Chapter 785: Give and Take

The King Tiger tank’s first large-scale appearance on the main front had become a nightmare for the enemy. This low-slung, powerful, and astonishingly well-protected steel monster, with its superior firepower, had easily torn through the Soviet defense lines. Even the dozen or so Soviet tanks that had rushed over to provide support had been destroyed with ease.

The appearance of these King Tiger tanks had once again given the German army a qualitative advantage over the Soviets in armored forces. Even the Stalin tank, which the Soviets had painstakingly produced in small numbers, was proven to be no match. The Soviet defense line had been broken once again, and the German Army Group A was even closer to Minsk.

When Zhukov received the news that a new model of German tank had appeared on the battlefield, had broken through the defense line set up by the 1st Guards Front commander, Konev, and had advanced 20 kilometers in one go, he just waved his hand, telling the person reporting to say no more. He had enough troubles on his mind already; one more would not make him any more desperate.

News had just come in that the hundreds of thousands of troops of the Soviet Red Army in the Donetsk sector had given up their resistance, had thrown down their weapons, and had surrendered to the German army. This intelligence was a disaster for the Soviet Union. The vulnerable Caucasus region was now exposed to the muzzles of the German guns, and there lay the oil fields that were crucial to the Soviet Union, producing the fuel and various chemical products needed for the Soviet counter-attack.

Once the Caucasus was lost, then even if the Soviet Union could remain undefeated on other fronts, it would be dragged down by Germany one day in the future and would fall into an abyss from which there was no recovery. For the Soviet army, or rather, for the entire Soviet Union, the importance of the Caucasus was no less than that of Moscow.

Zhukov, with his hands behind his back, walked to the map and carefully stared at the front of his own defense line, at the line of actual control between the two sides that was getting closer and closer to Minsk. He let out a helpless sigh. At this moment, the commander of the Soviet 2nd Guards Front, General Rokossovsky, walked into Zhukov’s office.

He had come to report for duty. His 2nd Guards Front was in urgent need of rest and refit and had lost its necessity to remain at the front. The fighting at the front had little personal impact on him. After all, the way the war was going now had little to do with him.

“Ah, Comrade Rokossovsky, you’ve come. Sit. I have no more vodka here, I can only offer you some plain water. A pity,” Zhukov said, pointing to a seat not far away and motioning for Rokossovsky to sit down. He then continued to speak slowly, “Do you know why I have summoned you?”

“Comrade Zhukov, I heard that our army in the southern region has suffered a large-scale rout. For you to summon me at this time, is it because you hope I will rush to the south to help the troops there stabilize their positions?” Rokossovsky said after a moment’s thought. “In any case, my Front also needs to rest and refit. It’s just right to retreat to the Caucasus, isn’t it?”

“If we cannot hold that place, then we don’t need to continue fighting. So I am sending you there, hoping you can hold it firmly, until we have defeated the German offensive from the front,” Zhukov said with a sigh. “I can’t give you much, but you will be closer to Chelyabinsk there. I will do my best to give you priority in supplying heavy weapons like tanks.”

Anyone knew that going to the Caucasus was not an easy job. Most of the soldiers there were newly recruited, raw recruits with no combat experience. To use these soldiers to block the advance of the German army was definitely an extremely difficult task.

“You’ll let me take the 2nd Guards Front with me? Including the troops transferred from other sectors, if we don’t have to counter-attack, I can still manage to defend the Caucasus to the death. But… no matter how long we hold on, there has to be a time limit. Once that limit is passed, I’m afraid I won’t be able to do anything,” Rokossovsky said with confidence.

Zhukov shook his head and looked at the huge map of the Soviet Union hanging on the wall. He said with some sadness, “This war is now a war of attrition where both sides are suffering heavy losses. In fact, for us, there is no longer any possibility of victory. No matter what we do, the losses of the Soviet Union will probably not be recovered within 50 years.”

His gaze swept over Minsk, over Kiev, over Kharkov. Finally, it rested on Rokossovsky. “We have no way to end the war, because we have to take back all the lost territory before we can dare to raise the demand for peace talks. Otherwise, all of us, including Comrade Stalin, will be traitors to the nation. But I see no hope of taking back our territory now, not a single shred. I am sending you to the Caucasus because I myself am not sure how long it will be before we have the ability to counter-attack. Perhaps a year, perhaps two, perhaps… it will take three years or even longer.”

He extended his hand and caressed the important cities on the map, looking at the control lines that represented the strength of both sides. Finally, he pressed his hand on Minsk. “In order to free up troops to give you more support, I have even written an operational report on abandoning Minsk and have sent it to Moscow… This may be the last time I give an order to retreat. Comrade Stalin must find someone to bear the consequences of the defeat. My… position is very suitable.”

Giving up Minsk was a helpless move to shorten the defense line. The German advance in the south was clearly too fast, causing the entire north to become like a huge salient in a semi-encirclement by the Germans. Once Guderian’s troops began to head north along Kursk, then all the defenders in Belarus would be in danger of being encircled and wiped out.

To avoid this danger, Zhukov had decided to give up some areas to consolidate his defense line. And the first place he wanted to give up was the important western city of the Soviet Union, Minsk. The responsibility for losing a city and its territory would naturally not fall on the leader, Stalin. Therefore, Zhukov, the commander-in-chief of the front, had become the number one choice to take the blame.

However, once the Soviet Union gave up Minsk, it would also mean freeing up about 200,000 troops. These troops could follow the 2nd Guards Front south to fill the vacuum in the Caucasus region, allowing the Soviet Union to continue to maintain the current stalemated war situation and to continue to fight.

In other words, the Soviet Union might have to give up not just Minsk, but also a series of areas including Kharkov, Smolensk, and Kursk. They were even willing to let Moscow become a front line to protect the oil fields in the Caucasus region. Only in this way would the Soviet Union have the capital to continue fighting, and the capital to continue to be entangled with Germany.

The key now was that these were all just a series of military speculations. And Stalin, far away in Moscow, whether he would buy Zhukov’s plan or not. Whether he would accept this plan or not was the most crucial part of all the problems.

Minsk was one thing. The question was whether Stalin had the courage to give up the gates to Moscow, like Smolensk and Kursk, to trade strategic space for more mobile forces, to buy more time, in order to launch a strategic counter-offensive in the future.

If this plan were to be implemented smoothly, then it would depend on whether the German army had the guts to advance nearly 700 kilometers into the true heartland of the Soviet Union, to transport its logistical supplies on the muddy roads, and to fight a decisive battle with the Soviet army under the walls of Moscow.

What Zhukov was waiting for was nothing more than an order from Stalin. And what he could do now was just to detach the 2nd Guards Front and send it to the Caucasus direction.

“Report!” At this moment, a soldier with a telegram stood at the door and knocked. He then walked respectfully behind Zhukov, stood at attention, saluted, and handed the document to him. “A telegram from Moscow, personally sent by the great leader, Comrade Stalin. Please review it.”

“Read it!” Zhukov did not take the telegram that would decide his fate. He just looked at the map and gave a command with a forced calmness.

“Comrade Zhukov, as a Marshal of the great Soviet Union, my personal trust in you is beyond doubt. I have already announced your continued appointment as the frontline commander at the wartime personnel appointment meeting held in Moscow… The defeat at the front should not be your responsibility. In fact, the main reason for this failure is the incident on the Crimean Peninsula. These traitors to the country have already paid the price for their actions. And on our own side, the main responsibility lies with Comrade Timoshenko for his poor command on the southern front, not you,” the soldier said, opening the telegram after hearing the order and reading it out solemnly.

When Zhukov heard these words, he closed his eyes. The outcome he had feared most, of having the blame placed on him, had not occurred. This time, the scapegoat was the one who was primarily responsible for the southern rout, Marshal Timoshenko, who had been in command of the battle there. It seemed that Stalin also saw that the situation in the Caucasus was very dangerous and was supportive of the plan to abandon Minsk.

Sure enough, Zhukov’s guess about what came next was not wrong at all. The soldier continued to read, “As for the plan to abandon Minsk, I personally support it. A war will naturally have setbacks, and there will be temporary defeats. But we should firmly believe that the power of the revolution is infinite, and we will surely achieve the greatest victory!”

“It seems we can still have another go with the Germans!” Zhukov realized that without his knowing, the shirt he was wearing underneath had been soaked with sweat. But his worries had now been swept away, and his mood had relaxed by more than just a little. Not only was Stalin still letting him command the troops at the front, but he had also replaced Timoshenko, making it convenient for Rokossovsky, whom Zhukov had sent, to take over. This was undoubtedly good news for all the Soviet soldiers.

Zhukov looked at Rokossovsky and murmured, “Sacrifice has bought us a chance for victory.”

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