Chapter 1005: Something Bad is Afoot

On the outskirts of Tver, a German artilleryman, wearing only a white undershirt, stood under the baking sun, prying open an ammunition crate with a crowbar. With a sharp crack, a corner of the simple wooden packing crate’s lid splintered and popped up, revealing the bowl-thick rockets nestled inside.

Not far behind him was a still-smoking Friedrich rocket launcher vehicle. The steel launch rails, which looked like train tracks, were still radiating a faint heat from the friction of the rocket launch. The dust, kicked up by the backblast, had not yet settled.

Against the Soviet infantry in the encirclement, who lacked proper cover, the German Friedrich rocket launcher had a devastatingly lethal effect. A single salvo from an artillery battery could often inflict nearly a hundred casualties on General Govorov’s infantry.

Although Govorov desperately tried to keep his troops in line, ordering them to watch each other and forbidding any surrender, the unfortunate truth was that soldiers like Rokossovsky or Tukhachevsky were far too few. Every day, hundreds, sometimes thousands, even nearly ten thousand Soviet soldiers surrendered. Some units even defected as entire companies or battalions.

This German soldier hung a rocket from his hands onto the launch rail of the Friedrich vehicle, just like the dozens of other rockets. Completing a reload like this was not an easy task, or at least, not a pleasant one.

But every time he saw these rockets being fired in an instant, all the effort seemed worth it. Their Friedrich rocket battery could deliver over a hundred rockets into a warzone at once, enough to cover a massive area. This kind of attack was impossible to defend against and could immediately achieve the effect of a concentrated fire strike.

Swarms of tanks, followed by armored cars and trucks, as well as various self-propelled guns and Friedrich rocket launchers—the level of mechanization of the German Army was already the envy of the world. At least in the formation of its main combat units, Germany was willing to invest more motor vehicles to achieve the goal of increasing its offensive speed.

And the Friedrich rocket launcher could be said to be the favorite support weapon of all German troops: it was fast enough to move, its attack was swift, and its preparation time was short. It could keep up with the speed of a tank attack, making up for the shortcomings of the German artillery. If it had a drawback, it was only that its range was shorter than that of a traditional rocket launcher.

“Get clear! The next volley is about to begin,” the operator, who was standing at a distance by the firing switch, shouted to the soldiers responsible for loading. As he shouted, he waved his arm to the side, signaling those soldiers to move to a safe distance.

After everyone had moved to a safe distance, this operator pressed the switch, sending electricity to all the rockets. And so, starting from the first rocket, they shot out of the launch rails one after another, flying into the distant sky.

A violent backblast spewed out, kicking up the dust on the surrounding ground and sweeping over the area like a sandstorm. If it weren’t for the German Air Force firmly controlling the skies, this weapon would expose its position every time it fired. But now, this overwhelming display of power was actually liked by the German artillerymen. They jokingly called the Friedrich rocket launcher the “dust raiser” or the “smoke bomb.”

But this gentle nickname was what its own side called it. After the enemy had been baptized by this weapon once, they usually called it the “Storm” or the “Destroyer.” Because often, after a single rocket launcher salvo, the Soviet positions would be so pockmarked with craters that they were no different from the surface of the moon.

Soon, the Soviet positions had experienced a storm. Over a hundred rockets had landed almost at the same time, pattering down on the heads of the Soviet troops like rain. Although they had already been through such a baptism once and had done their best to build simple positions to reduce casualties, they still paid a heavy price.

“Damn it! This group of German bastards! They’ve surrounded us for days, and apart from harassing us with their cannons, they haven’t even attacked!” a Soviet division commander shouted, watching his positions being engulfed in a sea of fire. He was so angry he almost threw his binoculars to the ground. His soldiers were not afraid of a face-to-face confrontation, but this kind of repeated, unseen torment was simply despairing.

He then began to complain about the supreme leader far away in Moscow. “We had built strong defensive positions near Leningrad, with so many cannons and anti-tank ditches, and the result was that they made us give them up! We were rushed to this damn place, with nothing, to be handed over to the Germans to be surrounded!”

It was no wonder his resentment was so great. The contrast between before and after was simply too stark: in Leningrad, they had wide anti-tank ditches, and deep, sturdy trenches of more than two meters. The main sections even had fortifications reinforced with reinforced concrete, a large number of bunkers and shelters, and countless anti-tank guns and large-caliber artillery.

Another advantage was that they had their backs to Leningrad and had a large amount of grain, so they didn’t have to worry about food sources in the short term. Even if the field shelters were destroyed, they still had a way to retreat into the city and fight an urban siege battle that the Germans were unwilling to endure.

The result was that with a single order, they had given up such a good hand and had rushed to the vicinity of Tver. In order to escape the pursuit of the German E Army Group, the Soviet army had had to abandon a large amount of its heavy weapons. The artillery had been abandoned, and they hadn’t even brought many anti-tank guns. The result was that this light infantry division was surrounded in the area north of Tver, without even the strength to fight back, just waiting to be annihilated in the open field.

General Govorov stood in his command post, looking at the situation between the two sides with a worried expression. List of E Army Group was indeed not an easy opponent. His troops were deploying a solid encirclement from behind. A large number of German infantry had already reached their positions, and this giant pocket had been completely sealed.

What was even more terrifying was the A Army Group armored force that was blocking his front. General von Rundstedt’s 2nd Panzer Corps was using a central breakthrough tactic, attempting to cut his Leningrad group into pieces. His current position had already been squeezed into the shape of a dumbbell, and in just a few more days, the entire group would be cut into two small encirclements.

“If, I say if, we were to try and break out now, is there any possibility of getting close to Moscow?” General Govorov suddenly broke the gloom in the room and asked his adjutant, who was also looking rather grim. “Organize our forces, from all directions, and break out…”

He pointed to several bridges on the map, as well as several nearby small towns and villages. “Is it possible for us to break through these German defense lines, to occupy these places, and then to take at least 20,000 or so soldiers and break out to Moscow?”

After asking these questions, he looked up at his adjutant, hoping to get some advice from this old partner he had worked with for many years. He really didn’t have any good way to deal with the current situation. Who was to blame for him not having as many tanks as Zhukov?

Unfortunately, he did not get the answer he wanted from his aide, because his adjutant looked at him, shook his head, and spoke words that were even more despairing. “If we’re lucky, we’ll see each other in a German concentration camp. If we’re not lucky, we’ll be seeing Comrade Lenin together!”

Everyone knew that it was already too late to break out. Even if the hundreds of thousands of infantry could break through the German frontline positions and even capture Tver, as long as the Germans blew up the bridges, all their efforts would be in vain. To pray that the Germans would make one mistake after another… General Govorov admitted that he himself did not have such a good mentality.

“General!” an officer from the radio communications room walked into the room. He stood at attention in front of Govorov and then began to report the problem he had just encountered. “We’ve lost contact with the headquarters of the 77th Division, which is in charge of security on the western outer perimeter. There’s no word of an enemy attack from that side, so the director asked me to report to you…”

“The 77th Division?… Katsoniev’s old unit?” It was unknown how many people still remembered this man with the full beard. At least General Govorov remembered. Back when this big beard was around, the Soviet 77th Division could be considered one of the best fighting units in the entire army.

Unfortunately, this poor, big-bearded Katsoniev had already been executed. His unit had also been handed over to an unknown commander. Now that unit had lost contact. This really made one’s back feel cold. It turned out that Katsoniev’s influence had been there all along, and only now had it truly been exposed.

“Re… Report!” Just as Govorov was giving a bitter smile, another Soviet officer rushed into his command post. After a hasty salute, he quickly and stutteringly reported an important piece of news. “The German troops have taken over the 77th Division’s defense line. They are shouting to the other surrounding units, saying that the 77th has surrendered.”

Govorov did not feel surprised. He seemed to have known this outcome all along. “Ever since Katsoniev was executed by those idiots, the 77th has not been the same 77th that could fight so well. I’m not surprised they surrendered… Have the 170th and other nearby units on high alert. Don’t let the Germans take the opportunity to break through our lines!”

Suddenly, Govorov seemed to have realized something. He looked up and asked, “Do you know who was in charge of executing Katsoniev back then? Why do I seem to remember it was his old subordinate, Borovsky?”

The adjutant was taken aback for a moment, then looked at his old partner, Govorov. “I… I also remember… Oh no! The 170th is in danger too!”

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