Opening Moves

Submarines B-27 and B-30, preceded by their surface consorts, swept through the Danish narrows and out into the North Sea. Both were intent on heading north between England and Norway, schnorkelling all the way to their operational assignment off the east coast of America, independent of their surface friends once open deep water was under their keel. Each also carried eight men to be put ashore on the continent of America itself, each group of four agents tasked with their own secret and important contributions to the Soviet drive.

The other two, B-28 and B-29, followed a similar route six hours behind but journeyed around the British Isles to position themselves on the approaches to the French ports.

The expectation was for two more submarines to join them in the coming weeks, once they had been passed fit for service.

All six were former Type XXI U-Boats, the so-called ‘ElektroBootes’. The four now at sea had been handed over by the Western Allies under the Yalta Agreements and the latter two were amongst those found in the shipping construction yards during the liberation of Danzig, as GdaDsk had been known formerly, both vessels in an almost seaworthy condition. Even in March 1945, it seemed Germany could still produce quality weapons of war.

Each submarine could cruise underwater for days at a time, recharging its batteries via a schnorkel. They carried twenty-three torpedoes and housed up to sixty crewmembers. They were the very peak of submarine development, potentially mass ship killers with excellent survivability prospects and had the Germans put their keels and those of their sister ships in the water two years earlier, the impact of these sleek and efficient killing machines would have been immense and could have changed the course of the western war.

It was the Soviet navy’s hope that they would get the chance to show exactly what the XXI’s could do and interrupt the flow of men and supplies that would inevitably come from America when the attack came and the reinforcements sailed for Europe.

Chapter 40 – THE ATTACK

Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war.

William Shakespeare

0522 hrs Monday, 6th August 1945, Headquarters of Red Banner Forces of Soviet Europe, Schloss Schönefeld, Leipzig.

In the Schloss’ salon, which he had taken as his personal office, Marshall Georgi Zhukov, Commander of the Red Banner Forces of Soviet Europe, sat in quiet conversation with his Chief-of-Staff Colonel-General Mikhail Malinin. The planning was long over, the orders all sent, so the only real business they could attend to was to hurry up and wait, which was ever the lot of those who were sending men to their deaths.

Occasionally a messenger would knock and enter with some piece of information for his attention, but orders prohibiting anything other than routine communications traffic meant he was little disturbed. All the usual messages would continue to be sent through Soviet-occupied Europe so that all appeared normal but no increase in volume of traffic was acceptable. Nothing was to warn the Allies of the impending storm.

One ‘normal’ report to fall beneath their gaze had been that referring to the Planá crash of a Li-2 transport aircraft and the death of a Lieutenant Colonel Potakov. Both men knew he was assigned to Zilant-4 and the loss was severe indeed but both men were also comfortable that Makarenko’s presence would ensure the success of the mission. In any case, the Zilant missions were not a priority for them, having been thrust upon them by the hierarchy. The greater shame was that the new requirement had meant the loss of 100th Guards as a valuable airborne reserve force.

Zhukov did not have the luxury of tobacco to fall back on to steady his nervousness; neither did he wish for alcohol by way of substitute. Instead, his orderly kept Malinin and he supplied with a steady stream of coffee’s, served strong and sweet.

As the young woman poured yet another cup for each, there was a knock at the door. Both men looked at each other, for the sound held something more urgent and promising than those that had preceded it.

Their eyes were then drawn to the French Ormolu mantle clock whose insistent ticking both had found calming during hours of planning and discussion.

0526 hrs.

Malinin looked back at his Commander and shrugged slightly. They had always known that it was likely that some timing would go awry.

On invite, the door opened and an immaculate staff-Major entered, his face beaming with success.

The message form he passed to Zhukov was exquisitely simple and yet spoke volumes to the Marshall.

‘Message sent in clear – Volga, Borodin 5.’

This message indicated that the paratrooper unit codenamed Volga sent to attack the headquarters of British 21st Army Group had been successful. Borodin equated to Field-Marshall Montgomery and the code 5 indicated he had been liquidated.