The bald Marshal held up his hand, asking for silence.
Chuikov was fit to bust, his face scarlet with the pressure of maintaining his silence.
“It is postponed only, Comrades. Phase Three is an integral part of our operations, but we simply do not have the resources available to conduct offensive operations on the broader front.”
Making direct eye contact with the Commander of 1st Alpine, he tried to make light of the slap in the face for his old warhorse.
“There will be sufficient capitalists left for you, Vassily, honestly.”
The humour was wasted on a man who faced more weeks of inactivity. He rose to protest and was cut off at the knees as Zhukov shouted at him, part in anger and frustration, and part to spare his old warhorse from saying something he might later regret.
“No, do not speak further. It is Comrade Generalissimo Stalin’s personal order. Not for discussion or debate.”
The display of emotion told everyone more about the Moscow meeting. It had obviously gone very badly for the ‘Victory Bringer’.
Arriving in Moscow late on the Monday, the first meeting had gone on long into the night, breaking up in time for him to see the first faint rays of sunlight as he journeyed back to the quarters arranged for his personal use.
Tuesday was spent in the presence of Stalin and the GKO, fielding questions, often tinged with accusation and the allocation of blame, and receiving criticism and orders in equal measure.
Nazarbayeva was excluded, and gave no input during the two days, the GRU’s written report considered sufficient at the time.
Zhukov’s next words completed the picture.
“We are now directed to pursue the Five Point plan, concentrating as much of our resources as possible on breaking through, and permitting the Manoeuvre Groups to operate as outlined. Previous mistakes will be rectified, and will not be repeated. Anyone failing to discharge their orders to the full, will, without exception, be summoned back to Moscow for a full explanation.”
Such explanations tended to end with a bullet in the head.
“So, the Five Point Plan.”
Zhukov reminded each officer present by turning to the situation map on the wall, slapping each location in turn, reciting from memory.
“1st Baltic Front will contain Denmark and nothing more. Seal up the English and leave them to stew. The main thrust of 1st Baltic will be from Hamburg, through Bremen, aiming into the Netherlands, via the North German Plain.”
Marshal Bagramyan understood his task perfectly, and was already holding a written request for more assets to balance his savaged order of battle.
Moving down the map, Zhukov turned, and caught the eyes of Malinovsky.
“1st Red Banner will focus its efforts on Osnabruck, pushing up to the Rhine and securing the southern flank of 1st Baltic. You will also drive south-west and threaten the Ruhr.”
“Our main effort on the Ruhr will come from 2nd Red Banner,” ‘Konev again, why is it always that swine that gets the prime work?’, “The main advance to come through Cologne, and into the southern edge.”
Noting the grin on Konev’s face, Zhukov decided on a word of caution.
“2nd Red Banner is also responsible for mounting the pinning assaults on the Saar, and west of Karlsruhe. Do not forget to give them the necessary support, Comrade Marshal.”
Moving on before his nemesis could protest, Zhukov slapped the map for the final time.
“3rd Red Banner will aim towards Freiburg, and break into Southern France,” he emphasised the next point by stating each word deliberately slowly, “And Swiss neutrality is to be respected without exception.”
“To aid 2nd and 3rd, I have directed the Front Munitions Officers to liaise, with a view to 1st Southern and 1st Alpine supplying some of the needs of the two Red Banner armies.”
Again, Chuikov and Yeremenko protested, having already helped with transfers of some munitions, the feeling of being second-class citizens completed by the ignominy of losing larger quantities of their carefully hoarded supplies.
“There is no choice here, Comrades,” a reference to the directions he had been given during his frosty meeting with the GKO, “It will be done, and it will be done satisfactorily.”
“There is to be no let-up in our pressure, all along the line, our soldiers must stay in close contact with the enemy. All commanders are to funnel their resources into the focussed attacks, using maskirova to conceal movements and intents.”
Sweetening the bitter pill, Zhukov referred to a document recently received from the communications centre.
“I am having copies of this document made. It details additional resources that are being dispatched from STAVKA reserves, to help you in your successful execution of the plan.”
Zhukov employed the ‘execution’ word that Stalin had used when discussing the depleted state of the Red Army and the need for fresh formations to complete the plan. The word had also been used another time that same meeting, but not in the same context.
“Now, Comrades, our air forces have suffered hideous casualties at the hands of the enemy, as you will know, but we have struck back, dealing a heavy blow to the bomber force of the RAF.”
A few men mumbled, the sounds conveying neither satisfaction, nor discontent. Every man there knew more needed to be done.
“STAVKA have released more air assets. Chief Marshal of Aviation Alexander Novikov is here to tell you how they will be employed, and what new tactics he has developed to help wrest back the aerial advantage.”
There were no illusions about the Air War. The night sky belonged to the Allies, the daylight hours seeing a rough parity constantly gained at the expense of large numbers of destroyed aircraft and dead pilots.
Novikov stepped forward and spoke briefly, outlining tactical changes in such a way as a simple soldier could grasp.
By the time he had finished, most in the room felt buoyed by his words, the emphasis on defending supplies and transport routes being welcome, although the pessimists amongst them assumed the extra vigilance in that regard would mean less direct support to forces in the field.
Vice-Admiral Vladimir Tributs, the commander of the Baltic Fleet, replaced the Air Force Commander, detailing the actions of the submarine war, and revealing just how much enemy materiel was not reaching European shores, thanks to the efforts of a few submarines and a lot of luck.
There was no need for Tributs to state that the luck could not last, had not lasted, as the Soviet navy had lost ten submarines in the North Atlantic in just the last six days.
Finally, Zhukov played his trump card, and an intelligence briefing from Colonel Nazarbayeva of the GRU proved informative, the confirmed neutralising of Italy being a high point, revelations of the Spanish commitment, a low.
She withdrew from the room, her task completed.
Without saying so directly, Zhukov had just ensured that his senior officers had their information from reliable sources, not just the sanitised NKVD reports.
Time to move on to other matters now.
“Comrades,” the low chatter ceased as Zhukov brought them all back to matters in hand, “Permission to restore our released prisoners to the Red Army has been denied.”
Most had heard the rumours, but it did not prevent the mutterings from starting once more.
“However,” he practised the statement in his mind quickly, making sure he got it exactly right, “I see no reason why the lazy bastards should sit around doing nothing whilst they wait for transport back to the Rodina and justice.”
‘Perfect.’
“Your transport officers have rightly made them a low priority for return to the Motherland. I would not encourage a change to that, but I do suggest that you all put the traitors to use while they wait their turn. If they can chop down trees, then give them an axe. If they can carry something for the benefit of the Red Army, give them something to carry.”