increasingly bearing fruit , as the day skies started to become more friendly, or more accurately, less murderous.
Today’s target had been acquired by a Mosquito PR34 of the RAF’s 540 Photo-Reconnaissance Squadron. The crew had decided to take some extra frames after attracting a few unwanted shots from a large wood, one mile north of Wolfhagen.
Excellent as the Soviet were with their camouflage, the young WAAF’s at ‘Interpretation’ quickly realised that not all was as it seemed, and after more work they had identified four hidden railway spurs from the main line which ran northwards, adjacent to the western edge of the woods.
That the Soviets bothered to conceal them was proof enough of their worthiness for further attention, and the belief that it was likely a clandestine supply dump encouraged a prompt visit.
Although the hilly wooded area would be les s than ideal for that purpose, photo interpreters had quickly learned that the Soviet Army did things differently, and was less conventional than their former opponents.
Therefore, the area of four square miles received the bomb loads of three hundred and twenty-seven heavy bombers, mostly B24 Liberators.
Soviet air defence scrambled numerous air regiments, again an indication that they valued the target.
Casualties amongst the fighters of both sides were murderous, but the Mustangs and Spitfires kept the Soviets at bay, only one B24 lost to interception.
The bravery of the fighter pilots could not prevent the anti-aircraft guns from doing their work, and a score of bombers fell to high-altitude AA guns, mostly those liberated from their former German owners.
The wood was incinerated.
1801hrs, Saturday, 8th September 1945. Headquarters, Red Banner Forces of Europe, Kohnstein, Nordhausen, Germany.
Zhukov had been a different man ever since he had returned from Moscow on the Thursday night; late, tired and extremely frustrated.
A briefing from Nazarbayeva had done nothing to ease his growing anger at what seemed to be happening behind the lines, an area he had entrusted to others.
The GKO, more importantly Beria, had been prepared and had the answers to all his questions, something he had discussed with Malinin in the privacy of his office later.
They had concluded that one or all of the typists were NKVD spies, and promised to act accordingly in future.
The meat of the matter was simple.
Production was apparently at full tilt but there were difficulties with the increased distances involved in transporting the consumables of war. The reasons were as far apart as the gauge change in railways, from the Soviet Union’s narrow gauge to European wider gauge, to the growing and increasingly successful attacks by partisans and cut-off allied military units.
General agreement was reached on how to address the matters, actions ranging from increased manpower for security or rail works, through to the normal Stalinist solutions of threats and executions.
The reports Zhukov had requested, prior to his Moscow flight, indicated a number of interesting things.
The Soviet Commander was already aware that consumption of everything from bullets to bridges was far higher than had been allowed for, and that casualties amongst his frontline troops were extreme.
That was balanced by a similar bloodletting inflicted upon the Western Allies.
It was the combination of production and transportation figures that troubled him the most, as the two figures seemed to marry up perfectly but not translate into adequate stocks where they were most needed; with the Red Army in the field.
Zhukov drank his tea quietly whilst he waited for Malinin to examine the NKVD figures he had brought back with him, setting them against the figures received from the Fronts.
The CoS leant back in his chair, wiping his face with his left hand, as if clearing his mind for what he was about to say.
“And these figures are the NKVD’s official submission, Comrade
Today’s target had been acquired by a Mosquito PR34 of the RAF’s 540 Photo-Reconnaissance Squadron. The crew had decided to take some extra frames after attracting a few unwanted shots from a large wood, one mile north of Wolfhagen.
Excellent as the Soviet were with their camouflage, the young WAAF’s at ‘Interpretation’ quickly realised that not all was as it seemed, and after more work they had identified four hidden railway spurs from the main line which ran northwards, adjacent to the western edge of the woods.
That the Soviets bothered to conceal them was proof enough of their worthiness for further attention, and the belief that it was likely a clandestine supply dump encouraged a prompt visit.
Although the hilly wooded area would be les s than ideal for that purpose, photo interpreters had quickly learned that the Soviet Army did things differently, and was less conventional than their former opponents.
Therefore, the area of four square miles received the bomb loads of three hundred and twenty-seven heavy bombers, mostly B24 Liberators.
Soviet air defence scrambled numerous air regiments, again an indication that they valued the target.
Casualties amongst the fighters of both sides were murderous, but the Mustangs and Spitfires kept the Soviets at bay, only one B24 lost to interception.
The bravery of the fighter pilots could not prevent the anti-aircraft guns from doing their work, and a score of bombers fell to high-altitude AA guns, mostly those liberated from their former German owners.
The wood was incinerated.
1801hrs, Saturday, 8th September 1945. Headquarters, Red Banner Forces of Europe, Kohnstein, Nordhausen, Germany.
Zhukov had been a different man ever since he had returned from Moscow on the Thursday night; late, tired and extremely frustrated.
A briefing from Nazarbayeva had done nothing to ease his growing anger at what seemed to be happening behind the lines, an area he had entrusted to others.
The GKO, more importantly Beria, had been prepared and had the answers to all his questions, something he had discussed with Malinin in the privacy of his office later.
They had concluded that one or all of the typists were NKVD spies, and promised to act accordingly in future.
The meat of the matter was simple.
Production was apparently at full tilt but there were difficulties with the increased distances involved in transporting the consumables of war. The reasons were as far apart as the gauge change in railways, from the Soviet Union’s narrow gauge to European wider gauge, to the growing and increasingly successful attacks by partisans and cut-off allied military units.
General agreement was reached on how to address the matters, actions ranging from increased manpower for security or rail works, through to the normal Stalinist solutions of threats and executions.
The reports Zhukov had requested, prior to his Moscow flight, indicated a number of interesting things.
The Soviet Commander was already aware that consumption of everything from bullets to bridges was far higher than had been allowed for, and that casualties amongst his frontline troops were extreme.
That was balanced by a similar bloodletting inflicted upon the Western Allies.
It was the combination of production and transportation figures that troubled him the most, as the two figures seemed to marry up perfectly but not translate into adequate stocks where they were most needed; with the Red Army in the field.
Zhukov drank his tea quietly whilst he waited for Malinin to examine the NKVD figures he had brought back with him, setting them against the figures received from the Fronts.
The CoS leant back in his chair, wiping his face with his left hand, as if clearing his mind for what he was about to say.
“And these figures are the NKVD’s official submission, Comrade
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