Chapter 209 |
< World War II - River of Fire and Blood (5) >
September 6, 1941
Eastern Finland, Karelia – Viipuri Rocket Launch Site
“What do you mean, something exploded?”
We hadn’t launched the R1 at Kronstadt with the expectation of any great tactical achievement.
If we had fired it at Leningrad from the outset, we wouldn’t know where it would land, and civilian casualties would have been inevitable.
So, to get used to the impact zone while adjusting the angle, we first aimed for the naval port of Kronstadt.
There, even if it missed slightly, it would hit a docked warship or the naval base.
But…
At the words of Werner Mölders, the Inspector General of Fighters and commander of the Luftwaffe’s northern front, I felt half joy, half disbelief.
We had completely skipped the adoption of the V1 and went straight to introducing the original history’s V2 under the designation R1 (Rakete 1).
Putting aside the V1, a retaliatory weapon that was just sprayed indiscriminately without any real impact grouping, I remembered that even the V2 in the original history didn't have very high accuracy…
“It’s easier to hit when we calculate while receiving real-time impact reports from the Air Force.”
Major General Walter Dornberger, the head of the rocket program, was smiling with satisfaction.
Was it because I had requested cooperation from Konrad Zuse, who was under the management of Communications Officer General Erich Fellgiebel, to develop a dedicated mechanical device?
Or was it because, unlike in the original history where we had to confirm impacts through British intel after ceding air superiority to Britain, we could now verify them ourselves?
Either way, we had managed to cause a sympathetic detonation of the battleship Marat by firing just three R1s before the Soviet Army could even grasp the situation.
The R1 doesn't have the guidance performance of an anti-ship missile; this was just a lucky shot on a docked battleship that hadn't figured out what was going on. There was a lot of luck involved, but the cost-effectiveness was insane.
“We’ll need to fire a few more to be sure, but the margin of error is within the expected range. As we accumulate data, it should be possible to strike desired targets.”
“Excellent.”
It seemed assigning them to the Luftwaffe and utilizing them alongside Air Force reconnaissance was the right answer.
At this point, it felt like this wasn't just an early introduction of the original history's V2, but something else entirely.
Where did this difference come from? In the original history, they were built by forced laborers, but now they were being made by properly motivated engineers?
“With this level of achievement, I can secure you a larger budget.
Even though they’re landing on the wrong planet for now, we’re gathering data that will contribute to the future of space science, so please continue.”
“Haha, understood.
Braun will be delighted.”
Dornberger laughed good-naturedly, looking pleased.
To think that under the Nazis, even a man like this whipped forced laborers to death as they built rockets until they dropped from exhaustion…
Where does a man's true nature end, and how easily can a person be swayed?
In any case, the R1 was now more than worthy of being used as the strategic weapon I had hoped for.
If we had just scattered the V1s the Nazis used over Leningrad, we would have scorched everything, residential areas and all.
But with the R1, it should be possible to strike only the factory districts in Leningrad that the Abwehr has identified.
The Tirpitz and the Reichsmarine are watching with sharp eyes from nearby Viipuri, so the Soviet Baltic Fleet and the naval port of Kronstadt, unable to venture far, are the perfect experimental targets for this.
If Stalin knew what I was thinking, he would probably clutch the back of his neck and collapse, but that’s exactly what we want.
By now, the Soviets must have clearly realized that there’s nothing to be gained by continuing this confrontation.
The decisive battle for the Dnieper River was imminent.
Well then, shall I drive in the final nail?
---
September 10, 1941
Central Soviet Union, Kursk – Belarus/Ukraine Theater Command
Germany launched several rocket attacks on the naval port of Kronstadt.
The Baltic Fleet, struggling to salvage the Marat, which had settled in shallow waters after its sympathetic detonation, suffered even greater damage.
Germany announced that the next target for its rocket attacks would be Leningrad’s munitions factories.
They sent a telegram demanding the evacuation of Leningrad's civilians and promising to halt the rocket attacks if Stalin personally appeared for peace talks.
The enraged General Secretary finally lost his patience and issued an offensive command.
However, at Georgy Zhukov's Theater Headquarters in Kursk, a heated debate raged on.
Marshal Voroshilov, whom Stalin had placed as Georgy Zhukov's superior, had perhaps realized the limits of his own capabilities and showed the consideration of entrusting everything to Zhukov, but the situation was not one where a conclusion could be easily reached.
Outmatched in artillery power and air superiority, with the army's morale at rock bottom, none of the Soviet High Command could come up with a plausible answer for how to cross the Dnieper River—a river that reached a width of one kilometer in some places—and launch an offensive. As time ticked away, a meeting of a few high-ranking generals was held late at night, without any political officers.
“Welcome, comrades.”
At the words of Theater Commander Georgy Zhukov, the assembled generals looked tense.
“Thank you for inviting us, Comrade.”
“Good to see you.”
“Thank you for coming, Marshal Shaposhnikov, Comrade.”
Enrique Líster, Lieutenant General Konstantin Rokossovsky, and Marshal Boris Shaposhnikov had gathered.
“Please, sit.”
As Zhukov offered them seats, Shaposhnikov glanced around and asked.
“Konev and Chuikov are not here?”
Zhukov’s brow furrowed slightly as he shook his head.
“They cannot be trusted, Marshal Comrade.”
Putting aside Konev, who came from a political officer background, Chuikov was, in his own way, Zhukov’s direct subordinate, but Shaposhnikov sat down without pressing the issue further.
Líster helped the physically impaired Rokossovsky into his seat, and once everyone was seated, Zhukov began to speak heavily.
“I believe all the comrades gathered here harbor deep concerns about the current situation the Union is facing.”
As Zhukov began, Shaposhnikov, who had been listening silently, spoke up.
“So, what are you suggesting? Are you planning to raise a banner of rebellion against the General Secretary?”
Once the marshal, who was most trusted by the General Secretary, had opened the floodgates, Zhukov let out a sigh of relief but shook his head.
“Not now.”
“But General Comrade. We will be defeated in this battle.”
The one who spoke up immediately after Zhukov’s statement was Enrique Líster. As all eyes turned to him, Lieutenant General Líster continued.
“We are at an absolute disadvantage in artillery power, air superiority, elite troop quality, and morale. The river negates our numerical superiority.”
The hastily conscripted, ragtag Soviet Army was already suffering from low morale after falling for Germany's psychological warfare.
No matter how great their numerical superiority, it was impossible to cross the river here and win.
In this battle, the Soviet Union would surely pile up the corpses of countless people.
“If not now…”
As Líster was about to say more, Zhukov raised a hand to stop him.
Then, he turned his gaze to Rokossovsky, who had been silent until now.
“Comrade Rokossovsky, do you also agree to rising against the General Secretary?”
Rokossovsky hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded.
“I believe myself to be a Soviet, but if it weren’t for you, General Comrade, I would still be in the Gulag as a Pole.”
Zhukov nodded gravely, and then a new person appeared.
A young man wearing glasses.
Everyone except Zhukov shot up from their seats.
“G-General Comrade! This is!”
“Oh my god.”
At the appearance of Yuri Andropov, the head of the NVKD, no one could hide their horror.
They had been plotting a conspiracy against the General Secretary, and now they had been caught red-handed by the NKVD. They were all dead men.
However, Zhukov remained calm.
“It’s alright, calm down, comrades.”
“Don’t worry too much, comrades. Surely you didn't believe a meeting like this could completely escape the NKVD's surveillance, did you?”
At Andropov's question, the three men couldn't say a word and collapsed back into their seats.
“Unfortunately, I know military affairs well, but I am not well-versed in politics. So I have brought a comrade who can explain the situation in my stead.”
While Líster, Rokossovsky, and Shaposhnikov were all flustered, Andropov began to speak.
“As you all know, I am Yuri Andropov, currently the head of the NKVD.
I am also your comrade.”
“You? That’s surprising.
We thought you were the General Secretary’s faithful henchman.”
Líster narrowed his eyes and spoke to Andropov.
A man who was personally appointed head of the NKVD by the General Secretary at a young age and earned his trust in a short time by handling his duties perfectly was now rebelling against him? Why?
Andropov smiled faintly.
“I am loyal to the Union, not to the General Secretary as an individual.
The current General Secretary seems to have mental issues, even before we consider his responsibility for this war.”
“What do you mean…”
While everyone was aghast, Andropov calmly continued.
“Therefore, we must bring about a transformation in the Union, but there are three main reasons why we cannot strike the General Secretary right now.”
Andropov held up three fingers.
“First. The General Secretary currently bears no official responsibility for our defeats.
The failure of the Capture of Warsaw was blamed on Kulik, the defeat in Finland on Meretskov, and the defeat in Operation Liberation on Comrade Vasilevsky. Even the loss of the Kola Peninsula occurred at STAVKA’s request.”
“…There can't be anyone in the Soviet high command who doesn't know this war is the General Secretary's fault.”
Líster spoke as if protesting, but Andropov shook his head.
“That is not true for everyone. Marshals Voroshilov and Budyonny, who are loyal to the General Secretary, have 3 million directly-controlled forces, and they have not been subjected to the Allied propaganda at the front, so they are more accustomed to the political officers’ education.
Not all the people of the Soviet Union are as well-informed as you are, comrades.”
Andropov folded one finger.
“Second. As long as those directly-controlled forces of Marshals Voroshilov and Budyonny remain loyal to the General Secretary, rising against him now means an immediate civil war.
Such a situation is what the Allied Forces would most hope for and welcome. If that happens, the Union will be shattered.”
As no one could rebut, Andropov folded another finger.
“Third.
Unfortunately, on the surface, the Union appears to be in a position to fight the Allied Forces. We have succeeded in establishing a defense line on the East Bank of the Dnieper, and our on-paper military force overwhelms theirs.”
Here, all the generals grimaced, but Andropov quickly added.
“Of course, the reality is not like that at all.
But if we rise against the General Secretary now, when he bears no direct responsibility for the defeats, it is unlikely that the people will accept us as a faction trying to save the Union from ruin.”
“Well, well, I never imagined that the NKVD’s new chief, who so faithfully followed the General Secretary, would be our Political Advisor.
So, what do you think we need to rise against the General Secretary, comrade?”
At Marshal Shaposhnikov's question, Andropov met Zhukov's gaze and then spoke.
“The Theater Headquarters must oppose the General Secretary’s offensive command.”
“Will that be alright? What if Comrade Zhukov becomes a target for a purge…”
Rokossovsky, who had suffered in the Gulag, expressed his concern, but Andropov shook his head.
“The General Secretary is not that incompetent a man.
If he were to purge for something like that, he would have purged you comrades when you were suffering defeat after defeat. The General Secretary accurately judges the ability and necessity of you comrades who currently hold military power.
He might purge you if you oppose him to the very end, so you just need to leave a justification that the military opposed the offensive.”
“You have a point.
So what do we gain by opposing it?”
When Líster asked, Andropov gave an immediate answer.
“In any case, with the Allied psychological warfare continuing, if we don't launch an offensive, we are finished.
And by forcing an offensive, the responsibility becomes the General Secretary's.”
Suffering from the Allied propaganda war and maintaining a bloated military, just dragging out time would only worsen the situation, not improve it.
The Soviet Union had already suffered a grave loss of seven million casualties. If they ended the war in defeat with such losses, the General Secretary would be finished in one way or another.
Therefore, whether the chances of victory were high or low, the General Secretary had no choice but to launch an offensive before the army collapsed or the situation worsened. No matter how low the odds of victory, they were higher than zero.
“So we must be ‘appropriately’ defeated. We must not suffer damage that renders us unable to recover, but we must mount an offensive strong enough to show them that the Soviet Army is not an easy opponent.
The important thing is to show the people of the Soviet Union that they lost even after giving their all in a battle forced by the General Secretary.”
Andropov glanced around at the generals gathered here and added.
“In the end, we must place clear responsibility on the General Secretary, oust him without a civil war with the support of the people, and then negotiate with the Allied Forces.”
“That’s a tall order you’re giving us.”
“I believe in the latent power of the Red Army and the abilities of you comrades.”
Marshal Shaposhnikov gave a bitter smile, but his eyes lit up at Andropov's words.
Seeing that things were more or less settled, Zhukov spoke.
“What are your thoughts, comrades?”
“So in the end, sacrifice is necessary.”
Líster’s voice was devastated.
“All transformations require sacrifice.”
But when Andropov spoke, Líster was the first to answer.
“…I will join you.”
“I was so loyal to the General Secretary, but if things continue like this, there is no hope for the Union.”
“To think I’d live to see the day I’d conspire with the NKVD to rise against the General Secretary…”
After Shaposhnikov and Rokossovsky also agreed, Zhukov spoke.
“Good. It is decided.
Then we will fundamentally overhaul the operation plan. The Rasputitsa and winter are approaching, so even if we are defeated, the risk of being pushed back all at once by an Allied counterattack is low.”
If the goal of the operation was to retake the West Bank of the Dnieper, it would be difficult for Zhukov and the Soviet generals to achieve it no matter what they did in this situation.
But if the goal itself was to inflict damage on the Allied Forces, even with defeat and sacrifice as the premise…
Georgy Zhukov regained his characteristic arrogance for the first time in a long while.
“We may lose, but even in defeat, I will show them that the Red Army is not a weak organization to be mocked.”