Chapter 999: The Capable Should Take the Position

What kind of war did the German Army love to fight most? This question seemed well worth a thorough study. While the answer might be debatable, there was no doubt that the Wehrmacht loved to use large-scale, deep-penetration pincer movements in the open country to deal with the enemy’s massed formations.

In the Polish campaign, Germany had used several classic pincer offensives to utterly shatter the Polish defensive clusters, ending the campaign with a speed no one had thought possible, achieving a nation-destroying velocity that shocked the world.

Subsequently, in France, Germany had completed the “Scythe Cut” operation with an effective flank breakthrough, annihilating the entirety of the Anglo-French elite at Dunkirk. These forces, too, had been caught unprepared in the open and were hunted to extinction by the German main force.

Following that, in eastern Poland, in Ukraine, and in Belarus, a series of “German-style annihilation battles” had sent the Soviets reeling. It was only when the Soviets began to use massive fortifications to delay the German offensive that these instances of encircling the enemy in a war of movement gradually disappeared.

In their place came the seemingly endless trench warfare of the Eastern Front, the brutal urban assaults, and the massive tank-on-tank encounter battles. All of these tactics were predicated on mutual attrition. For a single defensive node or a single strategic objective, both sides would throw in nearly a million men to fight over it repeatedly, to the point where the front line would not move an inch for weeks.

But in the region north of Moscow, the Germans had once again seized their opportunity. They had encircled 500,000 Soviet infantry from Leningrad, and they had done so with armored forces and elite mechanized infantry. This made Rundstedt very comfortable, for this was the classic German rhythm.

“Has the messenger returned with any news?” At this moment, the German Field Marshal was in an excellent mood. Although his forces were deep in enemy territory, the enemy truly had no strength to counter-attack. So he could leisurely pull the tiger’s teeth. And this pincer offensive of his seemed to have already sealed Germany’s victory on the Eastern Front.

The Soviet Union clearly had no more reserves to launch a counter-attack against the Germans. In the region south of Moscow, Zhukov’s southward-advancing group had suffered heavy losses and was still struggling to hold on. Meanwhile, all of Moscow’s northern forces were now encircled by Army Group A, Army Group E, and the Finnish Corps in the area north of Tver.

Although the Germans had anticipated a fierce battle for the few large bridges near the Ivankovo Reservoir, it had not happened. This fully demonstrated that the Soviets were in a hurry to contract their forces and had no intention of even trying to rescue the Leningrad group.

In the defensive positions around Moscow, the Red Army had organized a defensive force of over one million men. However, this number was clearly inflated. Everyone knew what the real situation was.

In another timeline, when Germany was defending Berlin, it had also claimed to have a million soldiers. But in reality, the number of combat-effective troops was probably not even 300,000. The old, weak, and sick mobilized by the Soviet Union were, in fact, no different from the infamous Volkssturm of another timeline. They were just civilians with rifles. These troops had no combat effectiveness to speak of and, when faced with the battle-hardened German elite, would collapse in minutes.

To expect such a force to find food in the ruins, or to maintain the total number of troops on the line in a desperate situation, was barely plausible. But to expect these troops to counter-attack and, under the tracks of German tanks, to retake the lost bridges… even Stalin himself felt that was a joke.

“Marshal! The messenger sent to the enemy’s Leningrad group did not see their commander, General Govorov! The Soviet general who received our messenger refused our offer of surrender. They said that Govorov is determined to share the fate of his motherland,” Marshal von Rundstedt’s aide reported with regret.

They had been ordered to send a messenger to persuade the Soviet army to surrender. After all, to annihilate an army of over 500,000 in the field would take time and sacrifice. Out of consideration for conservation, the German General Staff had decided to first send a messenger to try and persuade the encircled Soviet army to surrender on their own.

It seemed this plan had failed. Govorov had no intention of surrendering. Although the Soviet army was surrounded in the wilderness, they were far from running out of food and ammunition. However, the German army had calculated the Soviet army’s supplies. At most, they could only hold out for about another week.

“A week, is it? He would rather let hundreds of thousands of men starve to death on their positions than surrender…” Marshal von Rundstedt looked at the map, at the circular symbol that had been completely surrounded by the blue arrows representing his own side. “Compared to Govorov, who is already a dead man, I am more concerned right now with how the Führer will arrange the next phase of the war on the Eastern Front.”

It wasn’t just Rundstedt; far too many people were concerned about this issue. The German army had several main offensive directions, including north of Moscow, the area south of Moscow to Kursk, the area south of Kursk, and the direction of Baku—four in total. Apart from the northern Moscow theater, which Rundstedt was personally commanding, any one of the other directions could potentially produce a new Field Marshal for the army.

Guderian, Manstein, and Kluge were all strong contenders for this promotion. However, in Rundstedt’s eyes, these generals all had the label of “the Führer’s inner circle” attached to them, just like that other Field Marshal, Rommel.

Once this new Field Marshal was created, then in the composition of the Imperial Army, the power of the Führer’s faction would completely overwhelm the original General Staff’s officer aristocracy. This was the most painful truth—there were simply too many capable men in the Führer’s faction. You could pick any one of them, give them the rank of Field Marshal, and it wouldn’t even be excessive.

The balance that he and the other old generals had been maintaining, both openly and secretly, would eventually be broken at some point. The generals of the Führer’s faction would eventually stand in the key positions of the German military department, becoming important chess pieces for the Führer to control the entire Germany. Thinking of this, Rundstedt gave a bitter smile and then shook his head helplessly. Wasn’t he, too, someone the Führer had promoted all the way? In the eyes of outsiders, wasn’t he also a dyed-in-the-wool Führer’s man?

The opinion within the army was to, as much as possible, push for General Manstein’s M Army Group, which was advancing south, to capture the nearby Baku oil fields, to let this “Führer’s man” who also had an aristocratic background be the first to be promoted to Field Marshal, so as to balance the various forces within the army.

Another voice was to nominate General Keitel and General List, who had, if not merit, at least hard work. After all, these two, including General Model in the rear, were all highly respected old generals. To have them guarding a region should also be rewarded.

Brauchitsch had even sought the opinions of Field Marshal von Rundstedt and Field Marshal Rommel on this matter. Rundstedt had not replied immediately, while the latter had replied concisely: “I am only responsible for fighting for the Führer and for Germany. Other matters do not concern me!”

The Führer’s side was even more baffling. No matter how Brauchitsch inquired, Akado seemed to have no intention of answering directly. This wise Führer had fobbed him off with a smile, saying, “The promotion of a Field Marshal must be done with great care. I am also considering it,” leaving everyone guessing what he was really thinking.

“A telegram from General List! He has launched a new artillery barrage on the western side of the encirclement, focusing his attack on Hill 67.” Just as Rundstedt was pondering this seemingly destined army promotion, a signals soldier, holding a newly received telegram, knocked on the door of his command post and reported, “A message from the 2nd Panzer Corps headquarters. The Finnish troops are moving to our due north. The Soviet army is still showing no signs of breaking out.”

It was impossible for the Soviet army to break out and escape. Behind them was the pursuing German E Army Group, which had already closed in. On their flank was the Finnish Group, seeking revenge for the Winter War. And blocking their front were several of the German army’s main armored forces. If they could still run out of this, it would be a ghost story.

After sorting out his thoughts from the tangled mess of internal relations, the Field Marshal pushed the chaotic network of relationships to the back of his mind. He carefully looked at the position List was attacking, then tapped the map and gave an order to his subordinate, “Have the grenadiers on the flank of the 2nd Panzer Corps advance five kilometers to support General List’s attack!”

“Yes, Marshal!” The aide saluted at attention, then turned and walked out of the Marshal’s office. Setting up the command post in Tver had been a very wise choice. After all, there were many buildings here that could be used as temporary residences for the officers and as temporary command posts for the various units.

This aide had just walked out of the room when another officer from the telegraph office walked in with a new message. “Heil Führer! Your Excellency, Marshal, news from the air force. Norway has been attacked by Allied bombers from Iceland, with heavy losses.”

“What?” Rundstedt was stunned. He then took the telegram and began to read it carefully. He saw the numbers on the losses, and also the results of the air force’s counter-attack on Iceland. After a long while, he closed the file and fell into thought.

Just a moment ago, his mind had been preoccupied with personnel appointments and balancing the various factions. But his enemy had, at this moment, reminded him: the war was far from over, and Germany had not yet reached the end of the road to victory. This was not the time to be dividing the spoils of victory, because the enemy still had the ability to bring down the entire Third Reich.

Rundstedt leaned back in his chair, stared at the ceiling, and was lost in thought. Suddenly, a question pierced his mind—Why must we maintain a balance? Shouldn’t the most capable man simply take the position?

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