Impasse (The Red Gambit Series) (61 page)

The air battle moved away, leaving Istomin to ponder his
swimming abilities, and wonder about the enemy pilot dangling from the parachute three hundred metres below him.

Spectrum Red was more successful than the planners could have hoped.

The massed Allied fighters, over five hundred in total, consisting of training squadrons, reforming squadrons and just hastily thrown together air units, ripped through the Naval and Air force regiments, greatly assisted by the Soviet orders to press home the attack on a non-existent surface fleet.

Torpedo boats
and submarines enjoyed great success against the little ships of the Baltic fleet, although not without sustaining losses of their own.

The MTBs, secreted in small bays and coves, dashed out to plant their torpedoes in the innards of passing destroyers and minesweepers, sending eight to the bottom in as many h
ours, as Spectrum Red continued. There seemed no end to thet supply of fresh fodder thrown at them by desperate men in the higher echelons of the Baltic Naval command.

USAAF bombers carried out an unhindered attack on the Polish defenders of
the First Army, hammering part of their northern shoreline.

Amazingly, they pulverized a position that General Berling had
ordered evacuated only an hour beforehand, and few Polish casualties were sustained. The Polish AA gunners put up a spirited defence, but failed to hit any of the American aircraft.

A second
US group destroyed an NKVD divisional camp just outside of Kolobrzeg, where the reverse was true. The bodies were too numerous to count and, in any case, those who would have counted them lay amongst the dead.

Yet more USAAF squadrons struck targets across the Northern European coastline, hammering Soviet defensive positions that could oppose a forced landing.

German infantry of the 264th Division launched an attack on Møn and Falster Islands, linking up with small groups of the SAS and SBS, who had been landed by submarines, tasked to wreak havoc on the Soviet air and AA defences.

The advance was halted on both islands, short of Allied expectations, mainly because of fanatical resistance by the 40th Guards Rifle Corps.

The five hundred plus Allied aircraft lost thirty-nine of their number, mainly to other aircraft. They inflicted at least three hundred casualties on the Soviet air forces, as well as sinking numerous vessels of the Baltic Fleet.

The Naval contingent inflicted its own significant losses on the Soviets, claiming another eight enemy aircraft destroyed, along with
fourteen destroyers, eleven minesweepers, and numerous smaller craft.

One old MTB had been sacrificed to subterfuge, carefully beached and wrecked by a small crew
, who ‘fell’ into the hands of Swedish Military Intelligence officers, and were subsequently paraded as aggressors by a Sweden anxious to portray a rigorously enforced neutrality.

Two smaller Soviet vessels had actually been destroyed by the Swedish defences, so the destroyed MTB was
seen as support for the notion that the Swedes did not take sides.

HMS Rye, one of the minesweepers that had accompanied Force V, was caught by three Ilyushin-4 torpedo bombers and sunk, two torpedoes cutting the old ship in half

HMS Sabre, an S Class submarine, failed to return home, and it was subsequently discovered that Soviet bombers had sunk her off the Island of Fehmarn.

As the day turned its back on the sun, the last acts of the tragedy were played out.

Istomin had tied his life raft to that of the German pilot, producing something that supported both their legs, or at least his, and what was left of his enemy’s.

Feinsterman
’s right thigh was a mess. Five bullets had struck home, mangling the flesh, but missing artery and bone by some lucky chance.

Another bullet had shatter
ed his ankle and destroyed the nerve endings, which was why Feinsterman had not felt the fire start to consume his toes.

The cold water continued with its anaesthetising effect
, but the German was still in a lot of pain and moaned constantly.

It had taken Istomin a little while to realise that the enemy pilot had
also broken his arm when he hit the water, and so he took over the duty of passing the man water from his supply.

Extracting a cigarette from his waterproof container, Istomin lit it and slid it between the lips of his recent adversary.

The man’s eyes responded in thanks.

The extreme cold played its part
, and soon the German was dead, leaving Istomin to try and survive.

He pulled the jacket from the corpse, wrung it out as best he could
, and wrapped himself in it to keep the growing wind away from him.

The cold gnawed at him, reducing him to a shadow
,and eventually he fell in unconsciousness.

He did not feel the hands that grabbed hold of him
, and lifted him the short distance into the rowing boat.

The lifeboat, a
cutter, the sole boat launched from the stricken destroyer Gremyashchy, contained the sixteen survivors of the dive-bombing attack that had sunk their ship.

Three men had succumbed to their injuries
, and Istomin was laid on their bodies and covered a tarpaulin as the oarsmen took up the stroke once more.

The commanding officer, an engine room Lieutenant, leant over the side and stabbed the life rafts four times each, releasing the air
, and letting Feinsterman’s body slip below the waters.

To the southwest, HNoMS Utsira had moved to the mouth of the Øresund, ordered to watch for any
Soviet naval penetration northwards, in pursuit of the retiring Force V.

Whilst running silently, her crew celebrated the sinking of the Soviet submarine with a bottle of Pils
each, specially laid up by the Captain for such an occasion.

Even as the First officer and the Navigator clinked their bottles together, a low metallic sound rang through the hull.

Some knew what it was and prayed.

Others knew what it was and drank their beer.

The rest died in ignorance.

L3, or rather one of her mines, claimed the last victim of the day, a day that had destroyed Soviet Naval Aviation in the Baltic, destroyed many Air Force bomber Regiments and, as Vice-Admiral Tributs
candidly said shortly afterwards, left the Baltic Fleet just about capable of policing a children’s swimming pool.

Had it not been for Trieste and the Yugoslavians, Eisenhower and his staff would have been elated.

The USAAF Colonel sat comfortably, sharing a coffee and pastries with the Danish Air Force officer.

“
Well, as you said, Oberst Lauridson. The Germans have done much of our work but, that being said, my birds have some very special requirements. Shall we?”

He wiped his fingers on a napkin and pulled out a large blueprint, unrolling it on the Danish Colonel
’s desk.

“
These are the works that’ll need to be completed before the base is considered ready, but they sure don’t amount to a hill of beans, and won’t take more than a month tops, depending on the weather.”

Quickly considering the sketch work, Lauridson shrugged.

“Sooner, Colonel. Two weeks at the most... depending on the weather”

“
No Sir. Most can be done in two weeks, yes, but not these.”

He pointed out two
pit-like structures to be installed on the south side of the base.

“
These need to be very robust, and are of special construction, Colonel. Four weeks for them. I’ve built some before, so I know what I’m talking about.”

Finishing his coffee, curiosity overcame Lauridson.

“Whereabouts, Colonel.”

The USAAF officer
’s eyes hardened for the briefest of moments before he realised he could speak openly.

“
Somewhere much warmer, Colonel Lauridson. Little place called Tinian. Now, shall we get our engineering people fired up?”

If we lose the war in the air, we lose the war, and we lose it quickly.

Bernard Law Montgomery

It was a bad day.

The orders had gone out to the Air regiments
, and those that were left had risen into the morning sun and, yet again, found no armada, save for one that was airborne.

Casualties were not as heavy as the day before, mainly because fewer aircraft had been available to attack.

Allied heavy bombing attacks along the Baltic coast, all the way to Leningrad, were relatively unopposed, although the claims from the anti-aircraft units were impressive.

The simple fact
was that the enemy fleet could not be found, over a third of Soviet Denmark was lost to ground attack, and that Soviet blood had been spilled at an alarming rate, even for men used to heavy losses in the cause of victory.

The hierarchy of the Red Navy
was in a state of shock, so bad were the figures that had arrived from airfields and naval bases surrounding the Baltic.

The destroyer force simply wasn
’t any more. Those at sea who engaged in the fight had been slaughtered. Those in port had received close attention from Allied heavy bombers, and many would need raising from where they had sunk at their moorings, and most of the rest would need months of repair.

The venerable battleship,
‘Oktyabrskaya Revolyutsiya’, sunk by the Germans in September 1941 and subsequently raised, was sunk permanently by Lancasters operating in daylight with Tallboy bombs, the RAF planners understanding that her significance was more in the hearts of the Soviet people than in her effectiveness in combat.

The cruisers Gorky and Kirov were damaged, the former by a German mine left over from the previous war, the
Captain falling foul of the minefield as he attempted to drive his charge out of Kronstadt.

Kirov had been bombed in place
, and the fires were still raging.

The
Baltic submarine force had taken a beating, but was the nearest thing to a force that could be considered relatively effective.

Almost as if a higher authority conspired to heap woe on woe, the overdue elektroboote B-29 was now considered lost, which, when combined with the sinking of the Golden Quest the previous day, eliminated the Soviet naval presence in the Atlantic.

The Air Force leaders was almost in a daze as reports of whole bomber regiments lost filtered through. Escorting fighters had experienced heavy losses too, and the efforts to restore some sort of reasonable air power in Northern Germany and Poland were consuming them, as they worked hard to pull in replacement units from all over the USSR.

The
arguments flowed back and forth.

“
We cannot attack that which we cannot find!”

A fair statement, particularly when the Soviet air reconnaissance force was a shadow of its former self.

“There have been no landings on any shore.”

‘
Does that mean they are still sailing?’

More than one wondered it
, but Vice-Admiral Tributs assured everyone that the Gulf of Bothnia was enemy free.

Nazarbayeva
’s report had been taken over the phone whilst Stalin enjoyed early morning tea.

It dovetailed with that of the NKVD, increasing the mystery. Both agencies
had now identified a large enemy carrier force in the North Sea, not that Soviet aviation or the navy could now interfere with it. In any case, that snippet of information supplied some answers as to where the huge numbers of Allied fighters had come from. Only one land asset had been identified as possibly being part of an invasion force, a German formation embarked in the southern Norwegian ports.

In short, there was nothing to support the
report from Saltholm regarding a hundred ships.

So, the big question was clear. What was the
possibility of a large invasion fleet, or any large force of ships for that matter, at sea in the Baltic?

The answer to the question
also now seemed clear.

It
did not mean that there definitely wasn’t, but it did raise the spectre that there were was Allied maskirovka at work, and that the whole thing had been a giant trap.

Unusually for Stalin, he had not ordered changes at the top, with the accompanying grave consequences for the former incumbents, although the reason for this might have been that he was distracted by other matters.

The Allied attacks in central Germany were still progressing, albeit slowly, in the face of some stubborn defensive work by 2nd Red Banner.

The Italian Front had been seen as causing greater problems for the Allies and yet, so it seemed, the Capitalists were coping remarkably well. Indeed, the logistic issues seemed to be posing more of a problem for his forces than the enemy.

‘Yugoslavia.’

The possibility of Tito
’s hordes joining the fight would once have excited him but now, in the face of his logistical nightmares, it did little to promote positive thought.

‘
So...’

He listened as the men around him argued more and more, watching more their attitude than taking in what they were saying. It was easier to understand what was
in a man’s heart by watching, rather than listening. Lies were easy enough, as he well knew.

‘
So...’

He rapped his pipe stem on the table, the clacking sound eventually calling everyone to a respectful and silent order.

“So... we have been dealt a defeat.”

He raised his hand to prevent the normal patriotic outpourings from the sycophants, cutting off their protests in an instant.

“We’ve had setbacks before, and we will have them again, Comrades. What is of great importance to me... and to the people... is how we now deal with this.”

He cued Beria in with a simple glance.

“Comrade General Secretary, I have Marshal Konev’s report. He recommends renewing the offensive on all fronts, keeping the pressure on the Allies.”

“
Which we must expect from Konev. He’s a bull... but is it realistic, Comrades?”

Stalin already
understood that it wasn’t, the logistical issues alone preventing it.

Molotov chipped in
knowingly.

“
Surely our logistical problems prevent that from being a possibility, Comrade General Secretary?”

“
Indeed they do, Comrade, but Marshal Konev is thinking too aggressively and, perhaps, not seeing the full picture. We must ensure that our decision is what is right for the Motherland.”

More than one in the room looked at the Leader, faces expressionless, but surprised by the unusually restrained rhetoric
, and the absence of shouting and threats.

Bulganin cut to the chase.

“So what is it that you propose, Comrade General Secretary?”

Stalin paused to relight his pipe, taking in the heavy smoke, his answer already prepared, as was the question he had given to Bulganin before the start of the meeting.

“I propose that we cease our attacks...”

He stopped, not because he wanted to but because the hubbub that sprung up prevented him from being heard.

There had been times, in the German War, when such talk would have earned a trip to Siberia for many, a neck shot for others. To think in such a way had been defeatist and yet, here, now, the General Secretary was making the suggestion himself.

The noise subsided and he continued.

“We can press on, as Konev suggests... and we will win victories because of the valiant efforts of our soldiers but we will waste our resources piecemeal, as we do not have the logistics to back up our men’s efforts properly.”

He placed the pipe on the table.

“Mistakes have been made,” Beria winced, “Our security forces have redoubled their efforts in securing our lines of communication, and the partisan attacks have dropped significantly.”

Novikov, the Chief of the Air Force, knew what was coming next.

“Our Air Force has tried to stem the enemy bomber attacks, but has failed. Not due to lack of effort,” the Air Marshal was no less astounded at Stalin’s conciliatory tone than the rest of the room, except Beria, Molotov and Bulganin, who knew what was to come.

“He stood up slowly and leant forward, taking his weight on his knuckles.

“No, not due to lack of effort, but because we have not given them the tools with which to fight the Fascists!”

He slammed his hand on the heavy wooden table, causing more than one man to jump. None mentioned that it was the Capitalists who were the enemy now. Perhaps he meant the few Germans in the equation?

“Our soldiers have performed courageously, and they have carried most of Germany before them. In a few months of fighting, against the best that the Allies can offer, they sit on the shores of the North Sea, and our Cossacks can water their horses in the Rhine.”

The nods were universal.

“We must accept that we do not have the initiative now, as we must accept that we will only get it back if we here give our soldiers, sailors and airmen the weapons to do the job.”

He stood and leant on his knuckles, a position he adopted only when he had serious points to put over.

“We must redouble our efforts in production, in transportation, in training,” as he stated each point he selected the face of the responsible person, his eyes giving no quarter in their intensity, “In leadership, and in planning.”

He sat down again, so quickly that some missed the move.

“Our men need more of everything... and better of everything... and we shall provide it, and provide it quickly.”

He lit a cigarette.

“We have new and improved types tanks, aircraft, and submarines. They must be of good quality, and we must give them to our troops in numbers.”

Stalin gestured to an NKVD Major stood by the huge double doors.

The man disappeared immediately.

“
Comrades, I have asked someone to attend us, and give his opinion on matters. Despite some recent difficulties, he has rarely failed us, and his opinion will be useful here.”

The door clanged shut and all eyes swivelled to see who it was.

“Reporting as ordered, Comrade General Secretary.”

Georgy Zhukov looked bright and alert.

“Thank you, Comrade Zhukov.”

The Marshal moved forward, placing his notes on the table
, but knowing he would not need them.

“
Comrades, I have been asked to review the present situation, and make military-based suggestions as to how best to continue with the defeat of the Capitalists.”

More than one smiled at the tactful and face-saving statement.

“I see no option but to discontinue the main attacks at this time. Logistically, we cannot support them, neither in Germany, nor in Italy. Our Yugoslavian Allies have finally stirred, but the same situation exists for them, and we simply do not have the assets to keep them supplied too.”

“
We are producing weapons and materiels at excellent rates, but there are serious issues with quality control, issues that Marshal Beria is addressing with vigour.”

Everyone knew what that meant.

“Much of what is produced never gets to our rear echelons, let alone the front line. For example, some types of large calibre artillery shells are in short supply. We produce 120% of the stated requirement each month. In November, 57% arrived with the Army in Europe. Over half went where? Partisans, low standards, accidents, all claimed a portion.”

“
We have trained replacement pilots and shaved time off the programmes, apparently without reducing standards,” he acknowledged Novikov with a small gesture of his head, “And yet the casualties amongst these new airmen is considerably higher than it ever was in the German War. There may be other reasons for that, and I know Marshal Novikov is hard at work to find a solution.”

“
Our Navy has performed miracles in the Atlantic, way beyond what was hoped, and they are to be congratulated. But that is now over, and we will struggle to even maintain our control over the Baltic, unless we give them something more to work with.”

More than one present wondered if they had any sort of control over the Baltic after the previous day
’s events.

“
Our soldiers have performed magnificently, driving back the Capitalists to the Western borders of Germany itself, and sometimes beyond. But they are at the limit of their advance, their capabilities and, in some cases, their endurance.”

He took the plunge, not sure if the guarantees he had been given would hold good
, or whether he was about to become a sacrificial scapegoat on the altar of Stalin’s plans.

“
If we hold now and permit our forces to recover and rearm, build up our resources, gather more intelligence, and plan thoroughly, then our victory is assured.”