**Chapter 862: Aiding the Soviet Union (19)**

While flying, Field Marshal Kesselring could still sense from the subtle vibrations of the aircraft that something was wrong with the flight status. Looking out the window, he saw a bright layer of frost had already formed on the wings.

Even knowing that a crash could occur if the icing continued, the Marshal remained silent. Those who didn't know better might assume the pilot's inaction caused the icing. But the Marshal, who had flown many types of fighters, knew that the problem stemmed from the damp, cold Russian climate. Far from being negligent, the pilots were doing their utmost. Without their efforts, the icing would only be worse.

At this moment, the correct approach was not to criticize the pilots, but to stay quiet and not add to their distraction.

Sure enough, the plane pierced through the thick clouds and finally reached the clear sky above. Before long, the ice began to melt and, with a shudder, fell away from the wings.

Only then did the pilot breathe a sigh of relief and turn to report to the Marshal: "Field Marshal, we've reached safe conditions. However, we'll need to dip below the clouds again later to confirm our course. We may encounter problems then; I will inform you in advance."

"Fly according to your own judgment," Kesselring replied, then turned his gaze back out the window.

The pilot was moved. Within the Luftwaffe, Göring was the idol of the new generation of pilots, but Field Marshal Kesselring was the one they trusted. Seeing the Marshal looking away, the pilot turned back to his controls. Germany had obtained an automatic cruise control system from the United States, saving the pilots a great deal of physical and mental energy. Staring at the endless clouds, the pilot adjusted his state, preparing for a better performance on the next descent.

Kesselring's attention was focused beneath the vast blanket of clouds. The Luftwaffe had accepted his orders: even as losses grew, the jet fighters continued to sortie. Simultaneously, the Air Force had shed its arrogance, making more meticulous preparations before each mission. After these adjustments, losses hadn't continued to skyrocket.

The jet fighters, after all, possessed a massive advantage. Although losing over twenty per day, they still managed to hold the line at the front through sheer combat power. However, the groups equipped with propeller fighters enjoyed no such advantage; their kill ratio had dropped from 1:5 or even 1:10 to roughly 1:2.

Watching the clouds, Kesselring had identified one major cause for the declining ratio: the Russian climate was too harsh, severely impacting an outnumbered Luftwaffe. If they were forced to continue fighting throughout the winter, the Soviet war of attrition would place the Germans in a highly unfavorable position.

Originally, the General Staff had believed that taking Moscow, the Soviet railway hub, would force the Red Army to disperse across several regions. Now it appeared the Wehrmacht lacked the strength to take the USSR. Kesselring was anxious yet helpless. Since Dunkirk, the Luftwaffe had realized one reality: they lacked the capacity to settle the war on their own. This wasn't just true of the Luftwaffe, but of every air force in the world.

Reflecting on what to do, Kesselring barely noticed the vibrations of the subsequent descents. Compared to the overall war situation, this small matter involving his personal safety was truly insignificant.

Because nighttime flight was impossible, the journey took two days. By the time Kesselring safely reached Army Group Center headquarters, it was December 9th—the fourth day of the general Soviet counter-offensive.

As soon as he arrived, Kesselring sensed an atmosphere of panic. Even though Field Marshal von Rundstedt maintained his attitude of "you all work hard, I'll take the responsibility," the German generals commanding the various corps and armies were truly panicked.

Since the situation had reached this point, Rundstedt simply had a private talk with Kesselring in the spartan headquarters. Rundstedt looked quite exhausted, yet his tone remained polite and calm: "Field Marshal, the Red Army has conducted airborne drops in our rear to coordinate with their ground counter-attacks. Although our forces have inflicted heavy casualties on their ground units, Zhukov himself cares nothing for losses and continues to focus his counter-attacks with full force. I want a definitive answer from you: can the Air Force continue to maintain its current advantage?"

"As long as the Air Force can obtain new fighters at the current rate, the advantage can be guaranteed," Kesselring gave a very blunt answer.

Rundstedt's expression did not soften at this piece of relatively good news; instead, the worry in his eyes deepened.

Kesselring had been reflecting during the journey and now posed his question: "Excellency, do you believe the subsequent war will become one of attrition?"

Rundstedt did not evade the question. "Field Marshal, can you describe the situation of the Air Force?"

Kesselring hid nothing. Britain was currently providing 200 new engines per month, and Germany had obtained the technology transfer to produce another 200 itself. The war could not continue at such intensity every single day. At least until jet engine production increased to 400 per month, they could likely hold out.

But the General Staff and Hitler sought a quick resolution—a powerful offensive to defeat the Red Army in one blow. If that failed, Germany would have to maintain a force of over five million and engage in a protracted war of attrition.

From the Air Force's perspective, the Soviets were growing stronger as they fought and had made massive progress in a short time. The reason wasn't hard to guess: after receiving Chinese aid, they had preliminarily assimilated it. At this rate, the Red Army would only grow more formidable.

Finished, Kesselring said no more. For a strategist like Rundstedt, what Kesselring could think of, he surely had too. Kesselring only wanted to know one thing: whether the most prestigious man in the German Army agreed that the war had become a brutal struggle of attrition—and would support such a strategy from now on.

After a long wait, Rundstedt offered no answer. Kesselring realized that even if Rundstedt recognized the shift, he did not *support* a war of attrition.

This was not to say Rundstedt was cowardly. Even Kesselring didn't want such a war. An attrition war between great powers was terrifying—two evenly matched sides fighting non-stop, with thousands of casualties every day along a vast front, and several times that number wounded, many permanently disabled.

But Kesselring had made his own decision: even if it meant attrition, the Wehrmacht must fight on.

Just then, Rundstedt finally spoke: "Field Marshal, can the Air Force ensure that the Army receives air superiority in all subsequent operations?"

Kesselring felt a pang of sadness but didn't probe Rundstedt's thoughts further. He simply replied, "I can ensure it."

On the front lines, the clear weather that had lasted only two days ended. The Siberian winds brought thick clouds and intermittent snow back to the Western USSR.

The Red Army units in the Moscow campaign had, after three days of fierce fighting, pushed back several of the leading German units. These units were commanded by men like Guderian and Bock, who had performed brilliantly in the West.

By December 9th, even though the Wehrmacht had determined the Soviet counter-offensive was concentrated along the railway lines, they lacked the weapons and equipment to respond to a well-prepared Red Army. The Russian winter was not just cold; the snow was incredibly deep. German units were no longer able to coordinate effectively and could only maneuver within limited ranges.

From the start of the invasion until the autumn mud, the Wehrmacht had relied on this tight coordination to conduct massive flanking maneuvers over hundreds of kilometers, achieving one victory after another. With their signature move now impossible, the Soviet numerical advantage was fully unleashed.

Every German unit attacking Moscow was either at a severe disadvantage or pinned down, unable to provide much help to their neighbors due to the lack of mobility.

Guderian was the first to reach his breaking point. Although Hitler, seeing the crisis, had ordered not a single step back, Guderian was not a man to take a loss. To him, holding positions now was no different from a death sentence. He first tried maneuvering his units through the deep snow to achieve something, but once he saw they truly couldn't defeat the Soviets, he adopted his "free movement" style from the French campaign and began to retreat.

At this point, the high command of the General Staff finally convinced Hitler to adopt a plan to straighten the lines, withdrawing in stages to the west of the Volga, the Oka, and a series of rivers suited for defense to establish a solid winter line.

Hardly had the plan reached the front when Guderian took the opportunity to retreat at full speed, ignoring his neighbors.

Guderian's retreat did bring his units to temporary safety, but the price was that the units beside him became a salient, struck by the Red Army from three sides.

This infuriated Hitler! Despite Guderian's record in the West, the Führer showed no mercy. He summarily dismissed Guderian and ordered his successor to counter-attack immediately to restore the line.

But Guderian was only the first of many German generals who wanted a full retreat. Even Field Marshal von Bock, deputy commander of Army Group Center, hoped for it. And the units he commanded were indeed retreating under a Soviet version of the German pincer tactics.

For a moment, German frontline units were either retreating or being encircled. If the battle continued this way, the Wehrmacht faced a catastrophic defeat.

However, Hitler's luck held. Stalin, seeing the great results of the campaign, reached a decision of his own. He sought not just to push the Germans back a few hundred kilometers, but a truly "Great Victory."

As He Rui had long said, whenever he personally directed a major campaign, Stalin appeared "cute" and wishful. He appointed Lieutenant General Vasilevsky as Acting Chief of the General Staff and ordered him to immediately draft a counter-offensive plan.