In like manner, he swept his division and culled out specialized units for what he called his “Commander’s Reserve.” These might be experienced artillerymen, reserve tank crewmen, an infantry platoon, mortar men, AT gunners. This group would amount to two or three companies in overall size, and he would never allow it to be employed as a standalone unit in combat. It was there for him to send the necessary replacements to existing units, and as a kind of toolkit for him to man up a specialized Kampfgruppe he might need to build.
If he came across three orphaned AT Guns, he might call for reserve gunners, round up two or three trucks, assign a single tank in support, and a squad of infantry with good MGs. So at the drop of a hat, he had the experienced men he needed in his Commander’s Reserve to build such units, and nobody touched that unit but Balck.
“Alright then,” he said. “Ruschel, you are left of center on my line here. I’ll have a Pakfront set up to your right and rear. If you get too much attention here, then jog even further left, and don’t get too attached to that watercourse. Be ready to maneuver at all times.”
“Are you sending me the new Nashorns?” asked Ruschel.
“Those monstrosities?” Balck shook his head. They had been assigned to his Pz Jaeger Battalion 61, a small unit equipped with a dozen of the latest Marders, and an equal number of Pak 75s. When the ten new mobile 88mm guns arrived, the Nashorns, he just smiled. “Somebody has a wild imagination back in the factories. Nashorn? That’s a good name for it.”
The name meant ‘Rhino’ in German, an apt handle with that long deadly 88mm horn, it was also called the Hornisse, or Hornet, and with a very dangerous sting. Balck would make good use of them, but he never liked them.
The reliable towed AT gun was essential in Balck’s thinking, an integral part of all his panzer operations. One might think such guns were unnecessary in a division heavy on tanks, but that was not the case. As he saw it, attrition in tanks would always far exceed that of his PzJaeger battalion. A Panzer battalion might start the day with 50 tanks, and after a hard day’s fight have only 20 left running, but such attrition was rare for the PzJaegers. The guns he most preferred were the 7.5cm AT guns, and towed when he could get them as opposed to guns mounted on a mobile specialized chassis. The 88s would usually be assigned to flak units, and unlike Rommel, Balck found them too large, slow and unwieldy for panzer warfare in Russia.
The Pak 37s were now useless, and the Pak 50’s growing less effective each month, so he loved the 75s. A good towed AT battalion was every bit as mobile as self-propelled guns, and their vehicles could be put to many other uses as prime movers. He felt the same way about his artillery and mortars, wanting everything towed when he could get it. The vehicles could remove damaged guns, fetch ammunition, go back and bring up additional infantry, all while the Pakfront stayed in action. The guns they towed were far easier to conceal from air strikes than a self-propelled gun. If a prime mover broke down, its AT gun could always be moved by another vehicle.
He would allow Ruschel to stage his defensive action where he was that morning, but would much prefer to keep his Panzers in small, fast moving groups to envelop, enfilade, and surprise enemy advances by slashing at their flanks and rear. The Pakfront was his line of defense, supported by infantry and artillery. The Panzers were to fight like wolves against a flock of sheep, which was a fitting metaphor for how the Russians sometimes advanced. They had a herd mentality, as he saw things, with poor radio communications, equally poor radio security when they did have that equipment, and were often too ponderous and inflexible. They would go for their objectives, heedless and brave to be sure, but failed to make adequate appraisals of the overall situation, and react appropriately.
“Look here,” Balck produced a threadbare map and pointed out the line of the stream where he now determined they were standing. “This stream runs north to south, so they will probably come on your left. There is a small state farm here, and I am posting a battery of 75mm AT guns there. If they do not turn as you expect, and attack your position, then I will need you here.” Balck stuck his finger on the map where he wanted Ruschel to go. Then he squinted at the terrain around them. “There,” he said. See that little group of trees? Swing south of that and you’ll be on the right course.”
This was another aspect of Balck’s command style. He never issued written orders, even well before a well-planned battle, and certainly not in a situation like this. Instead he preferred to conduct map briefings and terrain walks with his officers, and this was a perfect example. And that map he had in hand was also stored in his head. The General had an uncanny sense of where he was at any given moment. “Getting anywhere that matters,” he said, “must begin with knowing where you are when you first decide to go.” It was a maxim that he demonstrated time and again, appearing where things mattered most, and in the heat of battle, heedless of his own personal safety. All the really great commanders of mobile warfare would act this way, O’Connor for the British, Patton for the Americans, and men like Erwin Rommel and Hermann Balck for the Germans.
“Hauptmann Ruschel,” he said. “I will call you when I need you, and you must be ready to move in the blink of an eye.”
Ruschel saluted, then smiled as he watched Balck run to his Kubelwagon, slapping the hood as he mounted, and then the driver gunned the engine and he was gone in a swirl of dust. He was off to find the commander of his 61st Motorcycle Recon Battalion, Lt. Colonel Paul Freiherr von Hauser. (Not to be confused with the SS officer with a similar name Paul Hausser). Balck had great confidence in the man, for Hauser was a master of the fine art of reconnaissance, even with his noisome motorcycles. He knew how to scout a position like few others, was audacious in the advance, and tenacious if asked to defend. Balck would come to call him simply, “the incomparable Hauser.”
Knowing Hauser was from a noble Austrian family, he took to addressing him as Herr von Hauser in their personal discussions, according him a measure of respect he believed was his due. One of the very best, Hauser would eventually rise to command the elite Panzer Lehr Division in the West, but for now, he was one of Balck’s chief military spirits in the Ghost Division, and he often relied on him in situations where no other man might prevail.
He found Hauser about ten kilometers east, his lead company feeling its way toward the expected line of the Russian advance. “Herr von Hauser,” he said with a smile, greeting the man with a warm handshake. Balck always felt he was at the root and stem of the division when he was with the motorcycle troops. In fact, the division itself had been converted from the older 11th Schutzen Brigade after the campaign in France, a fast moving formation on motorcycles.
“What does it look like out there?” he asked. “Any sign of our Infantry?”
“Not yet,” said Hauser. “I had 1st Company well north a while back. They made radio contact, with a Leutnant in the 73rd, and I’m told everything has gone to hell up there. The troops were all at the morning mess pits when the attack came in. The divisional commander got drunk last night and was still asleep. The poor Leutnant was trying to pull the defense together himself.”
“God bless the Leutnants of this army,” said Balck. “They are a special breed and without them how could our Generals drink and sleep?” Balck flashed him his characteristic broad smile, eyes alight. He never lost his sense of humor, even at the height of a crisis like this.