Chapter 5

The Maybach, six cylinder, 4 litre, gasoline engine poured columns of oily blue smoke into the chilly air. The fitful breeze carried it lazily into the surrounding trees. The SdKfz 251 rocked over the rough, unsealed road, its tracks creaking and groaning with the effort.

Inside, six men sat rolling from side to side with the movement of the personnel carrier. They were dressed scruffily in variations of German Feldgrau police uniforms, all sported facial hair of some discription, and scraggly, unkempt hair poked from beneath their caps.

On the grating beneath their feet lay their weapons. It was a mixed collection of German and Russian guns, two PPSh 40 sub-machine guns, a Tokarev rifle, two Mp 40s and an Erma, a common police weapon in 1943.

The vehicle rolled out of the forest and rattled down a hill towards a group of farm buildings. Cattle peacefully munched grass in the nearby fields and some farm workers clustered around a fence-mending project.

The workers looked up at the approaching 3/4 track, then continued their work. Police vehicles often came past, it was no big deal.

The carrier ground to a halt outside the farmhouse gate. The fence was a crude affair, fashioned out of whole logs cut from the forest. The gate was no-more than a thin log with a brace and swung on an iron hinge.

A man emerged from one of the nearby sheds carrying a handsaw. He waved it in greeting at the yet unseen policemen. From the carrier an officer stood wearing a 'coal-scuttle' helmet. He scrutinised the farmer as he approached.

"Hi boys," the farmer said in German, "hungry?"

"In a hurry," the officer replied, "but thanks. Seen any strangers around here?"

"Not here. Haven't lost any stock either since they cleared that village. Lazy bastards, I don't know what else you can do with them?"

"True," the officer agreed, "how's your workers?"

"Stupid! Poles, what do you expect? No work ethic. You have to show them the smallest task and then stand over them, otherwise they just sit down and do nothing."

The officer looked carefully around before nodding to the other men. The rear door of the carrier swung open with a groan and the others began to alight.

"Mind if we take a look around?" the officer asked.

"Go ahead. I'm just in the workshop if you want anything."

The name Belarus was transliterated into Russian as Byelorussia. From this word, the English mistranslated it as 'White Russia, ' although more correctly it should have been 'White Ruthenia.' That mistranslation, however, was taken into other languages and to the Germans it was called 'Weissrussland.' In 1943, 'West Wiessrussland' had been opened up for limited colonisation by ethnic Germans with an ultimate view to incorporation into the Reich.

Belarus is rich in resources. 43% is covered in forest and pasture land abounds for the breeding of cattle. In addition, extensive industrialisation had occurred in the 1930s and, even then, the 'Byelorussian Soviet Socialist Republic' was considered a good example of socialism at work.

But the price had been heavy for the Belarussians. Collectivisation of agriculture had resulted in widespread famine and unrest. Belarussian culture and language had been suppressed and ethnic Russians moved in to 'strengthen socialist values' among the population. Consequently many Belarussians had been 'relocated' to open up farmland in other parts of the Soviet Union.

If many Belarussians expected a better deal from the invading Germans they were disappointed. Perhaps millions were transported back to the Reich as 'guest workers, ' never to return. By 1943 it was obvious to the remaining population that the Germans hadn't come as saviours.

Hundreds of thousands of men and women had fled to the forests to avoid deportation and many linked up with groups of Red Army soldiers trapped by the speed of the German invasion. Moscow parachuted in some regular airborne units, the VLV, and a new NKVD organisation, called SMERSH, formed 'doctrinal units' and 'reprisal squads.'

Rhykov had been in Belarus since shortly after the invasion. His unit varied in size, but his core group of operatives were controlled by OSNAZ, the special forces of the GUGB. (Foreunner of KGB)

With so many organisations participating in the partisan effort against the German forces, it was a wonder that operations could be coordinated at all. But Rhykov's reputation enabled him to pull together the operations of the partisans, the VLV and OSNAZ into some sort of coherence. Moscow recognised this and STAVKA, General Headquarters, appointed him as overall commander in the Pripyat/Neman area with special authority over all groups.

Supplies, weapons and ammunition were always a headache. The groups armed themselves with whatever they could, captured from the Germans, parachuted in, or from prewar stocks kept at secret locations by the local defence committees.

A policeman approached the Polish farmhands. In fluent Polish, he asked each of them their names and former occupations.

Eventually, in a low voice he said, "if you want to know what's good for you, fuck off!"

"What?" one said in astonishment.

"Do I have to spell it out for you? In five minutes I don't want to see your faces or I'll shoot you, understand?"

The Poles looked at each other, bewildered, then began to run. The policeman then took aim with his rifle and shot the first of the cattle.

"What are you doing?" the farmer yelled, running out of the workshop. His voice was cut off by a burst of machinegun fire. Rhykov leaned against the side of the carrier and watched as the rest of the men ran towards the buildings with molotov cocktails. These they hurled through the windows and the open doorway until the farmhouse buildings were well ablaze. Rhykov then lit a cigar and peacefully puffed on it while his men finished the work.

Eventually he waved his men back to the vehicle and it lurched off again. After half an hour the driver yelled, "spotter," and pointed to the sky. They all looked up and spied the aircraft, high and circling.

"A 'Storch'," Rhykov informed the others, while looking through his binoculars, "smile and wave, gentlemen."

"Hi Fritz," one said, "come lower so we can give you a proper Russian greeting."

"Leave him," Rhykov instructed, "we're too easily trapped in this district."

"Do you suppose they've seen the farmhouse?"

"It occurs to me, yes. We need to find somewhere we can ditch this crate and get back to the forest."

"A lake?"

"Perfect! Head over there then run this thing into the water. We'll head back to the rendezvous on foot."

The tide was turning against the Wehrmacht in the partisan war behind the lines. The campaigning season was a particularly difficult time for the Germans as sorely needed troops had to be diverted from the fronts to protect supply lines and rear areas.

The civilian population had turned from indifference to outright hostility. Agricultural production had practically ceased in some areas as the locals fled for safety or joined the partisans. Those remaining in the villages risked reprisals by German police and SS units. Some three hundred Belarussian villages were wiped off the map and the remaining inhabitants slaughtered.

But those Belarussians who co-operated with the occupiers, through fear or preference, risked being executed by SMERSH after a 'tribunal.' Sometimes, such hasty trials were not bothered with. To be killed if they did or killed if they didn't, such was the fate of many of Belarussia's civilians.

Now and then, the Germans would arrive in company strength backed by tanks and armoured cars to clear certain 'troublesome' areas. Occasionally, pitched battles would ensue involving hundreds of soldiers. Normally careful about committing himself to such battles, on one occasion Rhykov collected enough forces together to take on a full scale German 'clearance' operation.

It was January 1944 and the weather was bleak, cold, and the countryside blanketed in snow. The pine trees that had provided cover to Rhykov's men and women, were stripped bare of leaves. The wind had dropped and the blizzard abated as Rhykov and his staff observed the vehicles approaching.

They now had radios, parachuted in by VLV aircraft. STAVKA had demanded a showdown with the SS Division operating South of the Neman. Such a battle, they hoped, would prevent reinforcements heading towards the fighting East, where the Army was launching a major offensive.

Rhykov had some 2000 under his command. There was a VLV Company, his OSNAZ team of about 100, but otherwise, most were armed civilians sprinkled with Red Army soldiers.

They had no artillery, but had a few rocket launchers and a Bazookas. Otherwise, nearly everyone was armed with the unbiquitous PPSh sub-machine gun and hand grenades. They were also equipped with two 12.7mm heavy machine guns and two mortars.

The SS was led by a PzKw III tank and three 'Puma' 4-wheel armoured cars. Behind them was a Panhard and about a dozen 3/4 track personnel carriers. The rest of their infantry were on lorries. All up, there were approximately 300 Infantrymen. It was a formidable force in anyone's book.

But one thing counted heavily against them. They were almost certainly confined to the road because of snow drifts on either side. Rhykov knew this and had picked his battlefield carefully.

If Rhykov had not been ordered to, he would've preferred not to have engaged such a force. Such operations were costly on equipment and personnel. Likely as not, the Germans would call in aircraft if they found the going too hard.

An OSNAZ team lay concealed near the road with a Bazooka. Their task was to immobilise the tank. Nearby was a low forested hill where teams of VLV airborne troops lay behind log barriers with heavy machine guns. Elsewhere, some crossfiring was possible from trees on the other side of the road. There, around 1000 irregulars lay in whatever cover they could devise for themselves. Rhykov had done whatever he could do, the rest lay up to the Germans.

Suddenly, the 20mm Automatic on one of the first carriers swung towards the forest and opened up. Clearly, the Germans had spotted some of Rhykov's irregulars. The whole convoy halted, well short of the OZNAZ team. Rhykov held his breath, hoping the Bazooka team would display some patience. The tank had to be disabled to block the road, but if they broke from cover too early, the SS would be alerted.

Some of the irregulars returned a sporadic fire. The last thing Rhykov wanted was for the convoy to halt at that point and disgorge the infantry. From there, the Germans would be able to work around the flank on his left while his specialist teams were too far away to attack the armoured vehicles. Things were in danger of unravelling, thanks to ill-discipline on the part of his soldier-civilians.

"Commander?" the anxious VLV Officer raised his eyebrows.

"Wait!" Rhykov commanded, "not yet! Your men would be butchered before they got within range. We must draw them on."

"That tank can't leave the road, Commander, a few of us might make it before..."

"I admire your courage, but not your common sense. We wait, tell your men to stay down." The VLV Officer crawled off. "If they suspect they're heading into a trap, Pavel, they will deploy their infantry. They must think there's only a few hotheads. Keep the Bazooka teams back, you must tell them to wait."

"Yes, sir!" The OSNAZ man crept away.

"Radio? Tell those fucking idiots to fall back. All partisans not engaged to hold their fire and stay under cover. The rest can fuck off, as far as I'm concerned."

'Their Officers are wary now, ' he thought to himself, 'they will think to themselves that the terrain ahead looks to be a very good place for an ambush. What would I do? Would I delude myself that these people are merely scatter-brained peasants? Am I some arrogant newcomer fresh from Germany keen to make a name for myself, or am I an old hand who knows how these barbarian Russians operate? Hmm, my noncoms are begging my pardon and telling me it's a trap. But Hitler told me to be wary of cowardice and lack of resolve? C'mon, my brave lad, don't be distracted, press on with your orders.' But the convoy remained halted and fired into the trees on the left with their cannon.

"Radio?" he called, suddenly inspired, "call the boys. We're going to play dress-ups."

"Sir?"

SS Liebstandarte Division 'Adolf Hitler' had, indeed, freshly arrived from Germany. Most of their armour, however, remained behind at their base near Minsk. Instead, they'd been lent some armoured cars and a tank from a local police unit. The police were to guide them, but soon they'd discovered that the Feldpolizei had a different way of operating from the SS.

Briefly, the SS preferred to blast away at anything and ask questions later. The Feldpolizei, from long experience at these operations, preferred patience. The Feldpolizei had developed a grudging respect for the Russians. The SS, by comparison, regarded them as 'vermin' to be cleared from the land anyway they could.

An argument had developed between the Feldpolizei commander and the SS, a fellow called Obersturmbannfuhrer Armin Reichenburg. Reichenburg was convinced the 'rabble' his men had seen were a 'provocation' and 'forlorn hope' by local Russians determined to save their village. The Feldpolizei, on the other hand, suspected they were being led into an ambush.

The objective was a village up ahead and their orders were to completely destroy it as a 'lesson' for past partisan raids. Rhykov, however, had already ordered the village cleared and some of the peasants had swelled the ranks of his irregulars.

Both German Officers were still arguing when they both saw a squad of Feldpolizei walking towards them from up ahead.

There were seven of them, led by a Hauptmann. Like many local Feldpolizei, they were scruffily dressed and weapons were a matter of personal preference. The Hauptmann put up his hand in greeting as the little group approached the first vehicle of the convoy, the tank.

"Hey," he called, "we ran our truck into a snowdrift. We could use a tow?"

"Who are you, Hauptmann, and where are you from?" the Feldpolizei Officer asked.

"The village... special detachment."

"I know of no 'special detachment' in my area," the Officer answered, "what unit are you from? Let me see your orders?"