“We’ve had the Luftwaffe up for a very good look. They have identified at least seven divisions still operating with the 62nd army, and a few ad hoc brigades. In the south, 64th Army has at least five good divisions still on the line, and they are largely unfought. They continue to hold onto Beketova, Yelshanka, and all of Sarpinskiy island, and that is all the more reason for you to push aggressively, General Hörnlein. Get to the river and that entire army is cut off and out of the picture. We can deal with it later.”
“Twelve full divisions, and a few brigades you say.” Hörnlein nodded. “Then it will be very close to the ratio you suggested a moment ago—three to one in their favor. Let us hope our soldiers as every bit as capable as we believe they are.”
“They are very weak on armor,” said Steiner, somewhat irritated. “Don’t forget that. Our tanks will grind them into the rubble.”
“Of that I have little doubt,” said Hörnlein. “It’s what might be under that rubble that concerns me—in the cellars. I cannot take my tanks into the sewers. That’s work for infantry. So let us hope that Manstein moves as expeditiously as you suggest. We will need that infantry, and sooner than we may think.”
What Steiner did not know was the real strength and composition of the forces waiting for him in Volgograd. He had assumed that these divisions would be every bit as fragile as those he had just destroyed, but in fact, their ranks were swelled by all the remnants and stragglers that made their way back to the city. Instead of trying to reconstitute those lost divisions, the remains of 45th, 95th and 112th Rifle Divisions were simply folded into the ranks of Chuikov’s remaining formations to bring them up to strength.
Nor did Steiner know the character and caliber of the men he would be facing. The long grinding fight to get where he was, partly by his own will, and partly because he had been chased out of his HQ in Surovinko, should have given him a measure of Hörnlein’s caution, but he still seemed heedless. The Samara Rifles had stood a long watch over the bend in the Volga against Volkov’s many attempts to secure that place. Now, with action on that front subsiding, it had come by rail to take up a defensive position west of Rynok and Spartanovka, and it was going to be very tough that day. On its right, the crack 2nd Volga Rifles were now taking up positions, and on their left the stalwart 10th NKVD Brigade was moving up, making the defense of that vital sector as secure as any place in Chuikov’s front.
Chuikov had only just arrived at his new headquarters, a secure chamber inside the Red October Factory. His wild dark hair was disheveled, and his cheeks sagged with the signs of the strain of these recent weeks, but his eyes were still bright and active beneath his gnarled forehead and those heavy brows. He was wondering what had become of Shumilov, for he had not phoned in to report the location of his new headquarters since their previous conversation. Then, to his great surprise, in walked Shumilov with a single staffer at his side. A heavy set man, built like a russet potato, Shumilov pulled off the wool cap that kept the snow from his balding head.
“Cold night,” he said simply. “But everyone moved as planned. I thought I would come find you directly, as we must make a difficult decision concerning Beketova.”
“Come in,” said Chuikov with a smile. “Warm yourself. The staff is just getting things set up again.” He gestured to a chair by an old worn table lit by a single oil lamp. “As to Beketova, it has been on my mind as well. Did you leave two divisions there?”
“Just one, the 1st Siberian.” That was the old 29th Rifle Division, raised from veterans of the fighting near Omsk by Karpov’s Siberians. He had sent it east some time ago, and Zhukov posted it here as the 29th Division. But being one of the first Siberian divisions to arrive, the Soviets had taken to calling it the 1st Siberian.
“They are good men,” said Shumilov, “and I could leave them there as you wish, but I question the benefit to our defense here. By holding onto Beketova, it forces me to extend my lines well south. Now it looks like the Germans brought up that other SS Division that withdrew over the Don at Nizhne Chirskaya and Tormosin. It is already probing at Yelshanka and Kupersnoye. If they push through, everything to the south will be cut off.”
“But what about Sarpinskiy Island?” said Chuikov. That was the key, for the main ferry at Beketova offered an easy crossing point to the big marshy island south of Volgograd. The Soviets had been holding it for years, and still had troops amounting to two divisions there as a garrison.
“What about it?” said Shumilov. “Do you think Volkov wants it? He hasn’t tried our positions there for over a year. If you want my opinion, and you do, I think we should fall back to Yelshanka. Then I can take the 1st Siberians out of Beketova, and the 185th out of Kupersnoye, and those troops would make a good strong reserve for the real fight here at Volgograd. On Sarpinskiy Island, we can hold on to the ferry sites across from the 25th of October Lumber Trust. That area is well fortified, and with it, we still hold the trunk of the island. As for the elephant, I cannot see any purpose in holding it. We certainly can’t retreat there, and the ground is too bad for Volkov to drag his artillery over. If he wants it, let him come.”
“Yet that is a lot of territory to yield without a fight.”
“Just fat on the steak,” said Shumilov. “We waste three divisions trying to hold it with Beketova, and having those troops in Volgograd gives us much more depth and resilience there. All the Germans will do is turn Beketova over to Volkov’s troops, and then, after we beat the Germans, we can run Volkov out of the place any time we choose.”
Chuikov ran a hand through that dark mane of hair, the lion’s mane as his staffers called it. “Alright,” he said leaning over the map. “Pull the 1st Siberian out. Send the headquarters and all the artillery by the coast road and rail line through Kupersnoye. Anything left can take the ferry by river and land at the Lumber Trust. When that movement is complete, then fold back the 185th Division to hold Yelshanka. The troops we have in eastern Sarpinskiy can go by the coast road through Peschanyy to the inner fortified zone near the river. There is already fighting outside Yelshanka. Let us hope this redeployment can finish before we lose it.”
“I will see to it personally. My new headquarters will be in the sawmills of the Lumber Trust. If not there, then the Cannery building. This move will pay us good dividends,” he smiled. “And the Germans will do the paying.”
“Do one thing more,” said Chuikov. “After we have pulled out the last of the rafts and gunboats, open the taps on the oil tank farm near Beketova. Let it flow right into the river, and then set it all aflame. That will stop any enemy movement on the river for some time, and cover your withdrawal.”
Shumilov smiled. “There will be fire on the Volga tonight,” he said, and with a stiff salute, he strode off to see to his business. Later when he saw that river burning, he passed a moment thinking of this brief reprieve, when the fires of war were held at bay by the fires of nature. Yet the longer he watched the red sky over the water, the deeper came the feeling of isolation and quiet fear, like a man who had set his own house on fire to save it from brigands and buglers suddenly realizing he was still trapped inside.
Part VIII
Red October
“We will not surrender our native city, our native home, our native land. We will fill every street in the city with impassable barricades. We will make every house, every block, every street into an impregnable fortress!”