All Hell Let Loose_ The World at War 1939-1945 - Max Hastings [104]
Suddenly, however, on the evening of 18 October Stalin changed his mind. He stayed, temporarily moved his office to Air Defence headquarters in Kirov Street, and declared Moscow a fortress. Order on the streets was restored by a curfew and imposition of the usual brutal sanctions. On 7 November, by a brilliant propaganda stroke, units en route to the front were diverted to stage the traditional parade through the capital celebrating the anniversary of the Bolshevik Revolution. That night came the first heavy snowfall of the year. The Germans, their operations crippled by the weather, lacked sufficient mass to make the final breakthrough; they languished outside the city, suffering rapidly increasing privations. Halder and Bock insisted that a further thrust should be made. More ground was gained: the advancing spearheads occupied some of Moscow’s outlying tram stations while aircraft and artillery bombarded the city.
Some Russians were sincerely moved by Stalin’s appeals for desperate measures in desperate circumstances. A Moscow plastics worker said: ‘The leader did not remain silent about the fact that our troops have had to retreat. He does not hide the difficulties that lie ahead for his people. After this speech I want to work even harder. It has mobilised me for great deeds.’ But sceptics were not lacking – it would be mistaken to exaggerate Russian unity and confidence in the winter of 1941. A Moscow engineer said: ‘All this talk about mobilising the people and organising civil defence just goes to show that the situation at the front is absolutely hopeless. It’s clear that the Germans will take Moscow soon and Soviet power will not hold out.’ Here was an echo of the despair that overtook some informed British people in 1940. Further south in Kursk province a woman said: ‘Shoot me if you like, but I’m not digging any trenches. The only people who need trenches are the communists and Jews. Let them dig for themselves. Your power is coming to an end and we’re not going to work for you.’
But amid such reluctant comrades, a bare sufficiency of patriots and fighters held the line and repulsed the invaders. By the end of November, the German advance had exhausted itself. ‘The Führer himself has taken charge,’ wrote Kurt Grumann, ‘but our troops walk around as if they were doomed. Our soldiers hack at the frozen ground, but the heaviest blows yield only enough earth to fill one’s fingernails. Our strength is decreasing every day.’ Quartermaster-General Eduard Wagner said: ‘We are at the end of our personnel and materiel strength.’ Germany’s fuel situation was so critical that its navy was virtually immobilised. The army’s supply system struggled to support spearheads three hundred miles beyond the forward dumps at Smolensk. A gallows joke circulated in German official circles: ‘Eastern campaign extended by a month owing to great success.’
In Berlin on 28 November, a conference of industrialists chaired by armaments supremo Fritz Todt reached a devastating conclusion: the war against Russia was no longer winnable. Having failed to achieve a quick victory, Germany lacked resources to prevail in a sustained struggle. Next day, Todt and tank-production chief Walter Rohland met Hitler. Rohland argued that, once the United States became a belligerent, it would be impossible to match Allied industrial strength. Todt, though an ardent Nazi, said, ‘This war can no longer be won by military means.’ Hitler demanded, ‘How then shall I end this war?’ Todt replied that only a political outcome was feasible. Hitler dismissed such logic. He chose to convince himself that the imminent accession of Japan to the Axis would transform the balance of strength in Germany’s favour. But the November diary of army chief of staff Franz Halder records other remarks by Hitler that acknowledged