Book reviews: The First Day on the Eastern Front. Germany Invades the Soviet Union,June 22,1941 Kursk 1943. Hitler’s Bitter Harvest

There is always something arbitrary to label certain centuries, decades, years, months, let alone days, as decisive turning points in history. Nevertheless, for the twentieth century, a strong case could be made for a number of days, such as the start of the Russian Revolution on 8 March 1917. If one takes that pivotal moment as a starting point, of course one should take the fall of the Soviet Union of 26 December 1991 as the end, as the eminent historian Eric Hobsbawm has so convincingly done is his The Age of Extremes. Other obvious candidates for momentous days could be the fall of the Berlin Wall on 9 November 1989, or 30 January 1933, when Adolf Hitler rose to power in Germany.

Indeed, without this latter event, another, perhaps most decisive day of the twentieth century, would not have happened. Without Hitler, it can be claimed, there would not have been such a barbaric conflict between Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union, arguably the decisive theatre of the Second World War. That barbaric struggle – a Vernichtungskrieg or ‘war of annihilation’ in all meanings possible – started on 22 June 1941, when the Third Reich attacked Stalin’s Russia. Given its eventual consequences – for starters, the rise to the role of one of the two global superpowers by the Soviet Union – the day is an excellent candidate for a decisive one indeed.

Graig Luther, author of the well-received book Barbarossa Unleashed: The German Blitzkrieg through Central Russia to the Gates of Moscow, has now written another welcome addition to the still growing body of literature on the war between the Wehrmacht and the Red Army. In The First Day on the Eastern Front. Germany Invades the Soviet Union, June 22, 1941, he provides an in-depth and highly detailed account of that momentous and calamitous day. By using both sources from the top all the way to the individual soldier on either side of the frontline, Luther makes clear the devastating blow the German forces delivered on that pivotal Sunday in 1941. The author has an attractive writing style, making for an exciting read. Luther dubs the attack on the Soviet Union ‘the equivalent of a nuclear first strike’ (p. 37), a fitting description indeed, a sort of ‘shock-and-awe’ avant-la-lettre, certainly for the Soviet side, to which, despite multiple warnings, the invasion came as a complete surprise.

Much has been written on Operation Barbarossa. When studying this enormous body of literature, especially more recent studies like that written by David Stahel, it becomes ever more clear that the Red Army was not alone in being ill-prepared for the ensuing confrontation, so, too, was the Wehrmacht, especially when it comes to logistics, its veritable Achilles heel. Luther is of the same opinion:

In the final analysis, in assessing German planning for Operation Barbarossa one is struck by the almost preternatural arrogance of Hitler and his military planners. These were not stupid men, and they were acutely aware of the difficult challenges posed by a campaign in the endless expanses of European Russia. In the end, however, blinded by hubris and a Russland-Bild predicated upon unalloyed feelings of racial and cultural superiority, they simply ignored or dismissed those challenges. (p. 23)

Hitler and most of his prominent generals thought the campaign against the Soviet Union would be easy, although the latter later tried to claim that they had always opposed an attack on the Soviet Union. With hindsight, it is easy to proof them all wrong, but one should admit that in Washington and London, too, assessments at the time gave the Soviet Union 3 months at the most. Indeed, 22 June 1941 seemed to confirm these disparate opinions, as the Wehrmacht totally surprised its opponent, the Luftwaffe destroying thousands of Soviet aircraft on the ground, and the ground forces advancing rapidly.

Notwithstanding impressive results all along the almost 3000 kilometres wide front, however, the first day of combat also brought ‘the sobering realization that the Russian adversary posed unprecedented challenges’ (p. 116). Although overwhelmed, Soviet troops put up a strong resistance, often fighting to the death. As one of the many photographs in Luther’s book shows, on that first day of fighting, the Wehrmacht’s elite First Mountain Division lost at least a dozen soldiers killed (p. 222).

It was but a foretaste of what was to come. Although the Red Army suffered appalling losses on the first day of Barbarossa, casualties rose rapidly in the Wehrmacht. Indeed, as Luther makes chillingly clear, despite the successful start of the operation,

there were unsettling omens: The savage opposition inside the fortress at Brest, the bunkers at Akmenynai, the NKVD border guards who fought to the last man, the deadly snipers in the trees and brush – these were all clear indications that the “Russian way of war” would confront the Germans with daunting challenges in the days and months ahead. (pp. 213–214)

In the first 9 days of the war against the Soviet Union, the Germans sustained a total of 25,000 deaths. Although these losses paled in comparison to those of the Soviets, this meant ‘that the frightful attrition that would plague the Ostheer throughout the Barbarossa campaign was manifest from the very first day(s) of the war’ (p. 334).

Luther has written a fascinating, highly detailed study of the first day of the German invasion of the Soviet Union, one that historians (and other researchers) cannot afford to miss. Most of the maps are of added value (some are, unfortunately, of somewhat poorer quality), and the use of much (new) primary sources makes for a very insightful read. Although it is remarkable that Alexander Hill’s excellent The Red Army and the Second World War (2017) is not mentioned in the list of selected secondary sources, Luther’s extensive study is a welcome, and in many ways unique addition to the existing literature on the German-Soviet War.

Although Luther does not write so explicitly, implicitly he seems to hint at the conclusion that, despite the early and impressive successes of the Wehrmacht, Operation Barbarossa was doomed from the start. At the very least, the eventual failure of the attack at the end of 1941 made it clear that Nazi Germany could not win the war at short notice. Given the fact that it was only a middle-sized power and by December 1941 at war with the three dominant industrial powers of the time, Germany had decisively lost the Second World War by that time.

It nonetheless took another 4 years of incredible bloodshed before Germany surrendered unconditionally. Never again would it have an army – despite its many shortcomings – at its disposal as it did in the summer of 1941. That also applied to the forces assembled for the attack on the Kursk salient two years later. Despite an ‘armoured fist’ of over 2,500 armoured vehicles, the Germans failed to defeat the Russians, the first time a German summer offensive failed. In Kursk 1943. Hitler’s Bitter Harvest, Anthony Tucker-Jones has written an insightful study on the last large offensive the Third Reich launched on the Eastern Front. Although certainly not the only recent book on the battle of Kursk (it ‘celebrated’ its 75th anniversary in 2018), Tucker-Jones’ book gives many interesting insights, in a concise yet detailed account. The book is written at a brisk pace, making for another exciting read. The maps included are very useful, as are the high-quality pictures. Like others, the author points at the logistical problems of the German forces:

Guderian and Speer tried to prevail on Hitler the importance of spare parts for the front-line units. However, to increase provision of adequate spares would have cut new tank production by some 20 per cent and Hitler would have none of it. Speer despaired that Hitler ignored the fact that it was easier, quicker and cheaper to maintain existing tanks. (pp. 101–102)

Studies on the battle of Kursk understandably focus in detail on the clash of hundreds of Soviet and German tanks at Prokhorovka on 12 July. So does Tucker-Jones. He claims the Germans lost some 300 panzers (p. 154). However, remarkably, he writes nothing on more recent studies (such as those by Nipe, Zamulin, Töppel and others), which claim that the German forces involved (the SS Panzer Corps in particular) either did not fight at Prokhorovka, or hardly suffered any casualties. If anything, they claim, the battle at Prokhorovka was a humiliation for the Russians, who inflated the number of German tanks present and destroyed to cover up a disastrous defeat. This is not the place to discuss this debate in detail ¹ , but Tucker-Jones should at least have referred to it. In fact, the Germans above all lost many armoured vehicles upon their retreat, once the offensive against Kursk had ground to a halt, signalling a great Soviet victory overall, although at appalling losses. That being said, Tucker-Jones has written an excellent and highly accessible introduction to the battle of Kursk. In his conclusion, he correctly points out that the Red Army meticulously planned and prepared for the German offensive: ‘Theirs had been a well thought out strategy, unlike the Germans’ confused dithering’ (p. 205). The Red Army now had the initiative on the Eastern Front. It would keep that initiative until the Third Reich surrendered on another fateful day, 8 May 1945.