Chapter 895: Heading South

Inside the Kremlin, Zhukov and a group of Soviet generals were trying to persuade Stalin to agree to the Soviet plan for a decisive southward advance. Most of them felt they had been duped by the Germans, deceived by the recent bombing raids on Moscow.

“Ten days! We’ve wasted ten days, all for a high-altitude bombing raid that didn’t even hit the city center,” an officer sighed, shaking his head in regret. “Isn’t this just too timid? We’ve disgraced our great motherland.”

Everyone knew this was just typical hindsight. Let alone a mere army group commander like him, even Stalin and Zhukov wouldn’t have dared to easily conclude that the German bombing was just a bluff ten days ago.

At that time, no matter what, the capital Moscow had been subjected to a large-scale bombing by German bombers. This was an indisputable fact that no one could question. Many had estimated that the German forces attacking Moscow would act within twenty-four hours. Some had even predicted that the German army would launch an offensive towards Moscow immediately.

Under those circumstances, almost everyone had advocated for defending Moscow first and considering other problems later, because no one could bear the responsibility of losing the nation’s capital. The result of their bickering and mutual disregard was that the Soviet Red Army’s plan to advance south had turned to dust, and that was all.

As for now, ten days later, everyone clearly understood. The news of the German army’s fuel shortage was probably true, and that unprecedentedly large-scale bombing of Moscow was, to put it bluntly, just a German attempt to cover up its weakness. Because from that bombing until now, a second air raid had never come.

So at this time, many of the younger generals began to question the judgment of Zhukov, or rather, of Stalin. They didn’t dare to bring it up openly in meetings but chose this method of discussing it behind their backs, spreading it in their own circles. This was done very secretly, because after the Great Purge, the Soviet Union’s tolerance for criticizing the national leader, Stalin, was almost zero.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed? Why are you talking so loudly? Everyone knows that guy Stalin is a complete idiot when it comes to military command, but what can we do about it?” another officer said, turning his head to look at the position of the guards around them, and then spoke in a low voice. “We’ve wasted so many days of a great opportunity.”

If you’re not in that position, you don’t make those policies. If you’re not in Zhukov’s position, of course, you don’t know the pressure he’s facing. At a time like this, of course, “everyone else is an idiot, only I am wise and brilliant.” Before the two of them could finish speaking, the shrill sound of the alarm once again rang out over Moscow.

Yes, the German Air Force had sortied again. This time, so many planes had been sent out, accompanied by twenty fighter planes. They still had not entered Moscow’s absolute air defense circle and had still just dropped some bombs on the outskirts before hastily finishing the job. The only difference was that last time it was at night, and this time it was during the day.

“German planes? An air raid? How is that possible? Didn’t they say the Germans were really short on fuel? What on earth is going on?” the young officer who had just been spouting off asked, his voice trembling. When he was questioning the decisions of others, he could probably pick out dozens of flaws and attack them everywhere, but to ask him to come up with a solution himself was a bit too much to ask.

The other officer did not speak this time, because he was so scared by the sound of the distant explosions that he could not speak. After all, he was just an officer from the logistics department, and not even one in charge.

While the two of them were at a loss, Zhukov happened to pass by with his aide. He looked at the two pale-faced officers and said in a slow tone, “It’s a good thing you’re here. The great Soviet leader, Comrade Stalin, is about to hold an emergency meeting. All officers who can attend must attend.”

“Yes, sir!” The two of them quickly stood at attention and then, following behind Zhukov and his aide, walked with their heads bowed towards a huge conference room in the Kremlin. This was a place where Stalin often held operational meetings, spacious and bright, not at all like the current war situation of the Soviet Union.

“Comrade Stalin, I personally suspect that the German army is indeed using their strategic bombers to the greatest extent to interfere with our army’s judgment,” the meeting began quickly. The entire conference room was filled with no fewer than twenty generals and officers. Some were from the Moscow garrison command, some from the Moscow theater logistics department. There were very few frontline generals, on the contrary, because they all had to prepare for battle at the front.

Zhukov took the lead in expressing his doubts about the German army’s erratic and irregular bombing of Moscow. He felt that this was a German interference operation, with the aim of preventing the main Soviet force from advancing south.

In fact, if there were only the Moscow front, then he would certainly have been a stone Buddha, unmoving as a mountain until the last second. But he couldn’t stand the constant urging of Rokossovsky in the southern theater, who was sending several telegrams a day, requesting that Zhukov head south to reinforce him.

If the problems of the southern theater were taken into account, then Zhukov had to admit that a decisive battle to the south was the best choice at present. But he was not Stalin and could not directly command the troops to advance south quickly to seize a more favorable opportunity for a decisive battle.

As a commander, he would have preferred to be like during the battle for Ukraine, commanding his troops to charge and kill at the front. Even if he failed, he would have been worthy of his title of Marshal. But unfortunately, he could now only sit in Moscow, waiting for Stalin to catch on.

“The interval between the German bombings is not short. I personally also feel that the German strategic bombing does not prove that their fuel is sufficient,” a general in charge of logistics said after a moment’s thought to Stalin. “But Comrade Stalin, I also cannot bear the responsibility of putting Moscow at risk…”

A thousand words, ten thousand words, in the end, it was still the same old topic. If anyone dared to say that a decisive battle to the south was the best policy at this time, then they would have to bear the subsequent responsibility if Moscow were to be occupied by the German army. Whether it was Stalin or the future successors of the Soviet Union, the first thing they would do would be to take this person out and make an example of them—and a small fry wouldn’t do. It would have to be someone of Zhukov’s or Stalin’s level.

“The scale of the German bombing… is not large,” Zhukov said, looking at the rather conflicted Stalin. He decided to choose a plan that seemed most feasible at present. He did not want to sit and wait for death, because the news that had just come in was not very optimistic. At the very least, he felt that the Soviet Union’s current situation was not good.

“If, I say if, we were to lose Stalingrad… could the war still go on?” Stalin closed his eyes, as if he were making a momentous decision, or as if he were just resting his eyes from his recent fatigue. The question he asked made the entire meeting hall fall silent. The whispers of opposition to the southern advance all disappeared.

“Comrade Stalin, if we lose the oil-producing region near Baku, our current reserves are only enough for us to launch one offensive… If our offensive fails, then the ‘Great Patriotic War’ can never be won,” Zhukov said, looking at Stalin and finally answering. “With all due respect, my suggestion is that it is best not to give up the Caucasus…”

“Enough! I understand,” Stalin said, raising his hand to stop Zhukov. He was one of the few people in the conference room who knew some other information. A few hours ago, an even worse telegram had arrived in Moscow. Most people still did not know about this crisis, but he personally knew it well.

So he needed a victory, a great victory to stop the retreat at the front. This had been his firm thought just now. If it weren’t for this sudden and opportune bombing, perhaps Stalin would have already given the order for the main Soviet force to begin its southern advance.

“Then. Still assuming, if I were to order the troops to go south, would they, in the process, run into the German armored forces?” Stalin opened his eyes and continued to ask Zhukov. In these past few days, Stalin had not neglected to study that operational plan for a Soviet southern advance. He knew that this plan had a high feasibility, at least it was much better than being cooped up in Moscow and waiting to die.

“Comrade Stalin, we are already a full half-month behind the projected time for the southern advance. G Army Group has rested for nearly 20 days and has only just approached the Kursk region… In this situation, I think that even if we were to go south with the original scale of forces, it would be of no use,” Zhukov stated to Stalin with regret. “If you ask me what to do, then I would assemble more troops to move south and fight a decisive battle with the German army in the Kursk region.”

“Then, now, how many troops do you need to go south? 30 divisions? Or 35?” Stalin asked after Zhukov had finished speaking. “How do you plan to stop the Germans from leveraging their air superiority, and how do you plan to crush the most elite army group of the German army in one fell swoop? Do you have your own ideas?”

“First, Comrade Stalin, any operation will have risks,” Zhukov replied. “I will concentrate all the armored forces in my hands and go south to face the slowly advancing German G Army Group head-on. I will choose to wait for a bad weather to fight a decisive battle. Because we have a numerical superiority, I am confident I can rout this German force.”

He paused, then continued to answer Stalin’s question. “I need 40 divisions, a full 40 divisions of troops! If the campaign enters a stalemate, I will even have to use the 10 new divisions that have been transferred from the Far East as a reserve.”

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