Soviet europa, p.15
Soviet Europa, page 15
part #10 of Blitzkrieg Alternate Series
Kranjska Gora, Slovenia, June 10th, 1947
The last few weeks had been a little weird for sergeant Jack Summers. First, the war had petered out to nothing, with the Germans either retreating toward Austria or else not really defending when attacked.
Then the weird state of affairs between the Red Army and the rest of the Allied forces. Summers and his squad had been getting along quite well with several Russian fighting units, especially the one where his by now good friend Yvan Vishnevsky fought. They’d attacked Nazi positions together, drank as friends, and exchanged merchandise like good neighbors. And then, it all stopped one day. Right after the German announcement of a general surrender but only to the Western Allies. That was the last time Summers saw Yvan. Every Soviet soldier was under strict orders to stay away from the Western Allies. Any transgression without orders was punishable by death. Something serious had happened.
From Jack’s perspective, things were all good as the Western Allies raced inward toward the east in order to disarm the surrendering Germans. In the span of a week, they pretty much occupied all of the Reich and were able to stop the fighting even against the Soviet forces. But according to Vishnevsky’s last words, that had not been enough to show good faith to the Russian master. Tons of NKVD agents and new political commissars had been dumped on the frontline troops to ensure they would not mingle with the Americans or the British. The Red Army leaders had not been totally blind to the little “camaraderie” that had slowly blossomed between the two Allied sides of the Grand Alliance. Ordinary soldiers just wanted peace and rapidly noticed that they liked the other, even if a world of difference had kept them apart before they met in the field of battle.
Ever since that fateful day, he’d heard nothing of the Russians. He was sent on patrols and trench duty as the high command ordered them to dig to face the Soviet forces, apparently doing the same.
A heavy curtain was thus falling on Europe, which divided the West's forces and the forces of the East, while the Reich’s body was still warm, and its soldiers were still surrendering and being brought to POW camps.
Summers had taken residence in one of the small town’s hotels, as he’d been assigned to the area's defense with the rest of the Lone Star Division. He wondered what was in store for them but just couldn’t believe that war was looming with the USSR.
He didn’t even know if he could fire on the men he’d come to like so much.
Belfast airport
End of the Belfast conference, evening of June 9th, 1947
As the Petlyakov Pe-8 four-engine bomber lifted off the tarmac in a great cacophony of sounds, the Soviet Minister of Foreign Affairs, Vyacheslav Molotov, wasn’t paying attention to the aircraft’s motion. The plane had powerful engines, so he didn’t feel the lift too much. At least not enough to yank him out of his thoughts.
The Belfast Conference was now over, and he’d done his master’s bidding. He gave the Russian demands without declaring war of any kind. He also did the small talks, the posturing, and the diplomatic receptions—everything needed for the conference. Stalin seemed content to play bully for now. Molotov wondered where this all would lead. He knew, of course, that war was about to be again unleashed, this time between former Allies. He just didn’t see the outcome of it.
Churchill had certainly been very clear on the matter. The Western Allies would not back down from a fight. And come to think of it, he believed the old warhorse. The damn man was a warmonger and would revel in more fighting. After all, the Brits were hardly known for cowardice or too shied away from a scuffle.
Truman seemed to be made of a different sort, but it wasn’t like Stalin was giving the man any choice. It might have been possible to negotiate some kind of deal with the degenerate Yankees, but not from the stance that the Soviet Union was taking. Asking for Germany, Austria, the Low Countries, and Eastern Europe/Balkans was so unreasonable in diplomatic terms that it could only make the U.S. President feel backed up against the wall with no room for maneuver. There was no possible negotiation with this kind of position from the USSR.
A flight officer walked by Molotov’s chair in the dreary, uncomfortable bomber. It sure wasn’t made for passenger comfort. The interior had been hollowed out for most of its military hardware, bomb bay, and machine-gun positions. Then some chairs added—nothing fancy, and certainly nothing funny to any travelers, with a long ride home. “Comrade Minister,” started the man, giving Molotov the military salute. “The plane is in the air; all is nominal. Next stop Mother Russia.” “Thank you, officer,” said Vyacheslav with a dismissive gesture of the hand.
After the interruption, he plunged back into his thoughts. He wondered how he would present this to the General Secretary. No doubt General Antonov had his own version of the discussions, so Molotov didn’t have any choice but to give it to Stalin the way it unraveled. Doing otherwise would have been pure folly on his part.
He just didn’t know how the dictator would react when he asked him his opinion on Allied intentions going forward and what he thought of their resolve to fight.
There was no way around it. If Stalin wanted all of Central and Eastern Europe, he would have to kick the Western Allies out by force.
Somewhere in the Ukraine
Chernigov, June 12th, 1947
SS Commando Otto Skorzeny was walking along with his team in the Ukrainian wilderness. The four-person unit was composed of him, Sturm, and two more men, Theodore Dietrich and Ernest Ranke. The men were escorted by two Ukrainian nationalists who had sided with the Reich during the war and were now outlaws.
Ukraine was not what you could call sympathetic to the Nazi cause, but some had decided to throw in their lot with the Germans when they invaded in 1942-1943. Several thousand men had joined the Wehrmacht, and over ten fighting divisions were thus formed from 1943 to 1946. Some even fought to the last bullet in Germany, having retreated with their Nazis friends.
Skorzeny's self-given mission was rather a difficult one. He’d sold the idea to the late German Fuhrer (apparently Guderian had surrendered all German forces a few days earlier) that he could find the Russian nuclear program and either destroy it or else get the information back to the Reich. Now that the German government no longer existed, the commando man had hesitated to continue on his journey, for it might be for nothing. They were deep within the Soviet Union and acting for a government that no longer existed.
But as he discussed with the Fuhrer before he left on his mission, both men highly suspected that war would erupt between the Western Powers and the USSR. So, if the SS man successfully located the nuclear program or information about it, it might come in handy as a bargaining chip. In short, Guderian had told Skorzeny that he hoped the Anglo-Saxons would soon need the German when faced with the full fury of the Red Army.
After discussing it over with his men and the three Ukrainians escorting them, they all agreed to continue. After all, they were deep in the Ukraine and were near the area where one of the Ukrainians, Nikita Volomsky, had heard rumors of an American B-29 with Soviet markings. The fact that the Soviets had one of the large bombers caught Skorzeny’s curiosity. And also, the fact that Volomsky told him that for a while, there had been an incredible amount of security around Chernigov airfield.
The land was still littered with the remains of war. The Soviets were still busy advancing through Europe, so they had had little time to pick up the destroyed tanks, decaying bodies, and other war leftovers. And besides, the land was utterly empty of able-bodied men. Everywhere they went, it seemed that there were only kids, elderly men, or women. Everyone else was either at the front or somewhere the little group couldn’t figure out. Karakova, the other Ukrainians, had told him that most of the partisan groups had either gone home or joined the Red Army. Also, the Soviet state was currently busily conscripting every man aged seventeen and older into new units.
The group of six men consequently looked quite peculiar, and out of place, so they only moved at night or in captured vehicles. They were moving through a large field where a major Panzer battle had been fought, for hundreds of tank hulks were lying around. The machines were scarred, blackened, and, more often than not, completely gutted. It was the dead of night, and they advanced between the eery remnants of a long-ago battle.
“Volomsky,” started Skorzeny, “How far are we from this Chernigov airfield you talked about?” “Not far, colonel, not far, said the rough-looking Ukrainian. “I’d say maybe another few nights or walking, a couple of days of hiding, and then we’ll be there.” The commando man wondered if the whole mission was worth it. Hell, he didn’t even know if he was doing this for a purpose anymore.
Extract Of Heinz Guderian 1952 Book, Panzer Leader
Captivity, June 1947
The month of June 1947 was one of the strange periods of my life as a General and leader of the German nation. A week after my official surrender in the Berlin Chancellery, I was already in Strasbourg, where the new Allied overall headquarters was located.
After the rather dry and difficult discussions with general Patton (the man was not what you could call a friendly personality), I was brought to the Allied Commander-in-chief for all European forces, General Dwight D. Eisenhower. There I finally met someone that had a tad of sense and good manners. The man was flanked by several generals, which I also had fought during the war, namely General Bradley (recently freed from Turkey) and British General Montgomery.
To say that I didn’t enjoy the long conversations with these men would have been a blatant lie. It was interesting to talk to the fighting generals that led the opposing armies in the terrible conflict we all fought against each other. They, of course, needed to debrief me and wanted as much information as possible on every subject, military, political, or else secret. Still, we always reverted to discussing the campaigns fought against one another in the end. Of particular interest were the battles in North Africa and the Spanish campaign. They also had a lot of interest in my conquest of the United Kingdom and the Middle east.
I have to say that throughout the whole process of my custody and “imprisonment,” I was very well treated. I had American soldiers escorting me everywhere, of course, but never was I constrained into a cell or anything of the like. The Allied high command also gathered many of my esteemed colleagues, like, first and foremost, my dear friend Erich Von Manstein. We were free to gather and talk with each other when we could do so and not in another of the endless debriefing sessions organized by the different Allied intelligence agencies (OSS, British intelligence, etc.).
The Strasbourg facilities were spacious, and we all had a room for ourselves. Of course, we couldn’t leave the premises, but that was to be expected.
The Reich’s surrender was still very fresh, but in those days, the Western Allies were quickly dawning on the grim reality of Stalin and his ambitions. The man had grown bold after his victories against the Reich and had the Red Army to do whatever he wanted. In particular, I sensed that Eisenhower was very much worried about a Soviet attack. I believe that is why we were so well treated. Future events would prove the Allied commanders right in their assessment that we could help them somehow, but in June 1947, there was still hope that peace could be maintained between the West and the East.
Colditz Castle
Panzerwaffe prisoner of war holding camp, June 16th, 1947
Castle Colditz (or Schloss Colditz in German) was a Renaissance castle in the town of Colditz near Leipzig, Dresden and Chemnitz in the state of Saxony. The castle was between the towns of Hartha and Grimma on a hill spur over the river Mulde, a tributary of the River Elbe. During World War II, the castle was the site of Oflag IV-C, a prisoner-of-war camp for "incorrigible" Allied officers who had repeatedly attempted to escape from other camps.
Indeed, after the outbreak of World War II, the castle was converted into a high-security prisoner-of-war camp for officers who had become security or escape risks or who were regarded as particularly dangerous. Since the castle was situated on a rocky outcrop above the River Mulde, the Germans believed it to be an ideal site for a high-security prison.
The funny thing about the next chapter in Colditz’s story was that the Allies thought the same, in the sense that the castle was a great place to hold prisoners of war. After the Reich’s surrender, all Allied POWs were freed, but it didn’t take long for the prison to be filled up again, this time with Germans. It wasn’t like the Allies had had time to decide who went where, as giant POW camps had been set up everywhere across Germany, awaiting the Wehrmacht’s full demobilization that the Allies would soon start.
Colonel Erich Walder was thus sent to Colditz after his capture in Berlin. He’d sped away from the Battle of Fürstenwalde as it was ending and had driven on the Autobahn (along with two other Panzers) until he arrived face to face with an American unit near the Brandenburg Gate in the Reich’s capital. Having a white flag on his tank (Stromer’s dirty white undershirt) and with the official surrender of the Wehrmacht already proclaimed by Guderian, they just stopped their Tiger III, exited it with their arms in the air, and were marched into captivity.
After a period of questioning where it was decided that Walder was not some sort of war criminal but a genuine fighting man, he was sent via truck to Colditz to be interned as a prisoner of war. The castle was a nice place to be held compared to where the rank and file were. Walder was a high-ranking officer and so went to the medieval fortress instead of a dreary, open-air camp somewhere in a German field.
Although Walder had no intention of trying to escape, the place was very secure. The larger outer court had only two exits and housed a large British garrison. The prisoners lived in an adjacent courtyard in a 90 ft (27 m) tall building. Outside, the flat terraces surrounding the prisoners' accommodation were watched constantly by armed sentries and barbed wire. The prison was renamed in English - officer prison camp 4C- and was operated by the British Army until further notice.
Erich was surrounded by other men of the Panzerwaffe but had unfortunately been separated from his faithful crew. He missed Stromer’s young enthusiasm in particular. He’d been through hell with him and the driver, Slazenger, so he wondered how they were doing.
It was now his 8th day of captivity, and he was already getting bored, for time went by very slowly for a man used to action as he was. At least he got to sleep well for a change, for no one threatened to shoot at him. The rest of his thoughts were toward Ingrid, and he wondered what had happened to her. He’d lost contact with the girl in the last confusing days of the Reich’s fall, so he didn’t know her whereabouts. He hoped she was all right.
Over Tsingtao
Russo-Japanese jet dogfight, June 16th, 1947
Takashi was finally breaking a sweat against a Russian plane. Not that he liked it, but his Nipponese sense of honor was somehow satisfied to find something that had a chance against the deadly combination of his plane and skills. The enemy had brought several of their new aircraft, the Alekseyev I-21. A twin-engine fighter, all made of metal, it was a single-seat jet with straight laminar flow wings, mid-set on a circular fuselage. The fighter's turbojet engines were mounted in the wings(as part of them), much like those on the British meteor fighter. It was normal since the Soviets had stolen the plans from the British. The slightly swept tail unit was cruciform in layout and, if not for the Red Army star painted on its side, could have looked like one of the numerous Allied fighters populating the European skies. Armed with twin 23mm autocannon on each wing, it was as deadly as any plane on the battlefield in 1947.
The Soviet air force had initially sent only their propeller-driven fighters and bombers, believing the Japanese and Nationalist Chinese were without any defense as the Americans had disarmed the Imperial Military. But it didn’t take long for reports to land on the three Generals commanding the Asian fronts army groups (Berezin, Meretsov, and Kerenin) talking of Nipponese jets sweeping Russian planes out of the skies. After several requests to Stavka, a couple of squadrons of Alekseyev I-21 were shipped to Manchuria. It took some time, but the fast Soviet aircraft was finally operational on June 16th and now fought Genda’s Kikka squadron on even terms.
Onishi’s plane again swooped over Kiautschou Bay, with its left wing almost touching the water, creating a foaming ripple over its surface. Several Russian shells landed about, exploding harmlessly in the sea, partially splashing the Japanese plane. The Imperial pilot turned his aircraft on the right, starting a roll in a dangerous move. Low-level flying was always a big risk, as the pilot had no margin for error. But the ploy worked, as the highly-trained Takashi was able to swing up and loop back while his Soviet counterpart continued straight on into empty sky, completely clueless.
The Japanese pushed his plane to its top speed and took altitude in an instant, entering a big white cloud that was lingering above the city of Tsingtao. The Imperial Army was still holding its ground against the Red Army, now also joined by several Chinese Communist armies (Mao Tse Dong).
The scene below the jet’s epic dogfight was a maelstrom of guns firing at the other (one could see the tracer shells from far and high in the air) with explosions, fire, and blasting earth dotting the view. And amongst it all, soldiers milling about the business of trying to kill each other.
The Russian forces had taken the outer forts defending the town but were now pitted against the fortress's inner defenses, which seemed to be holding for now. Tsingtao was encircled by countless Communist forces but bravely resisted nonetheless. The American Navy kept landing supplies, and the Japs kept bleeding in its defense.
While in the cloud, Onishi thought about the last few weeks of battle. Soviet strength was increasing almost daily, and they now had so much work that it seemed they slept in their planes. The Kikka themselves broke down as the Americans struggled to get replacement parts. Not many Japanese jets had been downed, but many were grounded because they couldn’t be repaired. After all, there were no more Japanese aircraft factories as they’d all been destroyed by Allied bombings before the Empire’s surrender.
