Robert M. Citino - The Wehrmacht Retreats: Fighting a Lost War, 1943

the wehrmacht
retreats

MODERN WAR STUDIES

Theodore A. Wilson
General Editor

Raymond A. Callahan
Jacob W. Kipp
Allan R. Millett
Carol Reardon
Dennis Showalter
David R. Stone
James H. Willbanks
Series Editors

the wehrmacht
retreats

Fighting a Lost
War, 1943

Robert M. Citino

university press of kansas

2012 by the University Press of Kansas
All rights reserved

Published by the University Press of Kansas (Lawrence, Kansas 66045), which was organized by the Kansas Board of Regents and is operated and funded by Emporia State University, Fort Hays State University, Kansas State University, Pittsburg State University, the University of Kansas, and Wichita State University

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Citino, Robert Michael, 1958

The Wehrmacht retreats : fighting a lost war, 1943 / Robert M. Citino.

p. cm. (Modern war studies)

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 978-0-7006-2343-3 (pbk. : alk. paper)

ISBN 978-0-7006-2371-6 (ebook)

1. GermanyArmed ForcesHistoryWorld War, 19391945. 2. World War, 19391945CampaignsEastern Front. 3. World War, 19391945CampaignsItaly. 4. World War, 19391945CampaignsTunisia. 5. GermanyHistory, Military20th century. I. Title.

D757.C59 2012

940.54'1343dc23 2011040436

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data is available.

Printed in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

The paper used in this publication is recycled and contains 30 percent postconsumer waste. It is acid free and meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials Z39.48-1992.

To our best friends,
Jeff and Pam

Maps

Photographs

All books are collaborations, a form of synergy between an author and those who lend inspiration and support. As with all my books, I begin by thanking my mentors when I was a graduate student at Indiana University: Barbara and Charles Jelavich. Even today, I marvel at how fortunate I was, and how wonderful they were to a young man who wasnt quite sure just what he wanted to do. Since then, my colleagues at Lake Erie College and Eastern Michigan UniversityKim McQuaid, Mark Higbee, and Ronald Delph, to name a fewhave been an unerring source of ideas and insight. No one could work at my current school, the University of North Texas, and especially its excellent Military History Center, without feeling the muse. My colleagues Geoff Wawro and Mike Leggiere never seem to stop researching and writing, and they always make me want to do likewise.

The current work benefited from the sharp eye of my friends Dennis Showalter, Evan Mawdsley, and especially Gerhard Weinberg. All of themand too many others to mentionkept me from embarrassing errors, but more importantly helped me to sharpen the argument. I might say the same about my current group of graduate students at UNT: Adam Rinkleff, Luke Truxal, Charlotte Decoster, Simone De Santiago Ramos, and Jesse Pyles, along with my two US Army officers who are currently teaching at West Point, William Nance and David Musick. Thanks to one and all.

As always, I send out a special word of thanks to all the good folks at the United States Army Heritage and Education Center (USAHEC) in Carlisle, PA. A world-class facility; amazing holdings in military history and some of the most helpful staff possible: USAHEC has it all. In particular, I would like to thank Louise Arnold-Friend for archival service and document delivery above and beyond the call of duty.

The photographs in this book came from two sources. Paul Sadler had been a G.I. during the war and brought back a photo album from the European theater. It is a marvelous visual source from the era, with an abundance of high quality, glossy images. His son, Bruce, was gracious enough to allow me to reproduce some of the photographs. The others came from Christian Ankjersterne, an old friend of mine from Denmark whom I have never, in fact, met in the flesh. The wonders of the Internet!

Finally, to my wonderful familymy wife Roberta and my three brilliant daughters, Allison, Laura, and Emilya simple word of thanks: for the help, for the love, and for allowing me to live in the present and the past simultaneously.

Consider this scene from a well-known episode in German military history. It is November 1942. A great war is raging, and all the indicators have suddenly gone negative:

The general sat down at his desk, preparing to set pen to paper. It had been a bad day, and frankly, he was having a hard time concentrating. He was under a great deal of strain lately, and he knew it was beginning to tell on him. He had even developed a facial tic that he did his damnedest to hide and that his staff officers tried not to notice.

A rough day, he thought. He wasnt sure rough quite covered it. Once again, there was bad news from the front: the final breakdown of Operation Hubertus, the last assault in the citys northern sector, and his last throw of the diceand not much of a throw at that. He had spent the week before the attack trying, and failing, to scrounge up enough infantry to launch it. In the end, hed relied mainly on combat engineers. Theyd done all right, he supposed. They could blow things up. They were good at that. Fire and movement? Not so good. Theyd gotten close to the riverbankwithin a few hundred yards, in fact.

But not close enough. The general tried to concentrate. The failure of Hubertus was the least of his problems. That news from the front he could handle. It was what was happening in his rear. He wasnt sure what to say about that. Had something like this ever even happened to a German army before?

He glanced at the situation map, hoping that it had somehow changed. But no. It was the same ugly story: huge red arrows north and south of the city, immense Soviet offensives, spearheaded by what his intelligence officers had sworn to him just a week ago were impossible numbers of tanks. The last few days, they had been driving deep into his flank and rear. Who was there to stop them? The general knew the answer to that one, and it wasnt good.

He had just now gotten the confirmation. The Soviet pincers had linked up far behind Stalingrad, at the town of Kalach, on the Don.

Kesselschlacht. Every German commander recognized the term: the battle of encirclement, the cauldron. He knew his history as well as anyone in the officer corps. It was a way of war that German armies had perfected over the centuries, at Leipzig, Kniggrtz, Tannenberg, the Flanders offensive of 1940, the opening of Barbarossa. When it worked, you encircled entire enemy armies, and took hundreds of thousands of prisoners.

But now who was trapped? He was a thousand miles deep inside hostile territory, his army literally embedded in the city, having fought to a standstill. His tanks had been practically useless in a street fight. He had even sent away his horse transporttoo many mouths to feed. What did he need transport for? He thought of another term: Bewegungskrieg, the war of movement, with rapid maneuver and bold attacks, always seeking the enemys flanks and rear. He shook his head. So much for that; his own army had barely moved an inch in the last month.