War Without Garlands: Operation Barbarossa 1941-1942 (61 page)

Leutnant Georg Richter with Artillery Regiment 74, driving through light snow conditions in mid-October, fervently wished the light frost, that periodically hardened the roads, would last longer. But when it did, treacherous slides resulted. One sudden halt resulted in a pile-up involving every single vehicle in the column. Two were totally written off. ‘We spent the night in our vehicles either side of the road and almost froze half to death,’ he commented. Depressing circumstances invariably bred hopeful rumours. ‘A common opinion was that our division would still be relieved before the winter and we would most likely be sent to Africa,’ he mused. Shelter was at such a premium that soldiers were prepared to fight for it. Every time they drove into a village at the end of the day it was ‘always the same old picture’, he complained. ‘Every house completely filled up with soldiers, and all over were staffs and baggage trains.’
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On the road to Kalinin, Unteroffizier Helmut Pabst marched 55km during a frozen period on 12 October between 08.00 hours and 02.00 the following day. ‘We didn’t find any billets,’ he ruefully commented when they finally reached their distant objective. Freezing temperatures forced them inside, and ‘the boys warmed themselves in the overcrowded rooms, determined to get warm even if it meant standing’, as was often the case. The infantry endured wretched conditions. ‘My boots were still so wet this morning,’ Pabst complained, ‘I could only get into them in my bare feet.’
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Their feet, constantly soaked, in temperatures just above freezing, were susceptible to ‘immersion’ or ‘trench foot’. Such chilling interrupted the blood flow to these extremities and could cause tissue damage akin to superficial frostbite. Close-fitting wet clothing and saturated shrunken boots exacerbated the symptom, as also did protracted standing in wet and cold conditions. Damage was often not recognised, and dismissed as aching feet, occurring as it did in conditions above freezing. Not seen since World War 1, ‘trench foot’ and hypothermia (body chill) took a steady toll of the sick, further increasing the vulnerability of under-nourished soldiers to face even harsher conditions to come.

Prevailing dull wet weather with driving sleet and rain, together with the social pressures of a crammed existence in crowded foul-smelling accommodation, produced bad tempers. This, combined with the persistent anxiety of impending combat, frayed nerves and tested leadership. ‘War began to sap the soldiers’ nerves,’ recorded the official history of the 9th Potsdam Infantry Regiment:

‘Many were too tired to take cover or even throw themselves to the ground when the whistle of enemy shells was heard. Sleeping in foxholes remained by necessity perfunctory, as they were always on the look out for some danger.’
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Overcrowding in cold, wet and unsanitary conditions produced colds, influenza, disease and lice. Unteroffizier Pabst, packed into a small baker’s house on the Kalinin road, complained, ‘the nine of us can hardly move.’ The billet was crawling with lice.

‘Our little Viennese was unwise enough to sleep on the stove last night; he’s got them now – and how! Socks which we put there to dry were white with lice eggs. We’ve caught fleas – absolute prize specimens.’
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Lice were the scourge of the Eastern Front, an irritant contributing to ill-health and cumulative psychological depression. Painstakingly picked off the body, they could only be killed with certainty by cracking them between fingernail and thumb after they were gorged with blood. Machine gunner Joachim Kredel with Infantry Regiment 67 embalmed one in hot candle wax on his mess tin, and sent it home in a match box as a souvenir, ‘so that they might at least see one louse!’ he explained.
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At home, the cinemas were showing a noteworthy scoop – the fighting around the old Napoleonic battlefield at Borodino. The implicit parallel was that this event preceded Napoleon’s entry into Moscow in 1812. In 1941 it formed part of the Mozhaisk defence line, the outer ring of concentric barriers protecting the capital city, stretching almost 300km from Kalinin to Kaluga. This line was attacked by the spearhead of Panzergruppe 4: the 2nd SS ‘Das Reich’ and 10th Panzer Divisions. The newsreel portrayed unprecedented realism, narrated by war reporter Hugo Landgraf as he participated in the actual attack. His report ‘on the battlefield at Borodino’ was conducted with an immediacy typical of present-day TV media coverage. It caused quite a stir among cinema audiences.
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‘I am sitting at the radio operator’s post inside a heavy-duty [PzKpfwIV] Panzer and will be filming the attack from here,’ says Landgraf on the film. ‘Against us are heavily armed and well equipped new groups of Soviet reserves just outside Moscow.’ Bucking images taken through the dark surround of the vision slit recreated the uncomfortable cross-terrain ride of a Panzer sweep. ‘You can hear the clack-clack of artillery and machine gun fire on three sides,’ he said. His armoured group trades fire with enemy positions ‘for hours’ in a ‘fierce battle’ illustrated by images of burning houses and hayricks with momentary glimpses of accompanying Panzers jockeying for and shooting from fire positions. ‘Our tank shakes with mortar rounds landing all around us,’ he reports. Eventually resistance is beaten into submission and Landgraf comments, ‘our gun barrels are becoming hot from continuously firing round after round for so long’. The scene changes to night shots of tracer arching away from the tank into an indiscernible gloom. They have managed to advance several kilometres.

‘It snowed overnight,’ Landgraf continues – an ominous statement for cinema audiences concerned at the onset of winter and fearful of the consequences for their menfolk at the front. Accompanying infantry had dug trenches between the Panzers. ‘The battle continues,’ says Landgraf as groups of infantrymen, stooping under the weight of heavy machine guns and ammunition, move by. Many characteristically have cigarette butts or pipes dangling from their mouths. The flat landscape broken up by woods has been totally transformed by a light covering of snow. Panzers and half-tracks starkly silhouetted against the whiteness are engaged in an intense fire-fight. Smoke spurting from squat 50mm tank barrels is accentuated in the freezing air. They have encountered ‘a wall of resistance’ and among fleeting groups of running German infantry ‘our tanks can only inch their way forward’ over a landscape dotted with burning village houses. Luftwaffe dive-bombers are seen to engage enemy artillery positions ahead, but the war reporter dramatically interjects ‘as soon as one battery is defeated another takes its place… Dusk falls again,’ he reports as the metallic concussions of turret machine gun fire ring out. The camera tracks the lines of tracer beyond the vehicles, bursting on indistinguishable targets in the distance.

Daylight revealed, ‘we are standing directly before a wooded area containing one of the main Soviet defence lines’. Up ahead, houses are blazing furiously. ‘The camouflage covering the Soviet bunkers,’ cunningly concealed underneath the wooden houses, ‘has caught fire’. Landgraf next provides commentary to an 88mm Flak gun crew feverishly working and firing their gun in thick falling snow. ‘On the third day,’ he said, ‘anti-aircraft artillery is brought in to assist us in the decisive blow.’ Puffs of smoke indicating air-bursts are seen detonating over the wooded objective. Meanwhile the Flak gun crew are becoming covered in thick wet snow. ‘We manage to break through over a wide front,’ he says. Panzer PzKpfwIIIs and IVs silhouetted against the white background drive past a trio of dead Soviet soldiers sprawled untidily across the snow. The Panzers are shooting the infantry onto the objective as ‘we move in from the flank to attack the middle of the Soviet defence line and break it down in a series of bloody skirmishes’. It is all over. ‘Over there you can see the Bolsheviks coming out of their trenches,’ Landgraf triumphantly announces, ‘we have successfully broken down the enemy defence lines.’

Much was made of this example of realistic war-reporting, which proceeded to show the extent of the defences overcome on this position either side of the Moscow road. A diagrammatic survey shows automatic flamethrowers, zig-zag trenches and wide antitank traps covered by artillery and spiky ‘hedgehog’ tank obstacles constructed from sections of railway track. Heavy concrete bunkers covered by intermediate positions housing heavy weapons and artillery formed the core of the line. The camera lingered over the broken bodies of the Russian defenders. The film was in stark contrast to the clarion special announcements by the Reich Press Chief, Dr Dietrich, and newspaper headlines declaring the war was just short of being decisively won. It was shown in German cinemas at the end of October, coinciding with SS Secret Service observations of ‘a certain public disappointment’ at events. ‘The collapse of the Bolshevik system was anticipated in a few days’ and the public’s interpretation of this was that ‘it was unlikely large scale actions would occur at the front’. Reports such as Landgraf’s demonstrated this was not the case. Confusion turned to cynicism. It was obvious major fighting was still going on.
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This was grimly apparent to soldiers at the front. Leutnant G. Heysing, writing about the same battle at Borodino with Panzergruppe 4, reported the town of Mozhaisk on the strategic Moscow defence line was taken on 18 October, but that ‘autumn rains have set in, depriving German soldiers of the fruits of the victory they have already won’. His assessment was, ‘the German assault is stuck knee-deep in the mire’. The 10th Panzer Division spearheading the advance ‘is spread far apart between forest and swamp, the mud reaching the vehicles in some instances up to the loading area so that supplies cannot get through’. He concluded, ‘try as we may, we cannot go on.’
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Both the 10th Panzer and the 2nd SS Division ‘Das Reich’ in support suffered heavy losses during the Borodino fighting. The ‘Der Führer’ Infantry Regiment was down to 35 men per company, compared to a normal complement of 176 soldiers. They were over-stretched. ‘Every objective given the regiment was reached,’ declared its official historian, ‘even if it required unspeakable effort.’ The regiment’s first battalion and motorcycle battalion had fought the Soviet 82nd Motorised Rifle Division for possession of Schelkowka, an important crossroads on the advance.

‘The 18- to 20-year-olds had repulsed two Soviet battalions in close combat with spades, hand-grenades and bayonets. Many of the young SS men were killed, and all were bare-foot in their boots in 15° below freezing.’
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Expectations had been high that the
Sondermeldungen
trumpeting the victories at Vyazma and Bryansk heralded the end of Russian resistance. This was the great illusion. Cynicism now began to set in. Unlike the previous Borodino battle, the gates of Moscow did not swing open, nor had an armistice been offered. General Günther Blumentritt described the bitter realisation:

‘And now, when Moscow itself was almost in sight, the mood both of commanders and troops changed. With amazement and disappointment we discovered in late October and early November that the beaten Russians seemed quite unaware that as a military force they had almost ceased to exist. During these weeks enemy resistance stiffened and the fighting became more bitter with each day that passed.’
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At the end of October only a small part of the Reich’s population believed the war in the east would end that year. Observers commenting on recent reports of progress and fighting against stubborn and bloody Soviet resistance had ‘clearly led to an intensification of public scepticism over the propaganda of the preceding few weeks’. By early November ‘there were signs of impatience that clarion announcements of successes were not forthcoming’. Continued reports of bitter Soviet opposition led to frustration. The interpretation of the public mood read: ‘one simply cannot understand why the German troops do not suddenly swiftly advance after destroying 260 of the best-equipped Russian divisions.’ This feeling had changed to ‘resignation’ by the middle of November. ‘The conviction that a decisive outcome to the war is unlikely to occur this year is becoming even more pronounced,’ read another secret SS report.
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A similar view was emerging at the front.

‘One began to hear sarcastic references to the military leaders far away in Germany,’ commented Blumentritt. ‘The troops felt that it was high time our political leaders came and had a look at the front.’
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Unease permeated the motivation sustaining fighting power at the front, especially among the infantry. Harald Henry’s infantry regiment in Ninth Army marched at night, when the mud temporarily froze over. Between 17.45 hours and 02.00 the following morning ‘we were outside in a snowstorm, apart from a short break,’ he said.

‘My things were gradually saturated as the water soaked through my greatcoat to my body, which was frozen stiff. Everything was dripping and the weather was freezing. My stomach and bowels were in a state and cold temperatures dropped off the scale – and the lice! The frost penetrated the weeping sores on my fingers.’

Henry’s company was ordered to sweep a wood. The snow, over knee-deep, soon filled his boots with a slushy mess. As they painstakingly clambered across frozen marshland they occasionally broke through the ice, immersing their feet in freezing water.

‘My gloves were so wet I could not bear the ache [
of his infected hands
] any longer. I could have wept with pain as I bound my useless hand with a handkerchief. My contorted face was streaked with tears, but I was in a trance-like state. I plodded forward, babbling incoherently, feeling I was asleep and reliving a nightmare. All the others were in the same state. There was shooting and one threw oneself into the snow, formed a half-circle, made ready and waited for orders. It was a cycle of non-ending misery.’