by Gee, Colin
“General Bradley is expecting that the fall-back to the Rhine will now be forced upon us, despite the order to hold as much German soil as possible.”
Von Vietinghoff looked pale and tired, the ramifications of this latest Soviet offensive obviously extreme for his country.
The German Army was paying a high price in the defence of what was left, and that was shrinking on an hourly basis.
“Finally here, where we think the Third Red Banner Front will strike for the Rhine, and attempt to force its way into France, either through Freiburg or Strasbourg. We are a little hazy on that one at the moment Sir.”
Eisenhower nodded his understanding.
“In each of these areas, our intelligence assets have identified units previously held in the general reserve or high command reserve, the latter of which tend to be committed only to important missions.”
The question had to be asked.
“The Alps and Italy?”
“Not at this time, Sir. Although, as we recently discovered, there is a large grouping of enemy units in Bavaria presently untasked.”
Since Patton had made the suggestion, the enemy units had not moved an inch.
“Their supply situation?”
“That seems to have improved a little, Sir. They have tightened up on rear-line security, and have had some increased success against the irregular German forces, and other partisan groups.”
“How are they on equipment now?”
“Intelligence still suggests that they are light in a number of key areas. Signals and engineering equipment being the main two, although latest contact reports indicate more of the older T34 tanks in combat than expected.”
Eisenhower lit a cigarette from a dying butt, declining Tedder’s offer of a lighter.
He took a deep draw before posing his final question.
“Manpower?”
“On that point, there is an element of uncertainty, Sir. General?”
Bedell-Smith stepped aside, ceding the briefing position to Kenneth Strong, the intelligence chief.
“Sir, I have received reports that there has been a reversal in the Soviet’s policy regarding their POW’s.”
A door slammed, snatched from the grasp of an orderly, provoked by a sudden gust of autumnal wind rushing through the room. The unfortunate sergeant who was deemed responsible, suddenly found himself under the direct gaze of a number of annoyed generals.
He beat a hasty retreat, careful not to repeat his error.
“Go on, Sir Kenneth.”
“Sir, it seems that the Soviet High Command has relented, and has now started to integrate the qualified personnel into existing units, or form new ones in their own right. Other prisoners are being employed in the most dangerous areas, mainly as infantry, or mine clearing details.”
Everyone present started to process the information, but it was Eisenhower who spoke first.
‘Why they didn’t do this before beats me, but then the commies play by their own rules.’
“Sir, I believe this decision will increase the combat efficiency of their qualified units across the board, in the same way that using our own released POW’s has bolstered our capability.”
The telephone rang.
A staff Major picked it up.
“Yes, Sir.”
He offered the receiver to Eisenhower.
“General Bradley, Sir.”
Ike took the receiver, exchanging a serious look with his Chief of Staff.
“Eisenhower.”
He was silent, listening, assessing, and realising the weight of the news.
The horror was apparent on his face, causing both Bedell-Smith and Strong to strain their ears towards the telephone receiver, its buzzing distinctly illustrating the concerns of the 12th Army Group Commander.
‘Dear God.’
”Are you positive, Brad?”
Ike took a deep drag of calming smoke.
“I’ll send what I can, but you must hold. I repeat, you must hold, Brad.”
Eisenhower closed his eyes, imagining the horrors being visited upon Bradley’s command, the voice in his ear reinforcing the mental images.
Ike shook his head at the distant Bradley.
“No, no, no. We’re not ready yet, General.”
To the listeners, it was clear that the commander of 12th Army Group pushed even harder.
Eisenhower shook his head once more, this time at Bedell-Smith
“No, I will not give that order, General. We need the fighting room, and the Rhine is not yet ready. Plus, General Strong has come up with Intel that suggests their engineers may no longer be as weak as we hoped.”
Very obviously, that statement was not well received.
Eisenhower’s voice and approach softened back to its normal level, having momentarily risen in the face of Bradley’s insistent pleas.
“Yes, Brad, I know how close that is, but I will not yet give that order.”
Ike rarely had to repeat himself to Bradley, and listeners took it as a sign of the extreme nature of the problem.
“Yes, Air will be prioritised to you for now. Round the clock ground support.”
Eisenhower failed to notice Tedder blanche at the prospect of the exhausted pilots being called upon in such a fashion.
“Ok Brad. I will get Walter to contact you with a list of those units we can cut to you. In the meantime, hold those sons of bitches, or we are in deep trouble.”
There was little Bradley could say to that so he acknowledged the instructions.
“And good luck to you too, Brad.”
Handing the phone back to the Major, Eisenhower took a moment to compose himself before looking up into a number of expectant faces.
He walked to the situation map and placed his finger on a specific point.
All eyes strained to see.
“Cologne, gentlemen, Cologne. The front has folded in here, and the Soviet lead elements are five miles from Cologne.”
A thoughtful silence overtook the assembly, each man searching his own mind for the full ramifications of that statement.
Eisenhower saved everyone the bother.
“Five miles from the Rhine.”
The briefing had been completed, and the new problems were being addressed, Bedell-Smith hard at work implementing Eisenhower’s orders.
Sat back, drinking coffee, and consuming the first cigarette of a second pack that day, the SHAEF Commander watched the map develop unfavourably, as the focussed Soviet attacks bore fruit.
Kenneth Strong approached, accompanied by Rossiter, and an unknown French officer, all looking fit to burst.
“Gentlemen, something tells me you bear good news for a change.”
Strong deferred to Rossiter, who introduced General de Walle of French Intelligence.
De Walle then outlined the intelligence situation within the French First Army area, and made a bold suggestion on how to capitalise on recent events.
The idea was sound but risky, the benefits potentially huge. By the end of the discussion, the suggestion was approved, and the wheels set in motion to organise a massive setback to the Soviet plan in Southern Germany.
1207hrs, Friday, 12th October 1945, Headquarters of SHAEF, Trianon Palace Hotel, Versailles, France.
Eisenhower sat watching, liberal use of coffee and cigarettes failing to overcome the concern and tiredness brought about by the present disaster.
His emotions were in turmoil, his belief in Allied victory stretched to breaking point.
The Red Army had achieved a breakthrough and crossed the Rhine, the best efforts of Bradley’s soldiers, and the close attention of the air forces, not enough to stop the inexorable tidal wave that had gathered momentum at Cologne.
Efforts were being made to contain the breakthrough, and USAAF bombers were already being briefed to attack the crossing points as a matter of priority.
Nevertheless, the long cherished plan of an impenetrable line on the Rhine had become an illusion overnight.
Colonel
Hood, back on duty, and with medicines to calm his ulcers, brought a message to Eisenhower.
It was from McCreery, and it was stark in nature. Bremen was about to fall.
Bedell-Smith approached, face flushed.
Eisenhower passed him the message from the British commander, wrongly assuming that it was the source of his CoS’s angst.
It was not, and the report Ike proffered was replaced by another, originating from the defenders of Baden-Württemberg, the German state bordering France and Alsace.
He didn’t read it, inviting his CoS to get whatever it was off his chest.
“Sir, Karlsruhe has fallen. Mannheim will follow within the hour.”
The double shock hit Eisenhower like a left-right combination from a heavyweight boxer.
1210hrs, Friday, 12th October 1945, Headquarters, Red Banner Forces of Europe, Kohnstein, Nordhausen, Germany.
Zhukov sat watching the developing situation, the map being updated second by second by an army of personnel, fed information from the front line. His hand occasionally strayed to the table by his side, alternating between a plate of his favourite sweetbreads, and a cup of fresh tea, constantly refilled by an attentive orderly.
Inside, he was ecstatic, the map openly screamed at him, announcing the triumph of his armies.
Cologne had fallen, and the 2nd Red Banner was already spreading outwards on the west side of the mighty river.
‘Why is it always that ass Konev?’
He dismissed the irritation he felt, and focussed on the success.
Bagramyan’s reports indicated that the fighting in Bremen would soon be over, and that 1st Baltic would be able to push forward into the North German plain.
The latest news from 3rd Red Banner was hugely significant.
Their imminent successes meant that the angled thrust into Southern France could go ahead as planned, and it could even be that an alternative of greater value might present itself.
‘Don’t get ahead of yourself, Comrade!’
‘I’m not, but I would be a fool not to consider the possibility, would I not?’
‘True enough, but you would be a wiser man if you focussed on the plan, Georgy. Stick with the plan for now.’
‘But...’
“No buts, it’s working and we are defeating the Allied armies.’
Malinin’s face betrayed the fact that Zhukov had been mumbling his ‘conversation’.
‘Enough for now then. Stick with the plan.’
“Comrade Marshal, the Allied air force is making heavy attacks all over the Cologne area, and we are taking huge casualties.”
Zhukov’s eyes inadvertently swivelled to the area where Novikov was working furiously.
“Our own air force is fighting magnificently, Comrade Marshal. There is no more they can do that is not already in hand.”
Zhukov accepted Malinin’s defence of Novikov.
“The situation in Bremen is less clear. Marshal Bagramyan has had a setback. Their Polish Armoured Division reappeared, and drove into the flank of the 11th Guards Army. Apparently, it caused havoc amongst the artillery elements and losses have been heavy. The Armenian states there will be a delay, but no more than that.”
“And the Poles?”
“Have been driven off, Comrade Marshal. Kuzma Nikitovich personally organised an armoured force, and pushed the vipers back, causing heavy casualties.”
Zhukov grunted, content that Major General Kuzma Galitsky, a soldier very highly thought of by both men, was on hand to sort the problem.
“Sir, the situation at Karlsruhe and Mannheim. Have you considered a change in the plan?”
“Yes, I have considered a change. No, I will not make such a change, Mikhail.”
Malinin could not hide his disappointment.
“Not at this time anyway, Comrade,” Zhukov conceded.
“Moving south-west down the Rhine line is still risky, Comrade Marshal. Moving directly westwards does offer appealing opportunities...”
Zhukov interrupted.
“This I know, Mikhail, but there are also possibilities that we have discussed before, the same possibilities that made the drive south-west to the Belfort Gap so attractive.”
Zhukov stood and beckoned his CoS to follow. Once in his private office, Zhukov gesticulated at the wall map.
“We have a chance to isolate a large enemy force to the east of the Rhine. The possibility to drive around Switzerland and into the rear of the Northern Italy defences remains a distinct possibility, even with the presence of the Spanish.”
Malinin, always expected to speak freely in private, tapped the map in three places.
“Bordeaux? Paris? The Channel?”
Zhukov couldn’t help himself, and his eyes lapped up the possibilities.
‘No!’
He punched a fist into his cupped left hand to frighten away the part of him that agreed.
“Once we get there,” his finger shot out, aiming specifically at Belfort and Mulhouse, “Then we can explore the options.”
Malinin has stated his objections before, but felt the need to cover them again.
“Comrade Marshal, I still believe that committing on a narrow front, one flank to the Rhine, the other to the mountains, is a risky strategy. We will be confined.”
Zhukov sighed the sigh of a teacher trying to explain an easy problem to a difficult child.
“As will they, Mikhail, as will they.”
Pausing to look at the map, a thought occurred.
“Mind you, Comrade, there is nothing to stop us expanding westwards from either point, if circumstances permit it. When we first planned, we did not possess the extra manpower. Have another look at it please.”
Malinin felt more comfortable with that, and moved to start his work.
He opened the door as Nazarbayeva was about to knock.
“Ah, Comrade Polkovnik. Please come in.”
Salutes were exchanged and business commenced.
“Comrade Marshal, General Pekunin has received a full report on the events in Fischausen, and has asked me to pass it on to you.”
Puzzled that such an insignificant matter should be brought directly to him by the head of the GRU, Zhukov skimmed the file.
“Ah yes, the blackmail of the German Knocke.”
He remembered the simple briefing, but had not expected any worthwhile advantage to come of it, and merely acknowledged it, permitting the Chekists and the GRU to play their games.
“Comrade Marshal, the investigating officer believes that the attack was undertaken by rogue SS elements, who had no idea who or what they were attacking.”
Zhukov had just read that section as she spoke it.
“Further to that, the investigating officer also concludes that no knowledge of the fate of the Knocke family has leaked out; all three confirmed dead, of course. General Pekunin endorses this view, and believes that Knocke can still be controlled.”
“And the other projects?”
“Are all in place, Comrade Marshal. We have direct influence over some very senior commanders in the new German army.”
“Excellent.”
There was a silence; one that Zhukov decided needed further investigation.
“And what are your views on the Knocke situation, Comrade Polkovnik?”
“Something is not right, Sir. It is not clear to me, but something is not right.”
Malinin’s interested perked up.
“How so, Comrade Nazarbayeva?”
“Comrade General, I find myself asking about this SS unit. Where have they been, and what have they been doing all this time? There have been a few recorded attacks in the area, mainly in the last three weeks, so have they been somewhere else? Hiding? I don’t know what, but I have a problem with it, Sir.”
“And Comrade Pekunin? What is his view?”
“He sees no issue here, and illustrated his point with examples of other groups that have only recently started to cause trouble.”
“And
yet, you disagree?”
“Comrade Polkovnik General Pekunin made an excellent case.”
Malinin looked to Zhukov for further input.
“Comrade Nazarbayeva, thank you for your opinion, honest as ever. In this instance, the overall matter is of little importance I think, but we will bear in mind your concerns, if Knocke becomes involved again.”
Nazarbayeva accepted that without rancour.
“Proceed, Comrade Polkovnik.”
“Comrades, the Italian government have still not declared their neutrality, as you know. That is on hold until you signal a start for phase three.”
That was a bugbear to both men, the supply situation putting ‘Three’ on hold indefinitely.
“However, I have a report that indicates that the Italian’s situation is known to the Allied High Command.”
No surprises there; such a thing was difficult to conceal.
‘Next?’
“There has been a failed attempt on General Patton’s life.”
“When?”
“Last Sunday, Comrade Marshal. We have not learned of it until today. GRU’s agent was shot during the attempt, and has only recently managed to communicate with us. She was attempting to remove Patton, but was shot before she could act.”
“Shot before she could act? I don’t understand, Comrade.”
“Our agent was shot by someone trying to assassinate Patton, before she could act, which is why her cover remains intact, Comrade Marshal.”
“That all sounds very complicated, Comrade Polkovnik. Who was the other assassin?”
Nazarbayeva nearly shrugged.
“Not known at this time, but definitely not one of ours, or of the NKVD.”
“Anything else, Comrade Nazarbayeva?”
“No, Sir.”
“Thank you for your report as always.”
The female officer saluted and withdrew, leaving the two men to their thoughts of Italy.
2302hrs, Friday, 12th October 1945, Headquarters of SHAEF, Trianon Palace Hotel, Versailles, France.
Eisenhower replaced the receiver, and took a moment to compose himself.
Bedell-Smith, Hood, Foster, in fact, pretty much every man and woman in the close staff was stood watching him, his reaction, his anguish.
