Nowadays he counted a great deal on Field-Marshal von Manstein, who’d installed himself at the emergency headquarters at Novocherkask. Under his command, General Hoth and the surviving Romanian formations were partitioning off some of the Russian attacks. He’d heard it said that von Manstein was one of the few who could still keep the Führer’s mind on course. Like Paulus, he’d faced difficulties, but in the end he’d won out; he’d penetrated Fort Stalin, which was why the Führer had made him Field-Marshal. As for his whispered words in the shower at Wolf’s Lair, well, we all have our bad days. In Gehlen’s assessment, he was one of the finest soldiers of this century. That was why Operation Thunderclap would surely succeed. In the meantime, one did what one could.
His officers unanimously (if we exclude the pointed abstention of Schmidt) begged him to request a withdrawal, so he did; it would have to be to the southwest, which meant weakening his northern perimeter in preparation. If they did get out, vastly superior enemy forces would be waiting to engage them on the snowy plains. Not minimizing these disadvantages, he presented the proposal to our Führer, who of course withheld permission for any breakout. Paulus felt married to Stalingrad now.
He extracted Fourth Corps of Fourth Panzer Army from its now untenable position and regrouped it along the southern line in preparation for Operation Thunderclap. First defense, then counterattack, just as soon the Luftwaffe could supply us. He had also begun waiting for the convoy troops of the Rollbahn to send us sheepskins, portable heaters and above all gasoline; first reinforce the perimeter, with tanks or else the snow-covered wreckage of tanks; then…
The signals intelligence report said that the Reds no longer troubled to use even their two-digit cipher, so contemptuously sure were they of the outcome. No fewer than twenty-four formations had closed in. By the end of November, Army Group Don warned him that one hundred and forty-three formations were now in the zone. Field-Marshal von Manstein scolded him by teleprinter: The best chance for an independent breakout has already been missed. But Paulus, now promoted to Colonel-General, improved his strongpoints to perfection. Wherever they could, the soldiers of Sixth Army built ring-mounds around themselves, even if only of rubble; thus they emulated the fashion of the Russian peasant houses. Upon learning of each incursion (and he was kept very well informed; he retained visual command of his front), he dispatched reserves pulled from other sectors, and off they went to die, gripping the stanchions of their open lorries, guns beside them and pointing upward. The enemy, leaping through snowy gaps in ruined walls, kept getting likewise annihilated. Soon all that would be left of them were snapshots of young men in summer, inanely waving from atop their planes or tanks. In the small hours of those December nights the teleprinter at Gumrak chattered SECRET and, for instance, No.421026/42, and PERSONAL & IMMEDIATE; often it was our Führer himself, commanding: will be held and kept in operation at all costs and to the last man.
Generals must obey orders just like any other soldier, our Führer had said.
After teleprinter consultations with Field-Marshal von Manstein, he marked the map: First Fourth Panzer Army and Forty-eighth Panzer Corps would rip open the enemy’s siege lines, right here where just today through his field-glasses he’d seen breath-smoke rising from frozen trenches like dreams (dreams of what? of holding hands with an R-girl?); then he’d pull everyone together for the counterstrike; we’d flee toward Donskaya Tsaritsa… Dreading the look in Schmidt’s face when he mentioned withdrawal, he interred the map in a black folder whose center was stamped Geheime Kommandosache, military secret, and whose lower right quadrant of it was stamped: Top secret! For officers only!
He summoned his adjutant, Colonel Adam, to take dictation.—Please lock the door, he said.
By your order, Herr Colonel-General!
Where’s that OKW liaison fellow?
He’s in Major-General Schmidt’s office, sir.
Those two are quite friendly, without a doubt, he said, and Colonel Adam made no reply.
Very good. This is for Field-Marshal von Manstein’s eyes only. Are you ready?
Yes, sir.
Dear Field-Marshal, he began, I beg permission to acknowledge your signal of 24.11.42 and to thank you for the help you propose giving. Do you have that down?
Yes, sir.
In the entire zone between Marinovka and the Don there are nothing but flimsy German protective screens. The way to Stalingrad lies open to the Russian tanks and motorized forces.
My God, sir! I—
In this difficult situation I recently sent the Führer a signal asking for freedom of action should it become necessary. I have no means of proving that I should only issue such an order in an extreme emergency and can only ask you to accept my word for this.
Yes, sir.
I have received no direct reply to this signal.
Yes, sir.
As I see it, the main assaults on our northern front have still to come, as the enemy has roads and railroads to…
Yes, sir?
To bring up reinforcements. I still believe, however, that the army can hold out for a time.
Heil Hitler! Yes, sir!
As I am being bombarded every day with numerous inquiries about the future, which are more than understandable, I should be grateful if I—
Do you need to rest, sir?
Could be provided with more information than hitherto in order to increase the confidence of my men.
Yes, sir.
Allow me to say, Herr Field-Marshal, that I regard your leadership as a guarantee, and can you finish it, please, Adam? You’ll know how to end it properly…
Yes, sir.
Are you finished? Then bring it here for my signature. You know, Adam, sometimes you remind me of my son Friedrich. He’s a very brave and energetic young man. Doubtless we’d better add an apology for its being in long-hand. All right, seal it up. Find a trustworthy officer and have him fly this out to Army Group Don Headquarters.
By your order, Herr Colonel-General! Shall I take it to Major-General Schmidt?
What for?
To be approved, sir.
I believe I told you that this is for Field-Marshal von Manstein’s eyes only.
Yes, sir.
You may go.
He tried to close his eyes, but a quarter of an hour later, Lieutenant-General Jaenecke, who was not only a loyal subordinate but a friend, was already knocking on his door yet again to plead for a breakout, insisting: We’ll go through the Russians like a hot knife through butter!
That is beyond doubt, but we must follow the Führer’s word, he replied.
It was only natural that men such as Jaenecke romanticize what lay ahead. (What actually did? Alimentary dystrophy, also known as starvation.) Field-Marshal von Reichenau’s ghost overhung them all. He’d reminded Paulus somewhat of his own father, who could have done almost anything. Who could forget the way that von Reichenau had literally led our charge at Kiev? Still, charges, splendid as they are, only succeed when one has reserves—not to mention a place to charge to.