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It was to get worse. From 23 July the Ist Battalion ‘Grossdeutsch-land’ Regiment fought defensive battles near Yelnya and Smolensk along the Kruglowka railway embankment. For five days the unit was attacked by masses of Russian infantry desperate to flee the pocket. ‘GD’ grenadiers were generally paired to each foxhole. The official historian relates how ‘many spent the day next to a dead comrade. No one could help the wounded while it was still daylight.’ At night the dead were laid out behind a shack wall to the rear of the position.

‘They had all died from head or chest wounds. That meant all were standing in their holes and firing at the enemy when they were hit. In so doing they had to expose their upper torsos or at least their heads. They knew the likely consequence of this. Can a man do more, or be stronger?’

At night they heard calls, shouts and the clatter of vehicles as the enemy manoeuvred in preparation for fresh assaults. During the fourth night of the defence the battalion was informed it could not be relieved. They had to hold on for longer, because infantry units earmarked to relieve them were needed elsewhere.

‘Now what were we going to do? Several Grenadiers overheard the message. Their reaction was “Man, that’s totally impossible.” The tension mounted. It spread through the position like poison. Several men wept, others immediately fell asleep. Most sat still in their holes. Our eyes were red from the heat, smoke and lack of sleep.’

The relief delay resulted in a number of Russian penetrations during the heavy fighting that continued in all company sectors. Russians shared holes with dead grenadiers in trenches often only 20m away from the surviving German outposts. Eventually during the night of 26/27 July, after five days of uninterrupted fighting, the remnants of the battalion were withdrawn behind a German machine gun battalion that set up a new line 1,000m behind them. One company, the second, lost 16 dead and 24 wounded. Elements from three Russian divisions had been attacking in their sector. Despite this temporary reprieve the regiment was kept in the line a further 23 days.

On 5 August 1941 Generalfeldmarschall von Bock announced the conclusion of the battle at the Dnieper, Dvina and Smolensk. The trapped Russian divisions were destroyed. Booty, he announced, included 309,110 prisoners, 3,205 captured or destroyed tanks, 3,000 guns and 341 aircraft, and the count was still going on.(22) The announcement was of scant interest to the remaining soldiers of the ‘Grossdeutschland’, finally pulled out of the line for a much needed, albeit brief, rest.

‘We lay in the meadow dozing in sunshine and relishing every breath… Within eight days we would be in a hole again in combat and perhaps in 14 days already dead. But nobody was crippled by such thoughts. Instead we lived life more consciously, also more simply. We just lived. In contrast, in peacetime one merely passed the days.’(23)

For the German infantry, these weeks and days were becoming increasingly short.

‘Do not cry’…

Soviet defeat in the West

‘A terrible misfortune has befallen this country,’ announced Ina Konstantinova to her diary in mid-July. ‘The Germans are already so near… They are bombing Leningrad and Mozhaisk. They are advancing toward Moscow.’ A sense of foreboding was now beginning to erode the initial popular emotion and outraged patriotism that had accompanied the invasion. ‘How troubled our life has become!’ wrote Konstantinova. Aircraft were constantly taking-off from the nearby Kashin airfield north-east of Moscow. Military detachments of tanks and anti-aircraft guns were observed moving through the streets. Things were different. ‘Even the atmosphere has changed somehow,’ she lamented. ‘What does the future hold in store for us?’(1) Her concern was echoed by Soviet staff officer Ivan Krylov:

‘Smolensk! Smolensk in danger. The way to Moscow, the great highway followed by the army of Napoleon, was once again the invasion artery. But it was only 10 July, hardly three weeks from the beginning of hostilities. I began to think that the fighting abilities of our forces must be lower than… imagined.’(2)

Russian units were retreating in front of an apparently inexorable German advance. Common to any examination of Soviet military staff documents covering this early period is recognition of the stultifying impact of Luftwaffe air attacks, a dearth of knowledge of the actual limit of German advances and confusion following on from a total breakdown of communications with alarming reports of appalling losses. Commander Fourth Army reported to the commander of the Western Front as early as 30 June that:

‘All my resources are exhausted. I ordered to hold to the last, but there is no certainty that the line will be held.’

As his XXXXVIIth Rifle Corps attempted to withdraw to the River Ola, the general declared 10 hours later:

‘The only means of fighting is the medium tank detachment. Manpower has lost its meaning on the given route. We have no means of support at our disposal… It is necessary to cover the Mogilev, Bobruisk Highway using front forces, since there are no units at all on this direction.’(3)

In by far the worst situation were hapless Soviet units cut off in ever-shrinking pockets. Kesselschlacht – the German term for pocket fighting – was apt. A Kessel (cauldron) was quite literally boiled until life within was extinguished. It was a methodical, slow operation causing terrible casualties to both sides. Tank soldier Alexander Golikow wrote to his wife, while he was engaged in fighting around Rowno against German Army Group North units:

‘Dear Tonetschka!

I don’t know whether you will be able to read these lines, but I do know, for certain, this will be my last letter to you. A bitter and deadly battle is being fought at this very moment. Our tank has been knocked out and all around us are the Fascists. We have tried to beat off their attacks the whole day. The road to Ostrov is covered with bodies in green uniforms… Two of us – Pawel Abramow and I, remain. You will know him, I have written about him. We do not expect to be rescued. We are soldiers and have no fear of dying for our homeland.’(4)

Once the initial Panzer screen was thrown around an intended pocket, Soviet units would march and counter-march within, attempting to get out. Lack of intelligence and nothing to brief to soldiers made this phase seem particularly aimless to those trapped inside. J. Jewtuchewitsch’s unit was moved from Leningrad to engage the German Army Group North advance in July.

‘They put us on lorries and propelled us in a completely different direction… We have been moving for a few days now from place to place. Sometimes we look for the battalion, they on occasion us… During one such move we covered a 94km stretch.’

Uncertainty was all-pervasive. Jewtuchewitsch remembered driving through the streets of Leningrad with civilians dolefully following their passage, ‘uncertainty in all eyes, unease about us and we also about ourselves’.(5) Major Jurij Krymov serving on the Soviet West Front confessed similar reservations to his wife. ‘It is now 19 days since I have heard anything from you or the others’. Newspapers were unavailable, only radio. He had no idea how his wife was living in Moscow and was not optimistic. ‘Due to the war and the need for women to work (because here there seem to be a lot) I am beginning to be concerned for your welfare,’ he wrote. Conditions inside cut-off pockets quickly deteriorated. Alexander Golikow continued the letter to his wife: