In Zhukov's Good Time

EASTERN FRONT In Zhukov's Good Time

Peasant-born Georgy Konstantinovich Zhukov is a resolute, imperturbable man. His was the determination that transformed a clumsy, sloppy, commissar-ridden Red Army into a gigantic machine that runs smoothly on stern discipline.

Last week Marshal Zhukov had to call upon all his will power. Temptation was great. Berlin, the great prize for which he had fought and planned since the battles of Moscow and Stalingrad, was almost within range of his big guns (31 miles at the closest officially reported point). With one more massive lunge Zhukov might have carried the battle to Berlin, perhaps could have swept around or into much of the city. It would have been a tremendous blow to the sagging German will to fight on.

Zhukov was in position for the thrust. He had driven across the Oder, had chosen the roads and flat fields from Kuestrin, Frankfurt and Fuerstenberg (see map) over which to hurtle his huge Stalin tanks. He had the power: the Oder crossings and envelopment of his three chosen points proved that his 275-mile advance had not exhausted its momentum.

But Zhukov paused, to strengthen his grip. Perhaps there was no great danger, but there was still some danger in attempting a quick blow against Berlin. Zhukov well knew what the Germans knew too well: that a sprawling city becomes a fortress, that an attacking force risks being pinched into its ruins by flank attacks. That was what Zhukov had done to the Germans at Stalingrad.

Guessing Games. Berlin could wait. The Germans could continue to guess where Red power would strike next. Last week they guessed rightly that some of it would continue to strike toward Stettin, Berlin's Baltic port. Nazi troops slowed the Russians just short of the towered walls of Stargard, Stettin's outer fortress. But there were not enough Germans to meet all the drives now threatening to sew up Pomerania in a giant pocket. East and south of Stettin the Russians made steady advances in other thrusts.

The Germans, while massing most of their strength in front of Berlin, guessed rightly that Marshal Ivan Konev would try to complete his envelopment of Breslau and widen his bridgeheads in the Steinau area. But they guessed wrong about Konev's power. When the blow came it was in huge force--enough to carry through Steinau and on to Liegnitz, 35 miles west of Breslau.

Konev had plunged into the second phase of his offensive, had widened his front west of the Oder to 100 miles. He had broken across the Breslau-Berlin Autobahn, stood within 75 miles of Dresden. Konev matched his power with daring. In a snowstorm naked troops had plunged into the icy Oder, had pushed ahead of them doors, benches, barrels, anything that would float and keep uniforms and weapons dry. Many a Russian died with his boots off, but many more got across.

Now the Germans could guess again--what was Zhukov's immediate plan? Would he turn Konev's pressure northward against Berlin? Or, would he turn most of it westward against Saxony's industries?

Nazi Futility. The Germans could guess again--what was Zhukov's master plan? Would he try to maneuver the Wehrmacht into a showdown battle to save the capital? Or was he aiming at Berlin's encirclement or seizure as a swift, possibly decisive stroke?

Last week had shown, perhaps more forcibly than the earlier weeks of the Red offensive's swift movement, the seeming futility of the German position. The Russians had paused to regroup and restart. They were in vulnerable positions, but there had been no German counterattacks worthy of the name. The week had made it clear that Zhukov could call his shots on any front in his own good time.

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