Petrov made the appropriate note quickly, only too aware that Konev didn’t pause for long when he was on a roll.
“4th Guards Tank Army. Resources?”
“At this time, sufficient to undertake the mission assigned, Comrade Marshal. As normal, that could change, but the new supply procedures seem to be helping preserve quantities near to appropriate levels.”
Konev nodded, factoring in some additional losses in vital supplies.
“I see no reason why the 4th should not push a little harder here,” he indicated the area immediately south of Dusseldorf, “And even develop westwards towards Mönchengladbach…”
Konev searched his list once more.
“Send them them orders to hold the north front at Neuss, but develop the area to the west with a view to capturing Mönchengladbach, and opening the routes to Roermond and Venlo. Send them the remaining assets from 13th Army as a bolster, plus 112th Rifle Corps.”
Petrov had hardly finished before Konev made his important decision.
“6th Guards Tanks and 5th Guards will move up to,” the bald officer strained his eyes to see the finer detail of the map, “Titz and Immerath, and no further. And not at the rush either, I want little attention drawn to their forward movement, by comparison to Mönchengladbach and Düren. There, I need our forces to demonstrate heavily, encouraging the Allies to respond against them and ignore the centre.”
That meant a change to the instructions already noted, which Petrov swiftly made.
“As soon as 31st Army has secured Wanlo, 6th Guards Tank and 5th Guards will move through it and turn westwards and drive hard and fast towards the water.”
Again, he stooped to take in the relevant names.
“Hucklehoven, Geilenkirchen, Gangelt, Brunssum, Sittard-Geleen, and make a bridgehead across the Canal and River Maas at…” Konev double-checked, “Stein, and Berg.”
Waiting on Petrov’s furious scribbling, Konev took a deep breath, having finally committed himself to a course of action in excess of his orders.
Nodding to himself, he cast a look further down the map and circled a large green area.
“I want 60th Army to move to the south-west, and block against Aachen, and secure this forest to provide our forces with a secure flank.”
Petrov oriented himself, and frowned.
“Yes, I know. The Amerikanski learned a lesson there, did they not? So, we shall teach them some more.”
Petrov finished his notes, and removed his glasses, producing a handkerchief to clean them. As he carefully rubbed the lenses free of grease, he wondered if Kurochkin and Goncharov, commander and Chief of Staff of 60th Army respectively, would recognise the Hurtgenwald by name before they reconnoitred, and discovered it for what it was; a hellhole that had already made over sixty thousand soldiers casualties in the German War.
“I have the report from 31st Army, Comrade Marshal.”
Anyone hearing Petrov’s voice would recognise the strain in it. Lack of sleep was the main culprit, but there was also anxiety, mainly for his part in exceeding the instructions from Zhukov.
Konev extended his hand, his eyes assessing his Chief of Staff.
“Thank you, Comrade. Now,” he theatrically examined his watch before continuing, “You will take yourself to your quarters, and not return to the command centre until 0600hrs at the earliest.”
As the CoS drew breath, the commander shook his head.
“No. That is my order. I will make sure that no one disturbs you. Now, Comrade, go and rest.”
Petrov looked both pained and grateful.
“I need you fresh for what is to come.”
“Thank you, Comrade Marshal.”
Petrov was asleep in his quarters before the clock could strike nine.
The report guaranteed Konev wouldn’t rest, as it described, in precise military terms, how 31st Army had been halted at Wanlo and Erkelenz.
Opening the door to his office, he witnessed increased agitation amongst one section of his staff.
Wandering over as inconspicuously as is possible when you are a Marshal of the Soviet Union in his own headquarters, Konev managed to arrive at the group of four officers without them seeing his approach, whilst the rest of the staff had seen him coming and moved to safety.
Konev singled out the senior man, whose words he had just overheard.
“Comrade Polkovnik, what is the problem?”
The four jerked to the attention, ramrod stiff, the three eyeing the fourth sympathetically.
“Comrade Marshal, we have just received two reports of some significance.”
“Significant enough for you to mention defeat, Comrade Polkovnik?”
The Colonel knew he was a dead man walking, so chose to remain silent.
“And what do these reports say?”
Clearing his throat, the Colonel summarised the contents.
“This is from the acting Commander of the 90th Tank Regiment.”
Konev recognised the unit as one he had set aside for important support work.
“The report states that the 90th has been wiped out in an Allied air raid outside of Frankeshofen.”
“And?”
“The second report comes from the commander of the 3rd Guards Rocket-Barrage Division. It states the division has taken modest casualties from counter-battery fire and air strikes. His main concern is the absence of supply since he moved up under 31st Army command. His fuel and ammunition status is critical, his medical and food situation is,” the Colonel passed the report to Konev, “Well, they have none, Comrade Marshal.”
Konev read every word, digesting the meaning and the implications in one angry sweep of the paper.
Looking around the headquarters, he spotted the man he was looking for, the eye contact sufficient to bring the NKVD officer across the room in short order.
“Comrade Leytenant General Grebbenik, arrest this man and transfer him immediately into one of your shtrafbats. Please provide him with an early opportunity to redeem himself.”
It was a reasonable bargain for ex-Colonel Amanin, who had expected to be shot.
Both men, officer and former officer, saluted and walked smartly away.
One of the remaining three, a Major, attracted Konev’s attention.
“Speak, Comrade Mayor, speak.”
“Sir, Comrade Polkovnik Amanin stated that it was his view that if the supply situation was not sorted out quickly, then we might have to face the possibility of some short term defeats, Sir.”
Fully aware that he had just signed his own transfer order, the Major contented himself with the fact that he had acted in honour, and to hell with the consequences.
Konev’s eyes narrowed.
“And what do you think, Comrade Mayor?”
He was a proud man, and had never backed away from anything in his life.
“I believe that Comrade Amanin is wholly correct, Comrade Marshal. Unless we can supply our soldiers with the means, their bravery and skill will count for little, if all they have to use is sticks and stones.”
A hush had fallen over the headquarters, a silence that deepened tangibly, with what had amounted to a speech by the junior man.
Most there braced themselves for a storm.
Konev’s gaze bored deeply into the man’s eyes, but the junior man stood his ground under the pressure.
The gaze relaxed.
“You are quite correct, Comrade Major. The situation is unacceptable. Your name?”