3 kilometers south of Roslavl
May 6, 1942
Vasilevskij turned to look westward, toward the setting sun. The muted red-orange light covered the land like a soft, but bloody, blanket. Even at that very moment, men were locked in combat all along the frontline. Scores, if not hundreds, of lives were being extinguished simply as he stood and contemplated their loss. They meant nothing to him. They were pawns, and there were many more still to reinforce or replace them. They were meant to die, as many more would before the war ended. They had to die so that others would not. They were the chosen, those whose lives would buy freedom for the Soviet Union to enslave the world. Vasilevskij smiled. There were many things men would kill or die for, such as money, friends or family. Of them all, however, dreams were the most potent. They were the headiest drug of all, and of all the dreams Communism was the most glorious, the most alluring. Vasilevskij scoffed to himself before turning back to Pyotr.
“How are you doing, Pyotr? Do you need a replacement or will you be able to finish this entire dictation yourself?”
Pyotr grimaced and rubbed his legs, which were no doubt aching badly. However, he visibly steeled himself and replied. “I will be able to do it all myself, sir. I am ready for your dictation.”
Vasilevskij nodded, expecting nothing but such commitment from the man. He then sighed. “We will begin with Suwalki. It is an unpleasant topic, and chronologically first anyway. Begin now. The battle at Suwalki went into its third day on the morning of the 5th as Soviet soldiers staged a concentrated assault to crack through the German defenses. By this time, however, the two Mechanized Rifle Corps were in bad shape. They had very little organization left, nor any energy. Losses had been heavy as well, though the Germans had been routinely suffering more dead than ourselves. Their four panzer divisions have been estimated as being at only eighty percent strength on average and their two motorized infantry divisions have been reduced to fifty percent strength or less. Nevertheless, the Germans have held. Our bid to retake Suwalki failed. Nonetheless, the valiant action of our soldiers closed the gap in our frontline and permitted the safe withdrawal of their mother front. They have accomplished much. End.”
The final, and failed, Soviet assault on Suwalki.
Vasilevskij waited only for Pyotr’s fingers to finish scurrying across the typewriter before resuming. “At the very beginning of the 6th the Germans assaulted our units in Konigsberg. They outnumbered us twenty-one divisions to fifteen. Admittedly however, their divisions have been just as battered and were just as tired as ours. Nevertheless, the 3rd Baltic Front had been forced into retreat. In accordance with their ‘revolving door’ strategy, however, the 2nd Baltic Front has begun marching toward the city to take over the defense if they arrive there quickly enough, or to attack if the Germans reach it first. Additionally, by this time Bialystok and Slonim have fallen to German spearheads. There is no frontline at Baranowice or Pinsk, the way is open if the Germans but take to the road. The 3rd Belorussian Front has begin withdrawing toward Pinsk from Brest-Litovsk and the 2nd Belorussian Front is still in the process of retreating from Bielsk to Brest-Litovsk. End.”
The battle for Konigsberg as well as the general situation in the north.
“Well Pyotr, I think that’s all for now. You’re legs will certainly be glad.”
“Yes sir, they certainly are.”
Before either man could say anything more, a radio operator ran up to Vasilevskij with a message. “Sir! We have reports from Lieutenant General Bagramyan, as well as Field Marshal Zhukov!”
Vasilevskij snapped at the man. “Give them to me, quickly!”
The radio operator shoved two sheets of paper into Vasilevskij’s imperially outstretched hand and saluted before running off. Vasilevskij made no notice, his eyes were already studying the reports. He frowned. The Germans were indeed taking the road to Pinsk, trying to isolate the two Belorussian Fronts in southern Belorussia. Fortunately, Bagramyan’s corps had from Bielsk withdrawn toward Pinsk and reached that place before the German armor. He had immediately set up a defense, though he was unsure how long he would be able to hold it as the Germans were attacking with a force three times greater than his own. His only consolations were the swamp and the fact that the German corps staff was apparently overworked with the work of three corps.
The Germans trying to close the pocket in southern Belorussia.
Further south, Zhukov had commenced an attack with twenty-seven divisions toward Stanislawow against twenty-two predominantly British divisions. The British divisions were tired, about as much as the Soviets themselves were, but the one German corps in the area was completely fresh. Nevertheless, he was already confident about the outcome and was requesting permission to develop the attack further toward Lvov so that the large—it was not massive any more, comparatively—German armor concentration at Tarnopol could be cut off and then destroyed. Vasilevskij frowned before shrugging resignedly. Allowing him to plan ahead could not hurt, of course. He would personally go to the radio to inform Zhukov.
Zhukov attacking Stanislawow in an attempt to undermine the German advance in the Ukraine.
Vasilevskij was torn about whether to dictate these new developments to Pyotr or not. The poor man was looking fairly concerned about this as well. Biting his lip, Vasilevskij hesitated, albeit only momentarily, before nodding to Pyotr. “We’ll just add in these new developments and
then the dictation will be finished.”
Pyotr grimaced and made himself ready for one final bout of typing. “Yes, sir.”