by Gee, Colin
Eisenhower had already had the same discussion with a number of his senior commanders, and so was able to reply quickly.
“Brad, it all fits. The Intel is good, and we are acting on it. We do not have the resources to go chasing after all these other attacks, and if we do, we risk not having enough in place to stop the main thrusts.”
Ike pulled at another map, and stood slightly aside so that the commander of his 12th Army Group could see.
“We are concentrating our forces, but I do not want to commit them yet. If we can stop the Communists with what we have online, then we have our reserves with which to counter-attack. We need to start taking back the initiative here.”
Bradley could understand that, and the list of units that SHAEF was keeping back was growing in number and capability.
‘But...’
He never got to say it.
“But, if the Soviets do breakthrough, I will employ some of these assets to stop their advance. Either way round, we will be counter-attacking, according to the plan we discussed with George a while back, timetable to be decided.”
Bradley could not help but stare at the Supreme Commander, the change in him so marked since the last time the two had met.
There was a confidence there, not previously seen since the Bulge had been eradicated and the Allied divisions had flooded into Germany.
Ike was drawing on a newly lit cigarette, so Bradley took advantage of the coffee that had been given to him on his arrival.
He missed the signal from Eisenhower.
Von Vietinghoff closed the door, sealing off the office from the outside world.
Bradley understood that the sudden change in atmosphere represented a new imposition of secrecy; something special was in the air.
Eisenhower remained smoking his cigarette, now joined by the German liaison officer.
Bedell-Smith remained silent also, the quiet inviting the final member of the ensemble onto the stage to deliver his information.
Sir David Petrie, Commander of MI5, took his cue.
“Sirs, there will be no paper record of this conversation, and none of you is to mention it outside these four walls.”
Such an edict could ruffle a feather or two, but for the obviously serious nature of what was to come, information which had only been whispered into Eisenhower’s ear an hour beforehand.
“MI5 has a source,” he corrected himself, “A brand new source, within the Soviet Red Army command structure.”
That, in itself, was a shock. But they had heard nothing yet.
“Our source is highly placed, and in a position to supply information across the range of military matters. The agent’s identity will be kept secret at all costs, as is the fact that such an agent exists.”
That was obvious, but Petrie was determined to press the point.
“This agent has supplied us with information that was verified by other means initially, but the latest receipt brings with it staggering news.”
The silence was electric, almost unbearable.
“According to the report, the Red Army will shortly attack into Northern Italy, via the Alps and Southern Austria.”
“We knew that would come, General Petrie. That’s old news. In fact, it seems to have been a stop-start thing for weeks now.”
Bedell-Smith was right, but that was an aperitif only, and Petrie followed it up with starter, main course, and dessert in succession.
“Indeed, General Smith. His reports inform us that there is a personal rift between Zhukov, and one of his front commanders, Konev.”
Clearly, it was nothing of great note to Generals who had their own difficulties with colleagues, so Petrie felt the need to go further.
“This is probably something that could be exploited, with the acquisition of more intelligence. I will know more in the fullness of time, but it appears their relationship is so bad that military judgement is being affected.”
Interest perked a little, but Petrie moved on.
“Secondly, Stalin has relented on his policy on their POW’s, and they are using them to fill in gaps in their formations.”
Eisenhower frowned.
“Excuse me? They refused to do that during the German War. Have we really hurt them that badly?”
Petrie kept a straight face.
“I have people working on the figures at the moment, but, if the report is accurate, we can add at least 25% to their casualty figures.”
The gathering exploded into life.
“25%!”
Petrie remained silent, permitting the men to trade looks and words of astonishment.
As the hubbub subsided, Eisenhower noted the expression on the face of MI5’s senior man, and realised that there was something even more staggering to come.
He firstly calmed the crowd, before encouraging the performer.
“Gentlemen, please. Sir David, you’re dying to tell us, so please do.”
“And finally, the Red Army is running short on supplies.”
Faces cleared quickly, eyes asking question after question, all silently directed at the head of MI5.
“Gentlemen, my source informs me that stocks of everything from ammunition to hay for the horses, are at an unacceptable low, and that the Red Army is gambling much on this attack, so that they may focus their dwindling resources on the three main axis of attack. Very soon they will lack the resources for offence.”
Bradley saw a problem immediately.
“But General Petrie. If that is so, how come they are going to open up Italy? How can they have the resources for that?”
“The Italian slated formations have passed on some of their supplies to the main front, which has helped provide enough for them to come up with the triple prong attack.”
Petrie paused, ready to bring the proverbial ‘coffee and mints’ to the discussion.
“The Yugoslav authorities are still rather upset with their communist allies, but have relented sufficiently to offer some assistance.”
More than one brow furrowed, even Eisenhower’s, who had already heard that snippet.
“The Yugoslav’s have huge stocks of equipment and supplies, and have agreed to release large quantities to the nearby Soviet formations. According to the agreement, these formations will be employed in the liberation of Italy, and only in the liberation of Italy, which I believe the Yugoslavs feel will then remove any direct pressure on them.”
Von Vietinghoff spoke for every man there.
“So, they gain advantage, at no risk to themselves, by giving the Communists back what they gave them in the first place, and get the Red Army to do their work for them.”
That about summed it all up nicely.
“Tito, die scheisskerl!”
Petrie found his German language skills up to the mark.
“I think that puts it rather well, Herr GeneralOberst.”
Eisenhower summed up.
“So, the Italian offensive will happen, mainly because the supplies are coming from Yugoslavia, and they insist that the Russians do something to relieve the pressure on their country. Meanwhile, in the main theatre, the Red Army is steadily running out of everything it needs, despite an influx from the Alpine formations that have just be resupplied by Tito. Is that correct, General Petrie?”
A moment’s pause occurred, as if by comment assent; a moment in which the immense ramifications were fully understood by all those present.
The silence went on, no man prepared to break it, for fear of ruining the images that were springing up in the mind’s eye.
A knock on the door broke the moment forever.
“Sir, urgent call from General Ridgeway,” the flustered Captain indicated the silent phone on Eisenhower’s desk.
“Thank you, gentlemen, but I must take this call.”
The senior men filed quickly out, leaving Ike alone with his thoughts and the apparatus.
“Eisenhower.”
The news was not good.
“Yes indeed, General
Ridgeway.”
The news did not get any better.
“Matthew, all I can offer you is what is already on the road.”
The Paratrooper General’s pleas fell on deaf ears, but Eisenhower was aware that the harassed commander needed something to pin his hopes on.
“I am sorry, General. Look, Matthew, understand this. Your stand is vital, absolutely vital, or I would not be asking you to make it. Hold the communists on that side of the line, and we will gain the initiative.”
Ike stopped, listening to the man’s reply.
“Yes, I mean just that. We will start driving them back.”
Eisenhower smiled, a genuine pleasure at hearing one of his favourites buoyed by a few simple words.
“And to you, General Ridgeway. Goodbye.”
Another cigarette magically went from pack to mouth in an instant, the smoke giving his lungs the boost he sought.
‘So, if they can’t advance, have we won the war.’
The Supreme commander laughed aloud.
‘If you believe that, you are a fool!’
He laughed again.
‘But we will win the war, that was never in doubt.’
Ike pursed his lips before delivering his reply.
‘I don’t doubt it now, but there were times when...’
‘Times? Times when what? Times when you thought we would lose?’
Eisenhower shook his head wearily.
‘Times when I believed that we could all lose.’
The other inner voice took a moment to think that through.
‘Ah, you mean the bomb, don’t you?’
There was a momentary silence, in recognition of the enormity of the thought.
‘As well you know, General, as well you know.’
‘It so often happens that, when men are convinced that they have to die, a desire to bear themselves well and to leave life’s stage with dignity, conquers all other sensations.’
Winston Spencer Churchill
Chapter 99 - THE CAMPFIRE
1ST BALTIC FRONT - MARSHAL BAGRAMYAN
2330hrs, Tuesday, 23rd October 1945, Headquarters of the 1st Baltic Front, Schloss Holdenstadt, near Uelzen, Germany.
“The attacks have succeeded so far, Comrade Marshal. It appears that the Allied reserve is keeping pace with our forces, all moving south as we hoped.”
Bagramyan was pleased, and motioned for his CoS to continue.
“Allied air power is negated by the heavy rain, as we expected.”
Without that piece of luck, the situation would be more ‘fluid’.
“The first attack on Barnstorf is due to commence this morning, the exact timing was left to the local commander.”
Checking his notes, the Chief of Staff made the important announcement.
“If everything goes to schedule, the main thrust by Special Group Obinin will commence at 1000hrs on the 25th.”
As was his nature, the CoS added a note of caution.
“Our meteorologists predict that there could be some clearing of the weather during the afternoon of the 25th, possibly as much as four hours, Comrade Marshal.”
There was nothing that could be usefully said, or done. If it did not happen, then the spearhead would breakthrough, and release the follow-up forces. If it did happen, then it was possible that the enemy ground-attack squadrons would have a small window of opportunity to attack the ground forces.
Bagramyan decided to look positively upon the matter.
“Then we must ensure that our own air regiments and anti-aircraft units are ready to do their duty, Comrade.”
Outside, the rain lashed the window, drawing attention to itself.
Once again, it was Bagramyan’s friend.
Fig #67 - The Battleground, Barnstorf, Germany.
0057hrs, Thursday, 25th October 1945, Barnstorf, Germany.
Using the cover of the rain, both its power to obscure vision, and the noise of its contact with the ground, the Soviet infantry had got in too close for comfort.
The scratch force at Barnstorf came from US, British and German units, although the Germans were made up of Kommando soldiers from a number of local forces.
Kommando Regiment Friedrich, named for its former regular Army commander, comprised some 350 men, many of them veterans of the Western or Russian fronts, men invalided out, or used in the rear line. The others were either old men or boys, of varying skills and uses.
The battered 116th Regiment of the 29th US Infantry Division formed the bulk of the defences, supplemented by a few tanks in an ad hoc company. The US Army also contributed artillery and mortars to the defence.
It had not been a powerful lunge by the Soviets, but it had still been a close run thing as far as Lieutenant Colonel Willoughby, the 116th’s commander, had been concerned. The evidence of dead Russians, some a hundred yards from the main road bridge, was sufficient for him to seek for reinforcements in Barnstorf itself.
Fortunately, there were some close at hand.
Behind the Hunte River, elements of the destroyed 51st Highland Division had been gathered up and formed into a small brigade, the 154th; a brigade in name, certainly not in numbers.
Companies that had survived the attritional battles in Northern Germany were pulled together into the new infantry brigade. All were placed under the command of the elderly Brigadier Philip Blake, a career soldier, who had done his main soldiering on the South-African veldt, in Picardy, or the sands of Palestine and, for whom, the greatest battle was the daily struggle with haemorrhoids, and the constant presence of malaria.
There were enough Seaforths to make up a full battalion, by far the healthiest unit in the Brigade, especially as it possessed a machine-gun company from the Northumberland Fusiliers.
A second battalion was formed, consisting of three short companies of Gordon Highlanders and the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, the two extremely clannish groups tolerating each other in a good-natured way, whilst despising the other two brigades for their inclusions of some sassenachs.
A third battalion was formed around two ravaged companies of the Black Watch. Ramsey’s B Company from 7th Battalion, bolstered by thirty men from the Queen’s Own Cameron Highlanders, men who had been through hell outside of Bremen. A mishmash of survivors from 1st Battalion, The Black Watch, made up two companies that were well down in numbers, and also poorly equipped. There were also two men from 5th Battalion, the rest of the unit cut off somewhere to the north. Two platoons of Royal Engineers made up the numbers, bereft of equipment, to be employed as infantry if needed.
For artillery support, the 154th Brigade was fortunate to call upon the veterans of the 127th Field Artillery, a 51st Division regiment that had survived reasonably intact.
A handful of armoured cars from 2nd Derbyshire Yeomanry, and anti-tank guns from 61st Royal Artillery completed the Brigade’s order of battle.
Willoughby waited for the British unit to arrive, still hopping mad from the latest supply clusterfuck, when valuable space had been taken up with a large supply of divisional cloth badges and stationery, and the requested maps for his defensive position had not arrived.
He had men working on hand copying from the few maps he possessed, something that grated on him.
‘At least I got the ammo, or I would have been throwing badges and pencils at the commie bastards!’
He snorted at that thought, drawing looks from the surviving officers of the 116th’s headquarters.
Like a number of allied divisions, the 29th had been hit very hard, and Willoughby rose to command the 116th Regiment by filling dead men’s shoes.
The 29th had landed on Omaha, and had stayed in combat throughout the German War, and the price, for them, had been extremely high. The new war was no kinder.
At the last count, the whole division mustered at about seven thousand five hundred men, just over a half of its full strength, and it had been one of the few units that were at peak strength on 6th August.
It was rare that a r
ear line medical facility did not contain at least one wounded soldier from the ‘Blue and Grey’ Division.
Blake arrived with his second in command, assumed overall command, and immediately set to work on a plan to integrate the two forces as best as possible.
Between the two staffs, it was decided to split the forces in two, allowing Willoughby to form a reasonable reserve behind his front line. This entailed handing over responsibility for the main road and rail bridges to the British, integrating the new arrivals in between the 116th US Infantry and the 3rd British Infantry Division, holding the Hunte river line to the north.
The 116th would then join onto the 154th at the rail bridge, covering southwards through Rechtern and Düste. The main advantage for Willoughby was that he could now find a formation to place in Dreeke, a spot previously only lightly defended.
Kommando Friedrich, it had been decided to retain the name of its now dead commander, was withdrawn, and split into two alarm companies, one positioned at Walsen, the other on the Nagelskamp, to the south-west of Barnstorf.
As the staff officers worked out the details of the defences, Soviet artillery continued to harass the rear line positions, in line with Bagramyan’s plan of reducing the efficiency of the shadowing Allied reserve force, which continued to move steadily southwards, in line with the Red Army assaults.
The defenders expected two assaults on the 25th, as had happened at each of the attack points earlier. These had been interpreted as a genuine attempt to cross the River, followed by a second, less powerful thrust, more designed to fix some of the reserves in place.
The pattern had been noticed, and was catered for.
The rain relented at two o’clock, to the second, and the sky cleared shortly afterwards, permitting the stars to illuminate the soldiers below.
0300hrs, Thursday, 25th October 1945, Junction of Nagelskamp and Osnabrucker Straβe, Barnstorf.
The old farmhouse had started as the headquarters of the 3rd Battalion, 154th Infantry Brigade, as designated by its present senior officer, Major John Ramsey.
