otherwise balding head, yet in his prime at the age of 45. His prominent chin was well dimpled, and his dark eyes had an inner strength that spoke of the qualities that were harbored within the man.

  “General Zhukov,” said Kirov, warmly shaking the other man’s hand. “It seems that every time we meet, it is to discuss some new disaster on th
e front lines. I have just been listening to a lengthy report from Berzin here, and we both agree that the situation is now very grave.”

  Chapter 27

  “That makes three of us,” said Zhukov. “The German intentions have been clear since they took Dnepropetrovsk, which is when we should have taken stronger action. Then the main thrust split, first towards Kharkov, and now this new buildup on the Donets Basin defenses, which I have expected all along. A drive for Rostov is brewing eventually, or perhaps a move east farther north, along the Don. The Crimea cannot hold out indefinitely. Once Sevastopol falls, then their entire 17th Army can be moved against our Donets Basin defensive line. They can simply garrison the Crimea with Rumanian troops.”

  “Can we hold that line now?”

  “For the time being.”

  “How long?”

  “Long enough to get the armies in the Kuban Front out, and north of the Donets, if that is what you contemplate.”

  “Then you believe we should pull out? They should not stand and fight?”

  “A gallant stand would buy us time and hold space, but if they are cut off, those forces would have to rely almost exclusively on Volgograd, Donetsk, and Rostov for supply and munitions. Lose those and those armies die. Can we replace all those veteran divisions if that should happen? They’ve been fighting in the Kuban for over six months. Yes, it will be a bitter pill to swallow should we order them to give Volkov back everything they took from him, but it is either that or we will soon be trying to fill those empty boots with new recruits, men who will not have even half the experience of those troops. So yes, I say pull them out, and be quick about it, just as I said the same when the Germans attempted to encircle Kiev and the lower Dnieper.”

  “Yet this means we will lose the Donets basin—all that coal and mineral mining.”

  “We’ll hold that for a good long while yet, but an eventual withdrawal may be unavoidable.”

  Kirov took a deep breath. “And then they take Rostov, and all of the Kuban, including the oil at Maykop. After that, they will have another route to Volgograd south of the Don, Yes?”

  “Indications are that the Germans have moved all their mechanized forces north of the Donets. They look to be planning a drive east to link up with Volkov’s bridgehead north of Volgograd. If they do advance south of the Donets, it will be with this 17th Army, not the panzers, and not for many months. They’ll have to breach the Donets line, take Rostov, occupy the Kuban and then get over the Manych. That could take a good long while.”

  “It will be a difficult retreat for us for that very same reason.”

  “Yes, we’ll lose twenty or thirty percent in the withdrawal, but seventy percent is better than nothing. It’s clear what the Germans are planning now. They want all the lower Volga—including Volgograd itself.”

  “Why should they push so far east? Aren’t they simply planning to link up with Volkov in the Caucasus.”

  “Of course,” said Zhukov, but they will not do that through the Crimea. They don’t have enough shipping to cross at Kerch. So they will have to take Rostov first, and when they do, soon they will have the oil we were after for so long at Maykop. But they will not stop there. They’ll want a firm military presence in the Caucasus, all the way to Baku, and they’ll want the lower Volga. Volgograd is a major industrial hub.”

  “What is happening now on the lower Donets? You do not think this is a planned encirclement of Kharkov?”

  “Of course, and then they will continue pushing east. As for Bryansk, that is another matter. That they must take, as it sits right astride all the rail lines up to Moscow. As long as we hold the salient at Smolensk, they can’t use that road. This is why they are fighting so hard to encircle Bryansk and Kirov. Taking those industrial centers from us will hurt production a good deal.”

  “We just sent the 24th Siberian Army,” said Kirov. “Karpov kept his word, and they will stop the northern envelopment of those cities. It moved through Moscow just last week.”

  “I saw the trains,” said Zhukov, and that simple statement held more meaning than it seemed. It had been customary for all divisions transiting through Moscow to conduct a ceremonial parade in Red Square, with select units marching in review before the Kremlin, but not any longer. Now the trains simply hastened on through, with little fanfare. The emergencies at the front were the only concern.

  “I’ll get you more,” said Kirov. “Somehow… We still have the Siberian 1st Shock Army forming for a possible counterattack.”

  “In light of the present situation,” said Zhukov, “I suggest we do not plan any major local counteroffensives, except at carefully chosen points to blunt enemy initiative. We just do not yet have the strength to attack in force. This single Siberian Army is most welcome, but I would use it to defend Moscow, not to counterattack.”

  “Agreed,” said Kirov sullenly. “But will we keep Volgograd, and the Kuban?”

  “Not if the Germans do break through and drive all the way to the Don. Then you can add the whole South Volga Front to the cauldron that will form, and I give them two months, three at best.”

  “But you said they could be supplied from Volgograd itself.”

  “If you can keep the factories running there under the artillery Volkov is sending over every day.”

  “Yet we must hold that city,” said Kirov. “We’ve fought for it too long to give it to Volkov. As to the Kuban, what do you suggest we do now?”

  “Get those troops out, and do it fast.”

  “Retreat? But Berzin tells me we only just secured Maykop! And we’ll take Armavir soon.”

  “Just in time to lose it again,” said Zhukov, not mincing words. “And good riddance. What do we need that for? Yes, it sits astride the rail lines coming up from Baku to Belorchensk, but you have already cut that line at Kuganinsk.”

  “If Volkov builds up at Armavir, then he can mount an offensive to try and flank our position at Maykop. That place shields Krasnodar, which in turn shields Novorossiysk. Once the dominoes start falling, they are not easy to stop, General. I have a mind to hold as much ground as possible. We’ve already lost half the country!”

  “I understand your wish to do so, but my advice is that we must pull those troops out. I’ll use them to hold off any breakthrough on our Donets line and save Rostov, at least for this year. Volkov has very little offensive punch in the Kuban. We can fall back on the Donets and Manych, and hold those lines far easier than we can with the troops where they are now. This will free up valuable divisions for use elsewhere. Then we should muster new armies at Moscow and hold them in reserve, beginning with this first Siberian Shock Army under Konev. Don’t worry, we’ll hold Moscow.”

  “But they have pushed out beyond Orel! They have reconnaissance units approaching Tula!”

  “Good for them. Unfortunately I can do nothing about that axis for the moment. Yes. It will encircle Bryansk, but we know where it will go next, here. We can’t stop it near Orel, so why try? Stand here with your Siberians, or perhaps at Tula, and let the Germans come. Build up reserves behind Moscow. If we attack, we must do so in real strength, in the winter as we planned. The commitment of a single army is not sufficient. It will take three armies to make any headway, and guarantee success. Five would even be better. Give me those Armies, and then we will talk again. For now. Save the three that are already there in the Kuban, because believe me, if we lose them, we will miss them. For that matter, save the troops at Roslaval and Bryansk before the trap closes there. I could use those troops as well.”

  After a long silence Sergei Kirov gave a solemn nod of his head, thinking. “Thank you General. Your advice is sobering, to say the least. I must think on this, and I will inform you of my decision soon.”

  *

  All along the front the Red Army was hanging on against the German onslaught, ordered to entrench in every major city and hold those key centers as long as possible. They had already made the Germans pay dearly for Minsk and Kiev, and now they would fight
for Smolensk, Kirov, and Bryansk. As the German lines advanced, they flowed around these breakwater defensive bastions to envelop them, which created several salients on either side of those cities, and also at Roslaval, where the 13th Army retreating from Mogilev had dug in deep and was still holding out. Kharkov was encircled in the South, and the German 9th Army was closing around Bryansk like a steel vise.

  Further east, the Panzers were still rolling with Guderian, bypassing that city and heading for Orel and possibly Tula if they could get authorization from Hitler to proceed, and the fuel and supplies to get them there. The Schwerpunkt of the German advance had become a victim of its own success, its momentum slowly dissipating as it pushed north, sometimes into thin air. The 24th Motorized Korps of Panzergruppe 2 under Geyer von Schweppenburg had led the way, with 3rd and 4th Panzer Divisions, and 10th Motorized Division following behind. The drive north after breaking out at Kiev had been a halcyon affair, with the Russians in full retreat, and only small pockets of resistance to mop up along the way. The Soviets were so thoroughly shattered that they would not be able to reform a cohesive line for weeks, falling back towards Kursk to the north and east.

  Panzergruppe 2 rolled on, hindered more by supply shortages, the bad roads, and slowly worsening ground than anything else. As they pushed north the supply lines extended further and further, and the long columns of trucks trying to keep the combat elements moving began to encounter the first harbinger of what was to come. The Russians called it the Raputista, the time of no roads, when rains heralded the coming of autumn and the end of dry ground for months on end. Eventually General Winter would arrive, blanketing everything with an icy frost, but, until the ground froze, it became a morass of viscous mud that was almost impassable. Vehicles would find themselves axel deep in minutes, and trying to use tractors to tow them often resulted in damage to radiators, oil pans and gear boxes.