Chapter 215 |
< World War II - The Awakening of a Giant (1) >
October 6, 1941
Northern Belarus, Minsk-Mogilev Campaign
The battle in Minsk had ended with the defeat of the Soviet Army, which ceded the entire urban area and retreated.
However, for Walter Model, who had pierced the enemy's flank while Konev's main force was engaged in a bloody struggle in Minsk, the battle was just beginning.
Model's army, having successfully broken through the poorly defended plains and established a defense line, now faced resistance stronger than ever before.
For the first time, Walter Model, always positive and cheerful, was feeling the fear that he might be defeated.
As the rainy season arrived in Belarus, rain fell ceaselessly from a sky that remained dark even in broad daylight.
And the German Army was learning that the rain itself could be a disaster.
“Hah, hah, damn it!”
German soldiers, soaked head to toe in mud, were struggling with all their might to push a truck stuck in the mire.
The truck's wheels spun endlessly, succeeding only in flinging mud everywhere.
“Ah, fuuuuuck! This road was perfectly fine just yesterday! Why is it such a shitshow now!”
The supply route had turned into a swamp overnight and was now swallowing the truck.
“Aargh!”
“Watch out!”
As a soldier straining to push the truck slipped and fell into the mud, the truck, which they had been barely managing to pull out with sheer force, slid back.
“Gasp!”
Just before the fallen soldier was crushed by the truck, someone rushed over and braced it.
“Oh, thanks—Haaah! General!”
“What is it? Do I have a demon painted on my face?”
“N-No, sir!”
The soldier, who had become a mud-caked figure after falling, nearly had a fit upon seeing Model—his own uniform thoroughly stained—pushing the truck with his body.
“G-G-General! Your uniform—”
“It’s heavy, so lend a hand!”
“Gasp! Y-Y-Yes, sir!”
Thanks to the astonishingly strong Model lending his strength, and his staff officers—seeing their general jump in—reluctantly scrambling over to help, the truck was successfully freed from the swamp.
“Th-Thank you, General!”
“A-Are you… is your uniform alright…?”
“Do you know what you men and I have in common?”
To the supply soldiers who exchanged glances, unable to answer, Model replied with a grin.
“We're all waiting for the food in that truck every day. Can't let the swamp have our meal, can we?”
Model told his men, who finally managed weak laughs, to keep up the good work, then got back on his horse with his staff to tour the front lines.
After riding for some time, a staff officer accompanied by a radio operator shouted.
“General! A report from the 4th Panzer Division!”
The rain was so heavy he couldn't hear well, so Model skillfully maneuvered his horse next to the staff officer.
“What is it!”
“They report three Panzer IVs lost because the ground collapsed!”
Walter Model couldn't help but frown.
“But the armored units haven't been moving, have they?”
“They had the tanks parked in one area.
With the weight concentrated and the continuous rain, it seems the ground weakened and gave way…”
Even Model was at a loss for words in this situation.
Rasputitsa.
The phenomenon where the ground turns to mire during the rainy season just before winter and the thaw period in spring.
The German Army knew of its existence.
Minister of Defense Schacht had warned them beforehand about the difficulties in supply and offensives caused by the Rasputitsa, and the Abwehr had confirmed it was true.
However, with the disarmament from the Treaty of Versailles and the passage of time leading most veterans of the previous war's Eastern Front to retire, no one in the German Army had imagined the reality would be like this.
Not even Schacht, who only had a general knowledge of history.
“…Relay this to all armored units.
Tell them to disperse the tanks so they don't put excessive strain on the ground.”
“Yes, sir!”
Riding a little further, Model arrived at the defense line he had established.
“General!”
His men usually looked upon their general, who toured the front lines to check on them even in this severe weather, with respect. But in such a hellish situation, they couldn't help but feel resentment toward the general who had made them hold a defense line.
In the pouring rain, Model ignored the company commander's half-sullen face and returned his salute.
“What's the situation, Captain?”
“The worst, General! The trenches are filling with water…”
Model waved his hand as if to say 'that's enough' and walked toward the trench himself.
Approaching the trench, Model could see soldiers trying every which way to bail water out of the flooding excavation.
Seeing the soldiers jump up in surprise and salute him, Model recalled the nightmare of the last war, the quagmire of trench warfare, and involuntarily furrowed his brow.
The image of soldiers whose feet were rotting away, too busy taking cover in waterlogged trenches, had left an unforgettable memory.
“Abandon the trenches.
Set up barracks on higher ground.”
“I-Is that alright, General?”
“Even if Field Marshal Gneisenau himself came back to life, he couldn't launch an attack in this situation.”
Mentioning the great figure from the Napoleonic Wars whom he respected, Model felt a sense of self-reproach and added.
“When this rainy season is over, the winner won't be the one who defended some damn trench the best, but the one whose troops are in better condition.”
“Understood!”
Seeing the soldiers' faces brighten as they climbed out of the flooded trenches as soon as the commander gave the order, Model turned his back and muttered grimly.
“My greed is making the men suffer too much.”
“But General, succeeding in isolating an enemy main force of two million is an incredible military achievement.”
Model's judgment itself—to strike while the enemy's main force was in a bloody battle at Minsk and isolate them before the Rasputitsa made it difficult for the Soviet Army to attack—was correct.
It was just that no one knew it wasn't merely a matter of making attacks difficult, but a situation where simply being stationed there caused attrition.
Model looked up at the dark, thunderous sky, which relentlessly poured rain, and sighed.
“How powerless man is before nature.”
---
October 8, 1941
Northern Germany, Berlin – Army General Staff
I bit my lip slightly as I read the report submitted by General Walter Model.
It was the first time I had seen him appeal so desperately about his unit's current situation and difficulties.
Other units had moved their garrisons to cities as soon as the rainy season began, but General Model's unit couldn't break the encirclement they had established, so they were being forced to experience the Rasputitsa and learn its lessons firsthand.
When General Model had requested permission to divide the enemy forces while their main force was concentrated in Minsk, I approved it with almost no hesitation.
I couldn't imagine him failing, and I had vaguely thought that since the Rasputitsa was coming soon, blocking the enemy before then would be an amazing achievement.
I only came to vividly understand the reality—something I couldn't grasp from the simple fact that the Rasputitsa had caused major disruptions to the German offensive during the Battle of Moscow in the original history—after reading this detailed report.
“We will have to put a great deal of effort into maintaining General Model's unit.”
“O-Of course we must devote our full efforts, Minister!”
I glanced at the fussy Manstein and added, “I doubt there will be any engagements in this situation anyway. How about we temporarily divert the mechanized infantry's armored vehicles for supply purposes?”
It seemed even supply by truck was difficult, so tracked vehicles like armored vehicles should be a bit better.
I had requested that the strangely designed armored vehicles, with wheels in the front and tracks in the back, be standardized to full tracks. It wasn't intentional, but it looked like that decision was about to shine in this situation.
Manstein glanced over at General Tresckow, who was standing beside him. Tresckow looked at a document and replied.
“Fortunately, the units of Generals Guderian and Rommel have arrived in Bobruisk. We will requisition some of them and mobilize them for supply.”
It felt a bit awkward for him to be using formal language just because the Chief of the General Staff was next to him, but it was reassuring to have him here.
I knew Manstein was competent, but there was just something… something untrustworthy about him…
“I will request the Luftwaffe to conduct aerial resupply in parallel.
Whatever it takes, we must preserve the strength of General Model's unit as much as possible.”
The Soviet forces to the west, isolated by General Model, were surely in a worse situation than we were, but it was obvious that Ivan Konev would try to break through General Model's defense line with the eastern forces stationed in Vitebsk and Mogilev as soon as the rainy season ended.
The two million soldiers isolated beyond General Model's defense line were their super elite forces; they wouldn't just let them be annihilated.
“Don't worry too much, Minister! Is this not a great victory? Haha! A victory where the Minister of Defense's foresight shone brightly!”
I couldn't help but give Manstein a strange look.
This guy, he fell for Zhukov's bait again.
'You've been tricked again, Manstein!' …was not something I could say.
“You said there was no reason for an offensive to come through Belarus, Chief of the General Staff.”
According to our operational plan, the Panzer Groups were held in reserve, but they were too busy defending the riverbank on rotation.
In the end, Belarus was pushed to the brink of being breached.
It's a good thing Field Marshal Kluge and the Polish Army held out so well.
“Wha-What a disappointing thing to say! I trusted the Minister's foresight and set aside six Panzer Divisions as reserves, even when we were short on troops! Wasn't it thanks to that we were able to achieve such a great victory? Hahaha!”
“Ah, yes…”
Strategically, Belarus has little value, but launching an all-out offensive by crossing the river is a tactically poor move, so I considered a third option: a political offensive.
So I asked Richthofen to prepare for a potential invasion of Belarus, just in case.
When Richthofen moved his air wings forward to the north, Manstein, not to be outdone, also set aside armored units as reserves.
In the end, Richthofen's air support slowed Konev's offensive and led to a successful defensive battle, and the reserves Manstein prepared were split between General Hube and General Model, which was a huge help in relieving Minsk and dividing the enemy forces.
Without those reserves, even General Model wouldn't have had the capacity to block the Soviet Army with just his own unit of slightly over 100,000 men.
“Isn't it a victory where the Minister's foresight and my faith shine brightly! Hahahaha!”
Manstein kept praising himself like this, but…
Isn't this a shining victory for General Model, who managed to block the enemy with so little, rather than your 'faith'?
I'm not Hitler, and he's too competent to be fired over something like this, so I had no intention of doing so, but he was trying so hard to save face.
“…We can only call it a victory once we have defended General Model's line after the rainy season ends. Please ensure you are fully prepared.”
“You can say that again! Trust me, Manstein, and the Army, Minister of Defense! Hahaha!”
“Hahaha…”
In this battle, the Allied Forces suffered 800,000 casualties, while the Soviet Army suffered 2.2 million.
The casualty ratio itself was favorable, but considering the difference in value between their troops and ours, this alone could not be called a victory.
It was a relief that General Model had isolated two million enemy soldiers.
If we hadn't prepared for the Belarusian offensive at all, we would have suffered casualties on a whole different level.
It still sends a chill down my spine just thinking about it.
“Please, I'm begging you, don't let your guard down, Chief of the General Staff. We have now learned well enough that the Red Army is not an easy opponent.”
“Ahem, ahem. I will keep that in mind, Minister.”
As Manstein finally furrowed his brow, General Tresckow took a drag from his cigarette and subtly sneered at him.
“Then I will entrust you with the operation to defend General Model's unit.”
“Yes, Minister! Leave it to me! Everyone, attention! Minister of Defen—”
“That's alright.”
I made a swift escape.
With this, the Allied Forces on the Eastern Front now numbered 1.8 million German soldiers, 1.
2 million Polish soldiers, and 400,000 Ukrainian soldiers.
On the other hand, the Soviet Army, despite all the chaos, still had 7.
7 million men. Of those, 2 million were currently isolated by General Model.
400,000 German soldiers were sacrificed in this battle alone. If we had attempted a river crossing or tried to advance on Moscow, I can't imagine how much greater the sacrifice would have been.
It's truly horrific.
It seems about time for something to blow up in the Soviet Union, or for them to come to the peace negotiation table.
That would be normal.
What to do about the Free Russian Army.
I recalled a New York Times article published with the headline [Russia's Freedom Against the Red Threat of the Communists] and felt a headache coming on.
To think they'd give them such a dazzling spotlight that, judging by the article alone, you'd think the Free Russian Army had defended all of Minsk.
For America, which was just standing by and watching while the war in Europe raged on, was this kind of gossip more interesting than the great performance of the Allied Forces?
Or… could there be some kind of intention behind it?
As I was thinking this and exiting the General Staff building, my aide and driver, Mr. Berger, approached me.
“Minister, the Abwehr has requested a visit.”
“The Abwehr?”
For some reason, I had a bad feeling about this—
---
Just as I'd expected, both Director Canaris and Deputy Director Oster were waiting at the Abwehr headquarters.
Deputy Director Oster, with his wide, balding forehead, handed me a document.
“This is a translation of a telegram that someone from General Andrey Vlasov's side of the Free Russian Army received from America.”
“Hmm…”
I knew they were exchanging telegrams with America, but the justification to block it was ambiguous, and Director Canaris, a staunch anti-communist, held a subtly favorable stance toward the Free Russian Army, so we were only monitoring them.
However, upon unfolding their telegram, I couldn't help but narrow my eyes.
[Washington has shown interest. It seems we will be able to give a positive answer soon.
-Alexander F. Kerensky]
Was the sleeping giant finally about to awaken?