John Schettler - Tigers East

It was a strange echo of the battle that was fought in Fedorov’s history, only most of the units involved were different. The strategic situation, however, would not change. Both Halder and Manstein had clearly seen the vulnerability of that long left flank along the Don. A successful offensive there could effectively drive south to Morozovsk, cutting the lines of communication to any forces that had gone on to fight for Volgograd. This time, Freidrich Paulus was nowhere to be found here, and the 6th Army was instead replaced by all these arriving infantry formations sent to screen that dangerous flank. They would be a tougher defense against any Soviet counterattack—much tougher than the Rumanian and Hungarian troops that had been placed there in the old history. That said, they would not now have the strength to reduce these strong Russian bridgeheads as Manstein had wanted—not with only the two Panzer Divisions in Kempf’s 48th Panzer Korps.

Steiner had other business, and while the Wiking Division pushed out the last of the 20th Rifle Corps at Oblivskaya, he sent his 2nd SS Reich Division on a wide sweeping maneuver south of the main road. That took them through State Farm 79, and on the high ground due east, they found the 180th Rifle Division dug in deep. The first battle on the River Chir was now well underway, for Steiner ordered all of the Das Reich Division to take those heights and clear the way forward. Division commander Paul Hausser notified him he would attack at once, but that he had reconnoitered the ground east of the hill and found it unsuitable for armor.

“There’s no decent ground for a crossing operation there. The river banks are too soft and marshy. I will kill this division, but you had better look north of the road for a better route to Kalach.”

Steiner wasted little time in doing that. In addition to the four SS divisions under his command, he also had a pair of aces in hand, the elite Brandenburg and Grossdeutschland divisions. The Brandenburgers moved north of the rail line to Surovinko, intending to go for Kalach. To their great surprise, the enemy had not covered the ground there with any appreciable defense. Steiner was soon notified that they had opened the route, and decided to send up Grossdeutschland.

“Be quick about it and we can get over that damn river in two days,” he said to General Hornlein, but the General did him one better. He raced on up the road, eventually swinging north and around the Brandenburgers where they deployed to clear another two Rifle Divisions screening Kalach. At a little after 15:00 on the 8th of July, his fast moving recon battalion reached the river, finding no defense. With boats in hand, and equipment available to build small pontoon rafts for their armored cars, they decided to cross.

And that they did.

It was the opening act in a very old and well known play, only this time it would have a cast of all new actors, and a very different finale.

GeorgieZhukov had worked a miracle the previous winter, but now he was trying to pull the army together again, and build up reserves to face the onslaught that was now underway.

“They will drive on the Volga this summer,” he declared in a meeting with Sergei Kirov and Intelligence Chief Berzin. Kirov had finally re-established his government in Leningrad, old Saint Petersburg, the city he had been warned to avoid by Fedorov. As the old national Capitol under the Czars, it seemed a suitable place, the last real major city with resources, population and industrial capacity, still safe from war and well behind the front.

“That is no mystery,” said Kirov. “They want Volgograd, where they hope to shake hands with Ivan Volkov’s troops all along the lower Don. It’s a pity we could not hold our lines there.”

“That could not be helped,” said Zhukov. “Given your refusal to abandon the Caucasus and Kuban line, I had no choice but to evacuate the region south of the Don. There are only a few places an army can cross that river there, and so I can hold that line with just a few divisions. It would have taken three armies to hold it further south.”

“Well enough,” said Kirov, “but what will become of our troops in the Caucasus.”

“You tell me,” said Zhukov flippantly. “If I had my way, they would be on the line far to the north. As it stands, they will soon be encircled and cut off permanently, another nice fat Kirov pocket for the Germans to chew on.

Sergei Kirov flashed him a dark and angry glance. “We held off the Germans there for six months!” he said sharply. “We hold them still.”

“But not for very much longer,” said Zhukov. “Thankfully, I got the 24th Siberian out and sent it back through Orel. All the rest will be lost. It is only a matter of time now.”

“Yet we still have all the Donets Basin,” said Kirov. “We still have Rostov, the Kuban, all the Taman Peninsula. Hell, we still hold out at Sevastopol, and we will keep that city for months.”

“Only because the Germans pulled their 11th Army out and replaced the investing troops with Rumanians.” Zhukov folded his arms on his broad chest, a man with a reputation for speaking his mind, and one who was never cowed by political higher ups throughout the war. In his mind, he was the man who had saved Russia the previous year. He had planned and executed the counterattack, stopped the Germans, even if he could not keep them out of Moscow. Now he was patching the shattered fronts back together again, and trying to rebuild the army to a point where further offensives might be possible.

“That doesn’t matter,” said Kirov. “What matters is that we hold Sevastopol—we have heroes to speak of there, as we had heroes in Moscow.”

“Ah,” said Zhukov, “Yes, the Siberians. I put them to good use there, but now they must go elsewhere. The Germans seem to have no interest in trying to clear the northern segment of the city we still hold, and frankly, I have no interest in trying to take what they hold—all we would get back is a burned and blackened ruin.”

“We have that traitor Beria to thank for that,” said Kirov bitterly.

“Just the same,” said Zhukov. “We don’t want Moscow any more than they do. What they want now is Volgograd, a linkup with Volkov, and then they will most likely push into the central heartland—Kursk, Lipetsk, Voronezh. If they take all those cities, then they will likely consolidate to receive our winter offensive—assuming I have the troops to launch another such attack, and next year, they come for us here—Leningrad.”

“Then we must foil their plans.” Kirov was adamant. “We will hold our ground wherever they face us.”

“So this is your strategy? Simply hold in place? We have the Kirov Pocket, and then soon we will have the Volga Pocket, Donets Pocket, Kuban Pocket and so on.”

“You may see no purpose in my insistence that we hold ground. Yes, we will lose the Kirov Pocket this year, but the struggle there gave us something that was in very short supply last year—hope. Moscow was burning, but the defenders of my city held out. In just the same way, we will fight them tooth and nail in Volgograd if they get there, and we will do the same in Rostov.”

“That may come sooner than you think,” said Zhukov. “They have broken through with a single Panzer Division on the northern segment of our defensive front screening the Donets Basin. We still hold Voroshilovgrad, but frankly, that whole northern front is mainly guarded by the Don itself. I have virtually nothing to send there. A few divisions got through by rail before the SS reached Oblivskaya and Morozovsk. The rest will become another of your heroic pockets, the largest ever seen in the world—all the Donets Basin, along with the Kuban and Taman regions are now completely cut off. I sent Rokossovsky there after his defense in front of Moscow, and there he shall likely remain for the duration of his war. Watch what happens at the Kirov Pocket over the next week or two. That is a preview of what will happen to all the rest.”