“Do you realize the pressure I am under?” said Hitler, unable to let Manstein’s transgressions pass in spite of the urgency of the hour. “When you take such sweeping actions without consultation or consent from higher authority, you compromise positions the Army has taken two long years to obtain! It was only your rank as Commanding officer of this Armeegruppe that stopped me from removing you the instant I read this letter!” Hitler threw the long teleprint that Manstein had sent earlier down on the table, his eyes like coal, a pained expression on his face. It was as if he had come to redress a personal insult, an offense directed at him more than what it was meant to be, Manstein’s insistence that he should command his Armeegruppe, and not Hitler.
“I overlooked that business with 4th Army earlier,” said Hitler, “but General Heinrici paid the price, did he not? Thank God Model stood his ground, and perhaps I should consider him for higher level command.” Hitler gave Manstein a narrow-eyed look, the implied threat being that he could easily appoint Model in his place. “I need men of iron will, and with backbone in situations like this, not officers who insist that the only solution to every crisis is a withdrawal.”
The General shrugged, then simply pointed at the letter on the table. “That was my warning shot,” he said, quite boldly. “I will not have my nerve, nor my competence in the field, questioned here, not by OKW, and not by you either, my Führer. If Heinrici had obeyed your orders to the letter as you might have wished, he would not be idling on the North Front waiting for Operation Downfall. Instead he would be encircled, along with most of 4th Army, somewhere on the Oskol River, which is now over 100 kilometers behind enemy lines. And without his troops, the center of Armeegruppe South would have collapsed. The enemy would already be in Kharkov now, and possibly half way to the Dnieper!”
Now it was Manstein who raised his voice, and Speidel, standing at his side with his hands clasped behind his back, stood frozen like a statue, amazed that his C.O. could address Hitler in that manner. Hitler had his head turned away, eyes averted, a twitch in his cheek and at the edge of his left eye. Then he turned, the well of his dark eyes so deep that it seemed endless. He regarded the General with an unflinching stare that expressed the full power of his considerable will. It was as if he wished to break Manstein with that stare, crush him, and the silence stretched between the two men like a steel cord pulled to the point of snapping.
Such a moment was often the dreadful calm before the storm, the darkening of the clouds as they towered up and up, building to an outpouring of utter rage. Yet not this time.
Manstein could feel the awful pressure of the Führer’s expression, his dissatisfaction, disappointment and more, his disdain. It was an unspoken reprimand carried entirely in the venom of those eyes. Yet behind that stern gaze there was something more, an emptiness, a yearning, an unfed infant in its crib, bawling in the night. The Field Marshall knew that if Hitler spoke next, his words could only lead him one place—into a tirade of blame, recrimination, and anger. Before the Führer could launch himself into that rage, Manstein pressed his offensive, staying objective, cool, unmoved by the emotion of the moment.
He had to impress upon the Führer the real gravity of the situation. He had to see what Manstein himself had finally come to see and believe himself, that somewhere in the long, frozen winter of early 1943, the Soviet army had changed, and dramatically so. The bear that came out of hibernation this year was bigger, meaner, fatter, and yet as hungry as ever.
“We have before us a crisis that makes the matter of Heinrici and 4th Army pale by comparison. Paulus is maneuvering to shore up his line—maneuvering —which is how a competent Army commander must fight in situations like this. Yet he has no Panzer divisions assigned to his Army, and his prospects for launching any counterattack aimed at restoring the front are very dim. In fact, there are only three divisions that could be sent—17th Panzer and 29th Motorized in Kirchner’s 57th Panzerkorps, and the 18th Panzer Division still in the Caucasus. If Kirchner must go, then I can say with equal certainty, that we will not be able to hold the line of the lower Donets either. The enemy has already seized Andreyevka and Balakleya, and will likely secure the vital crossing at Izyum as well. In this instance, the threat to Paulus will be redoubled, because if we cannot hold here, then his defense further east, no matter how competent and dogged, will be for naught. Now… All that said, I have a solution to the crisis, and yes, it will take iron will to redress this situation, but not in the manner you may think.”
Whether Hitler followed all that Manstein had said, or truly grasped the military situation he had been trying to explain, could not be known. Yet he heard one word in Manstein’s discourse, the carrot at the end of the stick—solution. That was what the Führer wanted, why he had really come all this way to see his Field Marshal. In every crisis, no matter how severe, there had been but one man who had truly prevailed, and that was Manstein. As stubborn as he was, Hitler could feel his own grip on the reins of this war slowly slipping from his grasp, and he wanted to redress that at any cost.
“Solution?” Hitler eyed him with misgiving. “What is it you propose this time?”
“I hesitate to even offer it, as you are so averse to yielding ground to the enemy, but in this instance, I can see no other way. Paulus must restore his front on the line of the Donets. That river will present the enemy with a formidable barrier, and in doing so, his left flank will again be in contact with that of General Hollidt’s forces defending the crossings at Izyum and Krasny Liman.”
“Can this line then be held?”
“Yes. I am certain that we can prevail, but we must act quickly. Since the Italian 8th Army has been withdrawn to Italy, we no longer have to worry about upsetting Mussolini, and I can see no economic or political benefit in holding the Don basin. Paulus presently has the crossing at Belaya Kalivta available, but if he is cut off, then his situation gets very serious. He would have to cross at Tormosin, and this could expose Rostov, as he would have to move his troops south of the Don to then reach that city.”
Hitler studied the map, taking the time to master his own emotions in the situation. “If you can assure me that the Donets line can be held, then I will agree to such a proposal.”
For a moment, Manstein was thrown off balance. He had expected a litany of reasons why the Don basin must be held, and did not think Hitler would acquiesce so easily to this request. He turned to Speidel, giving him a quiet nod of his head, and seeing that he had made somewhat of a breakthrough of his own, he decided to press his luck.
“Excellent,” he said. “It’s clear you appreciate the situation correctly. In that light, I will now ask you to consider our present position in the Caucasus. This move by Paulus will make it prudent to tighten our line this way…” He pointed at the map. The Hungarians are presently here at Kotelnikovo, and I recommend that they move to Zimovinki. They are not opposed by Soviet troops, as that area south of the Don is Volkov’s territory. However, the moves we now make do several things. In addition to consolidating our position, the Soviets will undoubtedly move to occupy the Don basin. When they do so, the river then becomes a border zone between their forces and those of Ivan Volkov, and they will have to garrison that line—the entire line of the Don, from Volgograd to our position.”
“Agreed,” said Hitler. He had, himself, come to see the Don Basin as a liability, and so this minor adjustment was nothing that concerned him. But he perceived there was something more behind Manstein’s request, and he soon flushed that bird out of the scrub.