At dawn on January 10, the forty-eighth day of the
By 8:00 A.M., German troops standing in line for breakfast were commenting on the fact that the Russians had been unusually quiet for more than twenty-four hours. Two minutes later, as the Germans munched chunks of black bread and drank watery coffee, seven thousand Russian cannons roared in unison and the Sixth Army fortifications in the Karpovka Valley disappeared under a rainbow of fire. Along with the artillery barrage came clouds of Soviet planes, racing at low altitudes across the German lines to sow panic.
When the first monstrous thunderclap of the cannonade smashed against his reinforced shelter, Sgt. Albert Pfluger fell off his cot. Though the main bombardment was nearly five mild to the west, wave upon wave of concussive shock showered dirt on him and shook the ground as if it were “a storm-ridden sea.” Dragging himself from the floor, Pfluger ran out to his headquarters command post where the phone was ringing incessantly with reports of entire units wiped out, and others reeling back from the shattered front.
Mobs of frenzied soldiers were already inundating the rear and Pfluger watched them stagger by: shell- shocked, hysterical, trickling blood from the mouth, nose, and ears. They were the survivors of General Voronov’s “god of war,” the heavy artillery.
Pioneer Colonel Herbert Selle was on his way to the “nose” of the pocket in the Karpovka Valley when the Soviet offensive broke over him. Switching direction, he headed instead for the headquarters of the 76th Division, which was holding a precarious position at the western side of the perimeter. There Selle met the monocled, extraordinarily calm, Gen. Carl Rodenburg, who told him the Russians had already broken through the center of his line. As they spoke, enemy shells banged into the ravine and “white- and mud-colored clouds of snow and dust rose into the air.” Selle left quickly.
His car passed a wretched mob of wounded, pleading with drivers to take them along, and Selle picked up nearly a dozen of them. They tumbled inside the car, clung to the running boards or draped themselves over the hood. The strange ambulance drove on to Gumrak where the wounded helped each other into the hospital. Watching them go, Selle wondered what effect such a grisly sight would have on Gen. Kurt Zeitzler back in East Prussia. If he could see these wretches inside the
At Pitomnik, Russian shells fell on the runways and scattered personnel unloading supplies from planes. Quartermaster Karl Binder was leading a column of trucks into a nearby ration depot when explosions bracketed his vehicle and blew up ammunition dumps in the fields.
Hurrying the loading of gasoline, clothing, and cases of food, Binder hollered for the trucks to scatter. Just as he waved them off, a shellburst tossed him into a snowdrift. Unconscious, he lay there for hours until another truck driver pulled him out and sped on to Gumrak. When he revived, Binder discovered that by some miracle he had not been wounded, and that his trucks had brought back enough rations to feed the 305th Division for eighteen days— enough for nearly three weeks, if the front lines held. But the Soviet bombardment went on and on, and after two hours it had burst the German perimeter like an eggshell. Soviet T-34 tanks quickly roared through the gaps; mounted infantry followed. In the north, they punched a hole between the 113th Division and the 76th. To the west, the Austrian 44th Division vanished under a torrent of fire and steel. So did the 376th and 384th German divisions. That part of the front caved in and the village of Dimitrevka fell quickly to Russian armor. In the south, Albert Pfluger’s 297th Division had broken apart in the area between Zybenko and Peschanka and the Russians smashed through with impunity.
Only in the southwest corner, at the Marinovka “nose” salient, did German resistance contain the enemy for any length of time. There, as General Schmidt had predicted earlier to Colonel Selle, the main Russian drive centered on the valley of the Karpovka River, where Sixth Army bunkers had been built into the sides of the gorge. Schmidt assumed the enemy wanted to drive the Germans from these entrenchments onto the open steppe and thus force a Napoleonic retreat eastward to Stalingrad. His analysis was almost perfect. His only error was in thinking the attack would come ten days later.
In that exposed salient, the 3rd and 29th Motorized Divisions stood side by side and tried to cling to the “nose.” But within a few hours, the 3rd Motorized had its flanks beaten in, and was forced to pull back hastily to reorganize beyond the Rossoshka River. Still the 29th Division held on, and the Russians attacked it over the crest of Cossack Hill. Hundreds of tanks, crowded close together, led the parade and infantrymen clung to the turrets from which huge red flags flew briskly. Behind the T-34s came long columns of foot soldiers, wading through hip- deep snow. The Germans stared in awe at this massive display of might and then, with the pressure proving irresistible, gave ground.
By the end of the day, the Sixth Army was on the run toward the ruins of Stalingrad.
On January 11, the situation in the
As he clasped the officer’s hand and thanked him warmly for his stupendous achievement, Carl Rodenburg knew that the battle inside the
It was a hopeless delaying of the inevitable. Again, at 7:00 P.M., Sixth Army radio reported to Manstein: “Deep penetration east of Zybenko…more than six kilometers wide. Enemy had very heavy losses….Our own losses were considerable. Resistance of the troops diminishing quickly because of insufficient ammunition, extreme frost, and lack of coverage against heaviest enemy fire.”
Capt. Winrich Behr returned from a trip to the front lines and, in a hurried letter, described his impressions to Klaus von Below. Behr told his friend what Sixth Army Headquarters had not mentioned in any messages to the outside world. German soldiers had begun to desert in large numbers; many officers in the field had lost the will to lead. Blankets over their heads, the men slept at sentry posts; without tanks behind them as support, terrified Germans now ran in the face of enemy assaults.
Behr said he thought the general feeling in the pocket had become one of simple self-preservation. He went on to berate leaders who directed the airlift. Bitterly he suggested that Below “…put some Jews or some black market operators…” in charge and let them run it at a profit. He closed with an appraisal of his superiors. “Paulus,” he said, “means the heart” of Sixth Army. The general had “the backbone of a chief….”
On the other hand, Schmidt, whom both Behr and Below had known for years through family connections, posed a special problem. Though Behr liked him, he understood why the general irritated so many high-ranking officers. Imperious, acerbic, Schmidt seldom displayed the inner qualities, the “good side” that he possessed. Behr found that a pity, since Schmidt had to work with generals now facing a situation without parallel in German military history.
In a rambling schoolhouse south of the
