Chapter 127:
Chapter 127
In Leningrad, fierce street battles raged on every day. Soldiers died by the dozens, separated by only a few meters of wall, a single road, or a floor of a building.
The generals were playing a huge gamble.
They staked Leningrad and poured the lives of their soldiers as chips. The gamble grew hotter by the day.
The officers gave orders to the soldiers.
“Capture that hill!”
“Eliminate the Soviet troops in this building!”
A platoon for a hill, a company for a building.
In the madness of the city, where hundreds of soldiers were thrown into a single sector that would be abandoned in eight hours, a storm was approaching.
A storm that would overturn this game board.
During the last summer, the German army had advanced rapidly, following the unrealistic goals of the Führer.
They neglected to secure their flanks.
The soldiers who were building the defensive line to protect the rear of their comrades who entered Leningrad were withdrawn one by one.
In the street battles where blood was washed with blood, there were never enough soldiers.
The staff officers of Field Marshal Manstein watched the situation anxiously.
“Your Excellency, if we continue to deploy troops to Leningrad, we will lack reserves to stop the Soviet attack.”
“That’s right. There are sectors where a single division is responsible for a defensive line of nearly 20km.”
With bloodshot eyes, the aged commander stared at the young staff officers.
They all kept their mouths shut. If they said more, they could be accused of ‘conspiracy’ or ‘defeatism’.
Manstein, the best brain of the German army, knew what they knew. He had been restless for the past few days.
What if the defensive line was breached?
“The problem we are facing now is not that, is it?”
With a voice drained of strength, he spoke calmly.
The Soviet army was pouring thousands of reinforcements into the city every day, just like the Germans.
In front of the Soviet army that surged like seawater that never ran out, strategy and tactics were meaningless.
He remembered the slogan of the French Resistance. <You will drown in the sea of the people>
They must have their limits, their end… But it seemed that Germany’s limit had come much earlier.
“Do you mean we should retreat from Leningrad?”
“…”
No, they couldn’t. Already tens of thousands had been sacrificed, and hundreds of thousands of soldiers were trapped in the huge city, fighting.
It was not a situation where they could just come out. If one corner of the complex front collapsed, a chain of collapses could begin. Even if they tried to retreat gradually, what if the Soviet army noticed and launched an offensive? What if the damage got worse?
The situation was a dilemma.
The German army had no more chips to throw in, or to put it nicely, reserves, or to put it bluntly, the lives of young soldiers.
After seeing so much damage, the staff officers began to think of their original stake. But when they tried to retreat to save the remaining soldiers, they had no force to cover the retreat.
It was impossible to take out more from the defensive line that was so thin that it made the night uneasy. And when they requested strategic reserves, they feared the Führer’s wrath. No, would the heads of the Northern Army Group’s headquarters be safe if they told the Führer they would retreat from Leningrad?
“Ha ha ha… Damn it…”
He spat out a curse that didn’t suit his position and leaned back in his chair. Ha ha, how much worse could it get?
He tried to think positively. He looked at the tactical deployment map that changed every moment, wondering where to take out the troops, where to organize the reserves. Manstein knew very well that nothing would get better by buying time.
“Whether you retreat as you say, or attack to the end and capture Leningrad, you will need reserves. Then try to make some.”
“Yes! Your Excellency!”
As he pulled out a thick document that summarized the situation of each division from among the piles of battle reports, Manstein heard an urgent report from the communications officer.
“Urgent report! The Soviet army has launched a massive offensive!”
“What? Where? Leningrad?”
“No, sir. It’s from the direction of Novgorod…”
***
The German defensive line stretched over 300km, from Pskov to Leningrad.
And right in the middle of it, the Soviet offensive began, piercing the Russian ancient capital of Novgorod.
“Ha ha ha ha, we’ll need a lot of shells to catch those bastards! Fire more! More!”
It was well known that the German defensive line was thin. It was also known that Germany had poured so much troops into Leningrad that their waist was torn.
In the meantime, they launched an offensive in the center and even sent down their armored forces.
A mere twenty or so divisions for a defensive line of hundreds of kilometers. Weren’t the shells going through the soldiers? The Soviet General Staff joked.
“Come on! Let’s drive out the fascists who trampled on our motherland! Ura!”
“Ura! Ura!”
The offensive in the center was thwarted by reinforcements? Then just hit the north again! The Chief of Staff’s idea was brilliant.
Normal military science would not assume such a situation. It is the assumption of military science to use equal forces as efficiently as possible.
Dispersing the forces and poking them here and there is nothing but a bad move that leads to defeat.
But what if the quantity they had was overwhelming?
Then they could really swing the enemy around. Just like now.
“The 3rd Shock Army has broken through the fascists’ first line of defense! There is no counterattack from the enemy yet!”
“The 6th Guards Army also reports breaking through the defensive line!”
The Germans must have thought that the main attack of the Soviet army was in the center. They had deployed the late Field Marshal Budyonny to deceive the enemy’s intentions.
So they sent back their most powerful single field army, the 1st SS Panzer Army, to the center. At the risk of all kinds of difficulties.
‘The mobility of the armored units in the field is certainly overwhelming. But what about their strategic mobility? Do you think it’s easy to move around tens of tons of iron? The Germans are already short of railway vehicles and can’t supply them. And they move that heavy thing around? Ha ha ha ha ha!’
He remembered the Chief of Staff’s remark at the operational meeting. As the head of administration, the Chief of Staff saw through Germany’s weaknesses. He was dealing with the war with a perspective that looked at the country, not the operational level that the field army men looked at.
The 1st Panzer Army won’t be back for a while. Germany doesn’t have the ability to move that many troops around.
“They have no means of counterattacking. Each unit should advance as quickly as possible!”
“Yes, Comrade Commander!”
A huge force of half a million soldiers began their march to cut off the German supply line. Soviet Marshal Ivan Konev marveled at the pure violence of numbers.
‘About half a million for each front army. The Western and Southwestern Fronts are even bigger…’
Five million, plus another few million conscripted by the special order of the Chief of Staff. He had never imagined such a colossal clash of armies before. Even as they pushed back the fascist German army.
“Comrade Stalin… Is he not a godlike being?”
“What?”
“Oh, never mind.”
Cough, Konev realized he had uttered a dangerous remark and waved his hand.
The Soviet Union officially adhered to state atheism.
Even though they allowed the Orthodox Church, comparing the leader to ‘god’ could get them branded as reactionary fanatics who fell into religion.
‘It would be more appropriate to say that god is like Comrade Stalin.’
Lately, the Chief of Staff had ordered to restrain the cult of personality, but there were always those who ‘knew better’. Especially the politicians who were guaranteed promotion by setting up their records, they flattered him excessively.
‘The Ukrainian baldy is especially bad…’
***
“Comrade Stalin, Comrade Stalin!”
“What, what is it?”
“According to our investigation, there were a lot of opinions from the people to rename the capital Moscow. Stalino-Dar, or Stalin-Dar (Stalin’s gift) was the popular opinion with 88.9%…”
At the Politburo meeting, such a hot-faced flattery… He felt embarrassed as people’s eyes turned red. Ouch, this isn’t blushing, is it?
He thought so and touched his cheek, but the Ukrainian baldy ignoramus seemed to take it as a sign of liking.
After getting a scolding from me, Khrushchev had been flattering me diligently. He wanted to regain my favor, but he should flatter less obviously.
“Also, as part of the people’s welfare project, we printed 100 million copies of Comrade Stalin’s portrait and autobiography and distributed them to homes, schools, and government offices…”
“No, I told you to write a report on the welfare project, and you’re doing this?”
How is this ‘people’s welfare’? Does hanging Stalin’s portrait in the house improve the living standards of the people?
Ah, this bastard will later de-Stalinize?
The Politburo members who clapped at Khrushchev’s brilliant tongue-twister slowly stopped clapping as they sensed the situation. But whether he saw or didn’t see the sharp-eyed Beria, our eye candy added another spoonful.
“That’s a very good idea. Oh, while we’re at it, let’s change the year too. Let’s make Comrade Stalin’s birth year the origin of our Soviet year.”
“…Beria, I mean Borosilov Comrade!”
In real history, after winning the toxic war, Stalin, who was the war leader, reached the peak of his idolization. But here, because we blocked the war too well, the idolization of me had already begun.
They stuck Stalin’s name everywhere…
There were more than a few besides the well-known Stalingrad. Stalingrad, Stalino, Stalinabad, Staliniri… Ugh.
“Shut up. Sigh…”
The Politburo members were startled by the harsh words and closed their mouths.
The clueless Borosilov also covered his mouth with his hand when he heard that.
Sigh, if I’m going to reform, this is the time to do it.
“From now on, I will stop the practice of attaching people’s names to cities. The city belongs to the people who live in it, not a place where you can stick people’s names like feudal lords. Do you understand?”
“…Yes! Yes!”
“I will also rename the cities that have my name on them. I will leave them alone for now because it’s a waste of administrative costs, but I will change Stalingrad to Volgograd, Stalino to Donetsk. You should also recommend appropriate names for the other cities. I will make an exception for Leningrad and Gorky, which have Comrade Lenin’s name on them. Borosilov, Molotov, Kalinin, do you have any complaints?”
“No!!”
There were many cities in the Soviet Union that were named after the revolutionaries.
Kalinin near Moscow, or Kaliningrad, which was renamed after occupying East Prussia… There was also Molotov, Borosilov, Borosilovgrad.
They might have complaints. Who wouldn’t want to leave their name in history? But with the sensibility of a 21st century democratic country, this was too old-fashioned.
“Leaders come and go… But the people are eternal. We will someday fade away from the front of the times, but the people and history will judge us.”
“Woah! You are truly the Chief of Staff, Comrade!”
That was what he said to stop doing that…
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