Opening Moves (The Red Gambit Series)

by Gee, Colin

  A casual observer would be able to see that Wels was the back door to Linz and the units still defending there were all but cut off.

  “Berzarin has turned some of his forces north to strike at the escape route of the capitalist troops. We have identified their 11th Tanks and 65th Infantry. They should be destroyed in situ.”

  “Tolbukhin, Chuikov and Yeremenko are holding as previously ordered, but seek confirmation.”

  Zhukov cut over the end of his deputy’s words, showing his irritation at this unexpected and wholly unnecessary problem.

  “Confirm their orders, hold in position for now but be ready. Saturday’s meeting will decide much.”

  Changing gear slickly and moving to a new subject, an excellent ability Malinin demonstrated well when his chief was aggravated, the facts and figures of the Pacific war were brought out and reviewed, also seemingly showing superiority and victory throughout the region.

  1131 hrs Wednesday 8th August 1945, Office of the NKVD Chairman, the Lubyanka, Moscow, USSR.

  The messages dispatched from London on the 4th August were the last to leave before the flow dried up for good.

  Contained within the bag was one message destined for NKVD headquarters and marked ‘eyes only chairman’ which arrived into Lemsky’s care.

  It was a short note and easily decoded with the right knowledge.

  In its readable form, it now sat on Beria’s desk, informing him that, as directed, the Rezident had met in a public place with asset ‘Baron’.

  What the message clearly did not say or ask was why the NKVD Chairman had certainly deliberately blown the cover of ‘Baron’ and revealed the existence of this valuable agent within Britain’s most secret establishment.

  Beria was extremely satisfied with his work, and penned a swift note to Zhukov assuring him that he had crippled Allied higher level communications for at least four days, possibly as long as two weeks.

  He smugly thought that at the cost of one female agent, not an ideological person or one who spied through conviction but one who worshipped solely at the altar of money, no-one in Bletchley would trust anyone and the allies would use slower, less effective means to relay orders for some time to come.

  It all worked out very nicely.

  Beria rose from his desk and decided to surprise Danilov in his own lair with a request for his car.

  1210 hrs, Wednesday 8th August 1945, Geesthacht, Germany.

  In Geesthacht, two worlds were about to collide.

  General Lenskii was ecstatic, and with good reason. His 43rd Army had the allies on the run and he was ahead of schedule.

  Spreading the latest map across the bonnet of his jeep, he made a few swift appreciations and then started to issue his orders, sending out the tentacles of his rifle corps to exploit the fluidity of the situation as much as possible, fingers making movements over the paper giving life to his words. The officers gathered round him made records of their own on maps or in notebooks, ready to translate his needs into operational orders. He paused as a rattle of sub-machine gunfire overcame his thoughts and sent a Lieutenant to investigate. Life was sweet and the rewards of a professional soldier when things went well were great.

  At the other end of the scale was Helga Dein, who was still in a state of shock at seeing her family destroyed before her eyes a few hours beforehand.

  Her father, her rock and her idol, had survived six years of European War only to fall this day, victim of a Soviet grenade tossed into the basement of their home in Krumme Stra²e. The family had taken refuge here during the brief fighting and had not moved since the town grew silent some time beforehand. His attempt to cover the blast with his body failed, and the grenade claimed not only him but also her mother and sister.

  Her grief and upbringing determined that life was now pointless and Helga resolved that hers would end this day, but not before her family were avenged.

  With tearful eyes, she had taken up the weapon her father had dropped and, as he had shown her, braced herself, pressing the trigger and destroyed the two Soviet infantrymen who ventured into the cellar after the grenade.

  The MP40 jerked in her hands again and over half the bullets were on target as a third man charged in, only to be thrown back bloodily into the entrance.

  Scrabbling at the packing around the small window, she snatched up a magazine lying on a box and wriggled her way out, in the end propelled by the force of three more grenades behind her.

  Running for all she was worth, Helga found the small air-raid shelter at the junction of her street and Hafenstra²e, and dived in quickly, narrowly avoiding a running Soviet officer heading back the way she had come.

  Changing the magazine on her weapon as her father had demonstrated, she was calm, belying her nineteen years.

  Now was the time.

  She moved silently out of the bunker and turned right.

  On the junction of Hafenstra²e and Schillerstra²e stood a small group of soldiers gathered round a vehicle, oblivious to her presence.

  Russians.

  She gathered herself and struggled for control as fear suddenly washed over her. Her bladder let go as she moved forward, tears in her eyes but still focused on the hated enemy to her front, her fear subjugated by her desire to kill.

  One man looked up and realised the danger, snatching for his weapon but knowing he was too late.

  The German sub-machine gun burst into life, sending twenty-one 9mm bullets in the direction of the Soviet officer group.

  Only the first six were on target and the petrified Russian officer made contact with his weapon, bringing it on target and pulling the trigger.

  The PPS43 sent its stream of bullets in return but all missed.

  Again, both weapons lashed out and this time both were on target.

  Helga Dein was dead before she hit the ground, metal ripping through her stomach, heart, liver and head.

  The Captain, her target, sank slowly to the ground as his own throat wound spilled his lifeblood over the roadway in front of him.

  Two of the men had remained untouched, and cautiously rose from their position of cover on the other side of the jeep. One even put another burst into the immobile girl, causing parts of the ruined corpse to disintegrate and spread themselves on the roadway.

  The Colonel, 43rd Army’s Senior Artillery Officer, had taken four of the six bullets to strike flesh and lay dead, sightless eyes still carrying indignation at the mechanics of his end.

  Major-General Boris Lenskii lay where he had been dropped by the two impacts, knowing that he was badly injured. The wound to his rectum was painful indeed, the metal having ripped through his anus and then moved on, removing most of his manhood. The second projectile took him under the right shoulder and, hitting bone, disintegrated into a number of small but devastating pieces, each one reducing sections of his liver to paste as they moved inexorably through his body.

  As he slipped into merciful darkness, he knew his end was approaching.

  Troops of his headquarters defence unit gathered up his shattered form and carried it into St Salvatoris Kirche where a small aid post had been established. He died four hours later to the minute, never having regained consciousness.

  His vengeful troopers visited themselves upon the civilian populace and the small ruined town was bathed in the blood of innocents until darkness fell.

  1500 hrs Wednesday 8th August 1945. Former Headquarters of SHAEF, Trianon Palace Hotel, Versailles, France.

  At three o’clock precisely radios across Europe first went silent and then burst into life with an announcement, made first in English, then French, then German, calling for all citizens of Europe to be attentive and standby for an important message.

  Listening to that broadcast, from prison of war camps to small farming communities across the continent, nations held their breath, expecting the very worst.

  A detached voice announced General Dwight D. Eisenhower, Supreme Commander of SHAEF.

  A long pause.


  The tape rolled.

  Eisenhower’s voice cut the silence.

  “People of Europe, the last six years have been dark indeed, and in May of this year we came to the end of a gigantic conflict, a conflict which cost many lives on all sides. Those lives were needlessly lost in a false cause; the pursuit of power and sovereignty by a small group of men.”

  The extended pause was in place to permit translators to do their work, French and German over the radio, other languages done in the huddled groups listening all over the continent.

  “I have no doubt that each of you has, as I have, made an oath to do all in our collective powers to ensure this never happens again in our lifetime, or that of our children and their offspring.”

  “We are now called upon to discharge that oath as Europe finds itself again threatened by a small clique bent on extending their power and imposing their will upon the free.”

  As the German speaker moved through his words, a keen ear could detect light coughing in the background.

  “America stands with you in this struggle, and as we speak her sons are dying to preserve you, your nations and your ethnic groups, be you French or German, English or Austrian, Romany or Jew.”

  “Forces of the Russian Empire, at the direct bidding of Dictator Joseph Stalin, have attacked along a broad front from the Baltic to the Adriatic.”

  Not wholly accurate but it made better listening.

  “We are striving to stop their progress but you should all know that, for now, we are striving in vain. More farms and villages are coming under their control, towns and cities falling within their domain.”

  “Now, more than ever Europe….. No,… the World needs her citizens to come together as one, joining to defeat this aggression and ensure that our nations, yours and mine, stay free. I say the world and mean the world, for this will not stop here in Germany, nor on some distant Atlantic or Mediterranean shore, but it will spread across oceans and engulf continents until the World as we know it has gone.”

  “Separately, entrenched in our recent divides, we will fall. Together, we will stand proud and destroy this menace forever. Thank you.”

  Once the translation had finished the listeners were regaled with the distinctive voice of Churchill, taped in England the previous evening and played at the newly reactivated communications centre at Versailles, delivering a speech as only he could, enshrining every virtue of man in his stirring words and focussing his audience on uniting in the coming struggle.

  By the time that De Gaulle commenced, the only allied leader to speak live from Versailles, sixteen minutes had passed. The French leaders address was short and seemed more leaning to stirring his own compatriots to stand tall, perhaps recognising that his country, of all the Allies, needed most inspiration and resolve.

  De Gaulle concluded and there was a silence, seemingly designed to build tension but actually no more than a hitch at the radio base as the next speaker sat down at the microphone and waited his turn.

  A monotone voice announced Von Papen as the next speaker.

  A silence descended, heavy with the static of expectation, until a single steady voice spoke in his native tongue.

  “Meine Herren, kinsfolk of Europe, Germany and her allies have endured much these past six years and we have been beaten in a war, enduring beyond the barriers of human endurance, giving all for our country and state, our nation and folk.”

  “That we endured so much, gave so much and invested so much blood and sweat in such a faulty cause will be our national burden for generations to come.”

  “The leadership of our nations, Germany and Austria, was faulty but these leaders were followed too readily and obeyed too easily for any of us to avoid the national guilt we now feel.”

  “I speak to you at this hour as an appointee of the conquering powers, without mandate or common assent from my nation, placed at the head of a governing body, the Council of Germany and Austria. This body consists of leaders, political and military, known to you all these last few years.”

  Pausing, Von Papen referred to his list, reciting the names in order of entry and including the military ranks where appropriate.

  “These men have agreed to serve on the Council, in order to commence the process of returning our lands to the control of those who have lived and died here for generations.”

  “I have been given the position at the head of this table, as Chancellor, to make some decisions, small admittedly, but ones made for Germans and Austrians by Germans and Austrians.”

  A throat cleared and on he plunged.

  “These last few years our countries have visited aggressive war upon our neighbours and that is a burden we must carry to the next millennium and beyond.”

  Von Papen’s voice was rich with both pain and resolve.

  “Crimes have been committed and those crimes must be atoned for by those responsible; there can be no other way.”

  “Regardless of whether you pulled a trigger, drove a tank, or stayed at home enduring the bombs, our peoples have a collective responsibility to make amends for these excesses, to fully atone for our national actions before we can move forward as nations without the burdens of our past.”

  “We come to this now, the start of our national atonement, at the moment of Europe’s darkest need, and when we are least capable of answering the call.”

  Those in the radio room witnessed him stiffen as he gathered himself.

  “In line with the request the Council has received from General Eisenhower, on behalf of the governments of the United States, United Kingdom and France, I now instruct the ……”

  A silence descended, one that should not have been and across the continent millions of eyes bored deeply into radio sets, willing the speaker to press on.

  Gathering himself, Von Papen pressed on.

  “In line with those requests the Council requests that all capable persons, be they free living or presently detained, with the exception of ex-members of the SS, make themselves ready to serve in the military struggle to preserve Germany, Austria, Europe and the World.”

  “Identify yourselves to the nearest allied personnel and do as you are instructed, observing your moral conscience at all times, representing your nation and state, and acting as a soldier and citizen of Europe.”

  “As nations we, Germany and Austria, now have an opportunity to make good some of the harm we have done and to be in the vanguard that delivers freedom to our world.”

  “To you all I say this. Stand tall, proud of your national identity, and know the man next to you, be he white or black, Christian or Jew, stands with you through choice in a great crusade for freedom.”

  “Thank you and good luck.”

  In the I.G.Farben building in Frankfurt, Eisenhower looked at his staff and whistled.

  “Well if that doesn’t do the trick nothing will.”

  1528 hrs Wednesday, 8th August 1945, Headquarters of Red Banner Forces of Soviet Europe, Schloss Schönefeld, Leipzig.

  The reception at the Schloss Gundorf was completely different.

  Zhukov nodded gently, dissecting the broadcast, exploring the possibilities.

  ‘Quicker than expected but practical? Resources? Organisation? Usefulness?’

  Malinin put both their thoughts into words.

  “GRU and NKVD will be squirming Comrade Marshall. Not quite as they predicted is it?”

  For two generals who had just been told that the enemy forces were likely to be receiving reinforcements in seven figures, both men seemed reasonably calm.

  Calm with good reason as Malinin continued, thinking aloud.

  “Provided we continue to push and keep them on the run this will not get off the ground on a large scale. There are intact German units in Norway and the French ports, and those in Denmark could be a small problem but the Western Allies do not have the resources for even their own forces at this time.”

  Zhukov pondered some more and then spoke.

  “We will proceed withou
t change but delays will not be tolerated. We must press forward incessantly. Tired units must be rotated out and replaced with fresh ones and we must push, push, and push. Inform all commanders. Also, seek information from the GRU and NKVD on their assessment of the impact of this call to arms and what forces the new Germany can field, reasonably field I mean.”

  With a wry smile between comrades, Zhukov added.

  “And tell them to get it right this time.”

  He then recalled something extra from the broadcast.

  “They have held back from using the SS bastards though. That will be their loss and our gain Malinin. There may be some things that the NKVD can design to cause friction in their cosy little camp, disrupt the new brotherhood eh?”

  Malinin grinned, confident once more.

  “Yes Comrade Marshall. Their enterprise will die a death soon enough, at our bayonet point or their own.”

  Soviet Aviation has been desperately searching for their number one target without success, ever since the ground attack planned upon it had failed. Photo recon, acquired at great expense by 193rd Guards Reconnaissance Aviation Regiment, had demonstrated the fact that the wrong target had been assaulted in any case and so a considerable amount of effort was being directed at locating it so it could be visited by bombers as soon as possible.

  Photos were compared against possible location lists and three possible locations in the Frankfurt area presented themselves. Without assets on the ground to confirm or disprove it was decided to hit all three, and the sooner the better, as Soviet ground forces would surely cause the enemy to displace in the near future.

  22nd Guards Bomber Division was given the task and assigned one full bomber regiment to each of the targets, and each bomber regiment being given its own fighter regiment for cover with an additional fighter regiment held back to reinforce as needed. A formidable force indeed, and it was already airborne and crossing no-man’s land.