Nemesis (27 page)

Kirov
had sent Karpov a secret message three weeks earlier, telling him he was in
desperate need of reinforcements, and asking if there were any troops that
could be sent to participate in the defense of the capital. Karpov responded by
pledging his personal army, the fighting 24th, and another reserve army,
already forming at Perm. Kirov had fleshed out the units, equipped them with
new uniforms, weapons, and even skis, and designated them the First Siberian
Shock Army under Konev, as the two men had agreed.

“I
wanted to hold those troops back until we could form up more reserves for the
Winter Offensive. Yet the situation has deteriorated so quickly that we will
have no choice but to commit them now. Moscow must be defended, and to the last
man if need be. What does Zhukov think we should do?”

“You
can ask him yourself,” said Berzin. “He’s waiting outside in the conference
room.”

Kirov
needed another opinion, and Zhukov was waiting outside precisely because they
knew his advice and performance had been sound, at least according to the
material. Kirov had been quietly advancing the careers of men who had been
proven winners, even though the circumstances of their lives were all somewhat
different now. He believed in basic character, and was betting they would all
again rise to the occasion here and help win this war.

Chief
among these men was Georgy Zhukov, a peasant son of a peasant farmer, who once
thought he might learn the fur trading business as a young man in Moscow. In
the Great War he had proven himself an able warrior in the Cavalry, twice
receiving the Cross of Saint George, Imperial Russia’s equivalent of a Purple
Heart, awarded for rankers exhibiting “undaunted courage,” and often suffering
wounds for their effort. Zhukov got his wound along with the two crosses, and
was then sent east after the war to try and check the advance of Imperial
Japanese forces. He won a brief victory in Mongolia at Khalkhin Gol, but the
Soviet Army was too preoccupied with trying to also control Orenburg and
Siberia, and the troops were soon pulled out leaving the problem of the
Japanese to the Siberians.

But
Zhukov gained much valuable combat experience in the brief battle, learning how
to use tanks effectively, husband reserves, coordinate flanking maneuvers, make
effective river crossings, and providing much valuable feedback on the performance
of the tanks themselves, all of which was used in the design of the very
successful T-34. Now he stood there when Kirov and Berzin entered the
conference room, his cap tucked under one arm, short cut hair close on his
otherwise balding head, yet in his prime at the age of 45. His prominent chin
was well dimpled, and his dark eyes had an inner strength that spoke of the qualities
that were harbored within the man.

“General
Zhukov,” said Kirov, warmly shaking the other man’s hand. “It seems that every
time we meet, it is to discuss some new disaster on the front lines. I have
just been listening to a lengthy report from Berzin here, and we both agree
that the situation is now very grave.”

“That
makes three of us,” said Zhukov. “The German intentions
have been clear since they took Dnepropetrovsk, which is when we should have
taken stronger action. Then the main thrust split, first towards Kharkov, and
now this new buildup on the Donets Basin defenses, which I have expected all
along. A drive for Rostov is brewing eventually, or perhaps a move east farther
north, along the Don. The Crimea cannot hold out indefinitely. Once Sevastopol
falls, then their entire 17th Army can be moved against our Donets Basin
defensive line. They can simply garrison the Crimea with Rumanian troops.”

“Can we
hold that line now?”

“For
the time being.”

“How
long?”

“Long
enough to get the armies in the Kuban Front out, and north of the Donets, if
that is what you contemplate.”

“Then
you believe we should pull out? They should not stand and fight?”

“
A gallant stand would buy us time and hold space, but if
they are cut off, those forces would have to rely almost exclusively on
Volgograd, Donetsk, and Rostov for supply and munitions. Lose those and those
armies die. Can we replace all those veteran divisions if that should happen?
They’ve been fighting in the Kuban for over six months. Yes, it will be a
bitter pill to swallow should we order them to give Volkov back everything they
took from him, but it is either that or we will soon be trying to fill those
empty boots with new recruits, men who will not have even half the experience
of those troops. So yes, I say pull them out, and be quick about it, just as I
said the same when the Germans attempted to encircle Kiev and the lower Dnieper.”

“Yet
this means we will lose the Donets basin—all that coal and mineral mining.”

“We’ll
hold that for a good long while yet, but an eventual withdrawal may be
unavoidable.”

Kirov
took a deep breath. “And then they take Rostov, and all of the Kuban, including
the oil at Maykop. After that, they will have another route to Volgograd south
of the Don, Yes?”

“Indications
are that the Germans have moved all their mechanized forces north of the Donets.
They look to be planning a drive east to link up with Volkov’s bridgehead north
of Volgograd. If they do advance south of the Donets, it will be with this 17th
Army, not the panzers, and not for many months. They’ll have to breach the
Donets line, take Rostov, occupy the Kuban and then get over the Manych. That
could take a good long while.”

“It
will be a difficult retreat for us for that very same reason.”

“Yes,
we’ll lose twenty or thirty percent in the withdrawal, but seventy percent is
better than nothing. It’s clear what the Germans are planning now. They want
all the lower Volga—including Volgograd itself.”

“Why
should they push so far east? Aren’t they simply planning to link up with
Volkov in the Caucasus.”

“Of
course,” said Zhukov, but they will not do that through the Crimea. They don’t
have enough shipping to cross at Kerch. So they will have to take Rostov first,
and when they do, soon they will have the oil we were after for so long at
Maykop. But they will not stop there. They’ll want a firm military presence in
the Caucasus, all the way to Baku, and they’ll want the lower Volga. Volgograd
is a major industrial hub.”

“What
is happening now on the lower Donets? You do not think this is a planned
encirclement of Kharkov?”

“Of
course, and then they will continue pushing east. As for Bryansk, that is
another matter. That they must take, as it sits right astride all the rail
lines up to Moscow. As long as we hold the salient at Smolensk, they can’t use that
road. This is why they are fighting so hard to encircle Bryansk and Kirov.
Taking those industrial centers from us will hurt production a good deal.”

“We
just sent the 24th Siberian Army,” said Kirov. “Karpov kept his word, and they
will stop the northern envelopment of those cities. It moved through Moscow
just last week.”

“I saw
the trains,” said Zhukov, and that simple statement held more meaning than it
seemed. It had been customary for all divisions transiting through Moscow to
conduct a ceremonial parade in Red Square, with select units marching in review
before the Kremlin, but not any longer. Now the trains simply hastened on
through, with little fanfare. The emergencies at the front were the only
concern.

“I’ll
get you more,” said Kirov. “Somehow… We still have the Siberian 1st Shock Army
forming for a possible counterattack.”

“In light
of the present situation,” said Zhukov, “I suggest we do not plan any major
local counteroffensives, except at carefully chosen points to blunt enemy
initiative. We just do not yet have the strength to attack in force. This
single Siberian Army is most welcome, but I would use it to defend Moscow, not
to counterattack.”

“Agreed,”
said Kirov sullenly. “But will we keep Volgograd, and the Kuban?”

“Not if
the Germans do break through and drive all the way to the Don. Then you can add
the whole South Volga Front to the cauldron that will form, and I give them two
months, three at best.”

“But you
said they could be supplied from Volgograd itself.”

“If you
can keep the factories running there under the artillery Volkov is sending over
every day.”

“Yet
we
must
hold that city,” said Kirov. “We’ve fought for it too long to
give it to Volkov. As to the Kuban, what do you suggest we do now?”

“Get
those troops out, and do it fast.”

“Retreat?
But Berzin tells me we only just secured Maykop! And we’ll take Armavir soon.”

“Just
in time to lose it again,” said Zhukov, not mincing words. “And good riddance.
What do we need that for? Yes, it sits astride the rail lines coming up from
Baku to Belorchensk, but you have already cut that line at Kuganinsk.”

“If
Volkov builds up at Armavir, then he can mount an offensive to try and flank
our position at Maykop. That place shields Krasnodar, which in turn shields
Novorossiysk. Once the dominoes start falling, they are not easy to stop,
General. I have a mind to hold as much ground as possible. We’ve already lost
half the country!”

“I
understand your wish to do so, but my advice is that we must pull those troops
out. I’ll use them to hold off any breakthrough on our Donets line and save
Rostov, at least for this year. Volkov has very little offensive punch in the
Kuban. We can fall back on the Donets and Manych, and hold those lines far
easier than we can with the troops where they are now. This will free up
valuable divisions for use elsewhere. Then we should muster new armies at Moscow
and hold them in reserve, beginning with this first Siberian Shock Army under
Konev. Don’t worry, we’ll hold Moscow.”

“But
they have pushed out beyond Orel! They have reconnaissance units approaching
Tula!”

“Good
for them. Unfortunately I can do nothing about that axis for the moment. Yes.
It will encircle Bryansk, but we know where it will go next, here. We can’t
stop it near Orel, so why try? Stand here with your Siberians, or perhaps at
Tula, and let the Germans come. Build up reserves behind Moscow. If we attack,
we must do so in real strength, in the winter as we planned. The commitment of
a single army is not sufficient. It will take three armies to make any headway,
and guarantee success. Five would even be better. Give me those Armies, and then
we will talk again. For now. Save the three that are already there in the
Kuban, because believe me, if we lose them, we will miss them. For that matter,
save the troops at Roslaval and Bryansk before the trap closes there. I could
use those troops as well.”

After a
long silence Sergei Kirov gave a solemn nod of his head, thinking. “Thank you
General. Your advice is sobering, to say the least. I must think on this, and I
will inform you of my decision soon.”

*

All
along the front the Red Army was hanging on against the
German onslaught, ordered to entrench in every major city and hold those key
centers as long as possible. They had already made the Germans pay dearly for
Minsk and Kiev, and now they would fight for Smolensk, Kirov, and Bryansk. As
the German lines advanced, they flowed around these breakwater defensive
bastions to envelop them, which created several salients on either side of
those cities, and also at Roslaval, where the 13th Army retreating from Mogilev
had dug in deep and was still holding out. Kharkov was encircled in the South,
and the German 9th Army was closing around Bryansk like a steel vise.

Further
east, the Panzers were still rolling with Guderian, bypassing that city and
heading for Orel and possibly Tula if they could get authorization from Hitler
to proceed, and the fuel and supplies to get them there. The
Schwerpunkt
of the German advance had become a victim of its own success, its momentum
slowly dissipating as it pushed north, sometimes into thin air. The 24th
Motorized Korps of
Panzergruppe
2
under Geyer von Schweppenburg
had led the way, with 3rd and 4th Panzer Divisions, and 10th Motorized Division
following behind. The drive north after breaking out at Kiev had been a halcyon
affair, with the Russians in full retreat, and only small pockets of resistance
to mop up along the way. The Soviets were so thoroughly shattered that they
would not be able to reform a cohesive line for weeks, falling back towards
Kursk to the north and east.

Panzergruppe
2
rolled on, hindered more by supply
shortages, the bad roads, and slowly worsening ground than anything else. As
they pushed north the supply lines extended further and further, and the long
columns of trucks trying to keep the combat elements moving began to encounter
the first harbinger of what was to come. The Russians called it the Raputista,
the time of no roads, when rains heralded the coming of autumn and the end of
dry ground for months on end. Eventually General Winter would arrive,
blanketing everything with an icy frost, but, until the ground froze, it became
a morass of viscous mud that was almost impassable. Vehicles would find
themselves axel deep in minutes, and trying to use tractors to tow them often
resulted in damage to radiators, oil pans and gear boxes.

For now,
the ground was good enough to continue the offensive, which had the general aim
of bypassing and enveloping the major industrial center of Bryansk. Also a
major rail hub, as long as they held that city, the Germans would not have the
use of a good rail line to sustain further operations towards Moscow. There was
also one good rail line from Orel, heading south through L’gov and eventually
reaching the German logistical center established at Kiev. But the Russian
retreat had chosen that rail line to reorganize the defense, and it would soon
be necessary to push them off in order to make any use of it. Once secured, the
long process of conversion from the Russian wide gauge to the narrower European
gauge could then take weeks before it could serve any useful purpose as a
supply conduit.

In
those precious weeks, the Russians had a sliver of time to organize the defense
of Moscow and try to unhinge Operation Typhoon. To do so, Sergei Kirov was
calling in the markers he had placed on the table when he bargained with Karpov
on the 1st of August. He needed veteran troops, men who would stand and fight,
and above all, he needed some means of stopping the devastating German mobile
divisions. He needed the Siberians, and he needed heroes, and soon he would
have them both well in hand.

It had
not been all gloom and disaster, in spite of the terrible losses of men,
material and territory that the Soviets had suffered since May. There had been
moments of great bravery and heroism, and units fought, some dying to a man, to
hold vital ground while their comrades retreated all around them. The fighting
had been hard and bitter; the price of faulty deployment, or the inexperience
of a young commander, very high at times. More than anything, the Russians
needed an effective mobile element to match the German Panzer Divisions.

They
had started the war with full divisions, mostly equipped with obsolete T-26 tanks,
and these had been arranged into large, unwieldy Mechanized Corps. Their size
created sloth in deployment and maneuver, particularly because many of the
tanks had no radios, and communications problems created a kind of mechanized
chaos when the corps would attempt to move. The shattering German advance since
May had eventually engaged and largely destroyed these early war formations,
and the Russians had been replacing them with smaller Armored Brigades, many
under construction for some time, as Kirov had the advantage of knowing what
would go wrong.

Many
generals resisted his planned remodeling of the Soviet Armored Corps, but one
man, General Pavel Rotmistrov, had made convincing arguments for change. The brigades
Kirov was building were mixed formations, with a battalion of T-60 or the newer
T-70 light tanks, and then a medium battalion of 24 to 36 new T-34s, buttressed
by ten of the heavier KV-1 Tanks. Rotmistrov pointed out the flaw in this unit
grouping, based on real time practical experience.

“In one
respect, it is good the Germans have destroyed most of our older tank
divisions, as hard as that is to say. Now we can use the new tanks to build
proper formations. But do not mix in the light and heavy tanks with our T-34s.”