destroyed the capitalists. Let the Germans die, all of them. If only they could solve the oil problem.
“Zhukov,” he said. “What will you now do?”
“Comrade Stalin, I will continue as planned. We have little choice. We are approaching the Leine River and will continue across while Koniev continues as a blocking force in the south and Rokossovsky to the north. The Leine is not a great obstacle, and the Americans will not hold it for long or in force. As before, we will continue a measured advance against what will doubtless be strengthening American defenses until we reach the Weser. At that point it will be necessary for us to pause and regroup.”
“For how long?” Stalin asked, suddenly tense. He did not want his armies stopping and giving the Americans their own chance to recover.
Zhukov’s face was impassive. “A couple of weeks. Perhaps more. The situation with the oil will complicate matters.”
“So long a pause?” asked Beria.
Zhukov answered. He disliked Beria and was scarcely civil. “Even despite the oil problem, our armies are in desperate straits. They have been fighting continuously since crossing the Oder, first against the Nazis and now against the Americans and British. I must admit that our losses in men and equipment in taking Berlin were much greater than we first thought.”
He turned to Stalin. “What we thought were missing units and personnel caused by the confusion of battle have, in too many instances, turned out to be actual dead and wounded. Many of our divisions are almost out of ammunition and are physically exhausted as well as greatly reduced by casualties. We have whole brigades that have become separated from their major units and haven’t received orders in weeks. They continue west because that was the last order they received. As a result, many of our attacks against the Allies were piece-meal and poorly coordinated. If we try to force the Weser under those circumstances, we will not be successful.”
Molotov looked grim. “But the Americans are retreating. I thought we had defeated them.”
“No, comrade, we have not. Eisenhower is no fool. He anticipated our actions and pulled many of his units away from the Elbe and our initial attacks. It wasn’t all that difficult for him to do as, in many cases, all he really had on the Elbe was advance units. Since then, we have been moving forward a few miles at a time against their flexible defenses. All the while, they have been preparing for a strong stand on the Weser.”
“What else will you do with that time?” Stalin asked, the displeasure evident on his face.
“As I said, our armies are worn out. We must replace some units. I have given orders that the 7th Guards, as well as the 27th and 53rd Rifles, be sent from the Second Ukrainian Front. From Yeremenko’s forces, I have ordered the 1st Guards along with the 18th and 40th Rifles. Fortunately, manpower is not an issue in the Red Army, even though it means we will be further stripping Koniev’s and Rokossovsky’s armies.”
Stalin saw the logic and gave his grudging approval. Zhukov sensed his opportunity. “Comrade Stalin, I will require more.”
Stalin was surprised. “More? You have stripped every front under your command to support your attacks. Where will you find more?”
Zhukov permitted himself a small smile. “In the Far East, comrade Stalin, where we have an army preparing to attack the Japanese. It is essential that the Japanese assault be deferred and those resources, including two air armies, shipped to me.”
“They are second-and third-rate troops, but they are yours,” Stalin said. “But there are some things you cannot have. I will be rebuilding the facilities in the Caucasus and we will start immediately. We cannot wait for the end of this war to commence reconstruction of our oil fields. Therefore, I will be protecting them, and Ploesti, with sufficient air and antiaircraft strength to ensure the success of our rebuilding efforts, and that includes the two air armies you wished.”
Zhukov was not pleased. He would need everything possible to defeat the Allies. The armies from Siberia would take a long time to arrive, while the movement of the air armies and the antiaircraft batteries to the Caucasus would weaken his air support. Worse, the two air armies would use up precious fuel, both when traveling to their new stations and when flying patrols over the Caucasus. When he started to protest, Stalin silenced him with a glare. He had gotten more than enough, the look told him. He would win with the resources available or not at all.
“One last comment,” said Stalin. “I would hope that your armies will not be totally inactive during this wait along the Weser.”
Zhukov was glad to change the subject. “Hardly, comrade. Marshal Rokossovsky has been moving his forces so they now directly confront the British.”
The move of those armies had also been at great cost in fuel, Zhukov now thought grimly. He could only hope that Rokossovsky could crush the British fairly quickly and, hopefully, push them out of the war. The British had been retreating slowly under limited pressure from Rokossovsky for some time. Now let’s see what happens when the full fury of the Red Army hits them.
With the meeting concluded, Stalin sat alone in the little room. He was satisfied. As usual, he had contrived a situation in which he could do nothing but win. If Zhukov overcame the problems with American tenacity and his own lack of fuel, then the Allies would be defeated and he and the revolution would be the masters of most of Europe. The rest of the continent would fall shortly after.
If Zhukov failed, a potential rival would have been disgraced. If Zhukov wins, Stalin thought, it will be necessary to eliminate him anyhow. But even if he failed, the cost to the Allies would still be huge and the Soviet Union would remain in control of almost all of Germany west of the Oder to at least the Weser. Probably all the way to the Rhine, he thought. He was confident that, whatever transpired, the Allies would be too weak to attempt a reconquest of Germany, and Zhukov would not be a potential rival.
Stalin smiled. Outside the open door, Molotov saw the expression on his leader’s face and wondered what terrible thing would now occur.
CHAPTER 20
Brigadier General Leslie R. Groves was ushered into the Oval Office. He saluted briskly and Harry Truman returned it. Groves was powerfully built, stern-faced, and had a well-trimmed mustache that was becoming his trademark. More important than his appearance, Groves was a brusk and no-nonsense administrator who spearheaded the Manhattan Project-the building of the atomic bomb. Along the way, he had offended a number of very sensitive academics and scientists. At one point, Groves had gotten so frustrated that he had proposed drafting all the physicists into the military and prohibiting them from speaking with one another in order to protect the project’s security. His lead physicist, J. Robert Oppenheimer, had sat him down and told him just how scientists worked and how they needed the free flow of information to turn ideas into realities. Groves had grudgingly relented. He knew there was a war on and the first priority was to win it. Then he would kill the damned scientists.
Prior to taking on the Manhattan Project, Groves had been in charge of the construction of the Pentagon.
Truman had decided to speak with Groves and not one of the scientists, such as Oppenheimer or Fermi. Although very well read and self-educated-he read the classics in Latin and even spoke the dead tongue-Truman’s formal education was that of a high school graduate, and he knew next to nothing about nuclear physics. He was concerned that the scientists would either condescend to him or talk in terms he would not understand. The pragmatic and honest Groves was an obvious choice to function as an intermediary, a task he had ably fulfilled since the inception of the Manhattan Project.
“General, be seated.” Groves did as he was told but still managed to remain at attention.
“The bomb, General. Where do we stand?”
“Specifically, sir, we have three bombs. One is scheduled to be tested next month at Alamogordo in New Mexico. As you are aware, the test is called Trinity.”
“Three bombs?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And when will we have the fourth, fifth, and so on?”
