When the Germans marched in, the city had 245,000 inhabitants. Three years later only 40,000 remained and the town was 80% destroyed. A strict curfew was imposed from the start, as also were measures against supporting ‘political commissars’, the ‘Red Army’ and ‘saboteurs’. Romanowskij described how life in the occupied city took on a totally different hue.
‘There were SS and police patrols day and night with sudden house searches. People were arrested on the slightest pretext, disappearing into Gestapo cellars and then whisked off to be shot. An atmosphere of constant fear reigned in the city.’(17)
The Jewish Minsk ghetto was established in a district to the west of the city on 19 July, encapsulating the area where most Jews had been living at the time of the invasion. Two days before, the Germans had driven into the settlement of Kirowski, south-west of Mogilev on the Smolensk road. ‘It was very interesting for us children,’ remarked Georgia Terenkerwa – 10 years old at the time – who saw ‘sparkling helmets and the uniform shoulder straps’ and ‘officers in their open saloon cars’. Within two hours the initial wave of soldiers had passed through. ‘At midday they came again.’ These newly arrived soldiers were of a totally different type.
‘We had six children in the family. There was a hollow disbelief in the village as they began to shoot people. Nobody took it on board to flee. Everyone was surprised. I remember it all precisely. I was in front of the school as the Fascists started killing our neighbours. Shortly before it began, I had even seen in front of our house – it was about 100m away – my mother was standing gossiping with our neighbour’s wife. Then the soldiers came, forced their way into the house and then I heard the shots. I do not know how it was I managed to survive.’(18)
Surprise at the stunning extent of early German advances was universal. Panzer vanguards entered Russian towns while trams still ran. German motorised units were even cheered by civilians as they drove through, mistakenly believed to be their own troops. Wera Kulagina visited Vitebsk, which was occupied by Panzergruppe 3 on 9 July, coming from a neighbouring village accompanied by her elder sister. ‘As we arrived,’ she said, we ‘noticed the mood in the town was a lot more oppressive and uneasy than that before in the village.’ They looked around. ‘The town was blazing and the streets empty of people.’ The reason soon became apparent. ‘Only the Germans moved about undisturbed and freely through the town, like conquerors.’ Fear was all-pervasive. ‘We felt something was not right here.’ As the bridge across the River Dvina had been blown up, Wera Kulagina’s sister would not be able to go back to work. They quickly retraced their steps to the village. The inhabitants were totally oblivious to what had been going on nearby.
‘When we got back to the village and reached my mother, the Germans had yet to pass through. She did not believe us. As we told her we had already seen the Germans on the Dvina she would not take it in. She could not comprehend that the town was occupied.’(19)
Stalin began to emerge from the apparent initial paralysis imposed by the shock of the attack on his country and populace. He addressed the nation by radio on 3 July. His listeners found the speech to be extraordinary. Stalin spoke in an entirely unprecedented tone and manner, precisely encapsulating the atmosphere and emotional appeal needed to explain this crisis. One civilian, Boris Preobazhensky, recalled its dramatic impact long after the war.
‘The first thing we heard was the clinking of a glass against the jug, and then water was poured into the glass. You could hear it so clearly. The water poured out. Stalin took a gulp and then he began to speak: “Comrades, citizens, brothers and sisters,” those first few words brought us so close to him, as though it were our own father speaking.’(20)
This paternal appeal struck a sentimental chord with the Soviet people, unused to being addressed in such a manner by their leader. Stalin, while understating territorial losses, admitted the gravity of the situation, declaring: ‘a serious threat hangs over our country’. Advantage had been lost to the Germans because the Non-Aggression Pact had been ‘perfidiously violated’. The enemy was ‘cruel and merciless’, Stalin claimed, but there could ‘be for whimperers and cowards’. State production would be put on a war footing. ‘The Red Army and Navy and the whole Soviet people must fight for every inch of Soviet soil, fight to the last drop of blood for our towns and villages.’
The famous ‘scorched-earth’ instruction was issued alongside an order to prosecute ‘partisan war’ in the rear of the enemy.(21) Measures described included the State Defence Committee set up to deal with the rapid mobilisation of all the country’s resources. It was realised that the existing state machinery was inappropriate to prosecute the war effectively. On 10 July Stalin combined the formal title of Head of Government with the post of Supreme Commander, which the Supreme Soviet formalised on 7 August. The State Defence Committee (GKO) included Stalin, Voroshilov, Beria, Molotov (Foreign Affairs) and Stalin’s party deputy, Malenkow The STAVKA (High Command) was subordinated to it, having also been reorganised to include Stalin, Molotov and Voroshilov from the party and an army element including Timoshenko, Budenny, Shaposhnikov and Zhukov. The General Staff, extended to oversee all branches of the armed forces, was subordinated to the STAVKA on 8 August. Stalin, in so doing, elevated himself to all the highest appointments in the Soviet state, party and army. Victory or defeat rested on his shoulders alone.
Similarly on the same date three Soviet Fronts were established: North-west, nominally under Voroshilov, West under Timoshenko and South-west under Budenny. These corresponded to the three German Army Groups attacking them. The measure further rationalised the command of reinforcements and supplies that GKO was mobilising for defence.
This defence was already in a parlous state. German OKH assessed on 8 July that it had eliminated 89 of 164 identified Russian rifle divisions and 20 of 29 tank divisions. It concluded, ‘the enemy is no longer in a position to organise a continuous front, not even behind strong terrain features.’(22) The Soviet plan appeared to be to counterattack incessantly to keep the German advance as far to the west as possible and thereby slow progress by inflicting heavy casualties.
Stalin’s toneless admittance of great but not insurmountable problems to his population on 3 July suggested not weakness but great strength. The bitter truth, though understated, was out. At least the Soviet people felt that their feet, despite apparent imbalances, were firmly on the ground. The resolve of the Soviet population was stiffened. ‘Every night Moscow is subjected to air raids,’ wrote Ina Konstantinova on 5 August. ‘The enemy troops are coming closer and closer. How awful! But never mind, they will soon be stopped.’(23)
The grandiose heroism that permeates the official Soviet ‘Great Patriotic War’ version of events is out of place to students of history at the beginning of the 21st century, accustomed to the grainy realism of immediate on-the-spot TV news reportage. There was then a strong perception of duty reinforced by nationalism which could be drawn upon – a feature still evident in European conflict today. Soviet infantry machine gunner Timofei Dombrowski explained, ‘yes, it was our duty to defend the Motherland… there was also patriotism, and we were in a very serious position.’ His view as a soldier was uncomplicated. Russia had not started the war, and up until this moment his battles had been fought to stay alive. ‘We had to defend ourselves,’ he said. ‘We had not been the attackers, and we were permanently surrounded.’(24)