Stalemate (The Red Gambit Series) (24 page)

Zhukov employed the ‘execution’ word that Stalin had used when discussing the depleted state of the Red Army and the need for fresh formations to complete the plan. The word had also been used another time that same meeting, but not in the same context.

“Now, Comrades, our air forces have suffered hideous casualties at the hands of the enemy, as you will know, but we have struck back, dealing a heavy blow to the bomber force of the RAF.”

A few men mumbled, the sounds conveying neither satisfaction
, nor discontent. Every man there knew more needed to be done.

“STAVKA have released more air assets. Chief Marshal of Aviation Alexander Novikov is here to tell you how they will be employed, and what new tactics he has developed to help wrest back the aerial advantage.”

There were no illusions about the Air War. The night sky belonged to the Allies, the daylight hours seeing a rough parity constantly gained at the expense of large numbers of destroyed aircraft and dead pilots.

Novikov stepped forward and spoke briefly, outlining tactical changes in such a way as a simple soldier could grasp.

By the time he had finished, most in the room felt buoyed by his words, the emphasis on defending supplies and transport routes being welcome, although the pessimists amongst them assumed the extra vigilance in that regard would mean less direct support to forces in the field.

Vice-Admiral Vladimir Tributs, the commander of the Baltic Fleet, replaced the Air Force Commander, detailing the actions of the submarine war, and revealing just how much enemy materiel was not reaching European shores, thanks to the efforts of a few submarines and a lot of luck.

There was no need for Tributs to state that the luck could not last, had not lasted, as the Soviet navy had lost ten submarines in the North Atlantic in just the last six days.

Finally, Zhukov played his trump card, and an intelligence briefing from Colonel Nazarbayeva of the GRU proved informative, the confirmed neutralising of Italy being a high point, revelation
s of the Spanish commitment, a low.

She withdrew from the room, her task completed.

Without saying so directly, Zhukov had just ensured that his senior officers had their information from reliable sources, not just the sanitised NKVD reports.

Time to move on to other matters now.

“Comrades,” the low chatter ceased as Zhukov brought them all back to matters in hand, “Permission to restore our released prisoners to the Red Army has been denied.”

Most had heard the rumours
, but it did not prevent the mutterings from starting once more.

“However,” he practised the statement in his mind quickly, making sure he got it exactly right, “I see no reason why the lazy bastards should sit around doing nothing whilst they wait for transport back to the Rodina and justice.”

‘Perfect.’

“Your transport officers have rightly made them a low priority for return to the Motherland. I would not encourage a change to that
, but I do suggest that you all put the traitors to use while they wait their turn. If they can chop down trees, then give them an axe. If they can carry something for the benefit of the Red Army, give them something to carry.”

He need say no more, the meaning clear to every man that had the benefit of seeing his eyes and hearing the inflection in his voice. Any written report would not have the benefit of his presence or his tone, and would only serve to illustrate his clear agreement with General
Secretary Stalin’s stance.

None the less, Zhukov was taking a big chance, and they all knew it.

Unseen, Konev’s eyes glinted maliciously.

None the less, assistance from qualified soldiers was most welcome to the assembled officers, and many minds had already turned to methods
of employing them.

Zhukov looked to move on.

“I want complete revisions of your reinforcement and supply policies, in line with Comrade Marshal Novikov’s air plan.”

He put their fears into words.

“There will obviously be an effect upon direct support from the Red Air Force, but that cannot be helped. Our artillery and mortar losses have been murderous, but the relocation of units has been successful. Ensure your artillery forces can support your ground assaults, but follow the new doctrine to the letter.”

In many
ways, the Soviets had been guilty of underestimating the Allies, and that was most certainly the case in Artillery tactics. The waning power of the German Heer and Luftwaffe might have lulled them into a sense of false security. Whatever the reason, Allied counter-battery fire was extremely effective, and the Allied ground-attack aircraft also exacted a high price on the supporting artillery and mortar units.

“Comrades, use your Air defence units wisely, and concentrate them to def
end your key assets. Spread those assets out if you don’t have the protection, but we are losing too much that is valuable to their bomber and ground attack regiments.”

Uncharacteristically, he hammered his fist on the map table.

“Relocation, Comrades, we must do more of it, and do it much quicker!”

A staff officer slipped quietly into the room, bearing a message for one of the
Marshals, his eyes moving from man to man until he saw the commander of the 3rd Red Banner Front.

Zhukov waited whilst the contents were consumed, the rest of the officers falling into
whispered general discussion once more.

Rokossovsky finished reading the message and returned it to the Major, dire
cting him to present it to the Commander in Chief.

Reading it for himself, Zhukov felt a moment of elation,
before passing it to Malinin, and calling the room to order.

“Comrades, comrades.”

The room came to order, and Zhukov indicated that Rokossovsky should deliver the news.

The Polish officer rose to his feet.

“Comrades, at 0820hrs this morning, elements of the 10th Guards Rifle Corps reached Lindau.”

Suddenly realising that the momentousness of the news was lost on his fellows, Rokossovsky continued.

“Lindau is on the shores of Lake Constance, and looks across into Switzerland.”

For the benefit of those who still did not fully grasp the significance
, he went further.

“The Allied forces are now split in two pieces.”

Whilst momentous in itself, the excursion of the 10th Guards was short-lived, a counter-attack by American tanks and armored infantry restoring a narrow corridor between Germany and Northern Italy.

The meeting of the
Soviet Commanders broke up just before 1800hrs, the senior officers making their way back to their commands, heads full of orders for the coming day.

You do not raise heroes, you raise sons. And if you treat them like sons, they will turn out to be heroes, even if it is just in your own eyes.

Walter M. Schirra Sr

She was one hundred and sixty nondescript feet, rusted, and salt stained, but still a valuable part of His Majesty’s Navy, purpose-built as an armed trawler by Smith’s Dock Company Ltd of South Bank on Tees.

Launched in late 1939, HMT Sequoia had seen little of the war, other than the occasional brush with a floating mine or sight of a receding enemy Kondor reconnaissance aircraft.

Except for one horrendously stormy day, December 1st 1944, when she had risked all to rescue the crew of a crashed Catalina off Stronsay Island, plucking the crew from the water in time to save all but one life.

Today she was carrying out her orders in calm
er seas, patrolling the gap between the Orkneys and Fair Isle to the north-west.

Or rather, she had been until the
tortured sound of metal on metal had penetrated the whole ship, bringing on a period of enforced silence, as the engine room crew laboured to repair the damaged shaft bearing.

Even though helped by the
millpond nature of the seas embracing the powerless craft, the engineers were finding the work heavy going, much to the annoyance of the ship’s captain.

The previous day
, an enemy submarine had sunk a small vessel to the west of Stromness, and Captain Boothroyd had the feeling that the Russian was coming his way.

So much so that he had his depth charge crews working hard,
drilling, and drilling, getting the routine perfected, ready for the inevitable appearance of the underwater killer.

The killer was already there, watching, assessing the situation
, before making the kill.

Shch307 had sunk the little steamer off the west coast of Orkney
, and then run hell for leather for the open sea, intent on plying her lethal trade off the coast near Grimsby, where Soviet intelligence expected fat pickings.

Defects on the starboard lower tube
gave the Captain much cause for concern. The inner cap had been hit by a reload swinging unexpectedly during an underwater surge.

The door and torpedo had been checked and found to be fine.
As a precaution, the tube had been vented of air and the seals checked for leaks. There were none.

The torpedo had been loaded
and it was this tube that fired the second weapon at the unfortunate steamer. The problems came thick and fast from that point, with the bow cap failing to close properly, and a leak around the seal of the inner door apparent from the moment the tube was fired. The decision was taken to weld the inner door shut as water leaked through the displaced joint at a higher rate with each advancing minute. Wooden shoring was used to press the cap home, and the Engineering officer undertook the welding work.

The submarine’s commander had pronounced himself happy with the work, and added a dedicated watch on the weld, shoring, and leak, to reassure everyone onboard.

None the less, it was not just the torpedo room crew who felt uneasy that the cold sea was only kept at bay by one metal skin.

Kalinin was no longer in charge, ordered to take
over the captaincy of B-29. His first officer, Senior Lieutenant Yanninin, was in command, and revelling in the new found freedom of operation.

Keen ears had detected the sounding of hammering
, and Shch307 had slowly risen to periscope depth to take a look.

The most difficult decision had been whether the vessel was worth a torpedo.

Yanninin had decided it was not; neither was it worth the risk of surfacing and using the deck gun.

The fact that the enemy vessel was making no noise complicated the situation somewhat, so Yanninin decided to use minimum power on the engines, sufficient to maintain steerage, and drift slowly past the insignificant ship
, before heading south to the rich pickings of Grimsby waters.

On the bridge, Boothroyd was enjoying his pipe, sucking greedily at the rich smoke, his eyes examining something indistinct off the port bow.

“Boy, get thee some glasses. See there,” he pointed off to the left, “Port side there. What say thee, boy?”

The ship’s boy did as he was bidden, seeking out the shape that had
piqued Boothroyd’s curiosity.

Holding up his hand, preventing the sweaty engineer from speaking, the Captain listened for the boy’s report.

“Skipper, it’s a mine. One of our’n, by the cut of her.”

Boothroyd smiled, the boy’s
attempts at seafarer’s talk understandable, but still funny.

“I thought as much. Go and find the Number One and tell him I asked for a rifle on the bridge. Explain why
, and bring it here as soon as he issues it. Clear, boy?”

“Aye aye
, Captain,” the boy rushed off, charged with important matters.

“So
, Obadiah, what news of my engine?”

Higginbotham, the engineer, hawked and spat in the brass spittoon set aside for the Captain’s pleasure,
for when smoking was difficult, but chewing tobacco fine.