Commanding one of Hartmann’s crack units, the 194th Infantry Regiment, Roske led from the front as his men quickly advanced into the heart of the city. But he had a nagging fear that he might have outgrown his support. “My impulsive decision to cross the Volga,” wrote Roske, “now began to trouble me because at any moment the Russians could break through our rear. As a defensive strategy, I ordered the supporting divisional artillery and placed a field howitzer on each of the 14 connecting roads to our rear flanked by machine guns and the artillery carabiners.’ It worked for a while. But the arrival of Rodimchev’s guards, and the taking over of the central quarter by the 71st Division (including Pavlov’s house), was a pivotal moment in the battle. Sixth Army’s main problem was supply. In the fighting of September alone he had used 25 million bullets, 500,000 anti-tank shells, 750,000 artillery shells and 178,000 grenades. Each day, the army required 20 tons of food, 50 tons of horse feed, and up to 40 tons of fuel. However, the nearest railway line was 50 miles away. It would be almost impossible to replenish supplies and, just as importantly, manpower. Defeat was inevitable after a massive Russian counter-offensive – Operation Uranus – had encircled the 6th Army at Stalingrad in mid-November 1942 and Adolf Hitler forbade a withdrawal, ordering the Sixth Army to form a giant ‘hedgehog’, overturning all attacks until relieved by the army pushing from the Caucasus. “The present Volga front and the northern front will be held at all costs.” Despite warnings from Luftwaffe experts, Göring took responsibility for delivering the hedgehog by air – and failed spectacularly. MacGregor uses the memoirs of Roske, who was promoted to command of the 71st Division at the end of January, to add compelling new details to the final days of the battle and the decision to surrender. “Since we were going to lose our guns anyway,” Roske wrote, “we rendered them useless and threw parts of them into the fire, which was occupied with my personal papers, photographs, identification documents and money. Our army doctor then gave me a vial of cyanide, which I could take with me “just in case”. Opting not to take the poison, Roske spent nearly 13 years in captivity, one of many senior German officers held illegally long after the war ended as punishment. He was one of the lucky ones. Of the 91,000 soldiers captured, only 5,000 would see Germany again. Roske went home, but a year later he committed suicide. Pavlov, meanwhile, had been lionized by the Russian press and showered with honors, including “Hero of the Soviet Union.” He undoubtedly played his part in the capture of the “Lighthouse”. but he was not the only one, not even the most important. “There were many others like him in our garrison who have not entered the history books,” wrote one colleague, “it was the spirit of comradeship that made our forces so strong.” Carefully researched and engagingly written, MacGregor’s superb book sheds significant new light on the most horrific, and arguably most important, battle of the 20th century. It is a story of “back-to-the-wall” homeland defense that modern Russians, with the boot now on the other foot, would do well to study. The Lighthouse of Stalingrad is published by Constable for £25. To order your copy for £19.99 call 0844 871 1514 or visit Telegraph Books
