Hitler’s plan for Moscow, code-named Operation Typhoon, had been outlined in a Führer Directive of 6 September. Eight hundred thousand troops and three panzer armies, comprising over a thousand tanks, were to make two great pincer movements to the city’s south and west, encircling the Soviet armies defending its approaches. Launched on the 30th, Typhoon met its first objectives extraordinarily quickly. The small city of Orel, about two-thirds of the way along the main road from Kiev, is said to have been abandoned so fast that the German tank crews found themselves overtaking peacefully trundling trams. (‘Why didn’t you file anything about the heroic defence of Orel?’ Vasili Grossman’s editor angrily asked him on his return from a foray to the front. ‘Because there was no defence’, Grossman replied.) Five days into the offensive a Soviet reconnaissance plane spotted a twelve-mile armoured column approaching the town of Yukhnov, 120 miles north of Orel and only 80 miles from the capital. The news was so incredible that the air officer who reported it was threatened with arrest for ‘provocation’, and only believed once two more planes had confirmed the sighting.
On 6 October Stalin summoned Zhukov from Leningrad and put him in charge of Moscow’s defence. Again, Zhukov found the army in a state of collapse: communications had broken down and ad hoc units were being formed from stragglers who had managed to escape being ‘caught in the sack’ of small-scale German encirclements. Of the 800,000 troops that had held the Central Front six weeks earlier, only 90,000 still stood between the Wehrmacht and the capital. Four days later, while conscripts laboured to dig a new ring of trenches around the Moscow suburbs, Hitler’s press chief invited Berlin’s press corps to the Ministry of Propaganda to hear a statement from the Führer. The remnants of the Red Army, it declared, were now trapped. Victory in the East was assured. The next morning’s newspapers carried the headlines ‘The Great Hour Has Struck!’ and ‘Campaign in the East Decided!’
In Moscow, where the crump of artillery could now be heard even from Red Square, it was decided to evacuate the government. The Praesidium of the Supreme Soviet, the defence commissariat and the Allied embassies all left on special trains for Kuibyshev (now Samara, on the Volga) on the 15th.[2] The following day, the ashes of a million hastily burned files twirling above the pavements, the city descended into anarchy. Police vanished; bosses fled in commandeered lorries loaded with rubber-plants and gramophones; workers looted and lynched. The director of a dairy, spotted trying to leave, was dragged out of his car and thrown head-first into a vat of sour cream. Order was only restored five days later. The whole inglorious episode became known as the ‘big drap’, a sardonic play on drap’s double meaning of ‘medal ribbon’ or ‘skedaddle’.{25}
With Moscow teetering on the brink, Leningrad’s abandonment seemed likelier than ever. A measure of how poorly its chances were now rated was senior generals’ reluctance to take charge of its defence. On Zhukov’s departure the command initially went to his deputy, Ivan Fedyuninsky, but he immediately began lobbying for it to be passed to Mikhail Khozin, who, he pointed out, had seniority, and under whom he had served in the past.{26} Khozin demurred, arguing that he could not leave the 54th Army, which he had just taken over from the loathed and incompetent Kulik. Zhdanov then tried to recruit Marshal Nikolai Voronov, a respected artilleryman and a native Leningrader, but he too turned the post down, arguing that he already had his hands full as deputy Commissar for Defence. After a fortnight of pass-the-parcel, Moscow intervened, and on 26 October the command was finally forced on Khozin, Fedyuninsky taking over the 54th Army.
For the rest of the year, Leningrad’s role was to produce as much weaponry as possible, while continuing to evacuate defence plant and workers by barge across Lake Ladoga. (The despatch of the six thousand staff of the Izhorsk Works tank shop, together with their families, was ordered on 2 October, and that of the Kirov Works, with 11,614 workers, a fortnight later.{27}) The ubiquitous slogan of the time—‘Everything for the Front!’—should more correctly have been ‘Everything for Moscow!’, for the bulk of Leningrad’s depleted production went not to its own beleaguered defenders, but out of the siege ring to the Central Front. Stocks of coal and peat, which could later have saved homes from freezing, were used to power production of shells and mines, and transport capacity that could have been used to import food was given over to powder and explosives, which went into munitions that were immediately re-exported to the capital.
At the same time Stalin ordered Zhdanov to try to lift the siege. ‘You must quickly break through via Mga to the east’, he telegraphed the Smolniy on 13 October. ‘You know yourselves that there are no other routes. Soon your food supplies and other resources will run out. Hurry, or we are afraid that it will be too late.’{28} Two days later Voronov flew into Leningrad to oversee the offensive and to set new, impossibly high production targets. At their first meeting Zhdanov pleaded for more munitions. In response Voronov demanded that Leningrad increase its own production of shells to a fantastical million a month. ‘A million a month—that’s madness!’ Zhdanov exploded. ‘It’s a bluff! It’s ignorant! You simply don’t understand how munitions production works!’{29} Three days later Stalin demanded to know if his new offensive had been launched yet:
We sent you a directive ordering an immediate advance, so as to unite the Lenfront and the 54th Army. We’ve had no reply. What’s going on? Why don’t you answer? Is the directive understood, and when do you think the advance will begin? We demand a quick answer in two words. ‘Yes’ will signify an affirmative, and rapid fulfilment of the directive; ‘No’, the negative.{30}
On 23 October, the planned attack having been pre-empted by a German one threatening Tikhvin, a vital railhead for evacuation across Lake Ladoga, Stalin tore into the Leningraders yet again, in a message read out on the telephone by Marshal Vasilyevsky, deputy chief of general staff. This time Stalin explicitly admitted that Leningrad might have to be surrendered, emphasising the importance of extracting the encircled armies and Moscow’s inability to come to Leningrad’s aid:
Judging by your indolence one can only conclude that you still haven’t realised the critical situation in which the Lenfront troops find themselves. If in the course of the next few days you don’t break through the [German] front and reconnect yourselves with the rear by restoring solid contact with the 54th Army, all your troops will fall into captivity. Reconnection is necessary not only for supplying the Lenfront troops, but especially so as to create an exit for the Lenfront troops to the east, in case necessity compels the surrender of Leningrad. Bear in mind that Moscow finds herself in a critical situation, and that she is in no condition to help you with new forces… We demand quick, decisive action from you. Concentrate eight or ten divisions and break through to the east. It’s necessary either way, whether Leningrad holds on or is given up. For us the army is more important.{31}
Vasilyevsky reinforced the message personally in a call to Fedyuninsky’s 54th Army on the same day. Unarmed reinforcements were being sent from Vologda, but beyond that the army had to rely on itself: ‘Please bear in mind that in the present situation discussion is not so much about saving Leningrad, as about rescuing the Lenfront army.’{32}
2
The British mission took a week to get there, thanks to frequent stops to let pass troop trains going the other way. Having omitted to supply themselves with food, its members had to bargain at farmhouses for provisions, and on arrival were put up, ‘most uncomfortably’, in a school.