Russia at war

by Alexander C Werth

  At the time of my arrival in Kovel, the situation on our Western frontier was

  becoming more and more tense. From a great variety of sources, and from our army

  and frontier-guard reconnaissance, we knew that since February German troops

  had begun to concentrate along our borders... Violations of our air-space had been on the increase in recent months... At that time we did not yet know that Stalin, disregarding the reports of our intelligence and of the commanders of our frontier districts, had badly misjudged the international situation and particularly the

  timing of the Nazi aggression.

  The general found that the troops in the frontier areas were still on a peace footing and that the reorganisation was proceeding very slowly. The new planes and tanks which

  were to replace the obsolete models were arriving only at a very slow pace. The older officers, including some who had served in the Tsarist army, took a serious view of the coming war, but among the younger soldiers and officers, there was a good deal of

  deplorable complacency.

  Many of them thought that our Army could win an easy victory and that the

  soldiers of any capitalist country, including Nazi Germany, would not fight actively against the Red Army. They also underrated the military experience and the

  enormous technical equipment of the German Army. When the showdown came,

  the might of the German Army came as a complete surprise to some of our officers.

  Although the famous TASS communiqué of June 14 dismissed the rumours of Germany's

  aggressive intentions as "completely groundless", Fedyuninsky reiterates that "it was completely contrary to what we were able to observe in the frontier areas", and he tells the story of how, on June 18, a German deserter came over to the Russians. While drunk, he had hit an officer, and was afraid of being court-martialled and shot; he also claimed that his father was a communist. This German soldier declared that the German Army

  was going to invade Russia at 4 a.m. on June 22.

  Fedyuninsky promptly 'phoned the local army commander, Tank General Potapov, but

  was told that the whole thing must be "a provocation", and that "it was no use getting into a panic about such nonsense". Two days later Fedyuninsky was visited by General Rokossovsky, who did not share Potapov's complacency, and seemed extremely agitated.

  In the early hours of June 22, Fedyuninsky was called over the telephone by Potapov, who ordered that the troops be ready for any emergency, but added that ammunition had not yet been distributed.

  I had the impression that at Army Headquarters, they were still not quite sure that the Nazis had started a war.

  The 15th Infantry Corps was expected to hold a line about sixty miles wide.

  We had to deploy our forces and occupy our defensive positions under constant

  shelling and air bombing. Communications were often broken and combat orders

  often reached the units with great delay... Nevertheless, our officers did not lose control, and we reached the defensive positions where the frontier guards had

  already, for several hours, been waging an unequal struggle. Even the wives of the frontier guards were in the firing line, carrying water and ammunition, and taking care of the wounded. Some of the women were firing at the advancing Nazis... But

  the ranks of the frontier guards were melting away. Everywhere barracks and

  houses, set on fire by enemy shells, were blazing. The frontier guards were fighting to the last man; they knew that, in that misty dawn of June 22, troops were speeding to their rescue.

  Throughout that first day, Fedyuninsky's troops withstood the German onslaught, but the Germans threw in more and more new forces, and towards the evening, the Russians,

  having suffered very heavy losses, began to withdraw. The situation was further

  complicated by German paratroop landings in the Russian rear, as well as by numerous false reports of other paratroop landings spread by "enemy agents". In Kovel the Bandera gangs, acting as a German fifth column, were causing havoc—attacking Russian army

  cars, blowing up bridges, and spreading these false reports. As large German armoured forces were approaching Kovel from the northwest, along the Brest-Kovel road, it was decided to evacuate Kovel. Parts of the 15th Infantry Corps continued to fight, while already encircled by the Germans. Even so, in three days' fighting, the main forces of the Corps had been pushed back only some twelve to twenty miles from the frontier.

  Nevertheless, Kovel had to be abandoned, and new defensive positions to be taken up

  further east. But before evacuating Kovel, the wounded and the families of army officers had to be evacuated.

  Most officers' wives, used to frequent journeys, took only the bare essentials with them. But some lost their heads, and would take to the railway station things like prams, mirrors and even flower-pots... Those in charge of the evacuation had quite a job to bring these people to their senses...

  The retreat was typical of so many similar retreats in June 1941. The Germans had

  complete control of the air, and losses from strafing were heavy; moreover saboteurs did their best to harass the Russian retreat by blowing up bridges.

  Railway junctions and Unes of communication were being destroyed by German

  planes and diversionist groups. There was a shortage of wireless sets at army

  headquarters, nor did many of us know how to use them... Orders and instructions

  were slow in arriving, and sometimes did not arrive at all... The liaison with

  neighbouring units was often completely absent, while nobody tried to establish it.

  Taking advantage of this, the enemy would often penetrate into our rear, and attack the Soviet headquarters... Despite German air supremacy, our marching columns

  did not use any proper camouflage. Sometimes on narrow roads, bottlenecks were

  formed by troops, artillery, motor vehicles and field kitchens, and then the Nazi planes had the time of their life... Often our troops could not dig in, simply because they did not even have the simplest implements. Occasionally trenches had to be dug with helmets, since there were no spades...

  Yet despite the terrible losses suffered by the Russians, morale remained reasonably high.

  "It would, of course," says Fedyuninsky, "be wrong to deny that there were cases of

  'nerves' or cowardice, but they were rather unusual, and rapidly overcome by the

  steadfastness shown by the majority of the soldiers, whose morale was sustained by the Party."

  How heavy the losses were could be judged from a regiment Fedyuninsky reviewed one

  day: "It was now no larger than a peacetime infantry battalion."

  It is curious how, after telling this desperate story of the 15th Infantry Corps retreat, and the story of the two regiments who broke out of a German encirclement after eight days'

  heavy fighting, Fedyuninsky then dwells on the effect on the troops of Stalin's famous broadcast of July 3.

  It is hard to describe the enormous enthusiasm and patriotic uplift with which this appeal was met. We suddenly seemed to feel much stronger. When circumstances

  permitted, short meetings would be held by the army units. To platoons and

  companies political instructors would explain the position at the Front, and tell them how, in response to the Party's appeal, the whole Soviet people were rising like one man to fight the holy Fatherland war. They stressed that the war would be very hard, and that many ordeals, privations and sacrifices were yet ahead, but that the Nazis would never defeat our powerful and hard-working people.

  But the retreat continued, and by July 8 Fedyuninsky's troops had withdrawn to the

  Korosten fortified line in the Ukraine, already well inside the "old" borders of the Soviet Union. On August 12, after a further retreat towards Kiev, Fedyuninsky was summoned

  to Moscow, and ordered by General Vassilevsky to fly immediately to Leningrad, whe
re the situation was becoming even more serious than in the south.

  More dramatic and tragic still than Fedyuninsky's story of the first days of the war is that of General Boldin who, in the winter of 1941, was to become famous as the commander

  responsible for the defence of Tula.

  He heard of the imminence of a German invasion on the evening of June 21, while

  attending, with other officers, the performance of a Korneichuk comedy at the Army

  Officers' club at Minsk.

  Suddenly Colonel Blokhin, head of the intelligence department of our special

  Western Military District, appeared in our box and leaning over the shoulder of our commander, Army General Pavlov, whispered something in his ear. "It can't be true," Pavlov said...

  Turning to me, he said: "Seems nonsense to me. Our reconnaissance reports that things are looking very alarming at the frontier. The German troops are supposed

  to be ready for action—and even to have shelled some of our positions." Then he touched my hand, and pointed at the stage, suggesting we had better go on watching the play...

  The play no longer meant anything to Boldin; he began to brood about the alarming news that had been coming in for the last few days—for instance, the news from Grodno on

  June 20 that the Germans had taken down the barbed-wire entanglements barring the

  Avgustov-Seini main road, that the rumbling of countless engines could be heard that day from across the border, and that several reconnaissance planes, some of them carrying bombs, had violated Russian air space.

  On the 21st, there had been reports of heavy German troop concentrations at various

  points, complete with heavy and medium tanks. He was puzzled by the Army

  commander's "Olympian calm"...

  This calm did not last long. In the early hours of the morning, Boldin received an agitated

  'phone call from Pavlov, asking him to come to Headquarters immediately.

  Ten minutes later he was there.

  "What's happened?" I said.

  "Can't quite make out," said Pavlov, "some kind of devilry going on. General Kuznetsov 'phoned from Grodno a few minutes ago. Said the Germans had crossed

  the border along a wide front and were bombing Grodno, with its army

  headquarters. Telephone communications have been smashed, the army units have

  had to change over to radio. Two wireless stations are already out of action, must have been destroyed... There have also been calls from Golubev of the 10th Army and Colonel Sandalov of the 4th. Most unpleasant news. The Germans are bombing

  everywhere."

  Our conversation was interrupted by a call from Moscow: it was Marshal

  Timoshenko, the Commissar of Defence, who wanted Pavlov to report on the

  situation... Soon Kuznetsov 'phoned again to say that the Germans were continuing their air attacks. Along thirty miles all the telephone and telegraph lines were down.

  Liaison between many units had been broken... During the next half-hour more and

  more news came in. The bombing was growing in intensity. They were bombing

  Belostok and Grodno, Lida, Brest, Volkovysk, Slonim and other Belorussian towns.

  Here and there, there had been German paratroop landings. Many of our planes

  had been destroyed on the ground, and the Luftwaffe were now strafing troops and

  citizens. The Germans had already occupied dozens of localities, and were pushing inland...

  Then came another 'phone call from Timoshenko, who said:

  "Comrade Boldin, remember that no action is to be taken against the Germans

  without our knowledge. Will you please tell Pavlov that Comrade Stalin has

  forbidden to open artillery fire against the Germans."

  "But how is that possible?" I yelled into the receiver. "Our troops are in full retreat.

  Whole towns are in flames, people are being killed all over the place... "

  "No," said Timoshenko, "there is to be no air reconnaissance more than thirty-five miles beyond the frontier."

  I argued that since the Nazis had knocked out practically all our front-line air force, this was impossible anyway, and insisted that we throw in the full weight of our

  infantry, artillery and armour, and especially our anti-aircraft guns. But

  Timoshenko still said No;—only reconnaissance of not more than thirty-five miles

  inside enemy territory. ..

  It was not till some time later that Moscow ordered us to put into action the "Red Packet", i.e. the plan for covering the State frontier. But this order came too late...

  The Germans had already engaged in full-scale military operations, and had, in

  several places, penetrated deep into our territory.

  A few hours later, with Timoshenko's permission, Boldin flew to Belostok. His plane was hit by twenty bullets from a Messerschmitt, but nevertheless managed to land on an

  airfield twenty miles east of the city. A few minutes later nine German planes appeared over the airfield and dropped their bombs, without any interference; there were no antiaircraft guns on that airfield. Several cars and Boldin's plane were destroyed.

  Every minute counted. We had to get to the 10th Army Headquarters. There were

  no cars at the airfield, so I took a small truck, and together with some officers and a number of soldiers—twelve people in all—we got into it. I took the seat next to the driver, and told him to drive to Belostok.

  "It's dangerous, Comrade General," he said, "twenty minutes before you landed, there was a German paratroop landing; so the commander of the airfield told me."

  An unpleasant bit of news, but it couldn't be helped. It was incredibly hot, and the air smelt of burning...

  At last we reached the Belostok main road. Through the windscreen I could see

  fifteen German bombers approaching from the west. They were flying low, with

  provocative insolence, as though our sky belonged to them. On their fuselages I

  could clearly see the spiders of the Nazi swastika.

  On the way, Boldin stopped a crowd of workers wandering in the opposite direction.

  "Where are you going?" I asked.

  "To Volkovysk," they said.

  "Who are you?"

  "We had been working on fortifications. But the place where we worked is now like a sea of flames," said an elderly man with an exhausted look on his face.

  These people seemed to have lost their heads, not knowing where they were going

  and why.

  Then we met a few cars, led by a Zis-101. The broad leaves of an aspidistra were

  protruding from one of the windows. It was the car of some local top official. Inside were two women and two children.

  "Surely," I said, "at a time like this you might have more important things to transport than your aspidistra. You might have taken some old people or children."

  With their heads bent, the women were silent. The driver, too, turned away, feeling ashamed.

  And then came the German strafing.

  Three volleys of machine-gun fire hit our truck. The driver was killed. I managed to survive, as I jumped out just in time. But with the exception of my A.D.C. and a

  dispatch rider, all were killed...

  Nearby, I noticed the same old Zis-101. I went up to it. The women, the children, the driver were all killed... Only the evergreen leaves of the aspidistra were still sticking out of the window.

  Horror piled upon horror that day. Belostok was in a complete state of chaos, at the railway station a train packed with women and children evacuees was bombed, and

  hundreds were killed.

  At last, towards evening, Boldin reached the Headquarters of the 10th Army which had moved out of Belostok to a little wood some distance outside the city. It consisted of two tents, with a table and a few chairs. General Golubev was there, with a number of staff officers. He had been unable to communicate with the Front
(i.e. Army Group)

  Headquarters as the telephone lines had been destroyed, and radio communications were being constantly jammed by the enemy. Golubev told Boldin:

  "At daybreak three German army corps, supported by masses of tanks and

  bombers, attacked my 5th infantry corps on my left flank. During the first hours, all divisions suffered very heavy losses... "

  His face and voice showed that he was deeply shaken. Having asked my permission

  to light a cigarette, he unfolded a map:

  "To prevent our being outflanked in the south, I deployed the 13th mechanised corps along the river Kuretz, but as you know, Ivan Vasilievich, there are very few tanks in our divisions. And what can you expect from those old T26 tanks—only

  good enough for firing at sparrows,.. "

  From his further report it emerged that both the aircraft and the anti-aircraft guns of the army corps had been smashed, and that spies had apparently informed the Germans

  where the army's fuel dumps were, for during the very first hours of the invasion, these had all been destroyed by bombing.

  Then General Nikitin, commander of the 6th cavalry corps, arrived and reported how his men, after successfully repelling the first German attacks, had been almost wholly

  exterminated by German aircraft. The remnants of the cavalry corps had been

  concentrated in a wood north-east of Belostok.

  Looking up from the map, General Golubev said:

  "It's hard, very hard, Ivan Vasilievich. My men are fighting like heroes. But what can you do against a tank or a plane? Where there is any chance of clinging to

  something we hold on; we fight back from any strong position, and the enemy

  cannot dislodge us. But there are few such positions, and the Nazis drive their

  wedges forward, they avoid frontal attacks, they get round us; they gain both time and space. The frontier guards, too, are fighting well, but few of them are left and we have no means of supporting them. And so the Nazis advance, insolently,

  marching upright, behaving like conquerors. And that's on the very first day of the war! What'll happen after that?"

  At that very moment communications with Minsk were reestablished, and General