Prohibition of Interference. Book 3. Impact Strategy

Only the need to finally eliminate the grouping of Soviet troops near Kiev, which was encircled and already split into two parts, was holding back the whole German armada from rushing to the Soviet capital.

However, the Soviet command did not know all this, and now the two armies were preparing to launch an unblocking strike, while the troops of the Bryansk Front had to actively bind up the German forces in order to make it difficult for the enemy to transfer reserves to the threatened directions. The armies in the pocket assembled few combat-ready formations to break through. Driver mechanics poured the last liters of fuel into the tanks of several dozen surviving combat vehicles, and artillerymen gathered the pitiful remains of ammunition for the few serviceable guns from field depots. I knew I couldn't get everyone out of the pocket, but I was going to give at least some of them a chance.

When Lieutenant Kalina's Pe-2, hastily repaired, took off, the entire horizon to the west was already thundering with explosions and glowing with white chemical light from the many hundreds of "chandeliers" suspended over the battlefield by our troops and the Germans.

We took off just in time. Two flights of TB-7s and four Yer-2s were approaching the front line a couple of kilometers behind our aircraft at an altitude of 6,000 meters. Ten long-range bombers, as I requested. All together they carried 40 tons of high-explosive bombs weighing from 250 kilograms to a ton.

So far the armies of Kuznetsov and Podlas have been successful. The plan called for two powerful converging strikes in the general direction of Romny. Both commanders managed to stealthily move the BM-13 divisions assigned to them into position at dusk. The Germans, confident in the effectiveness of their aerial reconnaissance, did not expect massive artillery fire, and the barrage of rockets that fell on their heads literally wiped out the enemy's forward positions.

Tank brigades assigned by the Headquarters of the Supreme High Command for this operation rushed into the gap that had formed. T-34s and KVs, which the Germans had great difficulty with, accounted for about half of these brigades.

Nevertheless, the initial success threatened to quickly wane. Information about strike directions had already reached German headquarters, and right now the fine-tuned mechanism for countering Soviet counterstrikes, which had already been worked out by the Wehrmacht to the finest detail during the first months of the war was beginning to work.

The enemy could not use aviation because it was dark, but it was not the first time the Germans had fought in weather conditions that prevented their fighters and bombers from flying, and they had many other effective means to repel the attack, chief among which were 88mm antiaircraft guns, which could be launched on direct fire, and motorized formations, which could be moved quickly to the breakout points to deliver flanking blows to the Soviet forces that had broken through.

It was this scenario that I intended to prevent.

“"Shark One", this is "Hornet". Are you ready to receive target coordinates?”

“"Hornet", this is "Shark One",” the heavy bomber group commander responded without delay, “I can hear you all right. Ready to receive coordinates.”

* * *

The commander of the Third Armored Division of the Wehrmacht, General von Schweppenburg, listened to the chief of staff's report and moved quickly into the room, where the maps of the battle area were laid out on the table. Several large wooden houses, from which the inhabitants had been evicted beforehand, were occupied by division headquarters, providing at least minimal comfort in the barbaric conditions with which von Schweppenburg had so often had to put up in this wild country.

True, the warning came not from Colonel General Guderian, but from some Berlin fop from the Abwehr, so von Schweppenburg didn't take it too seriously. As it turned out, the Abwehrman was right.

The locations of Soviet strikes had already been mapped. The Reds' plan was not original. Using the night attack to break through the front in two places 30 kilometers apart, then introduce tank brigades into the breakthrough, link up behind the back of the infantry division, block it, reach the inner perimeter of the pocket and break through a corridor to their surrounded armies, attacking from the rear against the infantry units holding it.

“Put me through to the headquarters of the Fifth Tank Regiment!” demanded Schweppenburg.

“The telephone connection is broken, Herr General!” the communications officer on duty reported a minute later. “Troubleshooting is already underway, but it will take time.”

“Then get on the radio! Do I have to teach you your job, Stabsfeldwebel?”

“There is interference on the air, Herr General. We have been calling the Fifth Regiment Headquarters continuously, but there has been no answer so far.”

“Then send a liaison agent with orders to Colonel Brown to raise the regiment on alert immediately. At 2:30 I want to see his tanks right here!” Schweppenburg turned to the chief of staff, showing the point on the map from which the arrow of the Russian tank strike began, “This road must be cut as quickly as possible and the 44th Infantry Division must be unblocked. The Austrians aren't bad soldiers, but I wouldn't want to test their resilience in an encirclement for long…”

The General's speech was interrupted by a growing whistle, clearly audible even through the closed windows. None of the four 500-kilogram bombs dropped from a height of two kilometers hit the headquarters buildings directly, but that was not required. The shock wave flattened the wooden buildings, knocking even the stone stoves off their foundations and burying the division commander and his staff officers under a pile of rubble.

* * *

It must have seemed to the commanders of the brigades and divisions going into attack, as well as to the common Red Army soldiers and tankers who tried to break the German defense in a night battle and get through to their encircled comrades, that the operation was going according to plan, the enemy was retreating and, in some places, fleeing. We need to push harder, and the enemy's resistance will be finally broken.

When viewed from orbit, a completely different picture emerged. The balance of forces was not at all in favor of the Soviets, especially in tanks and mobile units. Having received a painful blow which was actually not a fatal one, the Wehrmacht began to turn toward the offender to inflict a crushing defeat on him.

“"Shark 3", this is "Hornet". Seven and a half degrees to your left. You're almost over the target. Strike with two FAB-500s. Stand by.”

“"Shark 3" understands the order. Standing by.”

“"Shark 3", ten seconds… Bombs away!”

I just did not have time to correct the strikes of ten bombers at the same time. Sometimes they had to be taken out on the second or even third approach. The accuracy of the bombs dropping also did not always make it possible to hit the target the first time. Sometimes my commands were executed with slight delays or not quite accurately, and then again I had to attack the target again, which meant that the Germans below already knew about the danger, which reduced the effectiveness of the strikes.

Nevertheless, the complex army organism of the German Army Group near Kiev now resembled a mighty giant, that had received a non-lethal, but very high dose of nerve gas. Some commands managed to reach the units and subdivisions, others were cut off halfway, when the enemy's headquarters and communications centers were in ruins. Tank and motorized units moved in different directions, often only having orders to march, but receiving no further instructions. On top of all this chaos was the night time and the impossibility of aerial reconnaissance. However, the Wehrmacht was strong not only for its generals. The Germans also had enough proactive and qualified mid-level officers, and despite the partial loss of command of the troops, opposition to the Soviet offensive armies was gradually building up.

The biggest problem for the enemy were the two strike groups consisting of KV and T-34 tanks. The standard German tactic of artillery ambushes using anti-aircraft guns capable of penetrating their armor was now failing. Convoys of tractors with 88-millimeter guns, which were moving toward the site of the breakthrough, were hit by occasional, but unexpectedly accurate bomb strikes, bumped into destroyed bridges, or simply did not receive orders to move in time.

Things were worse for the encircled troops, who struck against the Germans in the direction of the 40th and 21st Armies. Their small number of tanks, assembled in a single breakthrough group, were able to do very little, they only broke through the first line of the enemy's defense. This strike was not unexpected for the Germans, and they had time to prepare to repel it. Nevertheless, after receiving radio reports of the successful advance of the tank brigades, the Soviets increased the pressure from inside the ring. Even the weaker part of the encircled troops, blocked by the Germans north of Lokhvitsa, attempted a breakthrough, not in the eastern direction, as the enemy expected, but in the northern direction, hoping to connect with the main forces of the encircled.

“"Hornet", I can't hear you! There's a lot of interference!”

There was a crackling and howling coming out of my receiver, too. I distracted myself from controlling the bombers, which were already very far apart, and concentrated on finding the source of the interference. It looked like the enemy decided to make it difficult for me to coordinate the air group. Nine interference generators started working simultaneously below, jamming the frequency bands known to the Germans, on which radio communications between Soviet pilots were conducted. This problem arose at a very bad time, and although the way to solve it was on the surface, I needed time to switch to the predetermined backup frequencies and rearrange the command transmission scheme to retransmit via satellites. As it turned out, I didn't have that time.

“"Hornet",”… is "Shark 8",… attacked by ene……ter. Engi… dama… Losing alti…”.

I swore to myself in three languages, cursing my own stupidity and improvidence. How could I have missed those planes? Five Dorniers, converted to night fighters, came into range of my TB-7s and Yer-2s. The communication finally got back on track, but that didn't make it any easier.

“This is "Shark 4". Fighting an enemy fighter. I can't see anything, and he's firing with aim! Dropping the rest of the bomb load! Third engine's damaged! Right wing's on fire! We're going down! Flight crew, get out of the plane!”

Where did they come from? I knew that the Germans had night fighters as part of the air defense forces in the cities, but these machines could not operate on their own, without radio guidance from the ground and without illuminating the target with dozens, if not hundreds, of searchlights.

“"Sharks" 5, 9 and 10 heading strictly east! "Sharks" 3 and 6 heading northeast! Don't drop the bombs, they'll come in handy.” I tried to get my planes out of harm's way, but the enemy Dorniers also changed course, catching up with the not-so-fast heavy bombers.

“Lieutenant, head southwest!” I shouted to Kalina. Now in the sky over the battlefield no one but my Pe-2 could prevent the Germans from shooting our TB-7s and Yer-2s with impunity.

I kept giving commands to the bombers. At this point they were two-thirds clear of the bomb load, but there were still plenty of targets below.

“"Shark 6", three degrees to the left. Prepare to drop all remaining bombs!”

I could see that the bomber could not evade pursuit – it had gotten too far away, and my Pe-2 simply had no time to come to its rescue, but the cruel arithmetic of war demanded that I use the bomb load of the doomed plane with maximum efficiency.

“"Shark 6", 70 meters to the right… Drop the bombs! In a couple of minutes you will be attacked by a German fighter. I'll try to cover you, but I need time. The enemy will come in from behind-bottom. You will not see it, but on my command you will open barrage fire – let the enemy think he has been detected. Your task is to hold out for ten minutes.”

“"Hornet", this is "Shark 6". Copy that. Awaiting orders.”

I had eight planes demanding my attention at the same time, and I just didn't have enough time to figure out what was going on. I hastily ordered the computer to analyze the weaponry and equipment of the enemy fighters. They somehow navigated in complete darkness and with no communication with ground services, which means they had something on board that the Germans had not used before.

“"Shark 6", open barrage fire!”

I didn't have time to help the bomber after all. By the time my Pe-2 arrived at the scene of the air battle, the bomber was already on fire and the crew was leaving the doomed plane. The trick of shooting somewhere in the direction of the enemy Dornier gave the TB-7 some time, which caused the German to miss on the first approach and shoot not too accurately on the second approach. However, the enemy pilot did not miss his chance on the third attempt.

* * *

Oberleutnant Becker did not know much about the strategy and tactics of ground troops. His speciality was the sky, and, as practice has shown in recent months, it was the night sky. Nevertheless, even to him, a night fighter pilot, it quickly became apparent that something was not going right on the ground as the generals would have liked.

The hum of the cannonade came from both the west and the east. The radio air was clogged with interference, so a Feldwebel sent from the headquarters of the air group, to which his squadron was temporarily attached, brought Becker the command to take off. The Russian night bombers, about which Colonel Richtengden had warned the Oberleutnant, were already hovering over the combat zone, and the commanders of the Wehrmacht ground units complained about the painful air strikes, using very strong terms. Judging by the number and relative positioning of the affected units, Becker and four other Dorniers from his squadron were going to have to deal with a dozen or two adversaries. This did not embarrass the Oberleutnant – in the skies over German cities he had to meet many more British, and the Russians do not expect effective countermeasures and would be easy prey.

The heavy twin-engine jet fighter accelerated briskly down the runway and lifted off the ground. Perhaps Becker would have preferred to go into battle in a Messerschmitt Bf.110, but they had not yet had time to equip them with radars, and he had to make do with what was available. The Dornier also proved to be a good fighter in night conditions, and, by and large, the Oberleutnant was satisfied with his plane.

Making a U-turn over the airfield, Becker set a course for the site of the last air strike, information of which came just a few minutes before takeoff. The rest of his squadron's fighters were given other targets – there was no shortage of them, the angry cries from headquarters at all levels came through the communications lines in a steady stream, though, as Becker suspected, not everyone was able to reach his air group.

“Here they are!” Obergefreiter Gönsler, who served as flight mechanic and radio operator at the same time, reported. “The locator sees them! Judging by the size of the mark, it's a four-engine heavy bomber. The Russians have only a few dozen of them. It would be great luck if we could take it down.”

“Not if, but when, Wilhelm,” Becker grinned. “Turn on the infrared spotlight. The radar is a good thing, but the night sight gives more detail, even though it works at a shorter distance.”

“The Spanner-1 complex is ready, Herr Oberleutnant,” the flight mechanic said as he checked the sight-searchlight combination, “The enemy is changing course! They're trying to get away!”

“It was an accident,” Becker brushed it aside. “The Russians can't see us. They have nothing like our equipment. They just changed course for the next target. They won't get away from us – the Dornier has one and a half times the speed of this bast shoe.”

Far ahead, the ground was covered with flashes of explosions.

“Well, that's right!” Becker nodded to himself, “They were approaching a new target, so they changed course. Too bad we didn't have time to take them down before they bombed out.”

There it is, the Russian bomber. Huge, even compared to a twin-engine heavy fighter, but that doesn't help it… In the night sight, the plane, illuminated by an infrared spotlight, looked very contrasting, and the Oberleutnant slightly raised the nose of his plane, bringing the silhouette of the TB-7 into the sight.

The TB-7 (other names: Pe-8, ANT-42) was a Soviet heavy long-range bomber. Maximum speed (1941) – up to 350 km/h. Bomb load up to 5,000 kg. Practical range – 3,600 km. Practical ceiling 9,300 m. Shooting armament: four machine guns (ShKAS, UBT), two ShVAK cannons (20 mm).

Suddenly flashes flickered ahead, and tracers streaked across the sky, first to the right and above, and then a dozen meters below Becker's plane.

“Shit,” Oberleutnant swore, pulling the plane sideways and simultaneously firing his direct fire machine guns.

“There was no damage to the Russians,” said the flight mechanic with concern in his voice. “They are not changing course. It looks like they can see us after all, Herr Oberleutnant.”

“Even if they do, they don't see us well. The shooting was indirect, but you're right, they knew about us.”

The second attempt did not bring the expected result either. This time Becker decided to approach from the side, but the Russian bomber met him with two machine guns. The Oberleutnant did not try his luck, and after firing at the enemy at maximum range, approached him again from behind. The German pilot felt annoyed. He knew for sure the Russian shooters couldn't see him and were shooting just "somewhere over there," but Becker didn't want to run into a stray burst.

The third run was more successful. The bomber's aft gun mount was firing in a totally different sector from where Becker's Dornier was approaching its target, and the Oberleutnant, firing almost at point-blank range, put two long bursts into the huge carcass of the Russian plane.

“The Russian is on fire! Congratulations, Herr Oberleutnant!”

“There's plenty more of them here, Willie. We're going to have a rough night tonight,” Becker smiled.

“One more mark!” The flight mechanic shouted out in a suddenly changed voice. “It's something small, like our Dornier.”

“The Russians have twin-engine long-range bombers. I think the Yer-2, or something like that.”

“Not likely, Herr Oberleutnant. The speed is too high. It's going faster than us!”

“Pe-2? A dive fighter? The Russians originally designed it as a high-altitude fighter, then converted it to a bomber, but it still had pretty good speed. Point out the course, and we'll take him down.”

“It's coming to us itself, commander!" answered Gönsler in a puzzled voice, "The distance is a kilometer.”

“I see it!” The Russian plane was already quite distinguishable in the night sight, “right, Pe-2. It's going too boldly.”

Oberleutnant Becker was an experienced pilot, and he did not suffer from overconfidence. He remembered how strangely the crew of the downed bomber had behaved, having somehow learned of the danger before his Dornier had even opened fire. The German pilot drew conclusions. Becker decided that the Russians also had some kind of radar, but a very imperfect one that did not allow to accurately determine the direction of the target. So he simply changed course to attack the Pe-2 from the side.

“The Russian turned too!” immediately shouted out the flight mechanic. “The distance is 400 meters!”

“Take it easy, Willie,” Becker replied in a steady voice, though he himself was no longer confident.

“300 meters!”

Flashes flickered ahead. The tracer flashes passed close to the pilot's cockpit. Becker heard a sharp popping sound that no experienced pilot would ever confuse – the sound of bullets piercing the hull of the airplane.

The flight mechanic shrieked. The neon lights of the radar equipment blinked and went out. The right engine stalled and immediately burst into flames, and the Russian gunner's merciless bursts continued to pound the hull and cockpit of the plane. Not a single bullet has, by some miracle, hit Becker yet. Oberleutnant glanced at the flight mechanic. Willie was dead, there was no doubt about it, and the battered Dornier was losing control with every second.

“Crew, get off the plane!” Becker ordered himself.

The cockpit canopy flew off into the darkness; it was knocked out by the triggered squib. With an unbelievable effort the Oberleutnant managed to flip the burning Dornier, and he simply fell out of the cockpit, into the air, scalding cold at this altitude.

“I wonder who's down there,” thought Becker, swinging under the parachute canopy. He absolutely did not want to fall into the hands of the Bolsheviks.

* * *

An airborne radar, and even with a night sight and an infrared searchlight in addition! Why didn't I know about this? Probably because it is simply impossible to keep track of everything. The Germans just got their radar up to working order. This "Lichtenstein" has not even gone into production yet, and here it is, near Kiev, instead of protecting the capital of the Reich from raids by the British.

The Germans knew! They were waiting for us and getting ready, and I failed to calculate their plans, and it cost the Red Army's already depleted long-range aviation new losses. Five heavy long-range bombers in exchange for three German Dorniers. Two more got away – I just didn't have time to get to them…

“Comrade Senior Major of State Security, mission accomplished. Bomb strikes on enemy headquarters, communication centers and key infrastructure were carried out. The air group's losses were three TB-7s and two Yer-2s. Three enemy night fighters, provided with the latest equipment, enabling them to attack our planes without being illuminated by searchlights and without commands from the ground, are destroyed.”

“Five long-range bombers?” It was dark, but I noticed the change in Sudoplatov's expression. “You lost half the unique aircraft entrusted to you and you report a successful mission?”

“Mission accomplished, comrade…”

“Silence! Senior Lieutenant of State Security Nagulin, you're under arrest! Surrender your weapons.”

Chapter 4

“Comrade People's Commissar of Internal Affairs, your order has been carried out. Senior Lieutenant Nagulin was arrested by me personally right at the airfield and taken to Moscow.”

“Very well,” nodded Beria, looking intently at Sudoplatov. “Come in, Pavel Anatolievich, have a seat. I see you have questions about this case, and I'm ready to answer them.”

“Actually, I only have one question,” Sudoplatov shrugged and sat down in a chair at the conference table. “Why?”

“He is dangerous,” Beria answered briefly, and the Senior Major did not like the expression on his face.

“I absolutely agree with you, Lavrentiy Pavlovich,” replied Sudoplatov, who was not so easily embarrassed, “He is extremely dangerous. To our enemies.”

“Now, yes, but this is now. I look at the situation from a broader perspective and from a different angle. At the moment, the Soviet Union and Citizen Nagulin have a common enemy, and as long as that is the case, he acts as our ally, but he is a stranger here, Pavel Anatolievich. Think about it. You, me, and all of our comrades are Soviet people who grew up, were educated, and had careers in the USSR. Yes, the older generation remembers Czarist Russia, but that was a long time ago. Since then, the very idea of life has changed, new values have been formed, and we are waging a merciless war against the enemy for those values. Nagulin is a stranger here. Our system, all the achievements of the Revolution, are just words to him, behind which there is nothing.”