Thor's Anvil

Chapter 34

The first German counterattacks were still defensive in nature, aimed at trying to blunt or simply slow down the Soviet advance on Prokhorovka. Model had shifted 10th Panzergrenadier Division towards Kursk, largely to stave off being surrounded on that flank. The 60th Panzergrenadiers were already fighting there against 1st Shock Army, and now the 13th Panzer Division arrived from the south and went right into action alongside those other two divisions.

The Russian armies that had closed around Model’s 2nd Panzerarmee like a vise relented that day, though there was a good deal of hooting and gibing from their lines directed at their enemy. They had taken a pounding all summer, and now they were returning the favor.

In defiance, just before dawn, every German squad that had a weapon with tracer rounds chambered one, and fired it straight up into the sky. To the pilots in German planes who saw it, the sight created a breathtaking outline of the massive pocket that had been formed by the Soviet offensive, stretching from Voronezh west, nearly all the way to Kursk, which was now taken by the Russians. Model’s new HQ was at Stary Oskol, in the very center of that pocket, where the rail line came up from Kharkov.

That was Model’s lifeline, and it was now being guarded by a very powerful force. It had taken Steiner all of ten days to pull his divisions together near Rostov and find enough rolling stock to get them on the trains. Now, 1st, 2nd, and 3rd SS were finally assembling near Belgorod, and the Wiking Division was already posted further east on the river near Novy Oskol to assist the Reichsführer Brigade opposing the Siberian 5th Shock Army. With Hitler fretting and fuming, Manstein flew to Belgorod to confer with Steiner and plan the defense.

“Do you have enough to stop them?” he asked Steiner.

“I have my full Korps up now, though twenty-five percent of it has already been pulled into the defense against their southern pincer. And remember, I left Grossdeutschland and the Brandenburgers with you, so this isn’t the hammer we used to beat them senseless last summer. That said, with the three divisions I have at Belgorod, I am confident I can save Kharkov.”

“Well, I have some good news for you. I’m pulling Grossdeutschland from its reserve position in the south, and the Brandenburgers are coming too.”

“Indeed?” Steiner smiled. “That is good news. Then who will take that city for Hitler?”

“It will be up to the infantry divisions. The Brandenburger Division is now mostly that, but it has four brigades—good motorized infantry. We’ll mate it with some of the special tank units we’ve been building and it will remain a formidable force.”

“How soon will these additional troops be here?”

“Two or three days. In the meantime, I’d advise staying right where you are. Let them keep pushing, but when you attack, it will likely be towards Kursk. We need to throw Hitler a bone. He’s been howling like a mad dog at OKW. But what we need even more is something on the other side to attack in conjunction with your offensive.”

“Is there anything available?”

“24th Panzer Division has been rebuilding at Odessa for the last 30 days, and a few of the divisions we sent to the North Front might be combat ready. Getting permission to use them is the key. I may have to fly to OKW and make another personal intervention.”

“General, I wish you good luck. Frankly, pulling my Korps out of that hell hole at Volgograd did me and the men a great service. I couldn’t see that then, but I know it now.”

“Correct. This is the best mobile Korps on the field, and you must always think that way. Blitzkrieg, Steiner, blitzkrieg. Never accept a battle of attrition when you can find a way to maneuver, even if it means you must temporarily yield ground to the enemy. This is something Hitler simply cannot grasp. He is still fighting the last war, where every trench line was fought over day and night. At times, yes, we must be stubborn. Look at Model! That man is a master of defense. He should have pulled out seven days ago, but Hitler would not permit that. Yet he held when he had to, and that has given us the situation we face at this moment. So you will strike towards Kursk, but the good thing here is that we still have a decent road and rail line from Prokhorovka up to Model. He isn’t cut off yet, and he can still fight. You can take that road right towards his headquarters and then swing west towards Kursk, a backhand blow when you do so. Slap that northern pincer right across the face, and see how they like it.”

Saying and planning were one thing, doing those things on the field of battle another. The Russian forces were still in high gear, and Zhukov’s statement to Sergei Kirov concerning the strength of the two pincers he had in motion was no idle boast. Steiner was probably correct in his assessment that he could stop that northern pincer with the three SS divisions he already had preparing to attack. Taking Kursk would be another matter. The great northern bear claw was now composed of no fewer than six tank corps, with a seventh on the line and pushing west instead of south to pose an additional threat.

As for the southern pincer, its main problem now was the lack of bridging equipment. Most of that was still back at the Don, and there were not enough bridging units to come forward with the advance. The Oskol River was now the main obstacle, but 4th Guard Tank Corps used its organic bridging engineers to shore up the ice and get a brigade across. More pontoon regiments were on the way, but the rail lines could not get them close enough to arrive easily. They had to disembark east of the Don, then cross that river and move by truck, and that would take several days.

In spite of all this, the Christmas pause was short lived. The Soviets waited out most of the day, the men eating deliveries of special rations, but the fuel trucks were still working overtime. Then, as midnight approached, Zhukov ordered the attack to resume. Just to irritate his enemy further, he also ordered a small spoiling attack at Moscow, where the Germans had sat on their side of the burned out city all summer, that portion of the front completely static.

The Soviets took Oboyan north of Prokhorovka, though 13th Panzer was still counterattacking in a desperate attempt to hold. West of that town, a hole had developed, and Steiner could not ignore it. He had the Brandenburgers on the trains just west of Belgorod, and the Russians were getting too close. He could not allow them to plow into those trains and interfere with that division’s assembly operation. So, with 1st and 2nd SS divisions formed up and ready, he turned them loose. It was not the backhand blow that Manstein had suggested, not the sly uppercut aimed at Kursk from within the neck that fed Model’s pocket. Instead he was going to punch the Russians right on the nose of that northern pincer, and bring it to a complete halt.

He could do that, but this bear had two massive clawed paws, and the situation on the Oskol River, which had been stable for the last five days, suddenly exploded. It had taken Rokossovsky all that time to sort out the massive mess of his crossing sites on the Don south of Voronezh, and get bridging equipment up. Now his troops surged over The Oskol River, swarming around the one rock in their path, the Nordland Regiment of the Wiking Division. Some units then moved due west towards Prokhorovka, others northwest towards Kursk.

If Steiner had deployed as Manstein wanted, they would have run right into three SS Panzer Divisions, but that had not happened. The massive buildup of troops from the southern pincer now began flowing over the Oskol River like water over a dam, from Valuyki in the south, as far north as Stary Oskol, where the Soviet 234th Rifle Division had already cut the rail line behind Model’s headquarters. The Wiking Division, with the Reichsführer Brigade had been relying on that river obstacle, and they could in no way hold such an extended front. The Nordland Regiment was cut off from the rest of the division, and began falling back, but to the northwest. Even Gille’s HQ was under attack, and had to retreat south away from Novy Oskol.

Behind the scenes, Manstein had been busy arranging trainloads of fuel, ammunition, food, spare parts and other supplies. There wasn’t a great deal to be had, but perhaps enough for ten days offensive, a nice spoiling attack. The problem now would be extricating Steiner’s Korps from that steamrolling Soviet advance. The Russians had already kicked in the back door behind Model, and they were in the house. It was clear to Manstein that 2nd Panzerarmee should be immediately with drawn, and become an attacking force as it moved towards the neck the Germans were holding open to Stary Oskol. He had to convince Hitler to allow this.

When he arrived at OKW, the mood there was somber. Halder gave him a look that spoke volumes. “Here you come again,” he said in a low voice. “But not this time, Manstein. Not this time. The Führer is in no mood to hear the word withdrawal. He ranted over what Kesselring did in Algeria for a week. Now you propose we abandon Voronezh?”

“We will lose it, one way or another. I am simply proposing we do not lose Model’s 2nd Panzerarmee along with it.”

Hitler heard that, turning to see the general, but with a sour expression this time. “Come to find more reinforcements?” he said darkly. “Well do not ask. The divisions we have moved to the north front will remain where they are.”

“Why?” said Manstein. “Are we planning to go to Leningrad tomorrow?”

“Why? Ask Halder why! I am told all the trains are in the south. I am told you have pulled the Brandenburg Division out of Volgograd. Who gave permission for that?”

“Being the theater commander appointed to Armeegruppe South,” said Manstein, “I need no permission. The division was needed elsewhere. Volgograd can wait. This was a wise redeployment.”

“Yes, Volgograd can wait. It should have been taken months ago! In fact, I recall that both you and Steiner promised it to me for Christmas. Well, Herr General, there was nothing under my tree this year. In fact, Sergei Kirov and his Generals have taken Tula. They have taken Orel, and now they have taken Kursk for good measure. They are also attacking at Moscow, though thank god the troops there know how to obey orders. They have held the city as I demanded, and I know exactly what you will say next. You want Model to give up Voronezh.”

“That would be wise at this juncture,” said Manstein. “Three days from now, it may not matter. The Russians will have closed the neck of that pocket, and Model will be completely cut off.”

“You have moved Steiner’s entire Korps there! What are they doing?” Hitler was now just a few degrees below the boiling point.

“He is already counterattacking, but against the northern pincer.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“There are two pincers involved, and they are very near meeting one another. Model should withdraw immediately.”

“Withdraw! Withdraw! That is all my Generals tell me whenever it snows. I will have the head of the next man who speaks that word to me!”

Now Manstein narrowed his eyes. “My Führer,” he said, stepping closer. “You may have my head any time you like, but while it remains on my shoulders, kindly allow me to use it!”

He put just a touch of anger there himself. They were words Manstein had spoken to Hitler in Fedorov’s history, during the great crisis and tragedy that had been Stalingrad. Now he spoke them here, instinctively knowing that the loss of Model’s troops would be a devastating blow to the army, and one that it would have great difficulty recovering from. Now he questioned the wisdom of even coming here to seek Hitler’s permission at all, thinking it might have been better to simply confront him with a fait accompli, ordering Model out himself. But that Army was under Rundstedt’s Armeegruppe Center, and he had no real authority there. All he could do now was make the best argument possible.

“Model is reporting the enemy has crossed the upper Oskol in force,” he said, mastering his temper. “They have cut the rail line to Prokhorovka and Kharkov. If we want to save that army, we must do so immediately. So yes, I advise he give up that useless position at Voronezh, and form a shock group here, right at Stary Oskol. He still has fuel and supplies to push southwest, and Steiner can attack up that same corridor. The two forces can link up in a few days. That army can still be saved, which would then put it in a perfect position to block the enemy advance on Kharkov, which is, after all, the final objective of their offensive.”

“And what about all these enemy divisions?” Hitler waved at the red lines drawn around Model’s Army. “They will all be free to operate against us.”

“They are mostly slow moving infantry divisions—too slow to pose a threat for weeks. All of their fast mobile divisions are already well to the southwest of the pocket, striving mightily to meet one another and finish that phase of their operations. Then they will lock arms, and go for Kharkov, shoulder to shoulder—unless we interpose Model’s Army between them, and do that now.”

“No!” Hitler flared again. “There will be no withdrawal from Voronezh! I forbid that! Look around you. Do you see von Rundstedt here? No, because he is at his position on the front obeying my orders. That is where you should be, not here, trying to stir more honey into my tea as before. Go! Leave at once. I order Steiner to counterattack, but Model stays right where he is.”

Hitler turned his back on Manstein now, hunched over the map table, his eyes narrowed with a mix of anger and pain. His miracle worker had come with the same proposal that Keitel and Jodl had pedaled. More withdrawals. They wanted to simply hand the enemy back everything that was won in those long hard months of the summer offensive. He would not allow it, and seeing that Hitler was adamant, Manstein pursed his lips, then saluted and turned to leave.

Halder watched him go, knowing that the war had, in that moment, crossed some unseen line. It was not something that could be seen on the map like the penciled in lines of the various fronts. It was something darker, more shadowed, more ominous; a turning point where he could feel that his long managed control of these events was now slipping from his grasp, and that of all the other Generals at OKW. Manstein had always been able to influence Hitler to see reason. Now even he seemed powerless to intervene.

As he watched Manstein stride off, without so much as another word, a thought came to him like the cold December wind, and he felt it for the first time, in spite of the warm fire on the hearth across the room. We could lose this war. We could lose it all. Hitler will make an end of all our best efforts, and hand us one impossible situation after another. At least Manstein has Steiner, a strong hand at the point of greatest crisis. Let us hope that is enough, because if we do lose Model’s Army….

He did not want to think about that. The cold in that line of thinking was enough to freeze the blood in his veins, as it would be now for all those troops if Manstein’s prediction were to materialize.

If Fedorov had been there, he might have seen how the lines of fate were now twisting around those of Model’s front. Manstein had avoided the debacle at Volgograd. He had correctly and wisely extricated Steiner’s Korps from the cauldron in which he sat himself down. Neither Steiner, nor Paulus, were now fighting anywhere near Volgograd. But the shape of that pocket where Model’s 2nd Panzerarmee now sat looked strangely like the one that had formed around Paulus between the Volga and the Don. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

Chapter 35

Hitler’s understanding of how war was fought was in no way like that of Manstein. The Führer wanted any hard won ground held tenaciously. He clung to major cities on a point of honor, endowing them with a significance they might not truly hold in a military sense. That was certainly the case for Volgograd at that moment, and also Voronezh. Hitler Believed it was his stand fast order the previous winter that had saved the day, and kept the burned out warrens of Moscow under his control. Now he would apply the same stubborn method to this crisis.

For Manstein, the vast space of Russia was the perfect proving ground for his concept of the mobile war. That space was to be yielded whenever it might be necessary to permit his forces to move and concentrate where they were most needed. He would even invite the enemy to advance, knowing that every mile they went took them farther from their own source of supplies, created flanks that they would have to man and guard, and presented him with numerous opportunities for a counter thrust. To master the situation, he now wanted to see Model’s army used in a mobile role, not to simply sit there like a dull iron anvil and be hammered upon by the Russians. He knew that even the hardest metal could be broken in such a situation. That was what anvils were made for, to burn, break, bend, or shape metal, or in this case to destroy it.

Model’s ability to hold as he had thus far was entirely dependent on that slender corridor for supplies, and now the Soviets were doing everything possible to choke it closed. It was as if the red army had both hands on their enemy’s neck, trying to choke the life out of him, while Steiner desperately tried to break that grip. Yet as he tried to attack up that corridor, he was met with heavy pressure on both the left and right. Two of his divisions were trying to hold back the southern pincer on the line of the Oskol River, leaving him Leibstandarte and Das Reich, along with the rebuilt 24th panzer Division from Odessa that Manstein had quietly ordered forward seven days ago, again without permission.

The arrival of both Grossdeutschland Division and the Brandenburgers created a noticeable shift in the balance of that struggle. These elite formations were fiercely competent in the attack, implacable on defense, and they had unshakable morale. Looking around the front for anything else he could find, Manstein saw that he had but one card left to play—Hermann Balck.

11th Panzer Division had been in reserve on the Chir front where it had been so instrumental in the defense there. Now he would commit this last mobile reserve, its place taken by two light armored units provided by Volkov. On the 29th of December, the last train from the south came whistling into the station at Prokhorovka, and the troops, tanks and vehicles of Balck’s divisions began to disembark and assemble.

General Balck raised the collar on his trench coat against the wind, tightening the fit of his gloves. Winter again, he thought. Another enemy offensive, and another crisis. We rule the summer, but when General Winter arrives, he is a most formidable foe. Well, my division is rested, lean and trim; ready for another fight. But this does not look like the dance I was hoping to attend. Steiner has thrown the SS right into the teeth of this enemy advance, and right between the two arms of the bear. We should have folded the line back south of Belgorod and the upper Donets, massing Steiner at Kharkov. Then they would have to come over another 100 kilometers, and supply themselves the whole way. That’s when we hit them.

Yes, it would mean leaving Model well behind enemy lines, for a time, but he had a stout heart, and can hold ground like no one else in the army. But Manstein doesn’t want to lose that army. Being so close at hand, I can see why he turned Steiner loose. Now we see what those troops are really made of. Yet things are quite different this time, are they not? We chased them half way to perdition in the summer, and now I have been racing from one crisis point to another since mid-October.

That same day a new Soviet Army was identified on the front, the 3rd Guards. It had been building up at Tambov for the last six months, built from the burned out remnants of divisions that had fought and died in the struggle against Operation Barbarossa. The men that remained were veterans three times over, and formed the hard kernel of each new division. It followed the line of attack of the northern pincer, but reaching Kursk, it suddenly turned east towards Stary Oskol. The Bear had a fish by the tail, and it wanted to take another good bite. Unfortunately, Model’s 2nd Panzerarmee was that fish. That army, with five or six fresh rifle divisions, was enough to punch through. Model was now completely cut off, and those crucial three days that might have saved his army had slipped away.

The Grossdeutschland Division was attacking to the left of the rail line in the corridor, and the Brandenburgers were to the right. Like a pair of heavy linesmen, they were grinding their way forward, and slowly pushing the enemy back. What they needed now was a good halfback to break through and race on up that line to Stary Oskol. There, Model, being no fool, had massed all his mobile divisions in an effort to break out.

That halfback was Hermann Balck.

It was not the sort of attack he preferred to make, a desperate fourth down and two. He would much rather have his division on open ground, for broken field running was his specialty. That said, he had two strong divisions on his flanks, and so Balck formed up his shock groups, leading with Hauser’s Recon Battalion backed by the 15th Panzer Regiment, and then following up with his Panzergrenadiers. They would smash right into the 55th Guard Rifle Division, with the 17th Guard Tank Brigade on its left.

On the other side of the attack, Model had not sat idle. He had six infantry divisions east of the Don, but three were south of Voronezh, holding useless ground. His orders were to hold the city, and that he did, with three divisions, but those other three crossed the Don and moved west on the night of 29 December, and took up better defensive positions on the southern belly of the fish shaped pocket in which he found himself. This freed up his 24th Panzer Korps and allowed him to move 17th and 18th Panzer Divisions to join the units he already had fighting at Stary Oskol.

The relief attack was coming right up the road and rail line towards that town, and he massed whatever he could to make a breakout attempt as the sound of their guns drew ever nearer. In a strange way, the entire action resembled the relief attempt that had actually been mounted by Hoth to try and save Paulus, the original Operation Winter Storm. That had been eventually halted on the Myskova river by the arrival of Malinovski’s powerful 2nd Guards Army. Here, it was the 3rd Guards Army under General Dmitri Lelyushenko trying to bar the way.

Just before midnight, when all those troops would have much rather been pleasantly drunk in the arms of a woman, Balck’s intrepid division punched through and opened a hole. Behind him came the Fusilier Regiment of the Grossdeutschland Division, surging into the gap. And on the other side, they met a kampfgruppe of troops from Model’s army, jubilantly joining hands as the clock tolled out the coming of the new year. Whether they could hold that thin corridor remained undecided at that point, but they at least got through.

Manstein got the news right at midnight, pleased and proud that his troops had pushed through, but realizing the herculean task that now lay ahead. To secure that corridor, he now had to push back both those great arms of the bear trying to strangle it with the claws of their armored formations. 1st and 2nd SS were still pushing, on the left, and 3rd and 5th SS were pushing on the right, along the line of the Oskol River. Both enemy pincers had been stopped, and even pushed back in places, but for how long?

Even if they succeeded, he still had no permission to withdraw Model’s troops, there they would sit, with the the neck of that supply corridor the subject of constant enemy counterattacks. All they had accomplished, and with the best divisions in the German army, was to get back again the same dilemma Manstein had gone to OKW to try and solve. He was still enraged at Hitler’s stupidity and obstinate mindset. Steiner’s superb SS Korps would now be tied down here indefinitely. It was madness. What was he to tell Model now—sit there, like the nine panzer divisions were now sitting on the Northern Front?

Madness. There were now 15 infantry divisions, including two Luftwaffe field divisions, 3rd, 4th, 17th, and 18th Panzers, and the 10th and 29th Motorized Divisions in that pocket. That was a force on the same scale as the losses sustained at Stalingrad in Fedorov’s history.

He had to take some decisive action, and now again considered the desperate option of conspiring with Rundstedt and Model to simply do what was necessary, orders or no orders. They would certainly all lose their jobs, if not their heads, but he also had one more option—resignation. Yet if not even that could move Hitler, Manstein would then forfeit any further control or influence over the battles that surely lay ahead. His duty to the army itself weighed heavily in that decision. After having drafted his threat, he summarily tore it to pieces, shaking his head.

That night, as a column of vital supplies was pushed through the embattled corridor for Model, Steiner reported that he had stopped the northern pincer and stabilized that sector of the front. The line of the Oskol was also solid. The sour grapes that Manstein could pick would now rest in that report to OKW.

‘Front stabilized,’ he cabled. ‘Supply corridor reestablished to Model necessitates continued deployment of the Army’s best mobile divisions to hold it open, unless a force of at least 6 to eight infantry divisions is sent to relieve those troops. The threat to Kharkov has been put off for the moment, though a further push for Kursk against strong enemy reserves in that sector seems impractical. Redeployment of 2nd Panzerarmee through the corridor to bring it safely within the German front near Prokhorovka would also allow Steiner to redeploy and reorganize for a new counterattack aimed at recovering lost ground. Should Model be forced to remain in place, Steiner must as well, and no further offensive action can be contemplated until the matter is resolved, nor will Steiner’s SS be able to refit in time to participate in Operation Untergang. Model’s present position remains precarious, unless a strong force could be mustered east of Bryansk and Kirov to again drive on Voronezh and threaten to encircle the enemy forces in the Kursk sector. Otherwise, 2nd Panzerarmee will remain a useless liability that will continue to require a heavy commitment by both the army and Luftwaffe to keep it in supply.’

It was a blunt and grimly realistic appraisal, but also hinted that the Army had the means to resolve this crisis if it could get permission to use it. Manstein knew exactly where he could find that strong force, in the nine panzer Divisions presently refitting in three separate Korps along the Northern Front. He knew that asking for those troops directly would get him nowhere, but he would have been remiss if he did not suggest this option for OKWs consideration. Keitel and Jodl would certainly support it, but Hitler was again the great obstacle.

And so, 1942 would close with Armeegruppe South having cleared the Donets Basin, taking Rostov, establishing a strong foothold in the north Kuban region, and driving all the way to the Volga to make the linkup with Volkov’s troops. Armeegruppe Center still had both Moscow and Voronezh, pyrrhic victories owed only to the stubborn implacable will of Adolf Hitler. It would be some time before the Führer would answer that cable, and by then it would be 1943.

For Zhukov, supply was now becoming a critical factor for his forward units. Kursk was the new logistical center for the northern Group, but all the rail lines leading into that city had been badly torn up by the fighting, and would take weeks to repair, possibly months. With no direct rail connection, and few good roads, that arm of the Bear had been stopped by Hitler’s damnable SS divisions. They had also thrown up a steel wall all along the line of the Oskol River, their defense so determined that he could find no way to try and move more divisions across the river. He still had three tank corps in reserve, and reluctantly ordered them back to the railheads east of the Don for deployment elsewhere.

The enemy had reestablished contact with the Voronezh pocket, though he was surprised that no effort was now being made to extract those troops from the dangerous position he had forced upon them. It was now clear to him that Kharkov was not an attainable objective, and he reported as much to Sergei Kirov.

“We have more than adequate force at hand, but keeping them moving and fighting is an equally big problem. Supply deliveries to the front are now down to 50% of normal, and in the Kuban no more than 10%. I would therefore suggest that we now redeploy to build up forces along the line of the Oka for a drive west. It may yet be possible to take either Kirov or Bryansk back, and such a drive would also threaten communications to the enemy position at Moscow, and possibly force them to commit troops they are presently rebuilding for any planned offensive against Leningrad.”

“And Voronezh?”

“Let them have it if they want it,” said Zhukov. “That cauldron we have Model in will be nothing more than a witch’s brew of torment for that army. I will keep pressure on it, but make no effort to liquidate it just yet. What was it Napoleon said? Ah, never interfere with your enemy when he is busy making a mistake.”

“General Zhukov,” said Kirov. “You have already surprised me greatly with this offensive, and it has certainly caused the enemy much grief. I will therefore authorize any transfer of forces you deem necessary, and yes, if you can get back Bryansk or even Kirov, the boost to morale would be invaluable. I commend you on your generalship, and express every confidence in the planning and execution of these offensives in the time that remains this winter. I will also do everything possible to see to this shortfall of supplies, and will send rail repair crews presently in the Leningrad sector to aid in this.”

That easy cooperation between Kirov and Zhukov would now stand in stark contrast to the adversarial relationship between Hitler and his Generals. Zhukov would take his laurels, but he could not help commenting on that count.

“I thank you, Mister General Secretary, “but I must tell you that the enemy had the means to stop this offensive long ago. They simply refused to use it. Perhaps they saw our attack as intending exactly that, interfering with their plans for the new year spring offensive. That was true in part, but they could have stopped us much sooner, and should have.”

“There is discord at OKW,” said Berzin. “My operatives have even learned that several key officers have considered resigning their positions. Thus far none have had the temerity to directly challenge Hitler, and the Führer has not changed his mind about fighting this winter as he did the last. He has reiterated his stand fast order, and specified that no division, anywhere on the front, should be moved without his permission. It seems more than one German General has been pilfering any available reserves they could find. Hitler, himself, has again assumed overall control of daily battlefield operations, and reduced OKW to the level of mere staff officers.”

“That will be the end of them,” said Kirov, for both he and Berzin knew quite well that this had happened once before. The Material they still had was replete with examples.

“Well then,” said Kirov. “Do as you suggest, General Zhukov, but before you leave, let us drink some good champagne and celebrate this new year. It will be our year, our time to take this war to the enemy in a way he might never expect. We have taught him to beware of General Winter, but this year we must learn how to beat them in the spring and summer as well.”

He raised his glass, watching the bubbles in rising from some unseen point at the bottom and making that jubilant journey to the top. Somehow, this effort had convinced him that the darkest hours of the war might be over, even if they were to lose Volgograd one day soon. They would hold on, and as Fedorov had told him decades ago, they could win.

“Gentlemen,” he said with a smile, “to 1943!”

Chapter 36

A good deal would happen on other fronts in those last months of the year, though we will not have time to visit every chapter of this long war. In the Pacific, October and November saw Yamamoto muster his 1st and 2nd Carrier Divisions at Truk, and proceed to the New Hebrides. He arrived too late to prevent another regiment of US Marines from moving from Samoa to Fiji, and by the time he bulled his way east towards the island, the American carriers had withdrawn.

His thinking continued to be dominated by the need for a decisive engagement with the US Navy but it was not to be in late 1942. With Halsey hospitalized, Nimitz pulled his last two fleet carriers out, waiting for the arrival of the Essex. He knew he could not face the Kido Butai again with only Enterprise and Wasp, and would not risk losing those valuable ships. They played cat and mouse, with small raids against Japanese occupied Wake Island, and the Marshalls. They also provided distant cover for convoys bound for Samoa, slipping away before the Japanese could seek to engage them.

It was a case of ‘pick on someone your own size,’ and the last months of 1942 saw the US intervene in French Polynesia, clearing out the last of the French Navy there, occupying the Society Islands, and taking Tahiti for a distant supply base. It was about 2500 miles from Truk to Fiji, a distance that already strained Japanese fleet units to try and maintain a secure supply line. Tahiti was over 4300 miles from Truk, farther away than Pearl Harbor, and so it was simply too far off to consider bothering, and would become a secure rear area base for the Americans.

With carrier superiority in late 1942, Yamamoto was able to keep his troops on Fiji supplied and reinforced, but the US had enough there to hold their enemy in check. A jungle stalemate resulted, with neither side able to push the other off the island, and Nimitz was soon proposing a different plan altogether to begin taking the war to the enemy. Once he built up carrier strength, he would be ready to fight again, and possibly decide the issue in the South Pacific, but that would happen in 1943.

Essex joined the fleet in late October, but spent the last two months of the war learning how to operate in a fast carrier group. By December, Nimitz would receive a few more Christmas presents. Two more in the class were rushing towards completion, the Bon Homme Richard was renamed Yorktown II, and the Cabot was renamed Lexington II. They would both start sea trials in January, hoping to be ready later in that month. With them would come a family of three children, the first being the escort carrier Independence, and then a pair of twins, two more hybrids that had been rushed to completion after the battle in the New Hebrides where Shiloh and Antietam proved their worth.

There had been seven New Orleans Class hulls built out as heavy cruisers, but two more were left in the shipyards as the war broke out. Hull numbers eight and nine, became the Gettysburg and Vicksburg, a concession to the concept of the hybrid scout carrier that could look for enemy forces and allow the fleet carriers to use all their planes in the strike role. They were also seen as possible commerce raiders, and at 36 knots, were fast enough to evade most ships that might outgun them, and harass, or even sink an enemy cruiser with their planes. So when Yamamoto finally did get another chance at taking on the US fleet, it would be much bigger than he imagined.

By January of 1943, there would be five fleet carriers in the Pacific again, one escort carrier and the four hybrids. Against this, Japan would also have her five remaining fleet carriers, and five light carriers. As Yamamoto had feared, the US was building carriers faster than he could sink them. As the new year dawned, there would soon be a relative parity between the two sides again, and the shadow boxing would end. It was time to fight.

In the west, the first order of business for the British was to establish a garrison in Spain in the event the Germans ever thought to return. With the Canary Islands now secure, most of what was once 110 Force there was pulled out and moved to Spain, along with reserve troops that had been guarding Madeira. They would join the 29th and 36th Brigade Groups, and the 10th Armored Division there. The 6th Armored, and all of 3rd Infantry Division, would move to North Africa to join the 43rd Wessex Division and form Montgomery’s Algerian Corps. It was further augmented with the 33rd and 34th Armored Brigades, one each operating with those two infantry Divisions.

Patton’s sullen prediction that Montgomery would take a month to get ready for operations was overly optimistic. Oran was barely functioning in late October, and Algiers was in even worse shape after it finally fell. So it was not until late November that plans were laid for renewed operations, and another several weeks before all was ready. To be “teed up,” as Monty put things. The rainy season had slowed everything to a crawl.

There was also the matter of Gibraltar to settle with the German garrison there, which had been stolidly holding the place for some months. Yet now that Franco had been removed, Brooke argued that Gibraltar’s importance was now much diminished. “We’ve got the full cooperation of Spain now,” he said. “The Fascists have been rooted out, a new monarchy installed, and now we have access to all those marvelous ports and airfields. Compared to that, the Rock seems like a little mouse hole, and we really don’t need it.”

“Oh but we do,” Churchill wagged a finger at him. “No one picks the Crown’s pocket lightly, or without facing the consequences. The Rock is ours, and we’ll have it back. Allies can be fickle partners. They squabble with you like a wife at times. Yet I suppose that there is at least one thing worse than fighting with allies, and that is to fight without them.”

“Yet do you really want to commit troops to what will certainly be a costly attack there?”

“If necessary. If they remain adamant. The better course would be to simply starve them out. We won’t stoop to the level they went when they threatened us with that ghastly business involving gasoline. They’ll get water from the catchments there, but no food. Starve them out, and every week make them the offer of a good banquet in exchange for surrender. You’ll see how soon a man’s resolve withers away when his belly is empty.”

That became the plan, and it was going to work. All of September and October passed, the garrison remaining adamant, in spite of the fact that their food had run out weeks ago. The Germans tried to parachute in supplies, but the RAF shot down the transport planes. They tried to sneak in food on a U-boat, but the Royal Navy sunk it. A few then tried to slip off in a small boat to go fishing, but they were seen and strafed until they fled back to the shore. Every week, Churchill would quietly inquire as to the status of the situation. On November 15th, he ordered the troops investing the place to fire up open air barbecue pits so the smell of roasting beef would waft over the whole place. Three days later, having gone for over five weeks without food, the Garrison accepted terms for an honorable surrender. The British replied that would be granted only if the tunnels and passages were not subjected to any demolition.

It was just one more thing for Hitler to rage about, but by then he had much more to worry about in Russia. Churchill had the Rock back, quietly informing a certain Elena Fairchild of that when it finally happened. He summoned her and Captain MacRae to a private meeting in the Cabinet War Rooms beneath the Treasury Building near Whitehall.

“Miss Fairchild,” he said, greeting her warmly. “I have heard a good deal about you, and your marvelous ship—our ship, though it is still quite a leap for me to realize it won’t be built for decades.”

“And an equal jump for me to wake up each morning and still find myself here.”

“Captain, that was a fine job you did in the Raid on St. Nazaire, and not a single ship was lost in the convoys escorted by your destroyer. I only wish we had ten more like this Argos Fire. Then we could really put the fire to Doenitz and his damnable wolfpacks. Now, I understand that you have made a little delivery to the Isle of Man.”

“Aye sir,” said Gordon. “All safe and sound.”

“That was all that remained of this Brigade that served us so well in the desert?”

“I’m afraid so,” said Elena.

“Well, we can’t risk losing any more of that equipment in combat—not until we’ve had a good long look at it.”

“I wish I could say that would help you,” said MacRae, “but most of what you’ll see there could not be replicated in any way at this time. Those vehicles run with highly specialized computers. The art of miniaturizing components used in their design and construction won’t be available until the 1980s and 90s. You’ll get some good ideas, particularly if you look over the Challengers, but they utilize exotic materials you will not be able to replicate. As to the computers, I strongly suggest you don’t even touch them.”

“Good ideas will have to do for the moment,” said Churchill. “Yet I summoned you here to discuss something else. It seems you had business with one of our battleships?” He gave Elena a knowing glance.

“I did, sir, though it took me a while to realize that. There was an artifact aboard that was of some interest.”

“Yes, I’ve heard the story. The Selene Horse…. To think it had that key hidden away like that, and nobody knew it. There it was, sitting in the British Museum for decades, before we crated the Elgin Marbles up and moved them to the tube during the Blitz. I’m not quite sure who had the bright idea to ship them off to the Yanks with all that gold, but the outcome of that little venture was most unfortunate. These keys… What might they open?”

“One sent my ship here,” said Elena. “We have a second, delivered by the late Admiral Volsky, a gift from his young Captain.”

“Ah, yes, that young man Fedorov—a most enterprising soul. He had such a key?”

“Apparently, though we aren’t certain how he may have come by it, or when.”

“Might it serve like the other—the one that brought your ship here?”

“We aren’t certain of that either. But on my ship I have a box that seems designed to hold these keys for safekeeping.”

“A box?”

“We found it at Delphi… This is a long story, but you might as well hear it.” Elena then related the tale of how the Argos Fire had come there, but left off the part about the Watch, Tovey, and a few other details.”

“My word,” said Churchill. “Someone has a fancy for tucking away little surprises in the remains of ancient Greece monuments.”

“And perhaps in other places.” Elena threw that out like a bridge player leading into a long suit, and Churchill was quick to answer.

“Other places? Well you may be pleased to learn that the Germans have finally given up Gibraltar. We starved the jackals out! Now then, I understand this key that was oddly packed away on the Rodney had something to do with Saint Michael’s Cave.”

“So we believe, sir. If the place is secure, I think we’d better have a good close look. I have men for the job, very reliable.”

“Any idea what you expect to find?”

“A door. That what keys mostly open, when they aren’t mated to magic boxes. The one I was given got me through that door beneath Delphi, and we now think there is something in Saint Michael’s Cave that needs close inspection.”

“Yet you haven’t the key to open such a door, assuming one exists. Hasn’t it gone down with Rodney? Or are these all a kind of Skeleton Key that can open many things at once.”

“We don’t know, but we at least have two keys to make a go of it if we do find a door there that needs opening.”

“If neither works? Then what? I can make the services of our artisan engineers available to you. They’ve tunneled out miles of passageways in the rock. This would just be one more.”

“I don’t think I would advise that, sir,” said Elena. “First off, these doors, at least the one I’ve seen, are rather sturdy, made from highly refined metal alloys that were obviously built to keep uninvited people out. No. I think it needs the key. Even demolition charges might not work on such a door.”

“Then we could simply go through the stone to either side,” Churchill suggested.

“Sir,” said Elena. “If your dentist told you it might be a bit of a task to get at the ache that’s been bothering you, would you advise him to drill out the teeth to either side? What I am suggesting is that whatever might be behind such a door should be… well preserved, and safeguarded. I’m afraid demolitions and willy-nilly drilling might be out of the question.”

“I don’t understand. It isn’t likely that we will ever fetch the key that went down with Rodney. It’s full fathom five, or worse by now, with bones of coral made.”

“Sir… and this may be difficult to explain. I was told by a certain gentleman, who might best remain undisclosed now, that there may be a means of locating that key.”

“Beneath the Atlantic Ocean?”

“Not quite. It may be there now, and unreachable, but that was not always the case. As our presence here testifies, movement in time is now an impossible possibility. A moment ago you stated the key was just sitting in the British Museum for decades. And it was somewhere else before that.”

“You’re suggesting that we might move in time to fetch the thing? My friend Mister H.G. Wells would love that. Have you read his tale?”

“I have sir. It’s a bit of a classic.”

“Yet we don’t seem to have a time machine handy. Otherwise your suggestion would be a splendid idea.”

“Well sir, we might have a time machine handy after all. My ship moved in time, that much is clear. The Russian ship moved in the same way, though that mystery is a horse of a different color. All that aside, something along those lines might be done, though I can’t confirm anything at this moment. Yet I think we had better have a look at Saint Michael’s Cave just the same. Might I have your permission to proceed there?”

“Of course. I’ll see that the navy knows you’ll be coming. But Miss Fairchild… What do you think you will find there? If there is a door of some kind, what might it lead to, another box like the one on your ship?”

Elena hesitated a moment. She had her suspicions, but no real certain knowledge. “All we know is that we have these keys, and with minutely engraved numerals that correspond to geographic coordinates. Those on the key within Rodney point directly to Saint Michael’s Cave.”

At that Churchill raised an eyebrow, slowly lighting a cigar.

“You have seen this first hand? How would that be possible?”

“No, I haven’t see it myself, but this was confided to me by a reliable source.”

“Yet one you prefer not to disclose.”

Elena relented. “Mister Prime Minister, this information does not come from this era, but from a future time.”

“Ah… Then your source is a gentleman, or lady, from the future?”

“Precisely. It would make sense, actually, for more would be known about this the in future years.”

“Then the key itself was obtained at some future time. That at least is hopeful. That being the case, Miss Fairchild, doesn’t it speak to the futility of looking into this further? You have just established that it will not happen until some future moment.”

Elena inclined her head. “My dear sir, I have history books on my ship that related the events of this war in great detail. In them, the German army never attacked Gibraltar, nor did they ever occupy the Rock. They never reached Moscow either, and I could go on to relate any number of events that have clearly happened here, but never happened in the history I know. The point I am making is this—things change, the history is not chiseled in stone, and interventions in the course of these events from travelers originating in the future are likely the cause of these changes.”

Churchill nodded, taking a thoughtful drag on his cigar. “In that light, I can see how keen your interest is to visit Saint Michael’s Cave. Please do so at your earliest convenience, and do let this old man know what you find there, if anything. And speaking of your history, it might also be interesting to take a little peek at one of those books of yours, and see what I might have to deal with in 1943.”

“Of course, sir, we’ll do anything we can for you.”

Churchill thought about that, recalling what the young Russian Captain had said to him about the danger of knowing too much, and how it might influence him to reach decisions he might not have otherwise taken, changing the history he sought to grasp in the first place.

“On second thought,” he said, watching the smoke slowly rise from his cigar. “I think I’d better confine myself to reading reports written in the here and now. We’ve a new year on our doorstep, and trying to walk in my own shadow simply won’t do. I think I’d prefer to face it head on, and not know what that other self of mine once did, or failed to do. Beyond that, you might consider that this is the true course of history now, not that written in your books. These events may never reach an accord with you library, and we must live them through.”

“Aye sir,” said MacRae, and Elena nodded.

“Let’s drink on it then. I always like to follow a good cigar with brandy. To 1943 then!”

He never could sleep on a submarine. The dreams always bothered him, but nothing like this. He awoke with a start, sitting up with a gasp, as if he had stopped breathing in his sleep, and nearly hitting his head on the bunk above. A bright light glared at him, and he blinked, holding up his hand to ward it off.

“Sorry to disturb you sir,” came a voice… He knew that voice, the quiet, steady tones, the sureness when it spoke. Then his eyes adjusted to the light, and he could see the other man’s face, framed in the open hatch to his room. It was Captain Gromyko.

“The officers were going to have a little New Year’s celebration in the wardroom, and we thought you might want to join us. If you’d rather sleep sir, that’s fine. Sorry to disturb you.”

Gromyko looked at him now, his face suddenly registering concern. “Are you alright sir?”

Was he alright?

His mind was spinning with sudden recollection. Gromyko… the submarine… Kazan…. The mission…. It was all coming back, a flood of images that washed over him like a tidal wave, saturating his mind in a confusing and disorienting rush. Yet the mission was over, was it not? They had found Karpov in the Sea of Japan, or at least they found the ship. They had slipped beneath it like an unseen demon, and the workings of that arcane magic in the reactor room had saved the day… yes…. Rod-25. How could he be here now, back on the submarine; back on Kazan?

“Sir?” said Gromyko. “Shall I call the ship’s physician?”

He held up a hand, reassuring the Captain that he was alright. “All is well, Captain,” he said still struggling to place himself here in the mad rush of recollection. Other memories were there, beneath the torrent that now cascaded into his mind. “Yes, I will join you,” he said, still seeming groggy with sleep. “I think I need some air.”

The man shifted out of the bunk, feet heavily on the deck, and stood up on unsteady legs. “My sea legs aren’t what they used to be,” he said, gripping the side of the bed rail hard. Gromyko stepped forward to render assistance, still worried. He knew the other man was an old surface warrior, and they had been down under the ice a good long while. Some men never really could find their sea legs on a submarine, and it seemed that Admiral Volsky was one of them.

“Here sir,” said Gromyko. “Let me give you a hand. Then we’ll both raise a toast to the new year—unless you don’t feel up to it.”

“What?” said Volsky. “Captain, I was just dreaming, but I can still drink most any man I have ever met under the table. What year have we gotten ourselves into this time?”

“Why, 1943, sir. 1943.”