“Waghäusel… two hundred and twenty thousand artillery shells in one raid.”
The Polish Marshal waited whilst Konev read the report of the huge explosion at Waghäusel, one that had also claimed nearly a thousand lives.
“Outside Leingarten… here we got lucky and shot down two of the bastards! Not before we lost eighty artillery and thirty-two anti-tank guns.”
He ruffled the paperwork noisily.
“Here… and here… and here… the same story day in, day out. They turn up, our anti-aircraft gunners fire what they have, which is sometimes enough to kill one or two of them, and then the enemy destroys our forces with impunity.”
Konev stared angrily.
“Your headquarters has been sent all this information, Comrade Marshal.”
Rokossovsky calmed down in an instant.
“My losses behind the lines have probably exceeded by combat losses by twenty to one these last few months.”
Konev took his cue from the calmer voice and reduced his aggressive tone.
“What have you done to reduce the impact of their temporary superiority, Comrade Marshal?”
The Pole could not help but smile at the word ‘temporary’.
“Ammunition has been taken from trains and reduced to much smaller loads, loads suitable for carrying by animal, or on soldier’s backs. That’s reduced munition losses to minimal levels, but it’s hard on both men and animals.”
Konev nodded.
“Losses in heavy equipment have been reduced, although not without cost in my fuel reserve, as we move large portions off transport, shifting them mainly by night when the enemy’s less effective with ground attack work.”
Konev’s mind started to think about the other forces under his command.
‘Is this scenario repeated through all my units?’
Silently, the Red Army commander sifted through the remaining papers, seeing the tragedy of 3rd Red Banner Front repeated time and time again.
As ever, in these last few months, the main problem was an absence of air cover for his units and logistics.
He handed back the sheaf of papers without further comment.
An uncomfortable silence descended on the room, Konev distracted by thoughts, the others aware that he could explode at any moment.
Trubnikov gestured at a staff captain, who immediately went to work with an incredibly large and ornate silver samovar, producing tea for all the senior officers.
Rokossovsky proferred one to Konev, which broke him from his reverie, bringing him back to his professional self in an instant.
“Comrade Marshal, I appreciate your difficulties, and I’ll do what I can. Now… show me your offensive planning for when this freeze is over.”
Taking responsibility on himself, Rokossovsky used the situation map to detail his planned offensive.
Konev’s face became thunderously dark again.
“Is that it? Is that fucking it? You have a huge war machine at your disposal and you offer me that as an offensive?”
Rokossovsky sighed the sigh of a man about to repeat himself.
“Comrade Marshal Konev, it’s true I’ve a huge force but it’s crippled by the weather… by lack of food… by low munitions,” he counted each point off on his fingers, “restricted fuel… by the absence of air cover… a hostile population…”
Konev’s mouth hung open slightly.
“As a result, the men are demoralised and have low morale. Unless I can have reinforcements, resupply, time to rest my men… and an assurance of air support for daylight combat at least, then I can see little to be gained by launching 3rd Red Banner into a pointless assault that’ll undoubtedly fail.”
“Comrade Marshal, I think you should think this through very carefully, or you may be summoned to Moscow to account for this traitorous inactivity!”
Petrovich came to attention.
“Comrade Marshal Konev, with respect, sir, Comrade Marshal Rokossovsky is correct and acting in the best interests of the Rodina.”
Konev almost turned blue.
“Acting in the best interests of the Rodina? Since when is it in the best interests of the Rodina to disobey fucking orders, Comrade General!”
Trubnikov took a step forward, and Konev’s hand automatically went to his holster.
“Comrade Marshal Konev, it is clearly in the best interests of the Rodina not to sacrifice one of her finest armies in a pointless gesture, based on dated ideas and combat against a different enemy. Better we should keep that army intact and await the time when our glorious scientists and academicians can bring forth equipment suitable for the sons and daughters of Mother Russia to use their superior skill and national fervour to win the day.”
Both Rokossovsky and Petrovich stared at their comrade, his diatribe being about four times longer than either of them had ever heard him speak before.
Plus, it was undoubtedly a load of political bollocks.
None the less, Konev, the words burning through his anger, could see the logic, although he doubted the occupants of the Kremlin would do so in a month of Sundays.
Part of him wanted to replace the entire frontal staff and stick the Polish bastard up against the wall, but he stayed his hand, or more correctly, his thoughts caused him concern and he knew he had questions to ask elsewhere first.
After the normal pep talk and encouragement to do more, Konev and his following swept off on the next leg of their tour of frontal headquarters, where he asked the questions raised by his meeting with 3rd Red Banner.
By Monday 4th March, Konev had his answer, and it was worse than the reports of the previous months had suggested, or he feared, following his conversation with Rokossovsky. On paper, he controlled the largest field force ever committed by his country. But, in reality, the army was a shadow of its former self, from the 1st Baltic to 1st Alpine, its capabilities worn down by air strikes and the severe winter, by hunger and low morale, all set against a backdrop of a shortage of pretty much everything from helmets to howitzers.
A major spring offensive, such as envisioned by Moscow, could only end in disaster.
Zhukov, appraised by telephone, could only agree.
Behind the Allied lines, units manoeuvred, rested, trained, or stood watch in the front lines, as planners moved their pieces around the board of war.
An increase in temperature, accompanied by brighter weather, offered the Allied Armies maximum advantage, as their ground forces went about their business with relative impunity, whilst the Red Army did what it could under a perpetual umbrella of airborne hostility.
None the less, the Soviet supply units performed heroics, often at great cost, whilst the engineers did all they could to maintain the infrastructure. Much of their work was destroyed within minutes of its erection, but some often remained long enough for something to get through.
In the Motherland, the factories and training camps churned out battle-ready weapons and trained men in impressive numbers.
Spring was coming, and with it would come combat on a scale not yet seen, and when the great devourer, the machine called War, would be insatiable.
Chapter 135 – THE PREPARATIONS
Success depends upon previous preparation, and without such preparation there is sure to be failure.
Hodges and Eisenhower were enjoying a coffee together in relaxed circumstances.
Elsewhere in the building, staff officers were working constantly to put meat on the bones of their orders, and to jockey the Allied Armies into position for when, given the right circumstances, the order would be given and the advance begin.