The Russian Panzer IV, which was ahead of the others, was no longer firing. Its turret was thrown a dozen meters away by a bomb blast, and the tank itself was burning brightly, throwing fountains of black soot into the sky, illuminated by fire.

  “Forward!” Oberleutnant Kraus commands hoarsely, and the tank moves, adapting to the pace of the infantry attack.

  “Shrapnel shell!”

  “Ready!”

  “Short stop!”

  A shot! A new bush of explosion blooms over the Russian trenches.

  “Forward!”

  The Ju-87s, despite their losses, make a second approach. One plane explodes in midair, caught by a short burst of fire, which came from somewhere on the flank, but the other bombers continue the attack. Another Ju-87 falls directly on the Russian trenches, and disappears in an explosion of fuel and its own bombs.

  Russian positions were obscured by smoke and by fountains of earth rising in the air. No one seems to be able to survive there, but Knispel knows that once the bombers fly away, the bullets will fly again from trenches that seem to have been wiped off the face of the earth.

  The Ju-87s were not allowed to work on Russian positions for the third time. New actors appeared over the battlefield. First the five Russian fighters came down from above on the Messerschmitts covering the bombers. From there, Kurt was no longer concerned with what was happening in the sky, although he had time to notice that the enemy planes were becoming more and more numerous.

  In the woods, too, a battle was breaking out. Knispel knew that the infantry had the task of knocking the Russians out of there and preventing the advancing tanks from flanking them with the new anti-tank weapons, about which Kurt had been told very unpleasant details.

  Knispel listened attentively to the story of one of the tankers who took part in the attack on the Russian barrier west of the highway, and only shook his head in silence. Two hundred meters... For a tank, it's practically at point-blank range. But when your opponent is not a similar tank or an anti-tank gun, but a soldier firing from the bushes...

  Explosions of fragmentation shells danced in the combat ranks of the infantry going ahead of the tanks. The guns of the tanks, embedded in the ground, opened fire left and right from the edges of the wooded areas. Again the spoils captured by the Russians came into play, but at least Kurt understood how to fight them.

  “Armor-piercing shell!”

  “Ready!”

  “Herr Oberleutnant..”

  “Short stop!”

  Turning of the turret, vertical aiming ... A shot! A flash. No penetration, but the turret of the enemy tank is jammed.

  “Armor-piercing shell!”

  “Ready!”

  A shot! Penetration! A Russian tankman falls out of the side hatch heavily. It looks like he's wounded and trying to get out of the hit vehicle. A burst! The gunner-radioman reacts quickly, but the Russian manages to hide behind an entrenchment ledge. It doesn't matter - the infantry will deal with him.

  “Forward!”

  A thud in the frontal armor. Ricochet!

  “There's an enemy firing point 20 degrees to the left! Armor-piercing shell!”

  Time was compressed into a dense stream, and, as always in combat, it seemed to Kurt as if he were looking at himself from the outside. Perhaps his body was simply protecting itself from the brutal stress, trying to fend off the realization, that at any moment he could be killed by a shrapnel of punctured armor or disappear in a flash of detonating ammunition.

  The infantry passed three twisted tanks advanced by the enemy in the forward positions and had almost reached the first line of trenches. The Russian tanks were no longer firing from the edge of the forest. 50 barrels against a measly dozen did the trick. The battle in the sky ended in a draw. Both sides suffered heavy losses and went to their airfields to lick their wounds.

  “Herr Oberleutnant..” Knispel felt as if something struck him from within.

  Kurt had never seen how the new weapons of the Russian infantry operate, but, having gone through many dozens of battles, one of the best tankers in the Wehrmacht acquired a beastly intuition and understanding of the essence of a tank combat. He wanted to warn the commander that right now the enemy was likely to use his main trump card, but the latter misunderstood him.

  “Short stop!”

  “No!” shouted Knispel, but the tank had already stopped. “We can't stand still!”

  Dozens of bright flashes and fiery lightning seemed to strike from all directions-from the edge of the forest, from broken Russian positions that continued to snap with rifle and machine gun fire from behind the frozen wrecks of the tanks, that had been knocked out in the last attack...

  A flash! A clap! Some wild, inhuman scream of the mechanic-driver. The deadly heat of the flaming fuel... Knispel realized himself already in the snow. How he managed to jump out of the tank, Kurt did not remember. Their Panzer IV was burning brightly. No one else seemed to get out of the tank.

  Knispel felt no pain, but judging by the burned uniforms and blisters on his hands, it would come later, when the state of shock had passed.

  Kurt looked around. The entire field was blanketed in smoke, and the gaps in the smoke showed the tanks that had been hit and were still moving. His hearing was already poorly perceiving even close explosions. The German tankman understood that he was shell-shocked, but now he did not care. The only thing he cared about was the ongoing battle.

  The 6th Tank Regiment suffered monstrous, simply unthinkable losses, but it continued to advance. The infantry finally broke into the Russian trenches, seized the first line and was already fighting for the second, clashing with the Reds in fierce hand-to-hand combat.

  Surviving tanks were ironing trenches that had not yet been reached by the infantry, and more and more silhouettes of fighting machines with crosses on their turrets flashed in the smoke. But the battle had not yet been won. In front of Kurt's eyes, the Panzer III closest to him was hit in the turret by the same rocket fired from a hand-held launcher. The tank shuddered, but did not even stop, although its cannon lowered and the turret froze in a position turned slightly to the right. It looked like the commander and gunner were wounded or killed, but the tank continued to crawl forward, spraying the right flank of the Russian position with its direct fire machine gun.

  The ferocity of the fight was at its maximum. Kurt was still unable to feel his body, which was supposed to be bursting with pain. With the edge of his consciousness he knew that he had escaped the really serious wounds, but what he had endured should have been enough to render him unconscious. However, his mind remained relatively clear, and Knispel managed to notice from somewhere to his right, where the exit from the goddamn forest "corridor" could already be seen, a group of German tanks with large red stars on their turrets appeared.

  Kurt wanted to shout to warn his comrades of the danger, but only a wheezing and hissing sound escaped his throat. Knispel tried to get up, and with a jerk he rose to one knee, but at this point the strength of his wounded body ran out, his consciousness finally shut down, and Kurt staggered backwards and fell into the muddy snow.

  Chapter 12

  As darkness fell, the fighting gradually subsided by itself. The Germans had captured our positions after all. The grenade launcher companies, which had been severely thinning, along with the few surviving fighters of Major Egorov and the two remaining trophy tanks were forced to retreat southward to a small wooded area, where we had set up some sort of rear defensive line in great haste during the day.

  The enemy no longer had the strength to continue the attack. The German assault guns and motorized infantry, which finally made their way through the forest on crooked country roads, entered the fray at the very end of the battle. In fact, they were the last straw that broke the camel's back.

  The Germans began to pursue us, but the grenade launchers burned three StuG assault guns, and the enemy infantry quickly lost all their enthusiasm.

  The enemy broke out of the forest "corridor," but it seemed that General Rommel himself was not happy about this victory. Obviously, I could not get into his brain, but it was unlikely that the price of the achieved success seemed acceptable to the “Desert Fox”. After today's losses and the withdrawal of two tank regiments, Rommel's group was left with a little over 200 combat-ready tanks, and that includeed the remnants of General Göpner's tank units that were reassigned to him. It was certainly no small force, but it was essentially like a good tank division, nothing more.

  The situation on the Rogachev Highway has been frozen in a state of shaky equilibrium. Rommel was conducting another regrouping and preparing to continue the offensive at dawn, but once again the situation changed.

  At two o'clock in the morning, a clearly visible glow from many hundreds of flares appeared in the sky behind us, and the relative silence exploded with the roar of an artillery cannonade. The 134th Tank Brigade struck from Moscow on the outer front of the encirclement. The Red Army Rifle Division of Colonel Prokofyev rushed into the gap punctured by tanks. The division turned its front to the west and east, holding the walls of the breached corridor.

  The few surviving tanks of General Zakharov took the offensive from inside the pocket to meet the unblocking group. After two hours of fierce fighting, the front was broken through to its full depth, and the organized evacuation of the encircled troops began. The Germans were not pursuing. Something broke in the well-oiled Wehrmacht war machine, and it began to malfunction.

  Our armored cars were among the first to go down the punctured corridor - it was fraught with danger to ignore the order of the People's Commissar of Internal Affairs. Sudoplatov took me with him to report to Beria.

  “Thank you for your service!” The Commissar did not conceal his relief at our appearance, and with a wave of his hand stopped our attempt to answer according to the regulations,“I order you to go to bed immediately. I have already heard the most important things, and the rest awaits until tomorrow. You're useless in this state anyway.”

  ***

  I was summoned to the General Staff the next day. Marshal Shaposhnikov wanted to see me. Apparently, the interrupted flow of reliable information about the enemy had greatly upset Boris Mikhailovich, and he wanted to know when he could expect it to resume.

  Naturally, the summons came not to me personally, but to Comrade Beria in the form of a request to "deploy... to the General Staff", and the Commissar of Internal Affairs suddenly decided to go there with me.

  “Comrade Nagulin, do you have any idea what the Chief of General Staff wants to talk to you about?” Beria asked as the armored car of the People's Commissariat of Internal Affairs smoothly drove out of the underground garage of the building on Lubyanka.

  I laid out my version.

  “That is right,” agreed Beria, “but intelligence is only a small part of what Comrade Shaposhnikov wants from you. The artillery strikes you've organized against concentrations of enemy troops have made a great impression on the General Staff and Comrade Stalin personally. Their effectiveness became especially clear after your Pe-2 was shot down, and we were unable to fire according the data you were transmitting. The difference in the effectiveness of the artillery strikes was more than noticeable.”

  “Night flights can be resumed, it's not a problem.”

  “What about the German rocket-powered interceptor aircraft? Last time you survived only by some miracle. No one will allow us to take that risk again.”

  “This issue can be solved, but we will have to use a few more planes with crews who have experience in night flights.”

  “Good. We will discuss your proposal together with Comrade Shaposhnikov, and now I have one more question for you, Senior Lieutenant. The grenade launcher you developed has proven to be an excellent weapon that our infantry was sorely lacking. Now the People's Commissariat for Arms started large-scale production of RGN-1. However, the enemy already knows about this novelty, and if we stand still, in a few months German engineers will create a similar model.”

  “This is more than likely, Comrade People's Commissar of Internal Affairs.”

  “When you developed this weapon, you must have thought about the possibility of its further improvement or the creation of new models, right?”

  “I did, and quite thoroughly,” I agreed, beginning to understand why Beria was having this conversation.

  “Is there anything my Commissariat can do to help you implement these ideas?”

  How about that?! I never expected such an initiative from the all-powerful Commissar. I thought I would have to go to him myself. I gathered my courage for a few seconds, then I decided that there might not be a better time to voice my request.

  “I believe that at this stage the most promising weapons are those based on the principles of jet propulsion. The grenade launcher example demonstrated this clearly. As far as I know, there are specialists and entire institutes in the Soviet Union working in this direction. After combat tests of the grenade launcher, I allowed myself to prepare a number of proposals, but they are still very raw and I urgently need to discuss them with leading experts in this field.”

  “In what field exactly do you need specialists? Rocket engines or maybe rockets?”

  I shook my head in the negative and looked the Commissar straight in the eye.

  “Cruise missiles.”

  Beria thought for a few seconds and looked out the window at the gloomy streets of front-line Moscow.

  “All right, Comrade Nagulin, I will arrange for you to meet with a man who knows this question better than anyone in the USSR. It is unlikely that the last name Korolev tells you anything, but this is exactly the specialist you need.”

  ***

  “Comrade Stalin, the enemy offensive against the capital has been stopped,” Marshal Zhukov began his report, “The last attempt to break through to Moscow was made by General Rommel's Panzer Group. By the morning his divisions had advanced ten or twelve kilometers along the Rogachev highway, However, this success was achieved by the enemy mainly due to the fact that we were withdrawing from the pocket the operational group of General Zakharov. The losses in tanks suffered by Rommel's formations in storming the positions of the 133rd Infantry Division led to a severe weakening of their offensive capabilities. Intelligence reports that the enemy along the entire front is moving to the defensive. Rommel's tanks are also leaving the front line and heading west.”

  “Wasn't it here, in the 133rd Division's defense zone, that we used RGN-1 grenade launchers for the first time?” Stalin pointed the end of his pipe at the northwestern approaches to Moscow.

  “That's right, Comrade Stalin. Five grenade launcher companies under the command of Commissioner 3rd rank of State Security Sudoplatov played a key role in repelling attacks by two of General Rommel's tank regiments in this direction. Together with Major Egorov's regiment they destroyed more than 120 enemy tanks. At the same time about 30 enemy combat vehicles were taken as trophies and were actively used in repulsing the second assault on our positions, undertaken by the Germans at the end of the day. Two captured Panzer IVs that survived that battle left the pocket tonight, along with the rest of General Zakharov's units.”

  Stalin strode leisurely through the cabinet and again looked around the meeting participants.

  “The actions of General Zakharov's group near the Rogachev Highway were a good example of how, when fighting in an encirclement, it is possible to inflict heavy losses on the enemy and frustrate his offensive plans. There is an opinion that commanders who performed well in this defensive operation are worthy of appointment to higher positions. Now that our counteroffensive has begun, the Red Army needs such personnel more than ever. Comrade Zhukov, these are your subordinates. See to it that those who have distinguished themselves are properly rewarded and promoted.”

  “This work is already underway, Comrade Stalin.”

  “Very well,” nodded the Chief, “And now, comrades, I would like to hear how our strikes on the flanks of the German Army Group Center are developing. Boris Mikhailovich, report.”

  Marshal Shaposhnikov took a step toward the map and took the pointer in his hand.

  “At this moment, tank brigades of the Kalinin Front are fighting on the outskirts of Rzhev. Enemy resistance is increasing by the hour. Turning to defense along the entire front, the Germans are pulling tank and motorized units to the direction of our attacks. These formations try to launch flank counterattacks to cut off the tank brigades that have surged forward and thereby halt their advance. We have to leave strong barriers on the flanks, weakening the strike groups. The situation is more favorable in the south. Troops of the newly created Bryansk Front took Yukhnov, but even here the situation is complicated. The enemy undoubtedly understands our strategic plan and makes every effort to prevent our advancing armies from reaching Vyazma.”

  “What else, besides increasing enemy resistance, is holding back our offensive?”

  “German air supremacy. However, this is nothing new. In addition, the supply lines are stretched and regularly hit by artillery and dive bombers,” replied Shaposhnikov and threw a quick glance at Zhukov.

  “Comrade Stalin,” the Commander of the Western Front immediately entered the discussion, “We have already put into action almost all the forces assembled for the counterattack. There are practically no reserves.”

  “Do you think, Comrade Zhukov, that the strategic goals of the operation cannot be achieved in this situation?” The Chief looked intently at the General.

  “If we do not change the direction of the Kalinin Front's tank brigades, the Germans will stop them. We cannot take Rzhev. We must bypass it from the east and continue to Vyazma.”

 

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