Tigers East (Kirov Series Book 25) Read online

  “Ah,” he said with a definitive tone. “Just as I expected. Von Rundstedt piled on. He sent Hoth in right behind Model—good for quick yardage, but now he has no southern pincer to bag all these troops he leaves in his wake. It is clear what must be done.”

  Hitler had been squinting through the fog of his anger trying to ascertain what to do himself for some hours, tapping the map, muttering under his breath, casting about for staffers and shouting them down whenever they would speak. Yet now, strangely, when Manstein spoke, he quieted, looking at the general for the first time.

  “I see you have correctly positioned the one tool I will need now,” said Manstein. “And look, you have cleaned up that mess at Kirov. There is your answer for von Rundstedt’s dilemma. Well done, my Führer. It is obvious that my plane ride here was for naught. Seeing these dispositions, obviously carried out on your personal orders, is most encouraging. With your permission then, I will move Wietersheim’s 14th Panzer Korps immediately, and we will put a complete stop to this Russian Summer offensive over the upper Don. I have already sent in Kempf’s 48th. Excellent divisions, but frankly, he is too slow. May I suggest von Knobelsdorff as a replacement?” Now he clucked, shaking his head as he stood upright. Hitler stood with him.

  “Did they think they could fool you with this nonsense?” he said to Hitler with a wry smile. “Not at all. We’ll cut them to ribbons. I will restore the situation immediately, and then Steiner can get back to business as usual.”

  Halder’s jaw fell open, his eyes widening, but he waited to see if the werewolf would throw himself upon Manstein as he had every other officer that had approached him in this mood.

  “You came here to consult with me on this?”

  “Of course. I would have ordered Wietersheim’s troops to move this morning when Steiner informed me of what was happening, but one does not pick up a knight and move it without a good appraisal of the overall situation. The infantry you have ready at Kirov will be exactly what von Rundstedt needs. He can feed it onto the positions he has had to hold with his Panzergrenadiers, and relieving them, he regains his mobility and striking power. Infantry, my Führer. One must always have a balanced force in the attack.”

  “I have already sent him two divisions,” said Hitler matter of factly.

  “Of course. Now send the rest. It looks to me like you have readied Forster’s 6th Korps, and Heitz with the 8th Infantry Korps. They can take the trains through Orel immediately. Don’t worry about them after that. Model will know exactly what to do when he receives your gift—a good sturdy shield so he can get moving again. As for me, I need a hammer, and von Wietersheim is the only force for the job just now. 14th Panzer Korps will do nicely.”

  “But my Führer…” Halder’s voice appealed from across the room, though he did not approach the map table.

  “What now Halder? More protests? Can’t you see we are busy here? Where are those adjutants and staff officers? I’ll need runners for these orders at once!” An hour earlier, Hitler had threatened to have the next man that brought him bad news shot, and since that time, the junior officers had kept their distance.

  “You realize that is the last Army reserve we have?” said Halder.

  “Of course I realize that. And what good is a reserve if it simply sits about when the enemy attacks like this?” He looked at Manstein now. “You may call von Wietersheim directly. Get him moving east at once.”

  “I have already taken the liberty of seeing that the necessary rolling stock is available,” said Manstein. “Thank you, my Führer. Just give me a week and I will send you good news.”

  That was that. Manstein’s personal intervention had worked its magic yet again, much to Halder’s chagrin. He had it in his mind to take those panzers and move them up to a point just south of Kursk, intending to strike northwest towards Voronezh. Instead, von Manstein had wheedled them away in just five minutes!

  So it was that the last of the Valkyries would take wing that night, four good divisions in the hands of an able commander. Wietersheim had fought with Hoepner on the drive to Moscow, getting there when Guderian failed in his wide envelopment strategy. Now Hitler envisioned him as a kind of unfailing remedy, particularly when this notion was seconded by Manstein. The Führer had been hesitating about those divisions, not knowing exactly where he should send them.

  Now he knew.

  Chapter 8

  Kurt Ruschel stopped in his Panther, opening the hatch to get a better look at the ground ahead. He had come up on the slopping banks of a narrow stream, one of the few terrain features he might use in this otherwise flat ground. The infantry assigned to his Kampfgruppe was just now arriving behind him, and he signaled that they should take up positions along the stream. He had a mind to then move his Panthers back, a platoon of 12 tanks, and wait for the enemy to try and force their way over the stream. Then up came a Kubelwagon, and he turned to see an officer stepping out, striding quickly towards his tank.

  “Hauptmann,” the officer called. “What are you doing here?”

  Ruschel suddenly saw this was no mere officer, it was Hermann Balck, and he was well forward, right at the point where the enemy attack was expected. He saluted immediately. “Sir, I want to spring an ambush here. My men can take cover in the depression of the stream, and I will move my armor about 300 meters back.”

  Balck looked the ground over. “Wrong,” he said simply. “Their optics may not be worth much, but they will still see your tanks at that distance. You don’t hold the line of a water obstacle from only one side like that. Send two platoons of infantry 200 meters forward and have them dig in on the other side of the stream. Then put your tanks down there in the depression—they’ll be hull down. Hold the last platoon of Panzergrenadiers in reserve on this side of the stream. If they hit your forward infantry with tanks, they reveal their intention to cross here, and then you pop up with your Panthers and give them a nasty surprise.”

  That advice worked for Ruschel’s KG, but Balck would tailor his commands to the unique composition of each KG he encountered, and he always led from the front. A good commander up front at the critical spot with a reliable radio was worth three Generals in the rear areas at their desks with field phones. This is why Balck, like Rommel, was constantly on the move, motoring from one point to the next. He would make an assessment of the situation, then radio back to his Chief of Staff behind the lines to tell him what orders to issue to various elements of his division.

  He wanted his troops lean, fast and light, thinning out excess vehicles in the division, which he said would only clog up the few available roads. These he sent to a vehicle pool at the rear, and then used them to replace damaged vehicles in his maneuver elements. In the same fashion, Balck would never use his Feldersatz Battalion as a standalone unit if he had one. Instead he would use those troops as direct replacements for his line infantry battalions, which was the correct employment of that battalion as he saw things. In this way his line battalions would have what he called resilience in combat, and be kept up to strength.

  In like manner, he swept his division and culled out specialized units for what he called his “Commander’s Reserve.” These might be experienced artillerymen, reserve tank crewmen, an infantry platoon, mortar men, AT gunners. This group would amount to two or three companies in overall size, and he would never allow it to be employed as a standalone unit in combat. It was there for him to send the necessary replacements to existing units, and as a kind of toolkit for him to man up a specialized Kampfgruppe he might need to build.

  If he came across three orphaned AT Guns, he might call for reserve gunners, round up two or three trucks, assign a single tank in support, and a squad of infantry with good MGs. So at the drop of a hat, he had the experienced men he needed in his Commander’s Reserve to build such units, and nobody touched that unit but Balck.

  “Alright then,” he said. “Ruschel, you are left of center on my line here. I’ll have a Pakfront set up to your right and rear. If you get t
oo much attention here, then jog even further left, and don’t get too attached to that watercourse. Be ready to maneuver at all times.”

  “Are you sending me the new Nashorns?” asked Ruschel.

  “Those monstrosities?” Balck shook his head. They had been assigned to his Pz Jaeger Battalion 61, a small unit equipped with a dozen of the latest Marders, and an equal number of Pak 75s. When the ten new mobile 88mm guns arrived, the Nashorns, he just smiled. “Somebody has a wild imagination back in the factories. Nashorn? That’s a good name for it.”

  The name meant ‘Rhino’ in German, an apt handle with that long deadly 88mm horn, it was also called the Hornisse, or Hornet, and with a very dangerous sting. Balck would make good use of them, but he never liked them.

  The reliable towed AT gun was essential in Balck’s thinking, an integral part of all his panzer operations. One might think such guns were unnecessary in a division heavy on tanks, but that was not the case. As he saw it, attrition in tanks would always far exceed that of his PzJaeger battalion. A Panzer battalion might start the day with 50 tanks, and after a hard day’s fight have only 20 left running, but such attrition was rare for the PzJaegers. The guns he most preferred were the 7.5cm AT guns, and towed when he could get them as opposed to guns mounted on a mobile specialized chassis. The 88s would usually be assigned to flak units, and unlike Rommel, Balck found them too large, slow and unwieldy for panzer warfare in Russia.

  The Pak 37s were now useless, and the Pak 50’s growing less effective each month, so he loved the 75s. A good towed AT battalion was every bit as mobile as self-propelled guns, and their vehicles could be put to many other uses as prime movers. He felt the same way about his artillery and mortars, wanting everything towed when he could get it. The vehicles could remove damaged guns, fetch ammunition, go back and bring up additional infantry, all while the Pakfront stayed in action. The guns they towed were far easier to conceal from air strikes than a self-propelled gun. If a prime mover broke down, its AT gun could always be moved by another vehicle.

  He would allow Ruschel to stage his defensive action where he was that morning, but would much prefer to keep his Panzers in small, fast moving groups to envelop, enfilade, and surprise enemy advances by slashing at their flanks and rear. The Pakfront was his line of defense, supported by infantry and artillery. The Panzers were to fight like wolves against a flock of sheep, which was a fitting metaphor for how the Russians sometimes advanced. They had a herd mentality, as he saw things, with poor radio communications, equally poor radio security when they did have that equipment, and were often too ponderous and inflexible. They would go for their objectives, heedless and brave to be sure, but failed to make adequate appraisals of the overall situation, and react appropriately.

  “Look here,” Balck produced a threadbare map and pointed out the line of the stream where he now determined they were standing. “This stream runs north to south, so they will probably come on your left. There is a small state farm here, and I am posting a battery of 75mm AT guns there. If they do not turn as you expect, and attack your position, then I will need you here.” Balck stuck his finger on the map where he wanted Ruschel to go. Then he squinted at the terrain around them. “There,” he said. See that little group of trees? Swing south of that and you’ll be on the right course.”

  This was another aspect of Balck’s command style. He never issued written orders, even well before a well-planned battle, and certainly not in a situation like this. Instead he preferred to conduct map briefings and terrain walks with his officers, and this was a perfect example. And that map he had in hand was also stored in his head. The General had an uncanny sense of where he was at any given moment. “Getting anywhere that matters,” he said, “must begin with knowing where you are when you first decide to go.” It was a maxim that he demonstrated time and again, appearing where things mattered most, and in the heat of battle, heedless of his own personal safety. All the really great commanders of mobile warfare would act this way, O’Connor for the British, Patton for the Americans, and men like Erwin Rommel and Hermann Balck for the Germans.

  “Hauptmann Ruschel,” he said. “I will call you when I need you, and you must be ready to move in the blink of an eye.”

  Ruschel saluted, then smiled as he watched Balck run to his Kubelwagon, slapping the hood as he mounted, and then the driver gunned the engine and he was gone in a swirl of dust. He was off to find the commander of his 61st Motorcycle Recon Battalion, Lt. Colonel Paul Freiherr von Hauser. (Not to be confused with the SS officer with a similar name Paul Hausser). Balck had great confidence in the man, for Hauser was a master of the fine art of reconnaissance, even with his noisome motorcycles. He knew how to scout a position like few others, was audacious in the advance, and tenacious if asked to defend. Balck would come to call him simply, “the incomparable Hauser.”

  Knowing Hauser was from a noble Austrian family, he took to addressing him as Herr von Hauser in their personal discussions, according him a measure of respect he believed was his due. One of the very best, Hauser would eventually rise to command the elite Panzer Lehr Division in the West, but for now, he was one of Balck’s chief military spirits in the Ghost Division, and he often relied on him in situations where no other man might prevail.

  He found Hauser about ten kilometers east, his lead company feeling its way toward the expected line of the Russian advance. “Herr von Hauser,” he said with a smile, greeting the man with a warm handshake. Balck always felt he was at the root and stem of the division when he was with the motorcycle troops. In fact, the division itself had been converted from the older 11th Schutzen Brigade after the campaign in France, a fast moving formation on motorcycles.

  “What does it look like out there?” he asked. “Any sign of our Infantry?”

  “Not yet,” said Hauser. “I had 1st Company well north a while back. They made radio contact, with a Leutnant in the 73rd, and I’m told everything has gone to hell up there. The troops were all at the morning mess pits when the attack came in. The divisional commander got drunk last night and was still asleep. The poor Leutnant was trying to pull the defense together himself.”

  “God bless the Leutnants of this army,” said Balck. “They are a special breed and without them how could our Generals drink and sleep?” Balck flashed him his characteristic broad smile, eyes alight. He never lost his sense of humor, even at the height of a crisis like this.

  “Very well, Hauptmann, I want you to find that infantry for me. Note their position on a map when you do, and then send a fast biker back here to look for me. Can you get up there?”

  “Certainly,” said Hauser. “This advance here has a lot of heavy armor—many KV type tanks in small battalion formations. That’s going to be a lot of work for the Panzer Jaegers. The really big breakthrough is to our east from all I can gather. We picked up a lot of Russian radio traffic. They moved several corps through a big hole last night, and I even heard Steiner on the radio talking about Morozovsk. The situation is very scattered. They have cavalry milling about over there, then charging off in every direction and getting nowhere fast. There are also tanks, however. I heard clear radio traffic that identified the 17th Tank Corps, and some units from the 6th—T-34s for the most part.”

  “Yes, we’ve already killed all their older tanks,” said Balck. I’m afraid all we did was encourage them to build more of these new ones. Well, we have a few new tanks as well. I have Hauptmann Ruschel not far from here with a Kampfgruppe. He’s watching the stream bed on your right for the moment, but his cats will come when I whistle. Let me know if you need them. I think we had better finish up here quickly, and then move east at mid-day. Pass the word. We’ll regroup at Roshok on this secondary road to Morozovsk. That will put the division on the flank of that breakthrough, and that’s when we do what we do best.”

  That became the order of the day. The 23rd Panzer had blunted the attack pushing out of the Boguchar Bridgehead, and then shifted to its right where Balck had been engag
ing those heavy tank battalions Hauser had scouted out for him. In that he had the support of the 102nd Heavy Panzer Brigade, and with that unit, one Kurt Knispel was having a field day, racking up an astonishing 13 kills in the space of an hour.

  “My,” said Balck, watching through his binoculars as the Lions roared. “Look at that lead tank there, number 507. I want that man in my division!” He had unknowingly pointed to Knispel’s tank, seeing it turn and engage, the crack of its heavy gun sharp on the afternoon air. Balck first thought he had fired much too soon, until he saw the enemy tanks burning, well over 1500 meters away. Knispel’s penchant for long range kills was in rare form that day, and he got seven of his baker’s dozen at ranges where the Panzer IVs could never consider engaging.

  By late afternoon it wasn’t a runner who came looking for Balck, but Hauser himself. “I heard this is where the action is tonight,” he said. “But I have good news. The 9th Panzer Division has arrived by rail at Millerovo.”

  “That’s Walter Scheller’s outfit now,” said Balck. “Good for him. He can smell where the fighting is.” Balck had taken command of the 11th Panzer from Scheller, who then went to the 9th.

  “His division has been assigned to Kempf’s Korps,” said Hauser, “only Kemp is going somewhere else. It’s Knobelsdorff commanding the 48th now.”

  “Knobelsdorff? I thought he was in the hospital. In any case, that’s a step in the right direction. He did excellent work with the 19th Panzer Division. Kempf is good with the infantry, but not with tanks. This is very good news.”

  “It gets better. Scheller has an infantry division with him.”

  “Just what we need. Good! Then we attack until sunset—keep them off balance. After dark we pause, and we’ll let them think we’re sleepy. Instead we move to see if we can coordinate with Scheller’s division. This is going to get very interesting. Stay sharp, Herr von Hauser. I will want your eyes and ears on my right flank now. That’s where we hit them tonight.”