**Chapter 860: Aiding the Soviet Union (17)**

At 9:00 AM on December 4th, the wide tracks of Soviet tanks crunched through the snow, driving toward the German lines opposite them. This was a Red Army spearhead consisting of twelve tanks, their turrets brushed with white oil paint. Supplies were precious, and the paint had been applied hastily, even sloppily; large patches of the original green rust-preventative paint still showed through, along with areas of the tank's natural black.

Yet this white-green-black pattern unexpectedly functioned as excellent snow camouflage. The tanks and the accompanying Soviet infantry in their white winter combat gear weren't detected by the Germans until they were within 400 meters of the lines.

At this point, despite their best efforts, the Germans had only captured the first of Moscow's three outer defensive rings. While parts of the second ring had been taken, the Red Army held its ground stubbornly, refusing to retreat an inch.

It had been a year since Marshal Tukhachevsky was removed as Chief of the General Staff, and in that time, the Red Army had adjusted its training to focus heavily on defensive operations. At least in the construction of the Moscow fortifications, the Red Army's work was essentially a passing grade. These works were formidable facing the attacker, but offered little advantage to an enemy looking back toward Moscow.

The Soviet counter-attack met no fierce fire from the frontline trenches. Although German artillery opened up, it failed to impact the spearhead units. The Soviet lead elements reached the vicinity of the trenches with relative ease.

Just then, several German Marder tank destroyers arrived from the rear. The Marder was open-topped and open-backed, with only a gun shield for protection. In the biting wind, the German crews—wearing reversed Soviet winter coats—were pale with cold, yet they struggled to steady themselves, took aim, and fired at the Soviet tanks.

The Soviet tank gunners had already noticed the Marders and opened up with their coaxial machine guns. Bullets struck the 30mm shields of the Marders with a series of metallic clangs but failed to penetrate.

Now, both the Soviet gunners and the Marder crews had each other in their sights and fired simultaneously. In an instant, the Soviet-made 76mm shells of the Marders and the 76mm rounds of the T-34s struck their targets at the same time.

A Marder's shield was punched through with a massive gap, the shell continuing through the gunner and loader behind it. Their bodies were pulverized in mid-air, death occurring before they could even hit the ground.

The T-34's frontal armor was also pierced. Three of the four crew members inside were instantly reduced to fragments; the lucky survivor was only fortunate for less than a second before the shell that had breached the armor exploded, blowing the soldier apart.

More German tank destroyers arrived, followed by panzers that engaged the Soviet tanks. German strongpoints exerted themselves to suppress the Soviet infantry. After a fierce engagement, the counter-attack of this single Red Army regiment was forced to halt.

But the Soviet counter-offensive was not limited to one regiment. Along the vast front, Red Army units participating in the Moscow campaign were all beginning to strike back. While most of these attacks failed due to insufficient numbers, they forced every German unit on the front to feel the pressure.

Data from the attacks reached the General Staff, where Zhukov and his colleagues carefully studied the German fire patterns along several key axes. Yesterday, December 3rd, Stalin had issued the order for a general counter-offensive in the Moscow sector. He had dared to do so not because of some arbitrary whim, but because the General Staff, after constant data collection, had submitted a report on November 30th stating that the timing was essentially mature. Following a Politburo decision, the counter-offensive was to begin on December 3rd.

Stalin had merely announced the command.

The head of Soviet military intelligence looked grave as he delivered the latest news from the occupied territories. Handing over the report, he said, "About twenty-four more radio stations have lost contact."

The General Staff fell silent for a moment, but no one spoke. Losing twenty-four stations meant at least forty-eight trained personnel had been sacrificed. With thousands dying every day, such a loss was technically not huge.

However, these personnel were all junior high graduates with talent, selected after technical training. This made their value seem higher.

Zhukov remained silent. Brigadier General Vasilevsky took the file and finished it quickly. He remarked, "According to the report, Army Group Center only received twenty-nine supply trains yesterday. they are nearing the end of their rope."

The staff officers had also finished analyzing the data submitted by the various units and reported to Zhukov. German ammunition reserves were likely at their limit, especially tank fuel and artillery shells.

Yet the Germans were still trying to push forward. Judging by their supply situation, the entire Army Group Center's stocks were essentially exhausted. Though they appeared aggressive, it was the spent strength of an arrow at the end of its flight.

The Red Army judged based on data and could see through the German facade. Zhukov ordered the units to continue counter-attacking along the entire line tomorrow, December 5th, to continue draining German ammunition and prevent the enemy from identifying the main axis of the Red Army's strike.

The headquarters of Army Group Center had also judged based on Red Army movements that a major counter-offensive was likely. However, having annihilated four million Soviet troops, they were not overly afraid. They had seen fierce Soviet counter-attacks before, and today's performance seemed no different—grandiose attempts to overwhelm the Germans along the entire line.

Even with the Soviet winter severely impacting their combat effectiveness and supplies running low, the Germans remained confident they could hold.

However, Army Group Center and the units in the rear discovered that since November, a large number of Soviet radio signals had appeared. The number of people operating them was small, but they were extremely annoying, providing the Soviets with vast amounts of intelligence from the occupied zones.

Although the Germans conducted targeted strikes, they had failed to eliminate these radio teams entirely. Army Group Center issued another order to the rear: "These Soviet stations must be thoroughly eliminated immediately!"

In the region south of Saint Petersburg, upon receiving the order, the commander of the SS Totenkopf (Skull) Division, Theodor Eicke, immediately summoned all officers of battalion rank and above.

Thanks to the efforts of Governor Heydrich in Poland, logistical supply was minimally adequate. At least in the autumn, Heydrich—founder of the Gestapo and now Governor—had squeezed out transport capacity to provide winter uniforms to the front. The Totenkopf men were now in winter camouflage gear.

In the division headquarters, Eicke produced a map with several locations marked. Eicke had a square face with heavy features, looking very resolute. Yet his eyes appeared somewhat melancholy, a trait seemingly at odds with his background as an SS concentration camp commandant.

Pointing to the targets on the map, Eicke said to his officers, "The small teams with radios are in these areas. Sweep them out unit by unit, at the company level."

The officers discussed briefly and assigned tasks based on proximity. Seeing them finished, Eicke merely said, "Dismissed," and spoke no more.

The officers rose, saluted, and filed out. Eicke watched their backs with those melancholy eyes until they vanished, then returned to his map.

The Totenkopf units boarded their vehicles and headed for their destinations. The first to arrive was the 1st Company, 1st Battalion of the 5th SS Panzergrenadier Regiment. Reaching the outskirts of a village, they immediately blocked the exits before entering and herding all the villagers from their homes into a barn.

Throughout the process, the SS men were unresponsive to the villagers' pleas and questions, executing their task with cold indifference. One villager, sensing the atmosphere, tried to flee. An officer said coldly, "Kill him."

Two soldiers dropped to a knee and took aim. With a couple of cracks, the villager pitched forward. The soldiers ran to the fallen man and fired into the back of his head.

They showed no excitement during the killing. Even when the man's skull shattered before them, they didn't even twitch an eyebrow. Task completed, they walked briskly back to their commander and joined the others in driving the villagers into the barn.

Once the trembling peasants were inside, the SS men doused the exterior with gasoline and set it ablaze. The villagers had assumed the Nazis were there for grain; they never expected the soldiers to say nothing and simply set about killing them.

Smoke soon filled the barn. Some of the stronger men tried to force the wooden doors. They succeeded, but a burst of bullets immediately cut them down. The pile of bodies blocked the exit.

As the fire spread rapidly, others tried to rush out regardless, only to be shot. Soon, the door was completely blocked by corpses. Nearly a hundred villagers were trapped in the inferno, their cries tragic beyond description.

The SS troops remained unmoved. Some stood guard to ensure no one escaped, while the rest entered the houses for a room-by-department search. They sought no treasure, only survivors in hiding.

Soon, several people were found in a cellar, and a brief fight broke out. The SS didn't bother with a frontal assault or demands for surrender; they simply tossed grenades into the hole. They had no intention of taking prisoners or interest in interrogation.

Division commander Eicke had been a camp commandant since the early days of the SS, and many of his officers had also run camps. In Germany, they had conducted far too many interrogations; they had lost all interest in it.

Once the grenades had killed those inside, the soldiers entered to drag out the bodies. Beside the remains, they found a strange, broken radio.

Though their task was done, the SS did not depart immediately. They continued searching the village until they found and killed every living soul. After a further search of the outskirts to ensure no one remained, they formed up and left.

Not long after they departed, the charred barn collapsed. There was no more human sound from within. Among the embers lay blackened, charred forms—it was impossible to tell if they were unburnt timbers or carbonized human limbs.

And it wasn't just this one unit; the entire Totenkopf Division acted thus. Before the mission, the commanders had reached a conclusion in just a few words: "In this climate, isolated radio teams cannot survive in the wild; they must rely on local villages."

The Totenkopf had conducted massacres in Poland and the West. In the USSR, it was the same; once the enemy was confirmed to be in or near a village, what to do needed no special emphasis.

Most villages were simply wiped out. In some, the residents tried to save themselves by giving up the Red Army radiomen, but this only delayed the slaughter. After the SS killed the radiomen, they massacred the villagers anyway. Only then did they return with the captured new-model radios.

The SS men felt no discomfort after killing so many. The division firmly believed in Nazi racial theory: that only through massacres could these "inferior races" be cowed. If they could eliminate these races and leave only the noble German Aryans, the world would be an infinitely better place.

On December 5th, the Red Army continued its counter-attacks. The General Staff found that all radio contact in the Demyansk region had ceased. Demyansk was a vital railway hub in the north; monitoring these lines was a major source of data on German supply flow. Losing that data would introduce variables into their once-precise judgments.

The counter-attacks on December 5th achieved no clear breakthrough. But after many sacrifices, Zhukov was essentially certain that the German units at his chosen breakthrough points lacked the strength for sustained combat.

Just then, Vasilevsky informed Zhukov of the loss of the radio teams in the Demyansk sector. As he finished, his gaze fell on Air Force Commander Novikov. The other generals followed suit.

With the air force operational system aided by China, and the Soviet computers replicated by their own experts, they could now make essentially correct judgments about Luftwaffe sorties and effectively direct the Soviet Air Force.

Furthermore, the USSR had purchased a batch of new radios from China—advanced electronic devices that were small, powerful, and easy to carry. The Air Force had utilized gaps in Luftwaffe movements to air-drop 297 teams into the German rear to monitor rail traffic and provide daily data to the General Staff.

Of the 297 teams, only 248 had made contact after landing, and losses had occurred daily since. Now the Demyansk teams were wiped out. Most of the generals hoped for another drop.

Commander Novikov was confident in the Air Force's current capabilities. Though they still couldn't down German jets in large numbers, they could now judge German movements fairly accurately through calculation and ground observation. Coupled with the radars bought from China, their judgments were increasingly precise. Another drop was no problem for the Air Force.

Just then, Zhukov spoke coldly: "Since the Germans have discovered our radio groups, sending more will only make them more vigilant. Therefore, I order: tomorrow, December 6th, the general counter-offensive plan will be fully executed!"

The Staff members were left speechless. Most believed they could delay for a few more days to let the Germans grow even more exhausted.

But before they could speak, Zhukov continued in his cold tone: "If we cannot win tomorrow, we won't win a few days from now either. The time has come to leverage the surprise of the offensive. Any further delay will allow German commanders to adjust their deployment and increase the difficulty of our task. Do any of you have questions?"

Zhukov's words were filled with a lack of trust in his generals, prompting some to move to object. But Zhukov cut them off: "Anyone with a differing opinion can take it up with the General Secretary!"

At this, no one dared say a word. Stalin had been asking constantly when the counter-offensive would begin. To tell him it must be delayed would, they believed, result at best in dismissal and at worst in execution.

Under the dual pressure of Stalin and Zhukov, the generals accepted the order to begin the general counter-offensive on December 6th.