finish a meal, do you think they will attack soon? Or do you think they are already aware of the counteroffensive?” It was November 18, and General Chuikov had planned a massive counterattack to take place simultaneously on each of the fronts around the city.
“It is hard to say, Georgi. And, please . . . please call me Pietr. We are friends, now.” He paused to light his own cigarette. “I don't think they like the daylight any more than they have before. They like to attack at night when we can't see them as well.” He stood up, motioning to the other. “Let's check with our men and see for ourselves if the Nazis seem to be curious.”
As they came up onto the street, Gorenko looked for the outline of the sun through the dust and smoke that had changed it to a dull, reddish ball. It was either night and black out or a little lighter as the sun tried to penetrate the thick blanket of smoke. Few buildings existed as more than piles of masonry, an occasional wall or chimney piercing the air. Chimneys were hard to hit, so there were more of them than anything else to identify which part of town one occupied.
The rubble served as both a hindrance to movement and a boon to the foot soldiers for its excellent protection from rifle fire. The best part for the Russians was the fact that the German destruction of the city was so complete that their tanks were unable to maneuver through much of the area they wanted to capture. German soldiers had to advance without the mechanized divisions that had led them in their sweep across Russia. When they had elected to reduce the city to mortar and ashes they had not realized that they were also halting their own most effective weapon. This gave the Russians the opportunity to pound the German positions with their artillery twenty-four hours a day, firing with accuracy from the opposite bank of the Volga.
And then, Gorenko remembered, there were the katyushas, those immense mortars, one of the few items in the Russian arsenal that genuinely frightened the Germans. Since they were fired from a distance, there was no warning of the impending explosion until the first shell began its descent. The great whooshing sound then announced its imminent arrival, too Sate for the Germans to avoid the tremendous explosions. The Russians used them effectively against troop concentrations, knowing the psychological value was worth almost as much as its destructiveness. Its intention was antipersonnel and its effectiveness justified its use, once reducing an entire advancing battalion to bits and pieces. Perhaps, he thought to himself, that's what kept us going in those days—we knew they had no katys. They kept close to the remaining walls as they found their men around the next corner. Gorenko stopped to talk with one of his squad leaders for a moment, while Kupinsky moved among his own larger group.
“Georgi, has there been any movement out there?” He gestured in the general direction of the German positions.
“No, not yet. One of my scouts has just been out and has seen some ammunition carts hauling in more men. He thinks they may just be probing in the next couple of streets. They must know something's in the air.”
“It's not like them to be so still during the day. Let's get ourselves a prisoner or two for Gorishnyi. He doesn't want them pulling back far enough to use aircraft.” General Chuikov had ordered that his men would maintain close combat positions with the Germans, just a “grenade's-throw distance at most,” so that their enemy could not utilize their air superiority. Every time the Germans moved forward they met stiff resistance, and whenever they withdrew, the 62nd Army was at their heels. Attacking was thought to be the simplest way to stay alive.
As quietly as six men could move through the remains of a pulverized building, they eased their way onto a pile of stone. Kupinsky used his binoculars to check activity behind the lines, while Gorenko and his men moved
“It is hard to say, Georgi. And, please . . . please call me Pietr. We are friends, now.” He paused to light his own cigarette. “I don't think they like the daylight any more than they have before. They like to attack at night when we can't see them as well.” He stood up, motioning to the other. “Let's check with our men and see for ourselves if the Nazis seem to be curious.”
As they came up onto the street, Gorenko looked for the outline of the sun through the dust and smoke that had changed it to a dull, reddish ball. It was either night and black out or a little lighter as the sun tried to penetrate the thick blanket of smoke. Few buildings existed as more than piles of masonry, an occasional wall or chimney piercing the air. Chimneys were hard to hit, so there were more of them than anything else to identify which part of town one occupied.
The rubble served as both a hindrance to movement and a boon to the foot soldiers for its excellent protection from rifle fire. The best part for the Russians was the fact that the German destruction of the city was so complete that their tanks were unable to maneuver through much of the area they wanted to capture. German soldiers had to advance without the mechanized divisions that had led them in their sweep across Russia. When they had elected to reduce the city to mortar and ashes they had not realized that they were also halting their own most effective weapon. This gave the Russians the opportunity to pound the German positions with their artillery twenty-four hours a day, firing with accuracy from the opposite bank of the Volga.
And then, Gorenko remembered, there were the katyushas, those immense mortars, one of the few items in the Russian arsenal that genuinely frightened the Germans. Since they were fired from a distance, there was no warning of the impending explosion until the first shell began its descent. The great whooshing sound then announced its imminent arrival, too Sate for the Germans to avoid the tremendous explosions. The Russians used them effectively against troop concentrations, knowing the psychological value was worth almost as much as its destructiveness. Its intention was antipersonnel and its effectiveness justified its use, once reducing an entire advancing battalion to bits and pieces. Perhaps, he thought to himself, that's what kept us going in those days—we knew they had no katys. They kept close to the remaining walls as they found their men around the next corner. Gorenko stopped to talk with one of his squad leaders for a moment, while Kupinsky moved among his own larger group.
“Georgi, has there been any movement out there?” He gestured in the general direction of the German positions.
“No, not yet. One of my scouts has just been out and has seen some ammunition carts hauling in more men. He thinks they may just be probing in the next couple of streets. They must know something's in the air.”
“It's not like them to be so still during the day. Let's get ourselves a prisoner or two for Gorishnyi. He doesn't want them pulling back far enough to use aircraft.” General Chuikov had ordered that his men would maintain close combat positions with the Germans, just a “grenade's-throw distance at most,” so that their enemy could not utilize their air superiority. Every time the Germans moved forward they met stiff resistance, and whenever they withdrew, the 62nd Army was at their heels. Attacking was thought to be the simplest way to stay alive.
As quietly as six men could move through the remains of a pulverized building, they eased their way onto a pile of stone. Kupinsky used his binoculars to check activity behind the lines, while Gorenko and his men moved
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