Thor's Anvil (Kirov Series Book 26) Read online

  “Agreed,” said Beckermann, a sharp eyed man, blonde haired, with deep blue eyes. “Once we take the airfield, we can then push into this open ground and move toward that big bald hill to the east.”

  “Mamayev Kurgan,” said Steiner. “Yes, that will cut the city right in two, and from those heights, we can command the city center. Very well, make that your long term objective. General Hörnlein, as you are on Beckermann’s right, I would then see your division move slightly north to occupy his positions on the Dubovy Ravine. Then begin fighting your way into these outlying segments of the city at Maxim Gorki. Push into this gap here north of Novo Kirovka. It will take you right to the heart of the city itself, right along this balka. With any luck, in a week to ten days we will sit down to a performance in the Gorki Theater overlooking the river, and we’ll parade all the Russian Generals on the stage.” He smiled, but Hörnlein was in no mood for levity.

  “I’m afraid it will take more than luck,” he said.

  Steiner pivoted to face him. “You have concerns?”

  “It will be no easy thing to push into that gap between Novo Kirovka and Volgograd, and even more difficult going when we get to the main built up areas of the city.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Steiner quickly. “You will not have to rely on Volkov’s troops to cover the flank any longer. The Wiking Division is coming up from Nizhne Chirskaya.”

  “Oh? I thought they were still outside the pocket.”

  “Pocket?” Steiner shook his head. “We are not in a pocket, Herr General. That is where the enemy finds himself, particularly after Keppler and Dietrich complete this planned maneuver. Now then, when Otto Gille brings up my old warhorse, the Wiking Division will cover all of Novo Kirovka. I intend to simply use Volkov’s troops to invest Yelshanka and Beketova. This will allow you to attack as I have suggested. Any further concerns?”

  Hörnlein inclined his head, taking a deep breath. “I think we must not become overconfident here,” he said. “This is a very big city—the size of Moscow in total area, even though it is strung out along the river like a big lamb chop. City fighting is very tough, as we all well know, and a city like this can swallow a division in little time. They might very well fight us in there from one house to the next. The wide frontages our divisions now occupy will compress, because to attack we must concentrate. Casualties will be high. What we need here is more infantry.”

  “I have one regiment of the 129th in reserve at Kalach,” said Steiner, “but beyond that, unless we thin out the lines along the Don, our divisions will have to do the job. Is your division fit for the upcoming battle?”

  “The troops have fought hard, but morale is good, and supplies are holding up. The equipment is in reasonable shape as well. Yet realize that all our divisions have been at it since late July. If we were at our nominal strength, I would have far less to consider here, but as it stands, my ranks have been thinned by over thirty percent. I would dare say the same for all the rest here. Mark my words, this will be a very difficult fight, and it will likely take much longer than we anticipate. They fought us like hellcats, delayed our push over that river for six damn weeks. Now they will do the same here.”

  “Do not be so maudlin, General Hörnlein. Don’t forget we still have strong forces west of the Don. They are organizing for a thrust against this enemy spoiling attack, and they will open the road to Kalach in due course. Then we will get our infantry. You will see.”

  “Then why not wait for that? Why not consolidate now, rest the troops, and forego any major push into the city proper until we do have adequate infantry support?”

  “What? And let them continue to reinforce this position?”

  “No, we cannot permit that,” said Hörnlein. “Dietrich and Keppler should operate as you propose to isolate the city. I believe this was General Manstein’s plan from the very first.”

  “Indeed? Well, it is my plan now,” said Steiner gruffly. “Yet you disagree with the assignments given to Beckermann and yourself?”

  “No General, the strategy is sound, it is the execution and timing I question, that is all. Yes, if Beckermann takes the airfield, that rampart position must fall. But I do not think he should then immediately push for Mamayev Kurgan. He should consolidate, and we should convene this meeting again to set the timing of the next phase of operations. As for my division, we can move as you have ordered, wait for the Wikings to make contact on our right, then begin working our way down that ravine. Yet I do not think we can reach the river in a week’s time, or even ten days. That is the heart of the city, and they will fight for it. We should take these initial objectives, then meet again to assess the situation.”

  Steiner took a deep breath. “General Beckermann?”

  “Once I take that airfield, then I will have the Tsarista Gorge on my right as I push for that big hill. If Hörnlein pushes into that gap as you propose, and moves up that other ravine, that still leaves a great mass of the southern city between our two divisions. Under normal circumstances, and if we both had our full divisions, I would not be concerned. As it stands, perhaps General Hörnlein is correct. We should not move to press for the river in this sector until we assess the situation further. If Manstein breaks through again soon as you suggest, all the better. We will get the infantry we need. But let us take things in stages here.”

  “Very well,” said Steiner. “We isolate the city first, with the main effort in the north involving Dietrich and Keppler. Then we’ll see where things stand. Don’t worry, gentlemen. They are as worn out and tired as our men are but it will take three of their soldiers to match one of ours. Of this I have no doubt. Remember, they are not standing outside Berlin. We are here for a reason, and now we will finish the job.”

  “Considering that,” said Hörnlein, “How many divisions are we still facing here?”

  “We’ve had the Luftwaffe up for a very good look. They have identified at least seven divisions still operating with the 62nd army, and a few ad hoc brigades. In the south, 64th Army has at least five good divisions still on the line, and they are largely unfought. They continue to hold onto Beketova, Yelshanka, and all of Sarpinskiy island, and that is all the more reason for you to push aggressively, General Hörnlein. Get to the river and that entire army is cut off and out of the picture. We can deal with it later.”

  “Twelve full divisions, and a few brigades you say.” Hörnlein nodded. “Then it will be very close to the ratio you suggested a moment ago—three to one in their favor. Let us hope our soldiers as every bit as capable as we believe they are.”

  “They are very weak on armor,” said Steiner, somewhat irritated. “Don’t forget that. Our tanks will grind them into the rubble.”

  “Of that I have little doubt,” said Hörnlein. “It’s what might be under that rubble that concerns me—in the cellars. I cannot take my tanks into the sewers. That’s work for infantry. So let us hope that Manstein moves as expeditiously as you suggest. We will need that infantry, and sooner than we may think.”

  * * *

  What Steiner did not know was the real strength and composition of the forces waiting for him in Volgograd. He had assumed that these divisions would be every bit as fragile as those he had just destroyed, but in fact, their ranks were swelled by all the remnants and stragglers that made their way back to the city. Instead of trying to reconstitute those lost divisions, the remains of 45th, 95th and 112th Rifle Divisions were simply folded into the ranks of Chuikov’s remaining formations to bring them up to strength.

  Nor did Steiner know the character and caliber of the men he would be facing. The long grinding fight to get where he was, partly by his own will, and partly because he had been chased out of his HQ in Surovinko, should have given him a measure of Hörnlein’s caution, but he still seemed heedless. The Samara Rifles had stood a long watch over the bend in the Volga against Volkov’s many attempts to secure that place. Now, with action on that front subsiding, it had come by rail to take up a defensive position west
of Rynok and Spartanovka, and it was going to be very tough that day. On its right, the crack 2nd Volga Rifles were now taking up positions, and on their left the stalwart 10th NKVD Brigade was moving up, making the defense of that vital sector as secure as any place in Chuikov’s front.

  Chuikov had only just arrived at his new headquarters, a secure chamber inside the Red October Factory. His wild dark hair was disheveled, and his cheeks sagged with the signs of the strain of these recent weeks, but his eyes were still bright and active beneath his gnarled forehead and those heavy brows. He was wondering what had become of Shumilov, for he had not phoned in to report the location of his new headquarters since their previous conversation. Then, to his great surprise, in walked Shumilov with a single staffer at his side. A heavy set man, built like a russet potato, Shumilov pulled off the wool cap that kept the snow from his balding head.

  “Cold night,” he said simply. “But everyone moved as planned. I thought I would come find you directly, as we must make a difficult decision concerning Beketova.”

  “Come in,” said Chuikov with a smile. “Warm yourself. The staff is just getting things set up again.” He gestured to a chair by an old worn table lit by a single oil lamp. “As to Beketova, it has been on my mind as well. Did you leave two divisions there?”

  “Just one, the 1st Siberian.” That was the old 29th Rifle Division, raised from veterans of the fighting near Omsk by Karpov’s Siberians. He had sent it east some time ago, and Zhukov posted it here as the 29th Division. But being one of the first Siberian divisions to arrive, the Soviets had taken to calling it the 1st Siberian.

  “They are good men,” said Shumilov, “and I could leave them there as you wish, but I question the benefit to our defense here. By holding onto Beketova, it forces me to extend my lines well south. Now it looks like the Germans brought up that other SS Division that withdrew over the Don at Nizhne Chirskaya and Tormosin. It is already probing at Yelshanka and Kupersnoye. If they push through, everything to the south will be cut off.”

  “But what about Sarpinskiy Island?” said Chuikov. That was the key, for the main ferry at Beketova offered an easy crossing point to the big marshy island south of Volgograd. The Soviets had been holding it for years, and still had troops amounting to two divisions there as a garrison.

  “What about it?” said Shumilov. “Do you think Volkov wants it? He hasn’t tried our positions there for over a year. If you want my opinion, and you do, I think we should fall back to Yelshanka. Then I can take the 1st Siberians out of Beketova, and the 185th out of Kupersnoye, and those troops would make a good strong reserve for the real fight here at Volgograd. On Sarpinskiy Island, we can hold on to the ferry sites across from the 25th of October Lumber Trust. That area is well fortified, and with it, we still hold the trunk of the island. As for the elephant, I cannot see any purpose in holding it. We certainly can’t retreat there, and the ground is too bad for Volkov to drag his artillery over. If he wants it, let him come.”

  “Yet that is a lot of territory to yield without a fight.”

  “Just fat on the steak,” said Shumilov. “We waste three divisions trying to hold it with Beketova, and having those troops in Volgograd gives us much more depth and resilience there. All the Germans will do is turn Beketova over to Volkov’s troops, and then, after we beat the Germans, we can run Volkov out of the place any time we choose.”

  Chuikov ran a hand through that dark mane of hair, the lion’s mane as his staffers called it. “Alright,” he said leaning over the map. “Pull the 1st Siberian out. Send the headquarters and all the artillery by the coast road and rail line through Kupersnoye. Anything left can take the ferry by river and land at the Lumber Trust. When that movement is complete, then fold back the 185th Division to hold Yelshanka. The troops we have in eastern Sarpinskiy can go by the coast road through Peschanyy to the inner fortified zone near the river. There is already fighting outside Yelshanka. Let us hope this redeployment can finish before we lose it.”

  “I will see to it personally. My new headquarters will be in the sawmills of the Lumber Trust. If not there, then the Cannery building. This move will pay us good dividends,” he smiled. “And the Germans will do the paying.”

  “Do one thing more,” said Chuikov. “After we have pulled out the last of the rafts and gunboats, open the taps on the oil tank farm near Beketova. Let it flow right into the river, and then set it all aflame. That will stop any enemy movement on the river for some time, and cover your withdrawal.”

  Shumilov smiled. “There will be fire on the Volga tonight,” he said, and with a stiff salute, he strode off to see to his business. Later when he saw that river burning, he passed a moment thinking of this brief reprieve, when the fires of war were held at bay by the fires of nature. Yet the longer he watched the red sky over the water, the deeper came the feeling of isolation and quiet fear, like a man who had set his own house on fire to save it from brigands and buglers suddenly realizing he was still trapped inside.

  Part VIII

  Red October

  “We will not surrender our native city, our native home, our native land. We will fill every street in the city with impassable barricades. We will make every house, every block, every street into an impregnable fortress!”

  — Communist Party Declaration: City of Volgograd

  Chapter 22

  Battle for the Graveyards

  In spite of his reservations, Hörnlein was quick to mount a vigorous attack into the wide gap between Novo Kirovka and the main city. On his right, stretching along the northern suburbs of Novo Kirovka was the main cemetery of the city, stretching some three kilometers east, where it approached a sturdy building that was a Brick Factory near the balka. That feature ran another four kilometers east before several branches joined it from the north, where there was yet another burial ground near the main city hospital. The main road from Kalach ran in towards central Volgograd, past a radio station, yet another cemetery, and then running by that hospital.

  As Grossdeutschland Division pushed into that open ground, Hörnlein was haunted by the thought that his men were advancing into a position bounded by the resting places of the dead, and he worried that too many of his fine young soldiers might soon join them. It was a sallow grey morning, with light snow falling, and his first order of business would be to capture and silence that Radio Station. It had been broadcasting ceaselessly, taunting the Germans, the announcer saying there was plenty of room in the cemeteries for newcomers, and plenty of stone in the dry balkas for new headstones.

  “If that man is captured alive,” said Hörnlein, “then I will personally see that he gets a nice plot in that cemetery.”

  That morning, 1st Company of his Fusilier Regiment, with 1 Panzer Company made a direct attack on the station, the tanks blasting away at the walls, doors, and windows, the infantry making well-coordinated rushes to break in to the lower floor. It was half an hour’s work, and Hörnlein had the satisfaction of having the announcer dragged back alive through German lines and presented to him, whereupon he took out his pistol and aimed it directly at the man’s head.

  “Plenty of room in the cemeteries?” he said. “Then there will certainly be room for you!” He had no scruples when he pulled the trigger, and his men smirked as they dragged the man’s limp body off, though he was not given the dignity of a burial. They left him for the bands of roving dogs. It was just the opening line of the litany of terror and cruelty that this battle would become.

  2nd Fusilier Company was already in the center of the Radio Station Cemetery, and now it was supported with a major attack involving two more companies of Panzergrenadiers and a lot of armor. That attack cleared the ground there by mid-day, the defending 204th Rifle Division out-fought among the tombstones. After they had fallen back into the suburbs further east, the Russian division artillery put in a barrage with all three battalions.

  It was a macabre site to see the artillery churning up the cemetery, the headstones shattering, sodden ear
th cratered deep enough in places to expose the bleached white skeletons of the buried. To one German Grenadier, it seemed as if the dead were rising up from their graves to join the battle. Sergeant Muller dove for cover into a smoking shell crater, thinking it unlikely that a second shell would land at just that spot. There he found a horror of another kind as he crouched low, the moldered remnants of a newly buried corpse, the skin of its face rotted away, the pallid skull exposed, and those empty eye sockets staring at him. It was an experience that would haunt him ever after.

  The Germans took the smaller cemetery that day, but did not go into the much larger burial ground on the northern fringes of Novo Kirovka. First they focused on the small Brick Factory, jutting like Hougoumont from the edge of the balka that bordered the city. Two companies of the tough Grenadiers drove out 1st Battalion, 38th Rifle Division, and the Russians retreated into the balka. Behind them came the growl of tanks, and the men of the motorized machinegun company attached to that battalion radioed back to say they had what looked to be two battalions of enemy tanks in the balka. Hörnlein’s men were in the thick of that no-man’s land, surrounded by the dead on three sides, and now confronting a most unexpected attack by this armor.

  When Chuikov had learned that the Germans were moving aggressively into that gap, he had quickly ordered the 56th Tank Brigade to counterattack. The armor poured over the balka, grinding towards that MG Company, which found itself ill prepared to contest that ground. A radio call went out, sounding the alarm, which was heard by 7th and 8th Panzer Companies west of the Brick Factory. They had been preparing to go into the big cemetery, but now they pulled out of that sector, moving over the balka to support the threatened area. They would bring over 30 tanks, and about half were the newer PzKfw Vs, with two Lions and also a pair of the new Tigers. These were beasts that had never prowled the broken landscape of this city, all appearing in the war six months early.