Authors: Harrison Salisbury
THE GERMANS HAD SELECTED THE TILSIT-RIGA HIGHWAY as one of the main avenues of their thrust toward Leningrad. The highway crossed the Soviet-German border at a town called Taurage on the Ura River.
Taurage held a central position in the shield which was being created by Colonel General F. I. Kuznetsov’s Special Baltic Military Command as a protection against any thrust toward Leningrad across the Baltic states. This command, set up after the absorption of the Baltic states into the Soviet Union in the summer of 1940, was supposed to hold back an attack hundreds of miles to the west of Leningrad.
Despite its obvious importance, Taurage was garrisoned on the evening of June 21 only by special police border troops rather than by regular Red Army units. Some time during the evening a border patrol intercepted a letter which said the Germans planned to attack either Saturday night or Sunday morning. At about 2
A.M.
June 22 Lieutenant Colonel Golovkin of the border force ordered his men to battle stations. They could plainly hear the noise of heavy machines, obviously tanks, across the river. It was a cool night and quiet except for the clank of heavy equipment on the German side where no lights were showing.
At 4
A.M.
came a roar like thunder. A shell smashed into the command post at Taurage, and a second knocked out the switchboard. Over a field telephone came a cry from a border sentry: “Osoka calling. Osoka calling. Germans have crossed the frontier. This is Osoka. It’s war. I see tanks/Many tanks.”
The border guards blew up the bridge across the Ura but did not have the strength to offer much opposition. In the commandant’s office they were busy burning secret papers and getting the money out of the office safe. At about 2
P.M.
the frontier guards managed to make their way to Skaudvile, about seven miles east of Taurage. Low-flying Nazi planes strafed them, and they fired back with pistols and machine guns. They had no antiaircraft weapons.
Not until 4
P.M.
did they get their first communication from the regular Red Army Command. It was a message from 125th Division headquarters, ordering them to set up roadblocks, to liquidate the Nazi “intruders,” to hold up disorganized units and soldiers and halt the spread of panic. The description of the Germans as “intruders” suggested that even twelve hours after the war had started the 125th Division commander was not sure Russia really was at war.
The border guards did their best with the “intruders,” but “it wasn’t easy,” one survivor recalled.
The weight of the Nazi attack was so heavy that it simply crushed many Soviet units in its path. This was the fate of the 125th Division. It was attacked by three German armored divisions of the 4th Nazi Panzers and three infantry divisions. It fell apart. Within hours it had no tanks, hardly any antiaircraft guns, little transport and was running out of hand grenades. Helplessly, it staggered back to the rear.
The 125th Division was part of the Soviet Eleventh Army, which was commanded by Lieutenant General Vasily I. Morozov, a handsome, quiet, self-controlled, mustached officer of great experience. He had an able staff, headed by Major General Ivan T. Shlemin and Ivan V. Zuyev, a political commissar who had served in Spain.
The Soviet Eleventh Army was one of three which made up the Baltic Military Command of Colonel General F. I. Kuznetsov. Kuznetsov was a very senior Red Army officer, but he had never seen active combat. His Chief of Staff was Lieutenant General P. S. Klenov and his Military Commissar was P. A. Dibrov.
The Germans possessed a superiority over Kuznetsov of about three to one in infantry and two to one in artillery. In armor the two forces were roughly equal.
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However, the figures were deceptive. Kuznetsov had dispersed his troops widely through the whole Baltic area. Many units were 100 to 300 miles to the rear. Only seven divisions were in the frontier region, and most of them had only one regiment in line, the rest being in barracks and camps, 25 or 30 miles away. This reflected the general situation on the Western Front, where of a total of 170 Soviet divisions facing the Germans only
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were in the first echelon on June 22.
Not only were troops badly positioned (Stalin specifically had refused requests by Kuznetsov to concentrate his forces on the frontiers), but the fortified regions on the new state borders were far from complete—only 50 percent by one estimate. Many heavy forts were not due to be ready until 1942 or even 1943. A visitor on the eve of June 22 was shocked to find Baltic frontier works which supposedly had been finished but had no weapons in place except for a few gun positions fitted out for “show” to inspectors sent out from Moscow.
Kuznetsov’s frontier commanders were excellently informed as to German forces concentrated across the border from their lines. Often they knew not only the numbers but the designations of the units and names of German commanders. But they could not obtain orders to position their troops properly to meet an attack.
Nor did Colonel General Kuznetsov have any detailed plan of action in event of German attack. It was no accident that the very suggestion to set up plans to defend his Riga General Headquarters struck him as unthinkable. Like most commanders in the field, as well as the Supreme Command in Moscow, he was dominated by Stalin’s official doctrine that “war will be fought on alien territory with a minimum of bloodshed.” This thesis had been preached for years both in the military academies and in the Communist Party. The Soviet Army, the Soviet Government and the Soviet people had become accustomed to thinking that if war came their armies would strike quickly to the west and carry the attack to the enemy. Comparatively little attention had been given to defense tactics or to problems which might be encountered as a result of Nazi blitzkrieg tactics.
Thus Colonel General Kuznetsov was by no means ready militarily or psychologically for the crisis which arose. Many—possibly half—of his officers were on leave. More than half the border units were understrength and had only a fraction of the arms and equipment called for by the table of organization.
Almost all Kuznetsov’s tanks were old models—1,045 out of a total of 1,150. And 75 percent of these needed repairs. Three-quarters of his planes were five or more years old and almost unserviceable. Many guns had no mechanized transport, and most of them were not powerful enough to match the German artillery or German tanks. In the 12th Mechanized Corps 16 percent of the tanks were out of service, being repaired. In the 3rd Corps the percentage was 45. An authoritative estimate placed only five of the thirty divisions which saw service on the Northwest Front as fully equipped. The remainder were 15 to 30 percent below level in personnel and equipment.
The new fortified system was not complete; the old installations in the Pskov-Ostrov area had been dismantled; the new airfields had not yet been finished and many old ones were being reconstructed. There was a shortage of shells, ammunition and spare parts. This situation prevailed throughout the Soviet Army.
When Marshal A. I. Yeremenko took command of the 3rd Mechanized Corps, he found it had only 50 percent of its authorized tanks, mostly old T-26’s. He had hardly any new T-34’s, which became the work horses of World War II, and only two new KV 60-ton tanks, which were superior to anything the Germans possessed. The 7th Mechanized Corps, constituted on July i, had 40 of its rated 120 KV tanks and none of the rated 420 T-34’s. The Western Front entered the war with 60 percent of its allotted rifles, 75 percent of its mortars, 80 percent of its A A guns, 75 percent of its artillery,
56.5
percent of its tanks and 55 percent of its trucks. The ratios in Kuznetsov’s Special Baltic District were about the same.
General Kuznetsov had available for the protection of Leningrad’s approaches two principal armies—the Eighth, commanded by Major General P. P. Sobennikov, and the Eleventh, commanded by Lieutenant General V. I. Morozov, and the understrength Twenty-seventh Army, commanded by Major General A. Ye. Berzarin. The Twenty-seventh Army was located east and north of the Dvina. The Eighth Army defended the coastal sector which was attacked by the Eighteenth German Army. The Eleventh Soviet Army was just to the south, where it met the brunt of assault by the German Sixteenth Army. The heaviest blow of the 4th German Panzers struck at the hinge of the Eighth and Eleventh Soviet armies.
The German intelligence estimated Kuznetsov’s forces at 28 divisions, including 2 armored, 2 cavalry and 6 mechanized.
3
Because of the indecisiveness of Colonel General Kuznetsov and his reluctance to give precise instructions there was a vast variation in the state of preparedness of his subordinate commands on the eve of the war.
Lieutenant General Morozov of the Eleventh Army had been convinced that war was coming and coming very soon. Acting on his own initiative, Morozov ordered a number of precautionary steps for his Eleventh Army, only to bring down Moscow’s wrath. A special investigating commission appeared at his headquarters at Kaunas to inquire into chargés that he and his political aide, Commissar Zuyev, were exaggerating the war threat and creating dangerous tensions.
Morozov was compelled to soft-pedal his preparations, but after the Tass communiqué of June 13 he took the risk of resuming them because activity by the Germans was so open and so obvious—daily overflights by Nazi reconnaissance planes, the arrival of more German units on the frontier, the drone of Nazi motor transport, day and night, audible at his forward positions.
Finally, on June 18 Colonel General Kuznetsov issued Order No. 1, which instructed his forces to move to a higher degree of preparedness. Morozov summoned his Military Council and directed the 16th Rifle Corps, comprising the 188th, 5th and 33 rd Rifle Divisions, to occupy their forward positions. He gave similar orders to the 128th Infantry Division. The four divisions were instructed to leave only a single regiment each in the Kasly-Rudy area, about thirty miles east of the frontier, where most of them had been engaged in summer training exercises since early June.
However, the orders came so tardily that at the moment of the Nazi attack the bulk of Morozov’s troops were still in the training areas. For instance, his 188th Division met the attack with only four rifle battalions and one artillery unit on the line—all the rest were still in the Kasly-Rudy camps.
Simultaneously, Morozov moved his command post from his headquarters in the heart of Kaunas, an ancient Baltic city of round stone towers and crenelated walls, to Fort No. 6. This fort had been built before World War I at the bend in the Neman River between Zhalyakalnis and Pyatrashu-nai, just east of the old city. It was of sturdy construction, designed to withstand heavy bombardment by the World War I Big Berthas. There were reinforced-concrete bunkers, underground shelters and walls protected by thirty to forty feet of brick-and-earthen barriers. Morozov felt it should be secure against any dive-bombing attack by the Nazis.
Fort No. 6 was one of two built by the czarist regime before 1914 to protect Kaunas. The other, Fort No. 9, was located about five miles out of Kaunas in the Zhamaitsk highway leading to the Baltic coast. Fort No. 9 was even more powerfully built than Fort No. 6, possessing very deep bastions, concrete pillboxes and heavy gun positions.
Despite the excellence of their construction both forts had fallen almost immediately in World War I. In fact, Fort No. 9 surrendered without ever firing a shot.
In the intervening years Fort No. 9 had been turned into a high-security prison by the Lithuanian Government, and it was used for the same purpose by the Soviets when they took over Lithuania in the summer of 1940.
Both forts were soon to acquire sinister names. Fort No. 9 became, under the Nazis, the chief death camp in the Baltic region, a rival of Auschwitz and Dachau. Here an estimated 80,000 Lithuanians, Jews, Russians, Poles, French and Belgians were to die in the gas ovens. Fort No. 6 was utilized by the Nazis as Prisoner of War Camp No. 336. Some 35,000 Soviet military passed through its heavy steel gates. Only a handful emerged. A prison “hospital” was set up at Fort No. 6. In eleven months, from September, 1941, to July, 1942, 36,473 Soviet prisoners were admitted. Of that number 13,936 died. At the end of the war 67 mass graves were found in the vicinity of Fort No. 6, in one of which, according to German records, some 7,708 individuals had been buried.
These horrors lay in the future. For the moment, it seemed on June 18 a wise precaution to General Morozov to move his headquarters to this more secure place—secure not only from Nazi air attack but from sudden assault from the population. Neither Morozov nor his staff were under illusions as to the reliability of Kaunas in event of German attack. Manifestations by the Lithuanian nationalists occurred almost daily. Sometimes it was just an old woman, caught sewing on a Lithuanian flag. Other times it was a shot in the dark that took the life of a Soviet officer.
Major V. P. Agafonov, a communications officer, was occupied all day June 19 installing his equipment in Fort No. 6.
Late that evening Lieutenant Colonel Aleksei A. Soshalsky, chief of intelligence, told Agafonov he was concerned about German preparations for attack. Word was circulating that the date had been fixed for Sunday, June 22. Agafonov reminded him that there had been earlier rumors of June 15, but Soshalsky was not reassured. He pointed out that only that day had they found the communications lines of the 188th Division cut.
Agafonov was worried about the safety of his two children. But he was fearful that if he tried to send them to the rear he would be branded a “panicmonger.” He knew, too, that General Morozov had just sent his own daughter to a summer camp almost on the frontier.