Read Hitler Moves East, 1941-1943 Online
Authors: Paul Carell
On the western front XXX Corps under Lieutenant-General Fretter-Pico had mounted its attack on llth June according to plan—first with the 72nd Infantry Division under Lieutenant-General Müllard-Gebhard and with Lieutenant- General Sinnhuber's 28th Light Division, and subsequently also with Major-General Sander's 170th Infantry Division. The divisions advanced along both sides of the main road leading from the coast to the town. Everything depended on gaining the commanding high ground of Sapun; these hüls were the key to the southern part of the town, and battles were waged for mountain-tops and ravines. It was a miniature war against well-concealed strongpoints and fortified rock positions—"Northern Nose," "Chapel Mountain," and the Kamary caves were crucial points in the fighting. The men of 72nd Infantry Division will never forget those names.
The Jäger regiments of 28th Light Division fought their way over the steep rocks of the coastal mountains. Fort Balaclava had been taken by a surprise coup by 105th Infantry Regiment as long ago as the autumn of 1941—but even in June 1942 there was still plenty to do for the Jägers. It was a busy time for assault parties led by gallant men—men like Second Lieutenant Koslar, Sergeant Keding, and Sergeant Hindemith. "Tadpole Hill," "Cinnabar I, II, and III," "Rose Hill," and the notorious vineyard were key sectors in the savage fighting.
The reinforced 170th Infantry Division, until recently in reserve and now inserted between the two assault divisions, seized the vital Sapun Hills. The real inspiration of the attack was First Lieutenant Bittlingmeier with the 1st Battalion, 391st Infantry Regiment. In an hour and a half his battalion fought its way up to the ridge of the high ground. There, just as he had reached his target, Bittlingmeier was killed by a bullet, within sight of the town and harbour of Sevastopol.
On 18th June Major Baake with Reconnaissance Detachment 72 captured the "Eagle's Nest."
A macabre assignment was given to 420th Infantry Regiment, temporarily placed under 170th Infantry Division. Its task was to storm the old British cemetery where the dead of the Crimean War were buried. The Soviets had turned the cemetery into a heavy battery emplacement—a gruesome fortress.
On 20th June the reinforced 97th Infantry Regiment, 46th Infantry Division, took the Northern Fort and the notorious Konstantinovskiy Battery on the narrow Severnaya Kosa spit. It thus controlled the entrance to the harbour, and Sevastopol found itself in a German stranglehold. Manstein now held all the fortifications around Sevastopol.
Nevertheless the Soviet High Command sent its 142nd Rifle Brigade into the town during the night of 26th June, by every possible craft they could lay their hands on. The reinforcements got into the fortress just in time to witness its fall.
The
coup de grâce
was administered by 22nd and 24th Infantry Divisions. The 22nd Artillery Regiment fired its 100,- 000th shell. It came down on the far shore of Severnaya Bay.
In the dusty "Wolves' Glen" the regiments assembled for the final assault by moonlight.
On 27th June, shortly after midnight, the companies started crossing the bay in inflatable rubber dinghies and on rubber floats. The enemy spotted the move too late. The "first assault parties had already reached and taken the power station.
Cautiously the battalions advanced to the edge of the town. At daybreak the Stukas came. They blasted a passage for the infantry. The last major anti-tank ditch was negotiated.
The Soviet defence collapsed in panic and chaos. Here and there a commissar, a commander, or a Komsomol member was found fighting to his last breath.
In a barricaded gallery, within the very cliffs of the bay, about 1000 women, children, and troops were sheltering. The commissar in command refused to open the doors. Sappers got ready to blow them in. At that moment the commissar blew up the entire gallery with everybody in it, himself included. A dozen German sappers were killed at the same time.
On 3rd July it was all over. Sevastopol, the strongest fortress in the world, had fallen. Two Soviet Armies had been smashed and 90,000 prisoners taken. On the devastated battlefield, among thousands of dead, were 467 pieces of artillery, 758 mortars, as well as 155 anti-tank and anti-aircraft guns.
The officers commanding the fortress, Admiral Oktyabrskiy and Major-General Petrov, were not found on the battlefield. They had been snatched out of the fortress by speedboat on 30th June.
Manstein's Eleventh Army was now available for the grand plan, for the offensive against Stalingrad and the Caucasus.
Venison and Crimean champagne—An interrupted feast—Major Reichet has disappeared—A disastrous flight—Two mysterious graves—The Russians know the plan for the offensive—The attack is mounted nevertheless—Birth of a tragedy.
THE commissar's villa was furnished in surprisingly good taste. Situated in a small garden of its own on the edge of the city of Kharkov, it was two-storeyed, with a properly constructed cellar. The comrade commissar had done himself proud. But then he had also been a man in a highly responsible job—in charge of the heavy industry of the Kharkov region. Now the villa had been taken over by General of Panzer Troops Stumme and the staff of his XL Panzer Corps.
Stumme was an excellent officer and a man who enjoyed life—short of stature, bursting with energy, and always on the go. He was never without the monocle which he had worn even while still a junior cavalry officer. His high blood- pressure gave his face a permanent flush. His physical and temperamental characteristics had earned him the nickname of "Fireball" among the officers and men of his headquarters. He knew his nickname, of course, but pretended not to, which saved him having to react every time he overheard some one using it.
Stumme was no scholarly General Staff officer, but a practical man with a genuine flair for spotting and grasping tactical opportunities. He was one of the best German tank commanders, clever in planning operations and resolute in executing them. He was a front-line officer, idolized by his soldiers, whose welfare was his constant concern. But he was also respected by his officers, who admired his energy and operational instinct.
His weakness, a pleasant weakness at that, was good food and drink. "War's bad enough—why eat badly as well? No, gentlemen, not me!" was a favourite saying of his. But the choice delicacies which the commander of the headquarters staff got hold of would invariably be shared with guests.
Just such a dinner-party was given by Stumme at his headquarters in the evening of 19th June 1942. The guests included the three divisional commanders of the Corps and the chief of corps artillery—Major-General von Boineburg-Lengs-feld, commanding 23rd Panzer Division, Major-General Breith, commanding 3rd Panzer Division,
Major-General Fremerey, commanding 29th Motorized Infantry Division, and Major-General Angelo Müller, the artillery chief. Also present were Lieutenant-Colonel Franz, the chief of the Corps staff, Lieutenant-Colonel Hesse, the chief of operations, Second Lieutenant Seitz, the orderly officer, and Lieutenant-Colonel Harry Momm, the Corps adjutant and international show-jumper.
It was to be "the condemned man's last meal," as Stumme remarked jokingly. "Only a few more days of leisure, gentlemen—then we're off again. Let's hope we manage to force Stalin to his knees this time."
"Let's hope so," grunted General Breith, the robust Panzer leader from the Palatinate.
Two days previously the three divisional commanders had been informed verbally about the Corps' task during the first phase of "Operation Blue." Verbally only, because under Hitler's very strict security regulations a divisional commander was not allowed to know Corps orders for an offensive until that offensive had actually begun.
"Couldn't we have a few points in writing," one of the commanders had begged. It was against the strict security regulations, but Stumme consented.
"You can't lead a Panzer Corps on too tight a rein," he had said to his chief of staff and chief of operations, and had gone to dictate a brief outline of half a page of typescript: "For the eyes of divisional commanders only." And it had covered only the first phase of "Operation Blue." Lieutenant-Colonel Hesse had arranged for the top-secret document to go to the divisions by particularly reliable couriers.
This, in fact, was the usual practice with many Panzer Corps. After all, how could a divisional commander, in charge of a fast unit, take intelligent advantage of a sudden opportunity to break through if he did not know whether the further advance would aim north, south, or west?
Stumme's Corps had been assigned the task, under the first phase of "Operation Blue," of thrusting across the Oskol as
part of Sixth Army and then wheeling north in order to encircle the enemy. If the division managed to get across the river quickly it was important for the commanders to know the general outlines of the plan, so that they should act correctly without losing time.
Stumme had always found his method of a brief written outline for his divisional commanders satisfactory. In this way he had never lost a chance, and nothing had ever gone wrong— at least not until that 19th June.
Stumme was enjoying his guests' surprise at the delicacies served. The main course was roast venison—a roebuck shot by Lieutenant-Colonel Franz on a reconnaissance outing. For an entrée there was caviare, washed down with Crimean champagne. Both these had been discovered in a Kharkov warehouse by a keen mess officer, and the visitors did not have to be asked twice to help themselves.
Nothing produces a merry atmosphere more quickly than sweet Crimean champagne—a fact confirmed at the Tsar's banqueting-tables in the old days and at many a Soviet festive gathering since. Around Stumme's dinner table, too, there was relaxed gaiety on that 19th June. The officers, who had all gone through the appalling winter, were beginning to see the future more optimistically.
Above all, the general commanding the Corps was full of energy and optimism. Earlier in the afternoon he had spoken to Army, where the mood had likewise been one of optimism. General von Mackensen with his reinforced HI Panzer Corps had just opened a breach in the enemy lines for Sixth Army, in the Volchansk area north of Kharkov and east of the Donets, and thus enabled it to take up excellent starting positions for the great offensive along the Burluk, on the far side of the Donets.
In a bold encircling operation Mackensen with his four mobile and four infantry divisions had smashed greatly superior Soviet forces which had been firmly dug in along the commanding high ground on the Donets. The Corps had seized the high ground and taken 23,000 prisoners. In the impending large-scale offensive General Paulus's Sixth Army would not therefore now have to force a costly crossing of the Donets under enemy fire.
Lieutenant-Colonel Franz was using his knife, fork, dessert spoon, and brandy glass to illustrate Mackensen's interesting operation which had achieved such marked success at exceedingly low cost. His operation was seen as further evidence that the German Armies in the East had regained their old striking-power.
"And now Mackensen is about to repeat the same performance south-east of us, in order to clear the enemy from the ground this side of the Donets and gain for us the Oskol as our starting-line for 'Operation Blue.' Splendid fellow Mackensen—he'll pull it off again, you'll see." Stumme raised his glass. Optimism and cheerfulness reigned unchallenged.
The time was five minutes to ten. No writing appeared on the wall as at Belshazzar's feast, nor did a bomb drop amid the gay revelers. All that happened was that Sergeant Odinga, the operations clerk, came in, bent down over Lieutenant-Colonel Hesse, and whispered something into his ear. The chief of operations rose from his chair and turned to Stumme. "If you'll excuse me, Herr General, I'm urgently wanted on the telephone."
Stumme laughed. "Don't come back with bad news!"
"I should hardly think so, Herr General," Hesse replied. "It's only the duty orderly officer of 23rd Panzer Division."
When they had closed the door behind them and were walking down the stairs to the map-room Sergeant Odinga remarked, "There seems to be quite a flap on at 23rd, Herr Oberstleutnant."
"Oh?"
"Yes—it seems Major Reichel, their chief of operations, has been missing since this afternoon." "What?"
Hesse ran down the remaining stairs to the telephone. "Yes, what's up, Teichgräber?" He listened. Then he said, "No, he certainly isn't here." Hesse glanced at his wrist-watch. "He took off at 1400 hours, you say? But it's 2200 hours now. Tell me—what did he have with him?" Hesse listened intently. "His map-board? What? The file with the typed note too? But, for heaven's sake, that's not a thing to take with you on a reconnaissance flight?"
Hesse was stunned. He dropped the receiver on its rest and ran upstairs to the dining-room. The high spirits evaporated abruptly. They could tell from the chief of operations' expression that something had happened.
Briefly, turning alternately to Stumme and to von Boine-burg-Lengsfeld, Lieutenant-Colonel Hesse reported what had occurred. Major Reichel, the chief of operations of 23rd Panzer Division, a brilliant and reliable officer, had taken off in a Fieseier Storch at 1400 hours, with Lieutenant Dechant as his pilot, to fly to XVII Army Corps Headquarters in order to have another look at the Division's deployment area as outlined in the typed note for the divisional commanders. Reichel must have flown beyond Corps Headquarters to the main fighting-line. He had not yet returned, nor had he landed anywhere within the division's area. He had had with him not only the typed note, but also his map with the Corps' divisions marked on it as well as the objectives of the first phase of "Operation Blue." Stumme had shot up from his chair. Boineburg-Lengsfeld tried to reassure the party: "He could have come down somewhere behind our divisions. There's no need to assume the worst straight away." He was fighting against the thought that was written in all their faces: the Russians have got him, complete with the directive and the objectives of "Operation Blue."
Stumme was living up to his nickname. All divisions along the front were instantly rung up: divisional commanders and regimental commanders were instructed to inquire from forward artillery observers and company commanders whether any incident had been observed at all.
Corps' headquarters was like a beehive. There was a continuous buzzing and ringing of telephones until, barely forty- five minutes later, the 336th Infantry Division came through. A forward artillery observer had seen a Fieseler Storch in the scorching hot afternoon haze, somewhere between 1500 and 1600 hours. The machine had banked and turned in the very low cloud, and finally, just as a heavy summer thunderstorm covered the whole sector, it had landed close to the Russian lines. "Strong assault party to be sent out at once," Stumme commanded.
Lieutenant-Colonel Hesse issued the detailed orders for the reconnaissance. The main interest, of course, was in the two men. If Reichel and his pilot could not be found, then a search must be made for a briefcase and a map-board. If the enemy had got to the spot first the ground must be searched for traces of fire or battle, or anything suggesting destruction of the papers.
In the grey dawn of 20th June the 336th Infantry Division sent out a reinforced company into the rather difficult ground. A second company provided flank cover and put up a show of activity to divert the Russians.
The aircraft was found in a small valley. It was empty. There was no briefcase and no map-board. The instruments had been removed from the dashboard—a favourite Russian practice whenever they captured a German machine. There were no traces of fire which might suggest destruction of the map or papers. Neither were there any traces of blood or any indication of a struggle. The aircraft's fuel-tank had a bullet-hole. The petrol had run out of the tank.
"Search the neighbourhood," the captain ordered. The men moved off in small groups. A moment later came the voice of a sergeant: "Over here!" He pointed to two mounds of earth, some 30 yards from the aircraft—two fresh graves. The company commander was satisfied. He recalled his parties and returned to base.
General Stumme shook his head when he received the report about the two graves. "Since when have the Russians shown such respect to our dead as to bury them? And alongside that aircraft, too!"
"Certainly looks odd to me," remarked Lieutenant-Colonel Franz. "I want to know more about this: it may be some piece of devilry," Stumme decided.
The 336th Infantry Division was ordered to send out a party again, to open up the graves and to find out whether they contained Reichel and Lieutenant Dechant.
The men of 685th Infantry Regiment set out again. With them went Major Reichel's batman, to identify him. The graves were opened. The lad thought he could recognize his major, although the body was in its underclothes and altogether was not a pleasant sight. In the second grave there were no items of uniform either.
Precisely what report XL Panzer Corps—at whose headquarters the entire investigation was concentrated—made to Army about the bodies found in the graves can no longer be reliably established. Certain staff officers do not even remember that any bodies were found at all. The intelligence officer of XL Panzer Corps, who was only a few miles away from the point where the aircraft came down, functioning as a kind of forward post of General Stumme's headquarters, and who was immediately enlisted in the search operation, considers that Major Reichel had vanished without trace. Lieutenant-Colonel Franz, as he then was, on the contrary believes that the bodies were identified beyond any doubt. In spite of such definite views expressed by staff officers of 336th Infantry Division there must remain a good deal of suspicion that the Russians may have staged an elaborate trick to deceive the Germans. Frau Reichel, admittedly, received a letter from Colonel Voelter, the chief of operations of Sixth Army, informing her that her husband had been "buried with full military honours in the German Army cemetery at Kharkov." She was even sent a photograph of the grave; but she did not receive the wedding-ring which her husband invariably wore.