The Siege of Leningrad: History in an Hour

The Siege of Leningrad

History in an Hour

Rupert Colley

About History in an Hour

History in an Hour is a series of ebooks to help the reader learn the basic facts of a given subject area. Everything you need to know is presented in a straightforward narrative and in chronological order. No embedded links to divert your attention, nor a daunting book of 600 pages with a 35-page introduction. Just straight in, to the point, sixty minutes, done. Then, having absorbed the basics, you may feel inspired to explore further. Give yourself sixty minutes and see what you can learn . . .

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Contents

Cover

Title Page

About History in an Hour

Introduction

The History of Leningrad

The Great Patriotic War

Preparing the City for War

Evacuation

The German Advance

The Men in Charge

Under Attack

Hunger

Death in a Cold City

The Road of Life

Spring 1942

The Symphony

Leningrad Liberated

The Aftermath

Appendix 1: Key Players

Appendix 2: Timeline of Siege of Leningrad

Copyright

Got Another Hour?

About the Publisher

Introduction

The Führer has decided to wipe the city of Petersburg from the face of the earth. After the defeat of Soviet Russia there is no interest in the further existence of this large inhabited area.

Adolf Hitler

With these words, issued on 22 September 1941, Adolf Hitler effectively sealed Leningrad’s fate. Preferring to call the city by its pre-revolutionary name, St Petersburg, he declared, ‘We have no interest in saving the lives of the civilian population’. Over the next twenty-nine months, German forces encircled the city and subjected it to a devastating siege. The number of deaths in Leningrad exceeded those who died from the atomic bombs at Hiroshima and Nagasaki combined, and constitutes the largest death toll ever recorded in a single city.

For almost nine hundred days, the city resisted the Germans pounding at its gates. Its survival contributed to the defeat of Nazism. But the price was heavy – over one million died in Leningrad from German bombs and artillery, or from disease, the cold or starvation. In its suffering Leningrad became a source of symbolic national pride, of good conquering evil. The story of the siege is one of heroic resistance and stoical survival but it also one of unimaginable suffering and extreme deprivation.

This, in an hour, is the Siege of Leningrad.

The History of Leningrad

Named after its founder, Peter the Great, the city of St Petersburg was formed in 1703. Sitting on the mouth of the River Neva, the city, declared the capital of the Russian empire in 1712, developed into a huge flourishing port, the ‘Venice of the North’. Influenced by European fashions and tastes, it became Russia’s ‘window on the West’. It was the city of Tolstoy, of French-speaking Russian aristocrats and high culture, theatres, ballet, and art museums. But it also became the city of revolution. In 1905, the city workers downed tools and staged a huge demonstration demanding political and constitutional reform. A petition to be presented to the tsar, Nicholas II, ended in bloodshed on the steps of the Winter Palace, fomenting in the workers a deep hatred of the privileged regime. That hatred would erupt with catastrophic consequences twelve years later.

Vladimir Lenin

In February 1917, at the height of the First World War, the Tsarist government was overthrown and Nicholas II forced to abdicate. A provisional government ruled, but that too was overthrown in October by the Bolsheviks, revolutionary socialists, led by the charismatic Vladimir Lenin. Having come to terms with Germany, thus ending Russia’s involvement in the Great War, Russia became the Soviet Union and Moscow – not St Petersburg – its capital. In 1924, following Lenin’s death, the city was renamed in his honour.

During the mid-1920s, Joseph Stalin emerged from Lenin’s shadow to take power. Moving slowly but lethally, Stalin gradually removed all opposition and potential dissent, strengthening his control until the peoples of the huge Soviet empire bowed before him. Stalin ruled by fear, ‘purging’ the Soviet Union of its internal enemies, whether real or imagined. No one was safe, no one was beyond the reach of the NKVD, Stalin’s secret police, and everyone went to bed fearing a knock on the door in the early hours. Stalin was no fan of Leningrad – he resented its reputation as the cradle of the Russian Revolution, in which he played only a minor part. 30,000 Leningraders would fall during the Great Purge of the 1930s, arrested, exiled, or executed, labelled as enemies of the people.

Stalin next turned his vindictive attention to his military, purging his ablest field marshals and generals and decimating the officer corp. 40,000 Red Army personnel, deemed politically out of step, were purged. Amongst the victims were men who called for reform of the Soviet Union’s military methods, calls that were, on the whole, ignored. When war came, Stalin found himself bereft of his finest military thinkers. Nikita Khrushchev, Stalin’s successor, wrote in his memoirs, ‘There is no question that we would have repelled the Fascist invasion much more easily if the upper echelons of the Red Army command hadn’t been wiped out. They had been men of considerable expertise and experience.’

The Great Patriotic War

On 22 June 1941, Hitler launched Operation Barbarossa, Germany’s invasion of the Soviet Union, one of the largest and most ambitious attacks ever staged – over three million Axis troops attacked along a 900-mile front. What followed was the most destructive war in history; a war of annihilation.

For Hitler, the city of Leningrad held great symbolism, being the birthplace of Bolshevism; his objective was to raze it to the ground and render it uninhabitable. An hour before the attack in the early hours of 22 June, Hitler addressed his troops:

German soldiers, you are about to join battle – a hard and crucial battle. The destiny of Europe, the future of the German Reich, the existence of our nation, now lies in your hands alone.

Operation Barbarossa

Bundesarchiv, Bild 101I-186-0184-02A / Otto / CC-BY-SA

Stalin’s first act was to send Vyacheslav Molotov, his foreign minister, to announce the war to his people. Molotov’s radio broadcast, relayed across cities by loudspeaker eight hours after the initial attack, condemned this ‘act of treachery unprecedented in the history of civilized nations.’

On 3 July, in his first public address since the invasion, Stalin spoke of ‘The Great Patriotic War’. His usual political rhetoric, while still apparent, was played down. Instead, he spoke in patriotic terms, pulling together his people to defeat the beast that was now in their midst: ‘Comrades, citizens, brothers and sisters, men of our Army and Navy! My words are addressed to you, dear friends!’ he began. He continued, ‘The issue is one of life and death for the Soviet State, of life and death for the peoples of the USSR; the issue is whether the peoples of the Soviet Union shall be free or fall into slavery.’

Preparing the City for War

As soon as war was announced, Leningrad was placed under martial law. The writer Lidiya Ginzburg described the immediate change of atmosphere within the city:

Less than half an hour had passed and we were already being borne away inexorably from our pre-war emotional cast of mind. [We had] a feeling . . . that this life was coming to an end.

On 27 June, Andrei Zhdanov, Stalin’s man in Leningrad, issued orders for the mobilization of the city’s population to bolster its defences. Unless sick, pregnant, caring for infants, or otherwise engaged by the city authorities or the military, all men aged between sixteen and fifty, and women between sixteen and forty-five were called up. They were to work for seven days followed by four days’ rest when they would be expected to return to their normal jobs or studies. In August the age range was extended – up to fifty-five for men and fifty for women. Work shifts were increased too – seven days work, then one day of rest.

‘Everyone to the defence of Leningrad’, Kazan Cathedral, October 1941

RIA Novosti archive, image #637354 / Anatoliy Garanin / CC-BY-SA 3.0

But in practice, these guidelines were never adhered to. One woman of fifty-seven years of age, wrote of eighteen-day shifts, twelve hours a day hacking at ground ‘as hard as rock’. Few were accustomed to such strenuous, unrelenting work. Teenage girls with soft hands would turn up wearing summer dresses and sandals and were expected to dig and manoeuvre concrete blocks using just their hands and a crowbar. People always reported for work either out of patriotic duty or because the penalties for failing to do so were too harsh to contemplate. Occasionally the workers were subjected to enemy bombs or strafing (a machine-gun attack fired from low-flying German fighter planes).

Up to half a million civilians turned out to various points on the outskirts of the city to construct three fortified rings – the furthest, 70 miles west of the city, ran along the River Luga. Their efforts produced 650 miles of trenches, 430 miles of anti-tank ditches, over 5,000 concrete gun emplacements (or pillboxes), and 370 miles of barbed-wire entanglements.

It was a valiant effort but many resented the amount of labour, believing that when the Germans came they would simply overrun these defences. Their cynicism was well founded – the advance of the Germans continued unabated. Having stormed through the Baltic States, the German war machine seemed unstoppable. Stalin’s speech on 3 July had extolled ‘all citizens of the Soviet Union [to] defend every inch of Soviet soil, [and] fight to the last drop of blood for our towns and villages.’ Taking his cue, Zhdanov announced the formation of a ‘People’s Volunteers’ Militia’ within Leningrad. Again, either through patriotism or through coercion, thousands answered the call. Age and health was no barrier – one sickly man in his late fifties was told, ‘Your state of health is of no significance, what is important is the very act of volunteering and thereby displaying one’s political attitude.’ Another, hoping to avoid this voluntary conscription was told, ‘You are a Soviet man – you cannot refuse to volunteer. I advise you not to refuse.’ By the end of August 1941, 160,000 Leningraders, 32,000 of them women, had volunteered.

Red Army soldiers go into battle, 1943

RIA Novosti archive, image #93172 / Vsevolod Tarasevich / CC-BY-SA 3.0

The volunteers received precious little training and were, if lucky, equipped only with out-of-date weapons – old rifles, grenades and instructions on how to make petrol bombs, colloquially known as Molotov cocktails. The first division of this amateur army was formed on 10 July and after cursory training, sent to the front to join the regular soldiers of the Red Army on 14 July. Not many survived. Women and children were advised that if the Germans broke into the city, they should pelt them with stones or throw boiling water over them. The instruction caused resentment – if the Red Army was incapable of stopping the Germans, then what chance the civilian?

As soon as war was announced, sandbags started appearing. All the city’s famous monuments were soon covered, as were civic buildings and museums. Then houses and apartment blocks were sandbagged. People put sticky tape in their windows in a criss-cross pattern to prevent the glass from shattering when the bombs started falling. Privately owned radios were confiscated, lest civilians were adversely influenced by enemy propaganda. As owners of radios had had to register their purchase, it was not difficult for the authorities to keep tabs on those who failed to hand in their radios. They were allowed instead to have small loudspeakers within their homes, wired to the city’s public address system, which routinely broadcast patriotic messages and warned against defeatism or cowardice.

Posters, leaflets, noticeboards and newspapers sprung up, all reinforcing the correct message. Rumour-mongers faced harsh penalties for their loose tongues. But rumours of course circulated, especially once the fighting had started. The loud speakers, in Orwellian portent, blared continually of the successes at holding the Fascists at bay but kept hidden the huge loss of life as ill-prepared and ill-equipped troops went into battle.

The propaganda warned constantly of the enemy within and whipped up a frenzy of spy mania. People became convinced that German agents and fifth columnists were within their midst, sabotaging their efforts and relaying vital information back to the Germans. The paranoia was perhaps justified – the Germans had captured a warehouse full of Red Army uniforms. Anyone who looked different, with clothes considered too Western, or with an accent or name that sounded foreign, was eyed with suspicion. Almost 12 per cent of Leningrad’s 1941 population was of German, Finnish or Baltic descent, and many were interned for the duration of the war. Tram conductors were banned from calling out the names of stations so as to confuse any potential spies on their carriages; city maps and guidebooks were withdrawn from bookshops and libraries; church bells and factory whistles were silenced. Someone asking for directions was suddenly viewed as a suspect and anyone acting ‘oddly’ was liable to be reported.

On 18 July, food rationing was introduced. People were given ration cards which expired after one month. Even the issuing of ration cards was designed to keep the population in check and on message. There were four categories, with the highest category allocated the largest ration, so it was in the interest of these people to remain in a position so as not to be relegated to a lower category. Working hard in a manner that was recognized and informing on unreliable elements were two ways of maintaining one’s top category. To begin with, food, if not plentiful, was still available but prices shot up making it unavailable for all unless you were deemed worthy enough of being in the top category. Those working in factories were also allocated an extra ration, which provided a strong incentive for workers to remain at their posts, however weak and malnourished they became.

Half a million great works of art belonging to the Hermitage Museum, including collections of diamonds and precious stones, were too vulnerable to remain in the city. Packed into special protective crates, most were shipped out of the city towards the Urals in an armoured 31-car train, far away from the German bombs. The museum’s chief curator wept as the train departed. Meanwhile, the Hermitage was used as a bomb shelter.

Factory work during the siege

RIA Novosti archive, image #348 / Vsevolod Tarasevich / CC-BY-SA 3.0

Factories were urged to increase output, targeting each individual employee to work harder. Notices were posted by each machine, extolling greater effort, ‘Worker, what have you done for the defence of Leningrad?’ Graphs were displayed each day showing the output of every worker. Those who worked hardest were awarded with a little red flag next to their machine, while those who worked less efficiently were shamed into greater effort and, for the repeat offenders, occasionally subjected to a mock trial. In July 1941, the city began to evacuate its industrial output. Factories were dismantled and re-erected as far to the east as Siberia and along with the machinery, much of the skilled workforce went with it.