Ostkrieg (80 page)

When reports of Soviet attacks northwest and southeast of Vitebsk arrived in the morning hours of 22 June, the timing of the Soviet action, at least, came as no surprise to the Germans. It was, after all, the third anniversary of Operation Barbarossa, although, ironically, the one thing the Germans got right was purely by chance. The attack had originally been scheduled for the nineteenth but was postponed for three days by transportation problems. Even then, the staggered nature of the Soviet offensives meant that it took some time for the OKH to realize the enormity of what was transpiring. A diversionary offensive in the north in Karelia had begun on the tenth, while on the night of 19–20 June partisans had launched a coordinated attack against railroad bridges and transportation junctions in the rear of Army Group Center in an effort to paralyze German supply and troop movements. Even the assault at Vitebsk on the twenty-second, although accompanied by heavy air and artillery bombardments, initially seemed more of a probing attack than a full-fledged offensive. Even so, from the outset, the defenders at Vitebsk faced an untenable situation: they were already surrounded on three sides, so the Soviets merely had to pull the noose shut. Despite the Germans having exacted a stiff price from the attackers, by the twenty-fourth the Soviets had torn through the Third Panzer Army defenses and threatened to encircle German units in Vitebsk. Little could be done to help them, however, since on the twenty-third the enemy had extended the offensive to the Fourth Army in the middle at Orsha and Mogilev, while the next day Rokossovsky's forces in the south, having painstakingly constructed wooden causeways through the swamps, burst out to take units of the Ninth Army completely by surprise. Still expecting the Soviet Schwerpunkt to fall against Kovel, however, both the OKH and Busch were reluctant to transfer units from Army Group North Ukraine or the Second Army to blunt enemy momentum.
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Just as worrisome, whatever slim chance a static defense had at repulsing the Soviets had been shattered since, in contrast to their usual bludgeoning frontal assaults, the Russians had, instead, followed German principles in their attack. Using tightly concentrated infantry, artillery, and air attacks, they had focused on punching holes in a few key sectors, through which tank units burst and, without worrying about their
flank, drove deep to the west in large encirclement movements. Since the Red Air Force had absolute air superiority—on 22 June, Army Group Center could muster only sixty-one operational fighters, the rest having been transferred to Normandy or to protect German industrial areas—and because Hitler had forbidden any flexible defense, German artillery had been stationed directly on the front, an easy target for destruction. The crisis point had, in fact, already been reached on the twenty-fourth as events spun out of control and the German command floundered about. Even though the Soviets had torn a twenty-five-mile-wide hole in the Third Panzer Army's front and threatened to trap the five divisions of the Fifty-third Army Corps in Vitebsk, Hitler, having declared the city a fortified place, initially refused to authorize a withdrawal but then, following appeals by Reinhardt, Zeitzler, and even Busch, in a strange compromise designed clearly to spare himself the embarrassment of admitting an error, directed that the city be held, but with only one of the five divisions. Even this nonsensical concession came too late, for, as the German leaders bickered, the Soviets snapped the trap shut at Vitebsk, dooming some thirty thousand troops. By the twenty-eighth, with the hole in his front grown to sixty miles and the retreat of his units having degenerated into a wild flight for safety, Reinhardt effectively gave up any effort at overall control, instead ordering the remnants of his shattered army merely to fight a delaying action westward, thus hindering as much as possible enemy breakthroughs.
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On the army group's right flank, the Ninth Army was the last to be attacked, on 24 June, but its situation descended into catastrophe almost immediately, partly because of the overwhelming Soviet superiority, and partly because of Rokossovsky's brilliant direction of the battle, especially the surprise effect of tank forces bursting out of the swamps. Already on the first day the Soviets blasted a twenty-mile-wide hole in the front, while, as to the north, German commanders faced the realization that they had no operational reserve to plug the gap. As on the left flank, here, too, the top German leadership worked at cross-purposes, leading to enormous confusion and dissipation of effort. On the twenty-fourth, for example, the Twentieth Panzer Division, which had been dispatched from Army Group North Ukraine just before the attack, was sent to seal off enemy penetrations on the Ninth Army's northern wing. With alarming reports of Soviet breakthroughs on the southern flank flooding in, however, Busch ordered it to break off its attack and move sixty miles south to counter the Soviet threat there. By the time it attacked at noon on the twenty-fifth, however, it was too late; its forty tanks could hardly slow, let alone stop, the enemy breakthrough. Despite the fact that, over
the next few days, it destroyed some 213 enemy tanks near Bobruisk, this was a meaningless tactical success in view of the overwhelming Soviet superiority. Even in the best of circumstances, the Twentieth Panzer's forty panzers could hardly be expected to halt Rokossovsky's nine hundred tanks, let alone when it was forced to move hither and yon.
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If Busch's misdirection of the Twentieth Panzer was not bad enough, Hitler's intervention on the twenty-seventh produced total chaos. Although Bobruisk had also been proclaimed a fortified place, at 9:00
A.M
. on the twenty-seventh the Ninth Army received permission to allow the Thirty-fifth Army Corps and the Forty-first Panzer Corps to break out from the threatening encirclement. Fifteen minutes later, however, at Hitler's behest, a counterorder followed from army group headquarters withdrawing permission to retreat. Chaos and tumult ensued, with some units choosing to defend the city, some fleeing, and some that had begun a withdrawal attempting to return to the city. Not until 4:00
P.M
. did the Ninth Army receive a new order, but it hardly clarified the situation. As at Vitebsk, all but one of the surrounded units received permission to break out, but, as in the north, by then it was too late: some seventy thousand German troops, leaderless, confused, and panicky, milled about in the pocket awaiting orders. Having declared Bobruisk a fortified place, Hitler was too proud to admit his mistake. Officers at Ninth Army headquarters condemned this sequence of events as “operational nonsense” and “madness,” but perhaps the most poignant statement was made by the commander of the 134th Infantry Division, who in his despair committed suicide.
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In the center, the Soviet attack on the Fourth Army had originally been intended to hold it in place long enough to allow the encirclement operation to develop. As on the flanks, Russian preponderance in strength proved so great—in places, a single German battalion confronted two Soviet divisions—that the enemy almost immediately achieved deep penetrations. The most serious occurred at Orsha along the main Moscow-Minsk Rollbahn. Facing the collapse of his center, even the normally compliant Busch on the evening of the twenty-fourth unsuccessfully requested permission from Hitler for a general withdrawal. The next day, in a typically halfhearted fashion, Busch ordered some units to retreat, which merely left the rest in an exposed and untenable position. General Kurt von Tippelskirch, the acting commander of the Fourth Army (Heinrici was on leave), took matters in his own hands and ordered all units in the Dnieper bridgehead to withdraw. Busch became enraged when he heard of this action and directed the units to retake their old positions. Tippelskirch, however, parried Busch's unrealistic order and,
temporarily at least, saved some troops from immediate destruction by directing “all front units that had not been attacked to remain in their positions until attacked and forced back by the enemy.” By this time, even Busch had succumbed to reality. On the twenty-sixth, he flew to Berchtesgaden to try to convince Hitler of the brewing disaster. The Führer, however, simply restated his determination to hold Orsha and Mogilev, an order that had long been outrun by events. By this time, Soviet forces not only had crossed the Dnieper but were racing toward the Berezina, which they reached on the twenty-seventh, effectively blocking the line of the Fourth Army's retreat. Even as German units now began to struggle westward through the enormous forests and swamps of Belorussia, harassed all the way by partisans and enemy air attacks, Soviet armored units raced westward, in a mirror image of 1941, to close the pincers at Minsk.
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On the twenty-eighth, as it dawned on the OKH that the Soviet goal was the encirclement of Army Group Center, even Hitler seemed finally to recognize the enormity of the catastrophe, sacking the hapless Busch, and replacing him with Model. What the latter, although eminently qualified, was to do in the face of a front shattered along a 360-mile width and with Soviet forces already 100 miles to the west, was another matter. That same day, Hitler had drawn another meaningless line on the map and demanded that it be held at all costs. In addition, he ordered that “no yard of ground be given up without a fight” and that the retreating forces—the Ninth Army, smashed to bits; the largely encircled Fourth Army; and the Third Panzer Army, with only one corps left of its original three—should withdraw as slowly as possible to the halt line. Not satisfied with this foray into an illusory world of German strength and Soviet weakness, the Führer also demanded that the Russian spearheads be cut off and the situation reversed in a series of “rapid, hard counterstrikes.”
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Even as on the twenty-ninth Russian planes pounded the key bridge across the Berezina at Berezino in an attempt to block the Fourth Army's main line of retreat, the OKH made ready two units, the Fifth and Twelfth Panzer Divisions, for Hitler's counterattack. On the thirtieth, the Twelfth Panzer, dispatched from Army Group North, launched a relief attack in the direction of Bobruisk with its forty-four Panzer IIIs and IVs, achieving some success through sheer audacity and surprise. Striking from Marina Gorka, it managed on 1 July to drive a small corridor through Soviet lines and link up with a force attacking out of the Bobruisk pocket, through which perhaps thirty-five thousand of the trapped Germans managed to escape before enemy forces pinched off
the corridor. In the meantime, the Fifth Panzer, with a force of fifty-five Pz IVs and seventy Pz Vs (Panthers), supplemented by a heavy tank battalion of twenty Pz VIs (Tigers), had detrained at Borisov, north of Berezino and astride the main Moscow-Minsk highway. Its task was nothing less than to close the sixty-mile gap between the Third Panzer Army and the Fourth Army, in the process destroying Soviet units already to the west. Although it managed in a few days of hard fighting to destroy almost three hundred enemy tanks, its tactical successes did little to alter the balance of forces since on this front alone the Soviets had begun the battle with over eighteen hundred tanks. At best, the operation served only to delay the Russian advance for a few hours since enemy tank commanders quickly learned not to engage the Germans, simply bypassing the defenders by finding alternate routes to the west.
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As the Fifth and Twelfth Panzer Divisions fought desperately to stabilize the situation, scenes of gruesome horror played out at Berezino, where, just as in 1812, hordes of men, vehicles, and equipment were ensnared in a chaotic picture of destruction, panic, and despair. Pounded from the air, men desperately pushed across the river in the hope of reaching safety at Minsk, sixty miles to the west. The Russians, however, were bound to win any race to that city. On 2 July, advance Soviet units bypassed Minsk on the north and, the next day, aided by forces arriving from the south, seized the city against virtually no resistance. As the Fourth Army struggled westward, then, it found itself cut up into three smaller pockets within the larger encirclement based on Minsk. The liquidation of these pockets, however, was much more costly and time-consuming than the Soviets had expected. Driven by extreme fear at the prospect of being taken prisoner, large numbers of Landsers, so-called
Ruckkämpfer
(rear fighters, i.e., those fighting to get back), struggled mightily against huge obstacles to fight their way back to German lines that had been formed to the west of Minsk. Normally in small groups, but sometimes as individuals, these Ruckkämpfer, confronted by dense forests and disease-ridden swamps, with no food, and hunted relentlessly by partisans bent on revenge, trekked back in a strange odyssey of courage and determination.
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Despite these strange heroics, however—and Ruckkämpfer continued to straggle in through the end of October—in the period from 22 June to 10 July the Soviets had shattered Army Group Center. In roughly three weeks, some 250,000 Germans had been lost and twenty-eight divisions destroyed or so weakened that they were no longer fit for combat. Soviet losses, too, had been surprisingly high, with the most recent estimates from Russian sources citing a figure of over 440,000 casualties between
22 June and the end of July, of whom almost 100,000 were killed. Still, when Model assumed command of Army Group Center, “one could not have imagined a greater crisis,” as Hitler admitted a month later. Not only had the army group been ripped to shreds, but both Hitler and the OKH had received reports in the first half of July of disturbing signs of dissolution among the troops, many of whom simply fled in disorder to the west. Model, tough, energetic, talented at improvisation, and seemingly without nerves, recognized the gravity of the situation: not only did the army group face destruction, but the enemy also aimed to keep moving beyond Minsk. In early July, he sought to slow the Soviet advance with delaying actions at Molodechno and Baranovichi, but the grim fact was that over a third of the front could not be manned. In view of the shocking disparity in strength and his inability to form a linear defense, Model now made a daring decision. Since his forces were too weak for defense, he decided to make a virtue of necessity and slow the enemy advance through a series of swift, mobile counterattacks, a sort of hit-and-run defense. As with other such actions, it was tactically successful—in roughly a month, the Fifth Panzer Division, for example, destroyed almost five hundred enemy tanks and assault guns—but could not solve the larger problem.
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