Marshal Zhukov looked grim, and Colonel Alexis Krigoff did his best to shrink into the back row of officers, mostly division and army-level generals of the First Ukrainian and First Belorussian fronts. They had been summoned to learn the details of the great soldier’s new plan.
“The delay at the Oder has proved to be disadvantageous,” the marshal reported bluntly. “While the Nazis were fighting us tooth and claw, they were also opening the back door to their capital, inviting their new friends in the West to take up housekeeping in Berlin.”
There was only silence among the gathered officers, all of whom had heard this truth in some level of detail. In addition to General Petrovsky, who had committed suicide as a result of his attack’s failure, two other division leaders and the general commanding the First Shock Army had been relieved, sent back to Moscow in disgrace. Krigoff had been more than happy to go along with the story about Petrovsky’s fate—a story that was remarkably close to the truth, when he got right down to it—and had reasoned that there was no reason to provide to the NKVD additional details on the general’s last confrontation.
“Our latest information indicates that most of Patton’s Third Army has moved into Berlin; some nine divisions taking positions around the capital. They are accompanied by at least three Wehrmacht divisions under the command of Rommel. There are also numerous airborne troops, parachute and glider units, that have landed in and around the city—perhaps as many as four full divisions of elite soldiers. Marshal Konev—will you continue?”
“Thank you, Comrade Marshal.” Konev, a square and stocky man with the build of a wrestler, fixed a glare on the gathered officers. “As you have heard, we are facing something like fifteen divisions of fascist and capitalist troops in the city itself. The American general, Eisenhower, has filled Berlin with these troops, and herein we may find the enemy’s weakness.”
The marshal gestured to a large map that an aide had unrolled for him, the graphic image hanging like a tapestry on the wall. “This is the road from Küstrin to Berlin. It is fully blocked, and guarded by antitank emplacements and heavy fortifications. Here, here, and here”—he snapped his pointer to the north and south of the great city—“are strong defensive positions. Comrade
Chairman Stalin has indicated that it is not his wish that we commence attacking the Americans in these positions.”
Now his pointer trailed, almost sensually, along two threadlike marks on the map, roads connecting Berlin to the regions of western Germany.
“The enemy is bringing supplies into the city along the A-two autobahn and another road, Reich Highway Twenty-Four.” Neither of them is well protected, and if we can cut them both, the city and its garrison will be cut off from the rest of Eisenhower’s armies.
“But the Americans are in a state of flux, and we must strike quickly, before the rest of their armies can come up to support Patton. We have two great fronts poised to commence the attack. But there is an additional consideration.” Here Konev paused for effect, and Krigoff—as well as his fellow officers—anxiously waited to hear what that consideration was.
“The chairman, in his wisdom, has determined that this is not the moment to embark upon a wholesale war against the West. This is not a reflection on his faith in our prowess—Comrade Stalin has told me, personally, that he knows we would prevail in such a contest. Rather, it a question of diplomacy and timing. And besides, why should we go to the effort of annihilating the enemy, when we can attain the same geographic objectives with patience, and maneuver. Comrade Marshal Zhukov, would you care to conclude the session?”
“Indeed. Well stated, Comrade Marshal.” The great soldier came forward and took the pointer, but he did not face the map. Instead, he looked at his men. “We will test the mettle of these Yankees,” he said, “but not with a direct attack. The key are these two roads, the highway and the autobahn, by which Patton is still connected to his headquarters.” Now he turned, and indicated Reich Highway Twenty-Four.
“This road, to the south, will be seized by a paratroop attack. Intelligence shows that it is very lightly defended, logically enough since it is forty or fifty miles from our current positions. We have reason to believe that the Allies, despite their own use of the airborne tactic in seizing Berlin, will not be prepared for such a move on our part. We will drop a full division along the road, reinforced with a second of glider-borne troops. They will have to hold their ground until Marshal Konev’s spearheads come up, forty-eight hours after the drop.
“In the meantime, my own front will attack—aggressively—in the north, and close off the last supply route into Berlin. But we will not trigger the next war—because we will not smash into American troops. Instead, we will hit the Germans, here.” He indicated the region directly north of Berlin, where a swastika marked the position on the map. “Rommel has three divisions in line here, and we will obliterate them.” Zhukov smiled, thinly. “This may be my last chance to kill large numbers of Germans in my lifetime. I intend to make the most of it.”
Krigoff joined in the round of hearty chuckles that greeted the marshal’s gallows humor.
“Attacking a day after our own offensive begins, Marshal Konev’s men will jump off without artillery preparation, as soon as the parachutists drop on the highway. There are few American troops that far south—yet—and any that he encounters will be brushed aside. The First Ukrainian Front will sweep around the city to the south, while my own Belorussian Front with take the northern route. In less than three day’s time, we will meet between these two roads.”
The marshal waited as the officers absorbed the plan, murmurs of approval rumbling quietly from one man to the next. The scheme was elegant, and did not seem to require a great deal of murderous combat. Rather, it required a certain element of finesse that had not been a character of Red Army operations. Still, Krigoff felt certain that it would work. And once those fifteen divisions were trapped in Berlin, he could see that the Soviet Union would have a very strong bargaining position.
Krigoff returned to the division HQ, which occupied the same tent compound as a week earlier, when Petrovsky had killed himself. The new CO was General Benko, who had been Petrovsky’s XO, and he looked up nervously as the colonel of intelligence came into the room. He had been treating Krigoff with considerable respect, ever since his promotion, and the young officer was pleased with this development.
“What did Comrade Marshal Zhukov have to say?” asked Benko deferentially.
Krigoff explained the plan as he remembered it, knowing that the front’s official marching orders would be coming soon. “I expect that we will be in the secondary wave of advance,” he guessed. “Since the main thrust of our attack will come from south of here, near Frankfurt-an-der-Oder. With luck, we will have a key role in closing the trap around the Yankee dogs.”
“Yes, yes! That would be splendid, indeed,” agreed the general, who then remembered some matters requiring his urgent attention and beat a hasty retreat.
Krigoff found Paulina in the officers’ mess tent, where, since the incident with Petrovsky, she had been warmly welcomed by the men.
“Comrade Colonel!” she said, her one eye brightening at Krigoff’s entrance.
He felt a great happiness at her reaction, an immense outpouring of gratitude for her loyalty, courage … and, to be truthful with himself, with her discretion. She had never rebuked him for his blatant explosion of fear when it looked as though Petrovsky had been ready to shoot the colonel. If she had noticed his shameful wetting of himself—he had tried to mask his stained trousers with the ubiquitous mud—she had never mentioned the fact.
“Come with me,” he said, gallantly offering her his arm. He led her from
the dark, smoky tent and into the cold night. The stars were bright in the cloudless sky, and he gestured toward the river, unseen but felt by both of them from the dense mist that seemed to be rising from the ground.
“Soon,” he said, relishing the squeeze of her fingers on his arm. “Soon, we will cross that river, and then the war will be won.”