‘Fifty thousand men,’ Schmidt repeated, still juggling his imaginary figures. ‘Fifty thousand men: that makes eighty battalions, eighty new battalions! All we need to do is come at this problem from the proper angle, with a centralized administration. Register people by issuing special orders, give them eight days’ training and then pack them off to the front…’
Colonel von Hermann gave a sudden start. Was that his name he heard mentioned? He looked up to see General Schmidt’s gaze turned on him, full of barely concealed mockery.
‘So, Colonel von Hermann, that’ll be your responsibility, you and your staff officers. You’re forever requesting a responsible and important assignment – well, here it is! As of today, you’ll be Inspector for the Provision of Replacements in the Sixth Army!’
The colonel was in a state of profound shock. He was being entrusted with making this ridiculous numbers game they were fooling themselves with a reality? He, of all people? Contrary to his normal practice, he found the courage to object.
‘I’m grateful for your vote of confidence in me, General,’ he said, with much effort, ‘but I can’t pretend not to have deep misgivings about the whole enterprise. We simply don’t have what we require: winter clothing, field kitchens, enough officers and NCOs. Plus, in the present circumstances, these men would be of no use whatsoever in combat, nothing but cannon fodder. Eight days’ training won’t do anything to change that – that’s even assuming that we still have eight days to play with! The major Russian offensive—’
Schmidt flung down the pencil he’d been nervously tapping the table with. ‘Difficulties are there to be overcome, Colonel!’ he said frostily. ‘Key personnel will be flown in, weapons too. The niceties of training aren’t really of much relevance in our current situation. Even so, there’ll be enough time for all that anyhow, rest assured! And as far as the Russian offensive is concerned that everyone here keeps harping on about, the Russians just aren’t up to it! Not before the end of January, in any event – we have reports clearly demonstrating that.’
Though inwardly seething with indignation, Colonel von Hermann refrained from raising any further objections. Weapons would be brought in – pah! When they couldn’t even get hold of a few provisions any more? Recently, they’d moved heaven and earth to have twenty MG42 machine guns – the so-called ‘buzz saws’, with their rapid rate of fire – flown in. When they arrived, they were all missing a vital component and so were unusable. The colonel pursed his lips and gave a small bow. Any further discussion here was pointless.
The officers turned to discussing details. After much toing and froing, in which the tiger found several more opportunities to lose his temper, they finally agreed on the formation of ten battalions in the first instance. They spent a long time mulling over how these new units should be designated. Unold suggested the name ‘fortress battalions’, but this met with fierce opposition. It falsely implied, the others objected, that these were detachments specially trained in defending strongholds! They had every reason not to conceal the gravity of their situation from the High Command and the German public back home with such hokum. What with all that stupid talk going around already about ‘Fortress Stalingrad’… Some fortress, this bunch of foxholes dug in the snow!
On the drive back, Unold kept glancing across at the taciturn von Hermann, who seemed not to have noticed the smug look of ‘told-you-so!’ satisfaction on the lieutenant colonel’s face. The colonel hadn’t exactly covered himself in glory at the meeting. On the other hand, he, Unold, had earned himself some brownie points. Despite everything, the top brass had ultimately accepted his suggestion and opted for the designation ‘fortress battalions’.
Colonel von Hermann, though, wasn’t a man to duck an assignment just because it displeased him. He duly set about assembling the fortress battalions with his customary diligence. He found himself constantly on the move and the telephone was forever ringing off the hook in Unold’s office. Their prime concern was to try to exploit the manpower resources of the signals sections. They were then to be joined by the numerous logistics units who were holed up in remote balkas somewhere, leading a nomadic existence. The disbandment of all the artillery formations that could no longer be supplied with munitions was also authorized, while the sole rocket regiment was subsumed almost in its entirety, including its staff officers, into the organizational structure of the fortress battalions.
Yet it took some time for all these measures to take effect. In order to put something in place immediately, however, their own division was scoured once more for infantry reinforcements. Unold was in a hurry to get this done. It seemed as if he couldn’t expedite the breakup of the division quickly enough. In the first instance the ‘Eichert Battalion’ was revived, with the addition of drivers and artillerymen, and rechristened ‘Fortress Battalion I’. This unit, to which Lieutenant Dierk was also assigned, with his two quadruple flak guns, cut a very sorry figure where its leadership and equipment were concerned. As early as the first days of January, it was dispatched to the western front of the Cauldron. Almost simultaneously, Fortress Battalion II was formed from elements of the tank division’s signals section.
This restructuring of the Staff HQ condemned the Intelligence Section to complete inactivity. Breuer felt sure that Unold would wind up the section, but nothing of the sort occurred. Ultimately, Breuer was forced to go and see the lieutenant colonel to request a transfer to one of the new battalions. He was driven not by ambition or a sense of duty; rather, it was an act of sheer desperation. Since his discussions with Wiese he had become scared of his own thoughts. He found all this sitting around, this grinding monotony, intolerable. He had to do something! Work, slave away till he dropped from exhaustion, fight, shoot, freeze and fall in battle – it was all the same to him. Just so long as he didn’t have to think any more!
Unold received him with uncommon friendliness.
‘No, Breuer,’ he said, clapping him on the shoulder, ‘it’s not going to happen. You can forget that right now! The division’s pretty much on its last legs, I know, but the few of us left here on the staff should at least stick together for as long as we can. We’ve always got along well, I think, so we shouldn’t just scatter to the four winds like a pack of dogs!’
He smiled but avoided Breuer’s gaze.
‘The thing is, when we’ve finished assembling the fortress battalions here – and that’ll be the case in about a fortnight – we’ll be surplus to requirements. A complete divisional staff full of valuable professionals – just think what that means! The 384th have already shipped out, and the 94th, and there are rumours that the 79th will soon be on its way too… so we’d better stick together, old boy!
A roll call of all the remaining members of the Staff HQ took place on the afternoon of New Year’s Eve outside the chief of operations’ bunker. The little band of men formed up in line, with the officers on the right. A bitter northeasterly wind was blowing. It cut through the men’s clothes and gnawed through the frozen flesh right down to their bones. Most of them were wearing balaclavas or earmuffs. Shivering, Breuer stamped his feet to try to stave off the cold. ‘Hope this doesn’t take long,’ he thought to himself, ‘otherwise I can kiss my ears and nose goodbye!’ After a few minutes, Colonel von Hermann appeared. Captain Engelhard stepped forward and saluted. With his woollen balaclava, which also had a section protecting his nose, he looked like a knight of old in chain mail. The colonel had no coat or cap, but seemed oblivious to the cold. He told the men to stand at ease and then addressed them. The wind tore the words from his mouth, making them sound curt and jerky.