William Craig - Enemy at the Gates

Astonished that Hitler had never given Paulus a chance to escape, Manstein dispatched a fateful order to 6th Panzer Division at the Mishkova River: “The division will be taken out of the bridgehead tonight. Trail guards will be left behind….”

The order spread gloom among the staff officers of the 6th Panzer Division, but they had to agree with its logic. It had become clear that “it would be impossible to break through to Stalingrad without the assistance of added troops which were not available….”

One-hundred-fifty miles northwest of Gumrak, the steppe lay under two feet of snow. The sun, reflecting off its frozen wavy crust, cast a shimmering haze. Across the bleak landscape wound a black column of prisoners, the Italian survivors of Kalmikov, Meshkov, and the Don River approaches. They shuffled painfully, haltingly through the subzero wilderness.

When patrolling Russian guards shouted, “ Davai bistre!” (“Hurry up!”), the prisoners tried to walk a little faster. But their pace was still slow, and the men groaned constantly as the biting cold froze fingers and toes.

Felice Brazzi walked in the middle of this ragged line. He staggered on, like an automaton, one foot in front of the other, again and again. Almost unconscious from the cold, he barely heard the hoarse commands of the guards and the grim croaking of black ravens that circled overhead. One sound always brought Bracci out of his reverie: single rifle shots, which cracked loudly in the clear air as guards shot men who stumbled out of the column to seek rest. For two days, Bracci had listened to this symphony of murder. And on the trail from Kalmikov, both sides of the path were now marked by two irregular patterns of corpses. Bracci had figured out that the Italians were marching north toward the Don, because evidence of harsh fighting was everywhere. Pieces of uniforms, cases of unused bullets, submachine guns, 210-millimeter artillery, arms, legs, the wreckage of his Eighth Army littered the steppe.

Another heavy snow began to fall and it slashed the faces of the bearded soldiers and froze on their eyebrows and chins. His head tucked in like a turtle, Bracci walked on toward a village sitting precariously on the crest of a hill. He hoped the Russians would stop there to feed their captives, none of whom had eaten in at least forty-eight hours.

At dusk the Russians did halt the column, and Bracci crawled into a stable to find a place to sleep. Across the room several Italians smashed their countrymen aside in order to lie in a feeding trough filled with fresh hay.

Other remnants of the Italian Army were trying to escape through a valley near the town of Abrusovka thirty miles to the west. But on the surrounding slopes, Russian gunners had installed the awesome Katusha rockets, which whooshed thousands of rounds of high explosives into the writhing gray masses on the valley floor.

A small German detachment trapped at one end of the culde- sac managed somehow to commandeer several trucks and enough fuel to make a run through the gauntlet. A few Italian soldiers attempted to jump on the running boards, but the Germans shot them. Other Italians who clung desperately to door handles had their fingers smashed by rifle butts. Having driven their allies back, the frantic Germans pulled away and disappeared in a southerly direction.

Dr. Cristoforo Capone had been running for several days. When he came to the valley, he saw mobs of Italians rushing back and forth at the bottom of the deep gorge. Behind Capone, a Russian tank fired into the crowd, and an officer beside him suddenly gurgled as a rifle bullet went through his neck.

Capone broke away but had no place to hide as machine guns and artillery raked the valley floor. Soldiers toppled, blew into fragments, or stood resignedly, awaiting the impact of a bullet. Some officers and men raised their hands in surrender. Others refused. A surgeon Capone recognized, screamed: “They’re going to kill all of us!” and ran at a Russian machine gun that cut him to pieces. For a fleeting moment, Capone thought of doing the same thing, but to his right, another group of Italians suddenly put up their hands. He joined them, and while he watched the enemy approach, several officers in the line changed their minds, pulled out pistols and shot themselves.

Another tense conversation had started between Erich von Manstein and Friedrich von Paulus on the impersonal keys of the teleprinters:

23 Dec 42, 1740 hrs. to 1820 hrs.

Good evening, Paulus—Last night you submitted for the Supreme Command of the Army a report on available fuel that would permit a 20-km advance. Zeitzler requests that you check up on that again. I personally would like to say this: It appears that the enemy [south of the Kessel ] has constantly received reinforcements so that Hoth is forced to take defensive measures. Moreover, the situation on the left flank of the Army Group [the Italian front] makes it necessary to withdraw forces from Hoth…. You will be able to draw your own conclusions as to how this will affect you. I would ask you therefore to examine whether, if there should be no other possibility, you are prepared for Thunderclap, [complete withdrawal of the Kessel ] provided it is possible to bring in a limited supply of fuel and provisions during the next few days. If you don’t want to give me an answer right away, let’s have another conversation at 2100 hrs. I must point out to you too, that an adequate supply of the Army is a very difficult problem, in particular in view of the development of the situation on the left flank of the Army Group. Please reply.

Paulus quickly pointed out the awful danger of his position:

+++ [Thunderclap] has become difficult, since for several days the enemy has dug in opposite our southwest and south front and, according to radio information, six armored brigades are drawn up behind this defensive front. I estimate we now need a preparatory period of six days for Thunderclap….

From here, of course, I can’t tell whether there’s the slightest chance of the Army being relieved in the fairly near future, or whether we shall have to try Thunderclap. If the latter—the sooner the better. But it must be clearly realized that it will be a very difficult operation, unless Hoth manages to tie down really strong enemy forces outside. Am I to take it that I am now authorized to initiate Operation Thunderclap? Once it’s launched, there’ll be no turning back.

Over.

The climax had been reached. Paulus was asking Manstein to give the code word that would send Sixth Army on its way to freedom—or oblivion. Acutely aware that Adolf Hitler had not actually granted permission to leave the Kessel, Paulus now placed his own career and the lives of thousands of his men directly into Erich von Manstein’s hands. He was begging Manstein to relieve him of the onus of such a decision.

But Manstein brushed aside the plea. Unwilling to take responsibility for initiating Operation Thunderclap against Hitler’s express orders, he gave an indirect answer:

+++ I can’t give you full authority today. But I hope to get permission tomorrow. The main point is—are you confident that Sixth Army could fight its way out [to the south] and through to Hoth…if we come to the conclusion that adequate supplies over a long period could not be gotten to you? What do you think? Over.

[Paulus replied:] +++ In that case, I’d have no option but to try. Question—is the envisaged withdrawal of forces from Kirchner’s area [the 6th Panzer Division at the Mishkova bridgehead south of the Kessel] going to take place? Over.

[Manstein:] +++ Yes—today. How much fuel and supplies would you require before launching Thunderclap and on the assumption that once the action began, further supplies to meet day-to-day requirements would reach you? Over.