Chapter 1043: Give It to Him

As four gunshots rang out in a basement in the distant central region of Italy, at the southernmost end of the Eastern Front, Germany’s 1st Mountain Division was crossing the forested mountain terrain before them. Behind this mountain lay the destination they had long hoped to reach, the final stop of this expedition: Baku.

This was the wellspring that had allowed the Soviet Union to become a world industrial power in such a short time. This was the oil-producing region the Germans had always coveted. As long as the German swastika was planted on this land, the oil-rich Soviet Union and the oil-poor Third Reich would swap places.

So, when the Red Army soldiers stationed on the mountaintop saw the German soldiers, a fierce firefight erupted between the two sides once again. Everyone wanted this land, and only blood could determine who was more fit to rule it. The German army launched a ferocious charge, and the Soviet army mounted its most stubborn resistance.

“News from the 402nd Regiment, Germans have appeared on their front.” A staff officer pointed to the 402nd’s position on the map, reporting the recent engagement to his superior. “The Germans launched a probing attack, but their firepower was extremely heavy.”

“Should we begin demolishing the oil production equipment?” the commander asked, glancing at the head of the sapper unit. “Comrade Colonel, to be safe, if you agree, we should sign off on destroying the oil extraction equipment here and now.”

The Germans had already surrounded this place. The few oil tankers had been sunk near the docks. Baku was now, one could say, completely cut off from the world. For half a month, they had received no proper resupply. This put Baku’s defensive system in danger of total collapse, and the Soviet generals present all felt a sense of powerlessness, of lacking troops and officers.

A massive amount of materiel had been siphoned away, sent to Moscow for that battle that would decide the Soviet Union’s fate. Therefore, the only value left in this remote oil-producing region was to destroy all the equipment and not leave a single drop of oil for the Germans. But this was, after all, a huge and systematic undertaking, not as easy to execute as one might imagine.

Even blowing up a single bridge required repeatedly weighing the pros and cons, let alone something as massive as destroying an entire oil field. The scale was similar to destroying a city, and in terms of economic value and future impact, it might even exceed it.

“A call from the 51st Army HQ. They’ve spotted enemy troops in German SS uniforms on their front. Judged to be Manstein’s main force, the 8th SS Panzer Division.” Another Soviet officer, clutching a document, walked into the messy command post. The news he brought confirmed the situation was deteriorating further. The main German force had bypassed the rolling mountains and had appeared on the narrow plain near Baku.

This was no motley, unknown unit. This was the 8th SS Panzer Division! When this unit had advanced south into the Caucasus, it had achieved a dream-like speed of advance that surpassed even Rommel and Guderian. This unit’s southward rush had been faster than the 200,000 retreating Red Army soldiers, completely disrupting the Soviet deployment for the defense of Baku.

Even more terrifying, this division was typically used as the armored fist by Manstein, a general known as Germany’s “strategic genius.” And following behind this unit was the main force of the famous M Army Group, the Wehrmacht’s 13th Panzer Corps.

Counting the 13th Panzer Corps, Manstein had deployed over 800 tanks and assault guns of various models to his front. This heavy armored force was an absolute advantage that the Red Army lacked. Unfortunately, the Soviet troops defending Baku didn’t even have enough anti-tank weapons.

“Damn it, this Manstein is playing it too safe! When he first advanced south, the guy was moving incredibly fast. We deliberately left an opening, wanting to fight a guerrilla war in the mountains to disrupt his supply lines, but who knew…” a staff officer muttered to himself in a low, indignant voice, staring at the map.

Another officer standing next to him shook his head, thoroughly agreeing with his colleague. “At first, his advance was extremely fast, but as soon as he entered the mountains, he became so cautious, securing every step. And the most infuriating part is, while he was securing his steps, he even turned back and mopped up the hundred thousand scattered troops of ours he had bypassed! He must have calculated our moves perfectly to be this precise!”

Anyone unfamiliar with Manstein would have been completely deceived by his frantic, ten-day push at the start of his southern advance. This staff general, who had not made his name in France nor achieved great things in Ukraine, had only become truly known to the Allied high command after the battle for the Crimean peninsula, which he had commanded himself. This general, who liked to quantify his attack steps with precision, was a true master of operations. His greatest advantage over Rommel and Guderian lay in his precise control over his troops.

He had been a staff officer within the Wehrmacht for his entire career, sent down to the troops from the General Staff. Therefore, he had more experience and a different way of thinking than generals like Rommel and Guderian, who had always been at the front. He placed great importance on logistics and was skilled at anticipating the enemy’s thoughts and countermeasures. He firmly believed that the truth of victory on the battlefield was to make no mistakes oneself, and then wait for the enemy to make one.

Therefore, just as his troops were about to enter the mountains, he had immediately and cautiously reined in his advance. He had then turned back, mobilized his follow-up infantry, and had completely swept up the scattered, routed Soviet soldiers in his rear. The reason was simple: he was unwilling to expose his army’s logistical supply lines to the guns of enemy partisans, so he preferred to temporarily slow his advance on Baku.

However, he really shouldn’t have remained quiet for so long. The more complex reason was that, in order to organize Guderian’s G Army Group for the northern battle, his own southern forces had had their fuel supplies cut for several days. Thus, the armored units he had ordered to swing through Chechnya towards the Baku plain had been forced to wait on the road for a long time before resuming their march.

Of course, this was all inside information that the Soviet defenders in Baku could not have known. They only knew that Manstein had, at precisely the right moment, halted his advance, leaving them with a massive defeat and a battlefield situation that was nearly a complete rout.

“Have we contacted the Caspian Flotilla? If they’re willing to help, we should be able to evacuate some equipment…” a Soviet general in the office spoke up. Ever since General Rokossovsky’s “betrayal” at Stalingrad (as it was understood within the Soviet Union), the southern theater had been left without any decent high-ranking generals. Earlier, Timoshenko had been ordered to take command of Baku, but before he had even arrived, Stalingrad had fallen.

Because of this, all defensive matters here had to be resolved through consultation between several army and front commanders, which made the problem-solving process much slower. For example, on the question of what to do with Baku’s refining equipment, there were two opinions: evacuate it or destroy it.

Ever since the German Fw-190D fighters had begun to appear in the skies over the Caucasus, the blue skies here had been ruled by gray-camouflaged German aircraft. These damn Third Reich planes visited the Caspian Sea near Baku every day, destroying every ship they saw.

Thanks to these German pilots and their Stuka and Stuka II bombers, fewer and fewer ships dared to dock near Baku to load oil equipment. The plan to evacuate the heavy machinery had slowed to a crawl. As the German ground forces drew closer, the opinion to destroy the equipment gained more and more traction.

“Tonight, two more ships will risk docking, but their tonnage is limited, so they can’t take much. The wounded have already been delayed for two days. If we don’t arrange something tonight…” The officer responsible for liaising with the Caspian transport fleet quickly reported all the information he had. For many days now, he had had nothing but depressing news to share, and today was no exception.

“Then our only choice is to destroy all the equipment! Start with the important, immovable heavy machinery. Dismantle the critical parts first, then blow them up with explosives!” this general, who had been temporarily chosen to manage affairs, ordered. “If there isn’t enough explosive, use artillery shells! In short, we cannot leave anything for the Germans…”

The atmosphere in the room grew heavy. After all, destroying this equipment was a heartbreaking affair. The soldiers who were now planting explosives on this machinery, rifles in hand, may have been the very workers who had assembled it. They had spent ten years building the Baku of today, only to be ordered to personally blow up the fruits of their youth, their offering to the motherland.

“But,” a middle-aged man in a suit, who had access to this command post, suddenly spoke up, offering a different opinion. He was not a soldier, but he represented many of the government officials here. “If… if we blow up this equipment, we will have no bargaining chips left to negotiate with this General Manstein!”

His words made everyone turn their gaze to him. With Stalin’s order to destroy Baku and share its fate, what he was saying was tantamount to treason. But he continued calmly, his next words making everyone’s eyes light up: “The Germans want oil. We give it to them. That way, everyone gets to live, don’t they?”

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