The 900 Days (84 page)

Govorov took one radical decision. After examining the history of the costly
place cTarmes
at Nevskaya Dubrovka he said briefly, “Nothing can be expected from that except a blood bath. We must quickly transfer the people to the right bank.”

He won the agreement of Zhdanov to the evacuation and by April 27 had removed the 86th Infantry Division from the shell-pocked plot of ground to which it had clung since September, 1941. This action was not understood in Leningrad. Pride in the bloody triangle was high. Pavel Luknitsky was in despair when he learned of it on May 1. It was a great secret. But, as he heard it, the Germans had successfully stormed the foothold. The 86th Division had gone down fighting with the cry: “We will die before we surrender.” Luknitsky shuddered to think of the blood that had been lost for the sector on the southern bank of the Neva and of the hopes they had had that it might be the wedge which would splinter the German front. Seven months the battle had gone on. Once there had been only six to nine miles that separated the Neva foothold from the Volkhov front.

The tragic event cast a pall over the May Day holiday for Luknitsky —that and the end of the Ladoga ice road. The ice went out on April 24. No connection at all with the mainland now except by air. When would it come back? How would Leningrad be supplied? He did not know that on April 2 there had been a meeting at the Kremlin with Anastas Mikoyan at which plans were approved for a pipeline under Ladoga which would supply Leningrad with fuel; that the engineers were hard at work on this; that the pipe had already been located in the now abandoned Izhorsk factory (only the factory director was still on duty, the warehouse keeper was killed in an air raid April 20, the day the Ladoga engineers located the pipe); that on June 19 the pipeline would go into service; and that a Ladoga shipping service would be operative by May 22.
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“All night I have thought about it,” Luknitsky said. “It makes me sick.”

But if the liquidation of the Nevskaya Dubrovka foothold was not the tragedy which Luknitsky believed, there was slowly building up on the Leningrad front another disaster, the fruit of the terrible and indecisive winter fighting.

Neither General Fedyuninsky, in chargé of the Fifty-fourth Army, nor General Meretskov, in chargé of the Volkhov front, had been able to make real progress, but Moscow had never relaxed its pressure to get results. All winter long there had been High Command representatives with Meretskov. During most of February and early March Marshal Voro-shilov was assigned to him. In early March Voroshilov was recalled to Moscow, but he returned to Meretskov’s headquarters on March 9, and he brought with him several companions. One was Georgi M. Malenkov, making one of his increasingly frequent appearances at a fighting front. Another was Lieutenant General A. A. Novikov, deputy air commander, and a third was a brilliant new general whose star was rapidly rising, Lieutenant General Andrei A. Vlasov. There had been a shake-up among Meretskov’s deputies, and Vlasov had been named by Moscow as deputy commander of the Volkhov front. Vlasov, like Govorov, was a hero of the Battle of Moscow. While Govorov and his Fifth Army were smashing the Germans at Mozhaisk, Vlasov and his Twentieth Army were retaking Volokolamsk. Both generals were young and vigorous. Both were shown off to foreign correspondents, Vlasov just before Christmas, Govorov in mid-January. Among those who met Vlasov was Larry Lesueur, a Columbia Broadcasting System correspondent, who thought the forty-year-old Vlasov looked more like a teacher than a soldier and was impressed with his tall astrakhan hat with its crimson and gold crown and his white felt boots. Eve Curie, who visited Russia as a correspondent, was struck by Vlasov’s professionalism. He considered each question strictly from the military viewpoint. He spoke of Napoleon with deep respect and thought it nonsense to compare Hitler with him. She was pleased to find that he knew Charles de Gaulle’s views on modern war and that he respected General Guderian, against whom he had been fighting. Vlasov’s parting words to Eve Curie were “My blood belongs to my fatherland.”

It was obvious that the introduction of this vigorous and successful commander into the frozen bogs of the Leningrad hinterland was designed to break the deadlock there. The fact that he was brought in under Malenkov’s auspices suggested, as well, that the appointment had a role in the endless game of military politics in which the Kremlin was engaged.

General Meretskov had no cause to find fault with his fast-moving new deputy. Vlasov did not attempt to take upon himself any responsibilities other than those given him by Meretskov.

During the remainder of the month there was a new effort to get things moving and particularly to improve the position of the Second Shock Army. This army had scored considerable advances beyond a point called Spasskaya Polist, midway between Novgorod and Chudovo in an area of tangled swamps, underbrush and tamarack bogs, roughly seventy-five miles southeast of Leningrad. Unfortunately, in penetrating into the German positions, it almost fell into encirclement. The Germans, seeing their opportunity, sent the 58th Nazi Infantry and the SS police division into action, and succeeded in cutting the Novgorod-Chudovo highway and railroad and closing the four-mile “throat” through which the communications and transport of the Second Shock Army was maintained. A week of fierce fighting ensued, back and forth, and finally the supply route was reopened and the encirclement of the Second Shock Army relieved, but only by the barest of margins. There is bitter argument between two Soviet generals as to whether the encirclement was really liquidated. General Meretskov contends that it was. General Khozin contends that it wasn’t—that the Second Shock Army had only a corridor a mile to a mile and a half wide and that within ten days the Nazis choked it down again.

Whichever version is correct, events demonstrated that the position of the Second Shock Army was very shaky, very precarious. On April 9 the Germans attacked again and cut off the army. It was reduced to receiving supplies by plane and air drops. The situation was so difficult that Ivan V. Zuyev,
⁴
the Second Shock Army Political Commissar, held a meeting of all political workers, army procurators, military tribunals and members of the dread “special branch” of the secret police and ordered the “highest vigilance” against any German “agents.” At this point the army commander, Lieutenant General N. K. Krykov, fell ill and had to be evacuated by plane. General Vlasov was sent in to replace him.
⁵

The difficult situation was made more difficult by one of the erratic command changes which Stalin so often introduced. Stalin had been continuously dissatisfied at the failure of the efforts to lift Leningrad’s blockade. He had sent one high emissary after another to get some action. Now he summoned the erstwhile Leningrad front commander, General Khozin, for a conference April 21. Khozin had repeatedly put blame for the failure of the deblockading efforts on lack of coordination between the sprawling units of the Leningrad (internal) and Volkhov (external) fronts. He repeated his complaints now and urged that the Stavka ensure close and effective collaboration. He presented his views to Stalin, Marshal Shaposhnikov, Marshal Vasilevsky and a number of Defense Council members, undoubtedly including Malenkov.
⁶
Unexpectedly, Khozin contends, Stalin proposed that the fronts be united and Khozin put in chargé. Khozin describes the idea as having been as sudden to the others as to him. Because of the “colossal authority of Stalin,” Khozin observed, no one thought of challenging the notion. An order was drafted to unite the two fronts as of midnight April 23 and put them under Khozin’s command.

No one was more surprised than General Meretskov, the Volkhov front commander, at this decision. “I could not understand what the point was of this consolidation,” he said. “In my view there was neither operative nor political nor any kind of advantage in it.” He soon heard, however, that General Khozin had promised that if the two fronts were united he could lift the Leningrad blockade. In view of this, Meretskov thought it understandable that the Stavka had ordered the reorganization and strengthened the new front with the 6th Guards Rifle Corps and another rifle division. But he did think it odd that the Volkhov front commander, that is, himself, had not been consulted.

“I learned about the proceedings,” he recalled, “on April 23 when General Khozin with the directive in his pocket and in a jolly mood appeared at the Volkhov staff headquarters.”

Meretskov insists that he called Khozin’s attention to the plight of the Second Shock Army but that “Khozin had his own opinion and didn’t agree with me.”

Meretskov went straight to Moscow, and there on April 24 he again raised the question of the Second Shock Army with Stalin and Malenkov.

“The Second Shock Army is practically stifling,” Meretskov recalls saying. “It can’t attack and it can’t defend itself. Its communications are threatened by the German blows. If nothing is done, catastrophe is inevitable.”

Meretskov proposed that the army be evacuated from the impenetrable marshes in which it was bogged down (especially dangerous with the heavy spring thaw which made every road and trail impassable) and brought back to the line of the Chudovo-Novgorod highway and railroad. He was listened to with patience and a promise of attention. He was then transferred to the Western Front to command the Thirty-third Army. Almost simultaneously the other top Leningrad commander, General Fedyuninsky, was removed from the Fifty-fourth Army and sent to command the Fifth Army, neighboring the Thirty-third on the Western Front.

Khozin’s story is that he gave first priority to the plight of the Second Army, which was virtually encircled and badly weakened by the winter of incredibly difficult fighting. Many units were down to 60 to 70 percent of rated strength. Tank brigades had no tanks and artillery no shells. The forests were so waterlogged it was impossible to move by truck or car. Even horses had difficulty getting around.

General Khozin got Stalin to agree that the Second Shock Army should go on the defensive in preparation for an effort to get out of the encirclement. There were at this time eleven infantry divisions, three cavalry divisions and five infantry brigades in encirclement. By May 4 the five cavalry brigades had forced their way out. Two infantry divisions and some smaller units broke out and joined the Fifty-ninth Army.

General Vlasov, with his Chief Commissar Ivan Zuyev, flew out of encirclement to consult with Khozin May 12. They returned to headquarters May 14 with plans for constructing a road through the wilderness along which it was hoped to move out the troops. But the idea did not get very far. The Germans had begun to build up their forces again, sensing that they were nearing the kill. The Bavarian Rifle Corps was brought in, and there were signs the Germans planned a simultaneous drive from Chudovo and Novgorod.

General Khozin had put the Fifty-ninth Army into action to try to lessen pressure on the Second, and Stalin agreed to lay aside the drive for lifting the Leningrad blockade while trying to save the Second Shock Army. Plans were laid for a simultaneous push June 5 by the Second and Fifty-ninth armies. But the Germans spotted the Soviet preparations and themselves went over to the offensive. Some Soviet troops forced their way out, but by June 6 the Germans had firmly closed the circle around parts of seven rifle divisions and six infantry brigades—altogether 18,000 or
20,000 men
.

General Khozin did not try to conceal the disaster. He reported what had happened promptly to Moscow, and on June 8 General Meretskov was urgently brought back from the Central Front and again summoned to the Stavka. In the presence of virtually the whole High Command Stalin said: “We made a big mistake in combining the Volkhov and Leningrad fronts. General Khozin wanted to head the Volkhov operation, but he has done badly. He didn’t carry out the orders of Stavka for the withdrawal of the Second Army. As a result the Germans have cut off the communications of the army and encircled it.”

Stalin turned to Meretskov. “You, Comrade Meretskov, know the Volkhov front very well. So we are sending you with Marshal Vasilevsky to bring the Second Army out of encirclement even if you have to abandon the heavy artillery and equipment.”

Meretskov flew into Malaya Vishera, where Khozin had his headquarters, before nightfall. He found a gloomy situation—the Second Army cut off completely, with hardly any supplies and no way to provide food or ammunition. There were no real reserves, but Meretskov gathered what troops he could and ordered a narrow attack on June 10 to try and create an escape corridor.

The effort was only partially successful. The Germans had mustered four infantry and an SS division to the north and about five divisions including an international legion to the south.

Meretskov attacked again and again, and Vlasov smashed from the inner side of the circle. About 6,000 men made their way out up to 8
P.M.
, June 22. Finally an all-out attack was ordered for June 23 into which Vlasov and his men were told to throw everything in a last effort. The attack was launched at 11:30
P.M.
, June 23. The Second Army drove toward the Fifty-ninth Army lines. The Fifty-ninth threw its strength into opening a corridor. Toward dawn (very early in these white nights) a narrow path was opened and the first men of the Second Army passed through. They kept on coming until about noon. Then the Germans closed the passage. At this point, according to Meretskov, General Vlasov lost control of the situation. He ordered his men to try to escape in small groups, individually and on their own. This disoriented them. Communications with Vlasov were now lost. Nevertheless, toward evening of the twenty-fourth the corridor was opened again and more men slipped through. But by 9:30 in the morning of the twenty-fifth it was closed again—this time finally.