Moments after the tanks stopped, Russian soldiers leaped out of these ditches and strolled around them. The Germans inside held their breath. Lt. Horst Scheibert first thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. When his gunner whispered that the enemy was fully armed, Scheibert warned him to be quiet since it was obvious the Russians thought they were among friends. Scheibert fingered his pistol, rummaged under his seat to pick up a hand grenade, and waited.
Lounging against the tanks, the Russians joked and laughed up at the Germans, who stood mute in the hatches. Scheibert wondered when they would realize they were not getting any answers. Sweat poured from under his helmet. As the incredible situation continued, Scheibert figured his men could kill the Russians if someone gave the order. But he felt a curious reluctance to murder these “innocents” on the road.
Suddenly, from the hill range in front, a shot rang out. It was followed immediately by a long burst of machine-gun fire. As the Russians bolted unscathed into the snow trenches, the German panzers throttled up and roared ahead.
Teletype conversation General Schmidt with General Schulz 19 Dec 42, 2040 to 2110 hrs.
+ + + Here Schulz. Good evening, Schmidt.
+ + + Hello, Schulz.
[Schmidt carried the conversation:] 1. Today’s combat activities have contained the mass of [our] tanks and part of the infantry forces in defensive action.… Much fuel and ammunition was used up [from] reserves intended for the thrust. We are certain that the Russian attack will be continued on the 20th.
We can only assemble for the attack if our forces are no longer [involved in] defensive operations. We cannot tell when this will be the case. However, preparations have been made to ensure that the troops can be assembled about 20 hours after they are free. A report can therefore only be made at a later date or shortly before assembly. The earliest date would be 22 December, provided we have received a sufficient amount of fuel and ammunition by then. We plan to start the attack at dawn.
2. A thrust beyond the Donskaya-Tsaritsa river [a stream just above the Mishkova] with infantry forces is not possible without jeopardizing the defense of the fortress. There can only be a brief sortie across the Donskaya-Tsaritsa by tank forces, with the tanks being ready to return to the fortress at a moment’s notice, as a fire brigade, so-to-speak.
3. This means that—if Stalingrad is to be defended—the Army can only make a breakthrough, when it is certain that 57th Corps [6th Panzer Division] will gain Businovka and is already approaching that area.
4. You will receive our opinion regarding item 3 [Thunderclap] on the evening of the 20th, since extensive inquiries are necessary.…
[Schulz had no argument:] +++ Your opinion entirely agrees with ours. [Schmidt, too, seemed satisfied:] +++ O.K., no further questions.
After a brief discussion of Sixth Army’s most pressing supply needs, Schulz signed off, “I have nothing else and I wish you all the best (“Heil und Sieg”).…
One-hundred-twenty-five miles to the northwest, where the second Russian offensive was aimed at Italian forces along the upper reaches of the Don, orderlies at a field hospital ran through the halls, screaming that the Russians had broken through and were just two hundred meters away. No orders were issued to retreat; none were needed. Loading his patients on trucks, Dr. Cristoforo Capone and his medical assistant hitched a ride on one of the vehicles, which navigated the snow-laden road at three miles an hour. When mortar shells bracketed them on both sides, Capone jumped out and rolled into a drift. In the next instant, the truck exploded, blowing huge pieces of metal into the sky, and killing Capone’s assistant.
His mind in a ferment, the doctor wandered away from the crackling flames. Only hours before he had been prepared to leave for a Christmas furlough in Italy. Now he walked through a nightmare of dead and dying—and the living, who jostled past him with curses on their lips.
The Italian Eighth Army had broken and run.
Unaware of this new disaster, the 6th Panzer Division speeding toward the Kessel entered a village on the south side of the Mishkova River. In the predawn light of December 20, someone spied a Russian staff car racing toward the still-undamaged bridge leading to Vassilevska on the northern bank. A helmeted Russian officer was crouching low in the back seat of the automobile, and before anyone could stop him, the car sped over the river to safety.
But the Russians had made a grievous error. They failed to blow the span, and the German panzers rumbled into Vassilevska just before first light. They immediately formed a hedgehog defense, to wait for supply trucks with ammunition and gasoline to catch up with them.
To their front, the entire Soviet Second Guards Army was deployed across the route to Stalingrad. And while scouts of the 6th Panzer Division watched the rear for some sign of the desperately needed supplies, the Russians began to push them back. A pessimistic German officer approved the morning’s report:
War Diary Tank Regiment 11–Vassilevska
December 20th–0600 hours
The gradually increasing resistance is becoming stronger every hour.… Our weak troops—twenty-one tanks without gasoline and two weak assault gun companies—are insufficient to widen the bridgehead.…
Along the upper Don, the sun rose on a ghastly scene. The bitter cold had claimed thousands of Italian soldiers who paused to sleep during the night. These victims now sat by the roads in what appeared to be comfortable positions, like bored spectators at a Roman arena, as their countrymen scurried by. Giant snowflakes began to collect on their coats and faces; soon they were covered completely. The corpses became road markers for the living.
Cristoforo Capone walked past them in a daze. Still numbed by the thought that he had barely missed his flight to freedom, he tried to grapple with the reality of the situation. The cries of a wounded soldier stopped him. Without any medical supplies, the doctor cupped the boy’s head in his hands and looked sorrowfully into his eyes.
“My son, I can do nothing for you,” he said softly. “You must be brave.”
As the boy stared back, a shell splinter cut off the top of his head, spraying brains and blood over the doctor’s face and uniform. For several long seconds, Capone held tightly to the crimson gray mask in his hands. Then the boy sagged onto the ground. Capone collapsed beside him and threw up.
When the nausea passed, the doctor rose weakly. Grazing a solid object with his hand, he grasped a bag of sugar that somehow had been hidden in the snow. Suddenly, ravenously hungry, he began to stuff handfuls of the delicacy into his mouth.
While the Italian Eighth Army collapsed, the teleprinter at Gumrak produced another frenzy of words.
20 Dec 42, afternoon.
+ + + Here is General Schulz.
+ + + Here is General Schmidt. Hello, Schultz.
1. As a result of the casualties of the recent days, the troop situation on the west front and in the city of Stalingrad has become extremely tense. Penetrations can only be repulsed by those forces which are to be committed for operation Winter Storm [linkup]. In case of major breakthroughs we must have the Army reserves and in particular the tanks at our disposal.… So far the Army tanks had to be committed on the west front every second or third day, as a fire brigade, so-to-speak. This means—as was reported yesterday—that, if stronger forces of the Army advance too far away from the fortress, it becomes doubtful whether the fortress itself can be held.… The start of the attack will therefore depend on how far [6th Panzer Division] will presumably advance.… However, the Army Group may rest assured that we shall not take a one-sided view of the situation and that we shall not act selfishly. Still, we again request that we may not be ordered to form up until it is certain that Hoth’s operational units will reach the area around Businovka.… In this connection more detailed and continual information on the situation with Hoth would be particularly important to us.
2. The situation would be somewhat different, if it were certain that Winter Storm would be immediately followed by Thunderclap [total withdrawal]. In th
is case we might put up with local penetrations on the other fronts, provided they do not endanger the retreat of the Army as a whole. We would then be much stronger for the breakthrough toward the south, because we could concentrate numerous local reserves from all fronts in the south.
It would therefore be essential for the Army to learn in time whether Thunderclap is still intended.…
3. In case Operation Thunderclap is put into practice, it is necessary that
(a) part of the 8,000 wounded men who are still here at present, are taken out by air. We have an additional 500 to 600 casualties per day, so that if 1,000 wounded men were taken out daily … 6 to 8 days would suffice to evacuate about half of them. The balance might be evacuated by truck or by air, during the operation.…
4. If we form up for Winter Storm, it must also be kept in mind, that Thunderclap can follow immediately afterwards, if we have a 5- to 6-day preparatory period. Otherwise, we are compelled to leave much material behind or destroy it.…
6.… On this side everything has been prepared in accordance with your order of yesterday, so that movements for both operations can start at short notice. Ending.
Maj. Eugen Rettenmaier left his 576th Regiment at the Barrikady Gun Factory to go on detached duty at the Gorodische Balka, just west of the city. It was thirty degrees below zero. Rettenmaier’s nose was running and the snot froze on his lips. Walking with his orderly along a plowed road, he noticed a man sitting in the snow. It was a soldier from one of his companies.
“Are you tired?” Rettenmaier asked. The soldier nodded apathetically.
“Get up, comrade, we’ll help you,” and they pulled him along.
At the balka, a surgeon examined the man, but he died an hour later. The doctor’s first comment was that he had starved to death. Then he hurriedly hedged his diagnosis to include “exhaustion or even circulatory trouble.”
Rettenmaier knew better. It had been starvation, nothing else.
* The Eismann mission caused controversy among the German leaders. Field Marshal Manstein said that Eismann’s report of the conference convinced him that Paulus and Schmidt did not intend to break out under existing conditions. Arthur Schmidt has dismissed this conclusion by pointing out that he and Paulus merely outlined the tremendous problems they faced without adequate air supply. Further, Schmidt believes that Manstein used the remarks of the “lowly” major to justify his own subsequent actions. Friedrich von Paulus never referred publicly to the Eismann visit, thereby creating the impression that he did not attach any particular importance to it. No stenographic record of the conference exists.
Chapter Twenty-two
At the upper Don, west of Serafimovich, Lt. Felice Bracci, who had come to Russia because he wanted to see the wondrous steppe country, now ran across it to save his life. He had been rudely awakened the day before by an aide shouting that most of his 3rd Bersaglieri Regiment had scattered to the south. Bracci thought he was dreaming, that the orderly was playing a joke on him, but the man’s terrified eyes quickly brought him to his senses.
Grabbing a rifle, he ran to the command post, where a bewildered officer ordered him to retreat thirty miles south to a place called Kalmikoff. The officer insisted that all heavy equipment except Bracci’s two antitank guns must be destroyed prior to departure.
The 5th Company of Bersaglieri moved out shortly and, after several hours, other nondescript units joined the column. Marching at the rear, Bracci personally commanded the two heavy guns. Behind him there was no one—nothing but snow and wind that cut into his back. When night came, with the temperature well below zero, Bracci’s guns became harder, to move. The men hauling them had deep red creases on their hands and Bracci himself felt terribly weary. But he continued to shout encouragement and helped haul, lift, or push the cannon through the drifting snow.
More and more men were losing hope. One Bersaglieri threw himself under a passing truck. Another sat down on a hump of snow and started to cry. Still clutching his submachine gun, he sobbed his torment to Bracci, who tried to get him on his feet. The man refused and sat there while the column continued on out of sight.
At nine A.M. on December 20, Bracci reached Kalmikoff, now the magnet for thousands of exhausted and frightened soldiers. The town was a tangle of guns, trucks, baggage, and excited soldiers who ran about, trying to find their friends.
Bracci soon received new orders. His regiment, now reformed, led the retreat to Meshkov, a key road junction on the road to Millerovo. The sounds of thousands of boots crunching the crisp snow lulled the marchers until the sudden roar of engines in the distance alerted them. Bracci and his men went to the front of the march and hid their guns behind some tall shrubs.
Minutes passed and Bracci felt hundreds of eyes staring at him, pleading for protection from the menacing sound. Then tanks, Soviet T-34s, appeared about a half mile ahead. Circling cautiously for a moment, as though focusing on Bracci, the tanks “sniffed the air” and finally turned away. The march to Meshkov continued.
Late that afternoon, Bracci saw the spires of a cathedral, “a fairy castle,” that dominated the skyline. Spreading out in skirmish lines, the Bersaglieri approached the outskirts of Meshkov. Then a mortar shell plopped into the snow; machine guns chattered. In despair, Bracci realized the Russians had gotten there ahead of the regiment, and blocked the road south.
The beautiful stone church in the middle of town was the rallying point of the Soviet defense. Its thick walls defied destruction. In the darkness, thousands of Italians ran toward it, hollering their battle cry: “Savoia! Savoia!” Tracer bullets scoured a deadly pattern through them and screams echoed around the churchyard.
With a clear field of fire, Bracci shot round after round at the building, but the Russian fire never slackened. In the unnatural light, the church’s basement glowed brightly from gunbursts and flames. But above the crescendo of combat, of orders being shouted and countermanded, Bracci also heard the moans and pitiful crying that marked the terrible cost of the battle.
The price was too high. Italian commanders finally called back their troops, and the Bersaglieri reformed and trudged back to Kalmikoff.
There, at a tense meeting the next morning, Bracci was told to dig in with his guns until support troops arrived; his commanding officer promised that a German task force was on the way. It was wishful thinking on his part. Mortar fire suddenly descended from surrounding hills and induced immediate panic among most of the Bersaglieri, who stampeded. Bracci crouched beside a house, which exploded and showered him with debris. Dazed but unhurt, the lieutenant staggered out to the road and jumped on the running board of a passing car, which plunged into a drift and bogged down.
At that moment, Russian horsemen appeared on the brow of the hill. While mortar shells kept exploding, the trapped Italians raised their hands in surrender. A colonel beside Bracci looked at his watch. “This is the end for us,” he said mournfully. “We are prisoners.”
It was 9:30 A.M. on the morning of December 21.
That same morning, intelligence officers of Manstein’s Army Group Don were entertaining an important guest.
German troops had intercepted the commander of the Russian Third Guards Army, Maj. Gen. Ivan Pavlovitch Krupennikov, in an ambush the night before and, after a running gunfight, he had surrendered with most of his staff. Treating Krupennikov with the honor due his rank, the Germans fed him generously, then asked him pertinent questions about his army. In turn, he inquired about his son, Yuri, who was missing after the firefight. The Germans promised to find him, sent soldiers to bring the lieutenant to his father, and the grateful Krupennikov began to talk.
He said he was only the acting commander; his superior, General Lelyushenko, had been sick for ten days. Because he knew the Germans would soon learn it from documents captured in his briefcase, he also revealed other information: His troop strength was approximately ninety-seven thousand men. His army mustered 274 tanks and more than five hundred artillery pieces heavier than .75
caliber. But when his interrogators pressed him for other information, such as new units at the front, their makeup and purpose, he balked and cited his soldier’s honor.
The interrogators switched tactics, asking the general about conditions on the Russian home front. Krupennikov told them that food shortages did exist, due mostly to transportation problems. In parts of Siberia and Central Asia, he said, surplus crops had been harvested, but the government left them there in order to keep the railroads free to carry troops and heavy equipment to the fronts.
Gratuitously, Krupennikov offered the opinion that, at one point, he had thought Russia would lose the war. However, when he had seen the pitiful condition of German prisoners near Moscow, he no longer considered the Nazis to be “supermen.” Now he did not think much of German expectations of victory.
Meanwhile, his hosts had checked his son’s whereabouts. Soldiers who combed the surrounding fields reported no trace of the officer, and felt he must have succumbed to wounds somewhere on the snowfields. The interrogators went back and lied to Krupennikov, telling him that Yuri was wounded, could not be transported, but was not in danger of losing his life. Greatly relieved, the Russian general continued the question and answer period.
He was explicit about Russian plans. The main Soviet strategy was to thrust to Rostov and cut off the Germans in the Caucasus. Their first attacks on November 19 and 20, between Serafimovich and Kletskaya and south of Stalingrad, had served only a limited objective, trapping the Sixth Army at the Volga. The second phase, the current attack, was intended to “break through the front of the Italian Eighth Army west of Serafimovich at the Don and fall on the back of the German troops at Morozovskaya.…”
The final order, to drive due south from the Don to Rostov, had not been issued as of the day Krupennikov was captured. But he believed that “due to slight losses in rolling up the Italian part of the front,” such an operation was possible. This final bit of information was important enough to rush to Field Marshal von Manstein at Novocherkassk, and a typist began to write up a statement on Krupennikov’s disclosures.
The World War II Chronicles Page 63
