Burning Moscow

Chapter 1337: The Stalemate Outside the City (Part 2) The German commander leading the counterattack was General Mantelfeld, commander of the 7th Panzer Division. He timed the counterattack perfectly—it coincided with the moment our aircraft were returning to base and our artillery had ceased fire to prevent friendly fire during the infantry charge—which instantly shattered our offensive. The German tanks slowed down when they were just over 300 meters from our troops, using their tank guns and mounted machine guns to suppress our officers and soldiers. Our troops were pinned to the ground by the intense fire, unable to move; the slightest attempt to raise their heads would cost them their lives from bullets and flying shrapnel. Some of the anti-tank gunners equipped with 40mm rocket launchers managed to take out enemy tanks, but since they were out of range, they could only lie on the ground and watch helplessly. The commanders stationed at the second line of defense, seeing that the troops in front were in imminent danger, immediately ordered the few remaining anti-tank guns to open fire, attempting to destroy the enemy tanks and cover their own troops’ retreat. Unfortunately, even if the 45mm anti-tank shells hit the German tanks, they were unable to penetrate their thick frontal armor. Just at this critical moment, the army group’s artillery opened fire. A barrage of shells whistled through the air and exploded in the open field between the two armies, with the billowing smoke and flames obscuring the vision of both sides. A regiment commander leading the charge quickly relayed an order through a messenger: “Full retreat!” Just as the messenger was about to relay the order, he was stopped by the regiment’s political commissar, who lay nearby with a leg severed by a shell. The political commissar said anxiously to the regiment commander, “Comrade Commander, we can’t do this. The presence of so many wounded will result in even greater casualties during our retreat.” “Then what should we do?” Hearing the political commissar’s words, the regiment commander felt a moment of panic. “These wounded are our comrades-in-arms. Are we supposed to leave them on the battlefield to fend for themselves?” “Comrade Regiment Commander, the enemy’s objective is clear: they intend to wipe out our troops stranded in the open before seizing our positions. We absolutely cannot let the Germans succeed in their scheme.” The political commissar said with a resolute expression, “I will stay behind with the wounded to provide cover. You must lead the remaining soldiers back to our positions.” “But, Comrade Political Commissar,” the regiment commander replied, his voice immediately rising with emotion. “How can I possibly leave you and the wounded here? Our regiment has never abandoned its comrades.” “Comrade Regiment Commander,” seeing that the commander was hesitating to make a decision, the political commissar grew impatient. “Time is of the essence. You must lead the soldiers in a retreat immediately; any delay will be too late. I implore you—for the sake of victory, retreat!” Hearing the political commissar’s words, the regiment commander had no choice but to steel himself and issue the order to the officers and men: the wounded were to remain behind to provide cover, while the rest were to retreat. After the regiment commander led the troops down the hill, before the political commissar could even begin any political mobilization, German infantry swarmed in. Knowing they had little hope of survival, the wounded soldiers fully displayed the fiercest side of the “fighting nation.” Those with minor injuries let out earth-shaking war cries and charged straight ahead with bayonets fixed. They soon collided violently with the German soldiers. Bayonet against bayonet, chest against chest, they grappled and fought fiercely, the battlefield, teeming with thousands, resembled a medieval melee of cold steel. The lightly wounded fought desperately in the thick smoke, determined to take an enemy with them to the grave. As for the severely wounded who could no longer move, after exhausting their ammunition, they pulled the pins on their grenades without hesitation, taking the advancing enemy with them in a final act of self-sacrifice. By the time the Germans had eliminated the wounded soldiers blocking their path, the troops retreating to their positions were already fully prepared for battle. Seeing their comrades who had covered their retreat being slaughtered by the Germans, the officers and soldiers had long been seething with rage. As the enemy came within firing range, the regiment commander shouted at the top of his lungs: “Avenge our fallen comrades! Fire!” Then, he raised his hand and fired a shot at the distant enemy. “Avenge our fallen comrades!” The officers and soldiers’ shouts rang out in unison across the position. Light and heavy machine guns opened fire, mortars fired, and every light and heavy weapon on the position fired simultaneously. The intense fire wove a dense, impenetrable web of fire in front of the position; the Germans who charged into this web were like hitting an invisible wall, falling in droves. Just as the fighting outside the city reached a stalemate, I received a call from Tavartkilaze in Zhytomyr. After reporting on the situation outside the city, he sought my instructions: “Comrade Commander, should I immediately commit the 67th Guards Division to the battle?” “No need.” I rejected his proposal without hesitation, stating firmly: “ The 67th Guards Division’s original mission remains unchanged: continue to hold the city. As for the fighting on the western outskirts, the 90th Guards Division will handle it on its own.” “Why, Comrade Commander?” Tavartkilaze asked, puzzled by my order. “Comrade General, let me make one thing clear: are you the Army Group Commander, or am I?” I said firmly. “ I don’t need to explain every decision I make to my subordinates.” When I hung up the phone, Kirillov, who had been watching me, shook his head and said, “Lida, ever since we arrived at the base, you seem a bit different from before—you’ve become much more assertive. In the past, you used to discuss decisions with all of us before making them, but now whatever you say, that’s what we have to do. What on earth is going on?” In response to Kirillov’s keen observation, I smiled at him and explained, “Comrade Military Commissar, whether we can hold Zhytomyr determines whether our army can gain a foothold on the right bank of the Dnieper. Only by establishing a vast defensive zone in Kyiv —Zhytomyr, can our army fulfill the mission of recapturing all of Right-Bank Ukraine.” After I finished speaking, I saw that Kishchakov and Bezikov both looked as if they had something to say, so I guessed it must have something to do with my attitude toward Tavartkiladze just now. I therefore took the initiative to explain to the two of them: “The reason I didn’t allow Tavartkiladze to commit the 67th Guards Division to battle was mainly because infantrymen on the plains face certain slaughter when they encounter armored units. Although we nominally have four tank brigades, they are equipped almost exclusively with T-34s, which are no match for Tiger and Panther tanks. Rather than needlessly sacrificing valuable equipment and sending our officers and men to their deaths, it is better to have them hold the outlying positions we have just captured, wear down the enemy’s combat strength, and once the counteroffensive begins, we’ll settle the score with them slowly.” “Comrade Commander,” Bezikov asked after I finished speaking, “Now that the 52nd Guards Division and the 375th Infantry Division have arrived, where should we deploy them? Zhytomyr or Korostiv?” “Deploy them all to the city of Zhytomyr,” I explained to Bezikov and the others. “In the coming days, the fighting there will intensify; it can’t hurt to send more troops their way. As for Korostiv, if necessary, we can redeploy the 89th Guards Division, which is under our direct command.” After speaking at length, I felt my throat had grown dry, so I picked up the empty teacup from the table and went to the samovar to pour myself a cup of hot tea. As I returned to my seat with the cup, I saw Kirillov sitting at the table, lost in thought, and couldn’t help but ask curiously, “Comrade Military Commissar, what are you thinking about?” Kirillov looked up at me with a smile and said, “Lida, it suddenly occurred to me that we should commission someone to write a military song—a song for our 6th Guards Army—that captures all our glorious achievements. Let our officers and soldiers sing this song as they fight bravely, writing a glorious page in the history of defending our motherland and striving for national liberation.” ” Standing nearby, Bezikov was instantly moved when he heard Kirillov mention writing a military song. He agreed, saying, “I think Comrade Military Commissar is right. From the Battle of Kursk to the Battle of Kharkiv, and on to the liberation of Kyiv and the defense of Zhytomyr, our troops have achieved a series of feats. ” At this point, he hesitated for a moment, then continued, “It might be a bit difficult to incorporate all of this into a military song, but it would be much easier to write it as a poem.” Hearing this, Kirillov quickly asked, “Comrade Deputy Commander, can you write poetry?” Bezikov shook his head and said sheepishly, “ “I don’t know how to write poetry.” Hearing Bezikov’s reply, a look of disappointment crossed Kirillov’s face. He was silent for quite a while before speaking up: “It seems we’ll have to find two people in the unit who can write poetry and songs as soon as possible to create poems praising our 6th Guards Army and a military song of our own.” “There’s no need to go to all that trouble.” As I listened to their conversation, a song I’d heard in a later film or TV production suddenly popped into my head. After silently repeating it to myself twice, I spoke up: “ “As for writing a military song, I can write one right now.” “What? Comrade Commander, you can write songs?” Bezhikov was stunned by my words. He said in a tone of disbelief, “We were just talking about writing a military song, and you say you can write one—how is that possible?” “Whether I can or not, we’ll find out if I try.” I said with full confidence. When they heard I was going to write a song, not only did Kishchakov, who had been standing by the wall, come over, but even Akhromeyev and several staff officers joined us. A dozen or so people gathered around the table, watching quietly as I scribbled furiously. After I finished writing down the lyrics I had memorized, I handed them to Kirillov and said: “It’s done. Comrade Military Commissar, please take a look and see how it turned out.” Kirilov gave an awkward smile and took the lyrics I handed him. I knew his reaction stemmed from the fact that he probably didn’t think I could write anything good in such a short time. But after reading just two lines, his expression suddenly turned solemn. When he had finished reading the entire lyrics, he couldn’t help but clap his hands in admiration: “Brilliant, Lida, this is truly brilliant. I really didn’t expect you to have a talent for songwriting—even a song written on the spot is this good!” “Comrade Military Commissioner,” Akhromeyev whispered from the side, “I don’t know what Comrade Commander has written. Why don’t you read it to everyone?” Kirillov nodded and said, “All right, since everyone wants to know, I’ll read it to you.” He coughed lightly, cleared his throat, and began to read aloud. “Red Army, Red Army; Red military banner; The Red Army marches forth, invincible; United against the enemy, fearless; Let us raise the crimson flag high; Red Army, Red Army; Red military banner; The red military banner guides you; We’ll always stand united; See who can stand against our Red Army!” After finishing, he couldn’t resist adding, “Brilliant! This is simply brilliant! I never would have thought that Lida, who’s so skilled at commanding battles, would be just as talented at writing songs. Hahahaha!” With that, he carefully folded the sheet of paper covered in lyrics, slipped it into his pocket, stood up, and said, “I’ll go find someone to set this to music right away, so we can get it circulating throughout the army group as soon as possible.” Watching Kirillov’s retreating figure, I couldn’t help but ask Bezikov out of curiosity, “Chief of Staff, is there actually someone in our army group who knows how to compose music?” In response to my question, Bezikov replied uncertainly, “ “Perhaps. After all, our officers and soldiers come from all walks of life; it wouldn’t be surprising if a few of them knew how to write songs and compose music.” The German forces attacking the western outskirts of the city were repelled by our tenacious officers and soldiers. In response, the enemy subjected our positions to artillery fire. Once the shelling ended, they swiftly relocated their artillery, leaving our air force, which had been dispatched to carry out airstrikes, coming up empty-handed. When I called Rokossovsky to report on the situation, I specifically mentioned how the enemy had promptly shifted their artillery positions after completing the bombardment. After listening, Rokossovsky said thoughtfully, “The enemy is very cunning, so even when we have the upper hand, we must not let our guard down. Otherwise, we could easily suffer heavy losses.” I reported a few more matters to Rokossovsky. Just before hanging up, a sudden thought occurred to me, and I asked, “Comrade General, I wonder if you will return to the Belarusian Front?” “It’s hard to say,” Rokossovsky replied hesitantly. “At present, I still hold the post of Commander of the Belarusian Front, while my position as Commander of the First Ukrainian Front is merely an acting assignment. Perhaps once the situation stabilizes, and Comrade Vatutin’s health permits, he may return to resume full command of the Front.” From Rokossovsky’s words, I understood that his appointment as Front Commander was merely temporary; once the situation stabilized—or even when a major counteroffensive began—Vatutin might well return to take the credit. Although I felt Rokossovsky was somewhat acting as a stepping stone for someone else, there was nothing to be done; orders from superiors are orders, and we had no choice but to carry them out unconditionally. Finally, Rokossovsky instructed me: “Lida, our counteroffensive still requires some time to prepare, so you must, at all costs, keep the main German forces tied down at Zhytomyr, allowing us to redeploy our troops without haste.”