Eight charges exploded in short order.
HMT Sequoia and her crew became just a memory.
Forty men, plus one boy.
Colonels Ferovan and Atalin had been extremely busy, and their reports had enabled Malinin to supply the answers to Zhukov’s direct questions.
“So, am I to believe that both of these considerable losses are as a result of coincidence and nothing more?”
The responsible Front Commanders had already supplied their own reports, but it was all so close to his briefing regarding the importance of their supplies that the reports were challenged and his own officers sent out into the field to check.
“Yes, Comrade Marshal.”
Zhukov slid one of a stack of folders out of the pile and opened it.
“Start with Ingolstadt then, Comrade.”
Ingolstadt had been the main deposit of supplies for the assault armies in Western Bavaria. From the initial reports, ‘had’ was apparently an excellent description.
“Comrade Marshal, the report you received has been confirmed. Colonel Atalin has inspected a number of bodies, two of which had blood group tattoos on their left arms, in accordance with the SS practice.”
“Atalin’s report details firm evidence of a considerable fire fight on the western edge of supply area, where the immediate guard force was wiped out to a man.”
A grunt from Zhukov was all the recognition that the outnumbered guard force would get at this time.
“Reaction elements of the guarding infantry regiment acted swiftly, and prevented the partisans causing excessive damage.
The word ‘excessive’ drew a look from the Commander in Chief.
The CoS shrugged.
“Comrade Marshal, it could have been so much worse.”
“Continue Mikhail”, the olive branch offered up quickly.
“The arrival of another force, a motorized company of NKVD troops, forced the German saboteurs to call of their attack.”
Turning the page, Malinin continued.
“The NKVD force acted in exemplary fashion, restricting the movement of the partisans, and it seems they are responsible for most of the casualties that were inflicted upon them.”
The initial report had detailed twenty-seven enemy dead and three prisoners.
Malinin moved quickly into that area.
“Atalin confirms the numbers, and that GRU and NKVD interrogators are hard at work.”
That statement carried a lot of meaning and needed no amplification.
“It would appear that the fires started by the partisans were responsible for attracting the attention of enemy aircraft.”
Turning the page again, Malinin waited for his commander to follow suit, checking the original report against the Colonel’s independent version.
“From the timings that Colonel Atalin has recorded during his interviews with survivors, the air attacks first started at 2342hrs, when there was still fighting on the ground. Further attacks come in, building in intensity. Atalin deduces, correctly in my view, that enemy controllers became more organised and brought more aircraft in, encouraged by the secondary explosions on the ground.”
Another grunt, not one of acknowledgement, but one of annoyance, did not discourage Malinin from continuing.
“It would appear that over two hundred Allied aircraft attacked the site.”
Bending forward to closely study an item not so well printed, he struggled to make out the name.
“Mayor Stryabin? Skryabin? Shryabin? Whoever he is, he is the NKVD commander on the ground, and he reported the final air attack ending at 0459hrs. This differs from Pod-Polkovnik Zhuvashikin of the security regiment, who reports the final attack fully one hour earlier. Atalin suspects this discrepancy may have come about because of explosions on the ground.”
He looked up at Zhukov.
“In any case, Atalin states that he highlights this as it is the only discrepancy he has discovered between his and the Front report we were given.”
A loud resigned exhalation indicated Zhukov’s opinion.
“So Comrade, do the losses marry up?”
Turning to the final page, Zhukov waited.
The Colonels report made its way over, and he placed them side by side.
“Really?”
“He was relying on figures given him by supply officers, but they had the benefit of some extra time to do their checks.”
The losses were markedly less than those first feared, but still reflected nearly a third of the ammunition, and a quarter of other consumables.
With one exception.
“122mm shells again? Are the Allies psychic?”
Just under forty-six percent of the stock of 122mm shells had been damaged or destroyed.
“This will have an effect, Comrade Marshal, but it is not as bad as we feared, and my preliminary planning had already looked at reducing expenditures, so I believe we may be able to cope with this loss.”
There was a silence, both men thinking along the same lines.
‘Provided there are no more disasters!’
“Let us leave Ingolstadt for now. Your report will be ready when?”
Malinin thought swiftly.
“One hour from when we finish up here, Comrade Marshal.”
“Excellent. Now, Lauenbruck.”
“A different tale, Comrade Marshal.”
Both men selected their reports, Zhukov again with the front Commanders submission alongside to identify any differences.
“A force of enemy soldiers, identified as Canadian troops, attacked the airfield and supply depot. We have a count of twenty-eight enemy dead and captured.”
Flicking over the page, Malinin sneezed.
Zhukov watched in amusement as the Chief of Staff gathered himself for the traditional repeat.
It came, shaking Malinin to the core.
“Gesundheit,” the German saying slipping badly from Zhukov’s tongue.
“NKVD Polkovnik Cyrichov, the security force commander, reports his belief that the whole group of raiders was destroyed in the attempt. Ferovan is less forthright in his opinion, but does say that NKVD security forces have found no further trace of the partisans movements post-raid.”
“Then we will leave it at that. Losses in equipment and munitions. Any discrepancies?”
There was none of note, the hastily prepared version tallying almost exactly with Colonel Ferovan’s submission.
Losses in men, equipment and munitions were almost mirrored, the sole difference being in an extra two firefighters dead, both having succumbed to their injuries, one less Yakolev-9 fighter destroyed, and an additional four thousand hand grenades unusable, declared unstable by a senior munitions officer.
“The losses in engineer equipment are high, Mikhail. The Armenian already wails and asks for replacements.”
That was something that needed no discussion. There were none to be had at the moment, despite the promises and protestations of those back in the Motherland.
“Ferovan makes an observation on the pre-disposition of Front Supply Officers for stockpiling. The reasons are sound normally, but the advantage of concentrating our supplies was, on this occasion lost. The secondary detonation of munitions on the ground seems to have caused more damage than the enemy attack itself. Even though some allied aircraft arrived, they spent more time and effort attacking the destroyed airfield and burning wrecks than the supply facility.”
Zhukov wondered when a Commander might consider the loss of an elite fighter regiment and its crews an advantage to the loss of supposedly replaceable supplies.
‘I will take that exchange every time until the damn problem is sorted.’
The thought did not make him uncaring; it just meant he was a General, with a General’s problems.