Макс Глебов
Prohibition of Interference. Book 3. Impact Strategy
Chapter 1
The counterstrokes of the 40th and 21st Armies had no chance of success. These armies, severely weakened in previous battles for Kiev, even after replenishment were not powerful enough to break the encirclement ring and reopen the corridor to the remnants of the three armies trapped in the pocket. However, this was the case where it was impossible to win, but the troops had to go into battle anyway, as no one in the Headquarters of the Supreme High Command even wanted to think about leaving 200,000 men to die in the pocket.
The computer nonchalantly showed me the dry numbers of the balance of forces. It had no special programs to predict the outcome of battles. These programs remained at the moonbase, where scientists would have easily calculated for me the probability of success for each side, the optimal strategy and tactics for both adversaries and the mathematical expectation of loss. Nevertheless, some estimates could be made with the means at my disposal.
I didn't have a lot of time to figure out satellite management, but I tried to make time for it. It was very difficult. If there was something I didn't understand in the manuals, and this happened quite often, I had no one to ask for help. My basic education was not at all designed for the tasks I had set for myself. The satellites management interface implied that the operator had a certain level of knowledge, and the manuals were also designed for people with this knowledge. As a result, I just didn't understand some of the terms. The rescue capsule computer managed to help me on occasion by providing reference information, but its databases were also not compiled for controlling scientific satellites, and certainly not for helping a pilot create programs to analyze the combat capabilities of pre-space-era armies.
I was taught the basics of programming. It was thought that the pilot as a user of numerous space combat simulators should have an idea of how they worked. No one, of course, did expect that I would change any parameters of the source code to suit my purposes, or that I would look for undocumented features of the programs, but the developers of the course thought that I should understand the principles of computer decision-making, at least in general terms.
This subject seemed to me at first completely useless, but I suddenly became interested in it for a while, seeing it as a good exercise for my brain, and the head of the study department was greatly surprised. Then I gave it up for current affairs, but I still had some skills, and now I was genuinely happy about that old hobby.
My immediate superior was Senior Major of State Security Sudoplatov, a figure who enjoyed enormous prestige and almost unlimited confidence in the Commissariat, headed by Beria, which he had earned through his dangerous but murderously effective operations to eliminate the head of the Ukrainian nationalists Evgeny Konovalets and Lev Trotsky, Stalin's personal enemy. Frankly, I was wary of Sudoplatov, and I did not want to tell him the results of my reflections, which made me very skeptical about the idea of unblocking the troops encircled near Kiev by the attack of the 40th and 21st Armies. I didn't want to hear him accuse me of defeatism.
However, I couldn't just go about my day-to-day business, watching counterattack attempts fail one by one. In general, I realized one simple thing – this war was gradually ceasing to be a foreign war for me. I used to consider as my own only the Red Army soldiers and commanders directly surrounding me, those people with whom I went into battle together, but as time went on I began to realize that this concept was rapidly embracing more and more people. At some point, the air defense platoon became my own, then the entire composite battalion of General Muzychenko, then the 300th Division, the artillery regiment of Lieutenant Colonel Tsaitiuni, and nowadays the entire Southwestern Front, now torn by the Germans into two parts and divided into encircled and those outside the pocket, seem to have fallen into the same category.
It cost me a lot of trouble to get the artificial intelligence left in the escape pod and the satellites' onboard computers to work together. Before the destruction of the moonbase, they did not interact with each other in any way, and it was believed that they should not interact with each other. Theoretically, the access codes I had allowed me to pair these devices with each other, but in practice I spent hours on this task. But now the training of the artificial neural network I created to simulate the actions of the Russian and German armies, was much more efficient. And most importantly, this process did not require my direct participation. Direct access to the Satellite Network databases allowed the capsule computer to draw from them all the necessary information about the course of battles and maneuvers, the practice of using this or that weapon, the abilities and skills of commanders, in general, everything that needed to be fed to the neural network to train it on historical data.
Of course, I did not create the neural network from scratch. This amount of programming would have been too much for me, I simply could not cope with the task at my skill level. Luckily for me the Satellite Network user interface offered a large selection of ready-made blocks from which I could assemble the programs I needed, as from the parts of an erector set. Of course, this still required a basic knowledge of the process, and, as it turned out, my level of training was barely sufficient, as I was faced with a very nontrivial task.
It took me three days to train the neural network. I checked the result and verified that my program gives predictions that are quite acceptable in accuracy when tested on battles that have already been fought. I could only hope that the program would also be able to predict the course of upcoming battles.
As I had feared, Sudoplatov saw in my abilities, above all, an excellent opportunity to form a super-efficient raiding force. He may even have been able to convince Beria that this was the way to use us. In any case, all the first few days we were trained in the sabotage training program.
Naturally, this did not suit me. I wasn't going to spend the whole war running around German back areas, blowing up bridges and capturing prisoners for interrogation. In principle, I had nothing against this use of my squad, but only as one of the directions, an auxiliary direction and no more than that. However, there was no suitable moment for me to have a serious conversation with the new commander, and I had no good arguments. Now, after the failure of several attempts to release the encircled troops, arguments have emerged.
“Comrade Senior Major of State Security, allow me to address you,” I stopped my immediate supervisor after another briefing.
“I'm listening to you.” Sudoplatov was in a bad mood. Apparently, the state of affairs at the front was not conducive to optimism.
“As far as I can tell, attempts to break through a corridor to the troops surrounded near Kiev have so far yielded no positive results,” I said softly, so that no one could hear my words but us. “I believe the 40th and 21st Armies were forced to fall back to their original positions, or even retreat further east…”
“How do you know this, Senior Lieutenant? The current situation at the front was not brought to your attention,” Sudoplatov looked at me sharply.
“A few days ago Comrade Beria showed me a map of the Kiev pocket area with the situation at that time. I thought a lot about this subject and came to the conclusion that the forces we have are totally insufficient to break through the encirclement.”
“Even if so, what does that have to do with our current tasks, Senior Lieutenant? Why are you telling me all this?”
“This has the most direct relevance to our current tasks, Comrade Senior Major of State Security. If you give me ten minutes, I'll explain everything, but I'd rather not do it here.”
“All right, let's go. No one will disturb us in my office,” answered Sudoplatov and walked quickly down the corridor.
As we walked, I once again laid out the details of the plan that had been born in my head this morning, which had been finalized by the computer just in time for the end of class.
“I understand that you have some specific ideas,” said Sudoplatov, taking a seat in the chair behind his desk and gesturing for me to take one of the visitors' seats. “I don't have a lot of time, so get right to the point.”
“There are two major problems that prevent the 40th and 21st Armies from achieving success. It is the enemy's advantage in mobility and communications. The Germans closed the ring with motorized formations. In addition, they have quite enough infantry from Weichs's army and from the infantry divisions accumulated at the Kremenchuk bridgehead. As a result, the enemy can quite easily nullify any of the planned successes of our troops by quickly moving tanks and artillery to the threatened area. ”
“This is not news,” Sudoplatov shrugged. “This has been the state of affairs since the beginning of the war.”
“You are certainly right. In this case, however, the concentration of the enemy's mobile units is several times higher than it usually is. In fact, our armies are facing two tank groups, albeit somewhat tattered in previous battles and stretched over a fairly wide front. If we just try to find a weakness in their defense and try to make a breach there, it won't work, we'll only lose men and equipment.”
“Let's say,” the Senior Major did not argue, “but I haven't heard any concrete suggestions yet.”
“The only way to ensure the success of the breakthrough is to disorganize the enemy's troop control. It is necessary to strike the headquarters of the German motorized corps immediately before attacking from outside and inside the ring.”
“It's a great plan,” Sudoplatov grinned venomously, “And how do you want to do that, Senior Lieutenant? Perhaps you know the locations of these headquarters? Or do you think the Germans will let our air reconnaissance sniff out every square meter of their territory? Have you forgotten who has supremacy in the air now?”
“Comrade Beria told me that he had some very interesting photographs,” I answered calmly, without reacting in any way to the sneer in the voice of my immediate superior. “It shows what was left of the German convoy after a nighttime bombardment by one of the TB-3s whose pilots were receiving my commands from the ground. I was ten kilometers away, but the bombs hit the target.”
I was silent, but the famous saboteur took his time answering and just looked at me carefully, waiting for me to continue.
“I need a fast reconnaissance plane with an experienced pilot and three fighters to cover me. And then, when it gets dark, I need a dozen long-range TB-7 and Yer-2 bombers from among the planes that flew to bomb Berlin in August.”
“Don't you need a couple of armies to reinforce you, Senior Lieutenant?” Sudoplatov leaned back in his chair, looking at me as if I were some exotic curiosity, “We, if you have noticed, are dealing here with somewhat different issues, which are quite far from empty projects. I have only a month to make real saboteurs out of you, able to pass German barriers like a knife through butter, and I'll do it! And you, Comrade Nagulin, are suggesting that I should disobey orders, interrupt the group's preparations, and get on with your adventure, because of which I will have to distract very serious people from important matters.”
“200,000 of our fighters and commanders are waiting for help in the Kiev pocket,” I said slowly, emphasizing each word in my voice, “And they will stay there forever. They will be cut to pieces and killed individually, unless, of course, we change anything in the current breakthrough plans. You are an experienced commander, Comrade Senior Major of State Security, and you know very well that I am right. I only need 24 hours, one day and one night. You are my immediate superior, and I have no one else to turn to. Please remember the bridge over the Dnieper and the events that followed. I was not immediately believed then, either.”
Sudoplatov stood up and gave me a bad look. I stood up, too, but he gestured for me to sit back down.
“Wait here,” ordered the Senior Major, and left the office, closing the door tightly behind him.
* * *
“So, you missed him,” to Richtengden's surprise, the General said this phrase in a completely calm voice, “You failed to wrest Major Schliemann from the hands of Russian saboteurs, and now we are forced to assume that everything he knew, the enemy knows as well. This is all very unfortunate, don't you think, Colonel.”
“All responsibility for this failure lies solely with me, Herr General,” Richtengden answered clearly, looking his superior straight in the eye, “All my men and the "Brandenburg" fighters involved proved to be exceptionally competent specialists, and it was only my mistakes that caused the mission to fail.”
“Don't be in such a hurry to denounce yourself,” the General grinned with a corner of his lips. “Admiral Canaris instructed me to investigate the incident, and, believe me, I have carried out his orders with the utmost care. We have reconstructed the whole picture of what happened by questioning in detail all the participants in the events, from your men to the gendarmes and the infantry officers who carried out your orders. Those who survived, of course…”
The General was silent for a while, then thoughtfully poured some water from a decanter into his glass and took a couple of sips.
“No credible expert familiar with the case has found serious errors in your actions. This rarely happens, because some of them know you personally, and not always your relationship with these people is unclouded. However, their assessments agree – your actions in those circumstances were correct. Perhaps you were just unlucky. How is your arm, by the way? Does it bother you?”
“It's better, Herr General. Thank you, Sir.”
“Perhaps for the first time in this war we have encountered a factor beyond our understanding,” the General continued. “Your timely arrival in the vicinity of Kremenchuk put the counter-subversion operation back on track. You correctly assessed the actions of the enemy and led your men on the trail of the enemy group. Had it not been for this nighttime bombardment, which no one could have foreseen, the Russians would not have been able to land the transport plane on our territory and then get it in the air. Nevertheless, even under these circumstances you were able to inflict damage on the Russian transport plane. As a result, it crashed on an emergency landing, but unfortunately, it happened in the territory already occupied by the Soviet troops, and its passengers apparently survived.”
“It's a failure anyway, Herr General,” Richtengden shook his head, “and it's not the first one, if we remember on whose recommendation you involved Major Schliemann in the operation.”
“You're not yourself, Colonel,” the General frowned. “Or did the injury have that effect on you? You and I seem to have switched roles. You're the one who has to look for arguments in your defense, and I've done everything for you, so you're trying to argue with me.”
Richtengden remained silent. He no longer had the strength or desire to object.
“That's right,” the General looked closely at his subordinate and calmed down a little. “Nobody cancelled the order to destroy the Russian marksman, who, as it turned out, was also a spotter. The human intelligence has already been tasked to locate him, but I don't think it's going to be easy or particularly fast. Major Schliemann is a prisoner, and now you are the only Abwehr officer left, who knows our enemy's habits well. I want to hear your thoughts on what action we should expect from him next. And your suggestions, if, of course, you have any.”
“The Kiev pocket,” Richtengden answered without a second's hesitation.
“And more specifically?”
“The Russians will not be able to break our defenses. The motorized corps of Army Group Center will prevent them from breaking through the front, unless…”
“Go ahead, Colonel.”
“The marksman showed himself a master at targeting heavy artillery and aviation. The howitzers do not have enough range to support a strike directed from inside the ring, and our artillerymen will not sleep either – they will not let the Russians quietly smash our troops. Our aviation dominates the air, and no TB-3s or Red dive bombers can support the advancing Soviet units, even with an ingenious spotter. But this is in the daytime.”
“Do you think they will go for a breakthrough at night?”
“I am sure of it. The Russians had already used this trick at Uman, and they almost succeeded then.”
“Yes. But, as you correctly noted, "almost".”
“They didn't have air support that time, but they will have it now. I had already experienced the delight of a nighttime bombing once, and believe me, I wouldn't want to experience it again. ”
“I see you've given a lot of thought to the situation,” the General stood up and walked over to the map showing the current situation on the eastern front, “You are right, the Russians have already made two attempts to break through the encirclement, accompanied by counter-strikes from the outside. Both attempts ended unsuccessfully and were accompanied by heavy losses on their part. As a result, the situation of the encircled units only worsened. Now our troops have split them into two isolated pockets, and General Field Marshal von Bock estimates that only units of the enemy, still holding a small area west of Romny have any chance of a breakthrough.”
“They will strike this or next night, General,” said Richtengden confidently, “and if the Russian marksman is there, which I do not doubt, our troops will be attacked by night bombers. The marksman always uses tactics that once proved to be effective, repeatedly. Recall the situation with the bridge over the Dnieper. Almost immediately after its destruction, the Russian again used heavy howitzers to destroy the barrier put up by Major Schliemann. Now he had a positive experience with the bombers. I'm pretty sure he'll want to do it again, but on a new level and on a different scale.”
“And do you know how to stop it, Colonel?”
“We've had this problem before,” Richtengden nodded. “British bombers fly to bomb our cities precisely at night, and the Luftwaffe has learned well how to drop the Royal Air Force's Wellingtons from the sky. I have an acquaintance, Major Helm, and I have encountered him on some cases before the war. Now he is working on introducing the latest advances in radiolocation into the air defense system of our cities. He informed me that at the beginning of August, the range tests of the Lichtenstein onboard radar was successfully completed in Rechlin, and a group of engineers from Telefunken had installed several such stations on night fighters based at Leeuwarden. At first, our pilots made faces when too many external antennas were attached to their planes. In this case, the aircraft does lose speed, and the weighting of the nose leads to a decrease in controllability.
However, Oberleutnant Becker[1] in his Dornier equipped with an on-board radar shot down the Wellington flying to bomb Hamburg on the night of August 9-10. In his next night flights he scored five more impressive victories.”
“And you suggest that I convince the Luftwaffe command to move these planes near Kiev?”
“Not only them, Herr General. The marksman points the bombers at the target using radio communication. We'll need the best jamming systems we can find in the Reich, if we really want to upset the Russians' plans.”
“It's not going to be easy, Colonel, especially in terms of night fighters. I'm afraid I'll have to get approval from the very top.”
“The Russian will almost certainly be aboard one of the bombers. He can't know we have fighters able to reach the target without using ground searchlights, and that gives us a chance to close the marksman issue once and for all.”
The General strode thoughtfully through the office and stopped again at the map.
“Perhaps I'll find the right words for Admiral Canaris,” he nodded to his own thoughts. “The liquidation of the Russian troops encircled near Kiev is now considered the most important task on the entire Eastern Front, and no one wants to jeopardize it. Get ready, Colonel. You're flying into Guderian's Second Panzer Group today. I expect a detailed plan of the operation with a list of everything you need within an hour.”
* * *
“Note, this gun has its own specificity – high muzzle velocity. Accordingly, when shooting at an airborne target, you have to make a much smaller deflection than usual.”
Lena nodded seriously, but it was obvious that for her it was just words, and she did not yet understand how to put it into practice.
“Well, if it's clear to you, then let's shoot at the wooden model.”
At my request, Ignatov made a rather crude wooden model of a Messerschmitt. I did not need a detailed reproduction of the enemy plane, but it was necessary to accurately match the size ratio of the mockup to the real fighter. We naturally did not have the opportunity to conduct practical firing on the planes, but we could have plenty of fun simulating this fascinating process.
“Once again, the model is 40 times smaller than the real target, but it is also much closer to you, so when you shoot at the real enemy, it will look exactly the same as you see it now.”
I showed Lena two thin strips about a meter long, semi-rigidly fastened to the mockup, “With this simple device I will simulate the flight of a Messerschmitt. You point the gun at the target using deflection and pull the trigger. No shot, of course, but every time I'll tell you if you hit or miss.”
I finally figured out how to use my abilities to train our sniper to shoot at aerial targets. After all, promises have to be kept, and I didn't consider it possible to put it off any longer. The computer told me if the weapon was correctly aimed at the moment of firing, and Lena could practice as much as she wanted, or rather, as long as the superiors let us do it.
The "plane" made a standard U-turn, approaching the target, and I heard the dry click of the trigger.
“Missed! The deflection needs to be further reduced. In addition, the bullet went slightly above the target. We start again. I need you not just to hit the hull of the plane, but to hit the cockpit, the engine, or the fuel tank on my command. Let's go!”
Snap!
“Missed! The deflection was normal, but the bullet went lower. You incorrectly accounted for the angle of lift of the plane when exiting the attack. One more time!”
Snap!
“Bingo! Already better, you punctured its vertical stabilizer. The target, unfortunately, is still combat-ready. Are you ready? Let's keep going!”
“Missed!”
“Comrade Senior Lieutenant, allow me to address you!”
I turned around. Sergeant Nikiforov was standing at the exit to the courtyard.
“You are ordered to report immediately to the office of Comrade Senior Major.”
This could only mean one thing: the decision on my proposal has finally been made. I wonder what it is. I nodded to Lena and walked quickly toward the building.
* * *
The weirdness started towards the end of the day. First, the pilot received an order from air division headquarters to prepare for takeoff and await the arrival of a special NKVD representative, who was to be received on board and given access to surveillance equipment.
Lieutenant Kalina had landed his twin-engine Pe-2R at the airfield only a few hours before, and he knew very well, that the rare breaks in low cloud cover gave very little chance of seeing anything below. Besides, the Germans were just rampant. It was a good thing that the bomber, converted into a reconnaissance plane, was almost as fast as the Messerschmitts, but they still had to run away twice at full speed and even to shoot. They, of course, brought back some pictures, but Kalina himself clearly understood that, by and large, this flight was in vain.
And now he has to fly again, diving into that cloudy mess again, taking fire from the ground and constantly fearing attacks from enemy fighters. And then there's that special representative…
The hum of the engines distracted the Lieutenant from his thoughts. A PS-84 transport plane, escorted by three fighters, was coming in for a landing. To the Lieutenant's surprise, the Yaks did not leave for their airfield, but began to approach after the transport plane.
“This is your cover, Lieutenant,” said the squadron commander, who approached discreetly from behind, and nodded toward the Yaks.
“And why should I be honored like that, Comrade Captain?” Kalina pulled off his flight helmet and ruffled his hair.
“It's not for you,” said the commander, with a chuckle, “you're under the command of the senior lieutenant of state security for the duration of the flight. You and I are better off not knowing the name of this comrade, but any order he gives you is a law.”
A rather young officer in a NKVD uniform was heading toward them at a brisk pace from the transport plane. Kalina put his helmet back on and prepared to report in full form.
* * *
The commander of the German African Corps, General Erwin Rommel, watched grimly as his divisions were loaded onto transport ships. The port of Tripoli was full of tanks, guns, tractors and other military equipment. The infantry divisions from France and Italy were to temporarily replace his troops, which had already gained experience fighting in the desert. They had to make a long journey to Russia, to the Eastern Front.
The Führer's order was a thunderbolt from a clear sky for Rommel. In Africa, a real success was emerging. The morale of British and Australian soldiers was shattered by the crushing defeats of the spring-summer campaign, they were forced to leave Benghazi, Sidi Omar and Al Saloum, German-Italian troops took the deep-water port of Tobruk under tight siege.
And now he could just forget all these victories. There will be no new offensive in Egypt, no decisive storming of Tobruk. Despite the unambiguous order received from Berlin, Rommel did not know how to look the Italian generals in the eyes. He felt like a traitor, even though it was not he who made the decision to replace his tanks with infantry. And besides, the General couldn't shake the feeling that he had had a victory stolen from him, a real big victory, which might have been the pinnacle of his military career.
Well, he guessed that one could see better from Berlin, and Moscow really was much more important than Tobruk, Al-Alamein or even Cairo, but at the moment Rommel was in no way relieved by this understanding.
