Chapter 975: A Quiet Room

Govorov, commander of the Soviet Leningrad Front, was in a rage, cursing out his subordinates. In truth, his anger was directed at Stalin’s order for a hasty southward march, but the long-standing sense of oppression kept him from pointing a finger at his leader.

“We received the order to retreat seven days ago, yet there were no covering forces deployed in advance on any of the necessary routes, including Tver. Isn’t this just sending us into a German pocket?” The general, who had masterminded the defense of Leningrad, slammed his fist on the table, utterly disappointed with the incompetent Soviet high command.

He had deployed comprehensive fortifications in Leningrad. With the port providing a steady stream of supplies, he was confident he could use these defenses to delay the German offensive for more than six months. But with a single order from Stalin, the entire Soviet force in the Leningrad sector was forced to abandon its strong positions and slowly head south, risking encirclement.

To shake off the pursuing List Group, he had periodically assigned units to rearguard actions, sacrificing a few to buy distance and ensure the safety of his half-a-million-strong army. But the closer he got to Moscow, the more uneasy Govorov felt. As an isolated force marching south, he had yet to see any friendly covering forces on the necessary routes.

The troops under Govorov’s command were not the elite armored corps that Zhukov commanded; he had only infantry, a massive number of them. These units moved with excruciating slowness in the open country, making complete concealment impossible. If they were to be entangled by the Germans, they could not disengage unscathed.

But this force was now Moscow’s hope, the only hope for defending the Moscow line. Govorov felt that anyone with a shred of sense would have dispatched troops to cover his army group’s movement.

He was wrong. He had overestimated the strength of the Red Army in the Moscow sector and underestimated the mindlessness of his comrades. Just as his vanguard approached Tver, the shadow of German armored forces was spotted in that direction.

“Did you see them? Which German unit is it? Reconnaissance or the main force? Speak up!” Govorov shouted, having finished cursing the fools who had put him in this miserable position. He stared into the face of a general who had come to report.

“The German armored cars have a large letter ‘A’ painted on them. According to German designations, it should be Army Group A under Rundstedt from the Central Group. Our men spotted resting German armored cars and tanks on the outskirts of Tver. It should be the main force,” the general stammered in reply. Running into German armored units in the open was the worst possible scenario. No infantry, without the cover of strong fortifications, could stand against a large-scale mechanized armored force. Now, every man in the command post was pale. They knew a catastrophe was imminent.

Seize Tver first? Govorov shook his head. Even if he rushed and managed to take Tver, it would be nothing more than a foothold. The German encirclement seemed to be already forming. In this situation, an undefended Tver was no different from the wilderness.

Moreover, with a full 500,000 men crowded around Tver, they couldn’t all squeeze in. Most of the troops would still be in the open, to be devoured by the Germans. Saving a hundred thousand or a few tens of thousands would be meaningless for Moscow. His only chance now was to retreat to the northeast, where the German encirclement had likely not yet formed.

As long as he retreated a certain distance, the Germans, with their unstable flanks, would give up the pursuit, and his troops would win a final moment of respite. But to take a detour south, leaving aside how many men would be left, no one knew if they would even make it in time to reinforce Moscow.

On the other hand, if he retreated, Moscow’s flank would be completely exposed. At that time, troops would be needed to plug the gaps in the defense line. How many of the 500,000 men, after being spread out along the long northern front, would be left was also a question.

Govorov found himself in a dilemma. Whether a retreat would be approved by Stalin was an unknown. Whether he could shake off the Germans’ pursuit after approval was another unknown. Whether he could stabilize the front after shaking off the pursuit was yet another unknown. And how many men he could send to support Moscow after stabilizing the front was a final unknown.

He couldn’t go to Stalin with a pile of uncertainties and say, “Big brother, I can’t even solve my own problems. How about you approve a retreat and I’ll give it a try? No idea if it’ll work, we’ll just have to risk it…”

Stalin would probably not have him shot on the spot, but he would certainly replace him and have someone else continue to command these last 500,000 men, the last of the Soviet Union’s lifeblood. At that point, what would his own fate be? He didn’t have to think to know he’d be sent to a Siberian labor camp.

So Govorov, after much deliberation, decided to use the most prudent method to deal with the crisis. The Germans have appeared on our retreat route? Just send men to break through, right? If we can’t break through, then at least I’ve done my best. These troops were ordered to retreat here by Stalin in the first place. Whatever the outcome, Stalin himself should be the one to take responsibility.

Thinking of this, Govorov called for his aide. “Send a telegram to Moscow. Inform the great leader, Comrade Stalin, that German armored units have appeared on our army’s southward route… Ask him for instructions on how to proceed.” Since his leader liked to frequently meddle, then at a critical moment, asking the leader to take the blame was clearly a good idea.

To hell with all that subjective initiative nonsense. Let that crap go to hell. And so, a telegram was sent to Moscow and placed on Stalin’s lavish desk. The Soviet Union had once had such a vast territory, and in such a huge country, so many things happened, yet so few could be placed on this desk.

Stalin’s expression was grim. After all, any leader who fancied himself a great man would probably look grim when the enemy was at the gates. From the way Li Shimin had eagerly attacked the Jie Li Khan after his own comeback, it was not hard to see how much such things were resented. History has told us time and again that when you have the ability to show off your power, it is best to finish off your opponent directly and not leave any future trouble.

And now, Stalin, who considered himself the greatest leader of the entire Soviet Union, was facing the most difficult moment of his rule. The great city named after him had been captured by the Germans. The city named after the founding leader, Lenin, had been handed over to the Germans without a fight… Now the German army was at the gates of Moscow. Stalin felt his face burning, swollen from the slaps.

Thinking of this, Stalin touched his own cheek. After all, compared to his few predecessors, he was still relatively lucky. De Gaulle was now in exile in America, without a country. Churchill had died in a London basement, his body not even left intact… he himself was still alive. If that wasn’t lucky, what was?

But it was clear that what he was experiencing now had nothing to do with luck. And so he once again summoned the commander of the Moscow defenses, Vatutin, and vented his anger on this trusted subordinate. “General Vatutin! How could the Tver sector be so easily lost to the Germans? Ah? Why did this happen? The hundreds of thousands of troops sent to reinforce us are trapped on the road, at risk of being encircled by the enemy. Who is to take responsibility for this?”

Vatutin, a moment before, had been racking his brains on how to deal with the Germans who had already captured Kolyubakino. His defense line had been breached in the center by the attacking Kluge’s F Army Group. The German vanguard was even threatening Kubinka.

Hearing Stalin ask him about the Tver sector, Vatutin was clearly taken aback. That was the responsibility of the Tver Oblast Defense Command. How could it involve him? And besides, wasn’t the order to transfer 10,000 of the Tver defenders a few days ago signed by Stalin himself?

And so Vatutin quickly shirked his responsibility, bowing his head to Stalin. “Great leader, Comrade Stalin, to transfer the forces from Tver to strengthen the Moscow main front was necessary and very correct. It is just that we have too few forces in our hands, which is why it gave the Germans such an opportunity to outflank us.”

Hearing Vatutin say this, Stalin’s resentment shifted to Zhukov, who was still fighting a hard battle in Kursk. He waved his hand, signaling Vatutin to find a seat. He then picked up the telegram himself and, tapping the paper, asked, “Then what should we do now? Have Govorov continue south, break through the German encirclement, and break out to Moscow, or have them retreat to the northeast?”

Vatutin gave a cold laugh. This Govorov really dared to talk big. He just doesn’t want to come to Moscow and die with everyone else, that’s all. Why find such a lame excuse? To run for your life in the open field on your own two legs from under the wheels of German mechanized infantry and tanks—what a joke.

It was estimated that these hundreds of thousands of troops wouldn’t even make it to Kushalino before they were blocked and wiped out by the Germans. A breakout was also fraught with danger. After all, Vatutin had also learned not long ago of the German armored forces’ northward flanking maneuver. After receiving this news, he knew that Govorov was finished, and that Moscow probably wouldn’t be getting any saviors from the Leningrad direction.

But Govorov was a clever one. He had actually thrown this choice to Moscow, to let Stalin take the blame for this already-doomed outcome. At a time like this, he did not dare to give Stalin any rash advice, but just lowered his head and silently waited for Stalin to speak himself.

The room was quiet for a time, so quiet it made one feel dizzy.

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