Pride Rideth After a Fall

Paul Ludwig von Kleist is a man of great pride. He comes of a noble Pomeranian family, the most famous of whom was Germany's great classical dramatist, Wilhelm von Kleist. He boasts 36 ancestors who held the rank of general in Prussian and Pomeranian Armies. And last week Colonel General Paul Ludwig von Kleist could boast that he himself was the first German general to be pushed around by the Russians in World War II.

Russian forces had caused Paul von Kleist to pick up his maps and binoculars and beat it from Rostov-on-Don 40 miles west to Taganrog, then toward Mariupol, 60 miles farther. Except for dismissing the whole affair as a diversion, Berlin spokesmen blushed and shut up.

Naturally enough, Russian spokesmen beamed and spoke up. They claimed that General von Kleist had thrown away nine divisions: the 13th, 14th and 16th Panzer divisions; the 60th motorized; the Viking and Adolf Hitler Leibstandarte SS divisions; the 76th, 94th and 97th Infantry divisions. It was said that Commander in Chief Field Marshal Walther von Brauchitsch had gone to the southern front to help put a stop to the rout. But the figure on casualties claimed to have been suffered by all these divisions was 23,000, the normal strength of only one and a half infantry divisions. This would have made casualties through the nine divisions only 17%. The Russians claimed to have formed several traps, but claimed no prisoners at all.

In short, the Russians' counterstroke was not yet a great Russian victory from a military point of view. They had broken the Nazi spearhead that had taken Rostov and forced it to flee west for safety. In so doing they canceled out all the work the Germans had done in that area since early October. It came as a very embarrassing riposte to Hitler, who had said unequivocally that Russia was already beaten. It showed that although great Soviet forces were tied down in defense of Moscow, the Russians could recover quickly and mount a real offensive.

It showed also that the Nazi and Communist propaganda machines had lost none of their old spirit. Berlin, having called Rostov "the door to the Caucasus" and "the spigot of the oil of Baku" when they took the place, now called it "just another town." Russian spokesmen, having belittled the loss of the Donets Basin on the grounds that all industries were either removed or sabotaged beyond recovery, now gravely explained: "It is obviously easier to rebuild an existing plant than to erect a new one, particularly when skilled workers and technicians who are familiar with the damaged works are available."

Whatever the apologists and the gloaters might say, Rostov was important, both immediately and in the long run. It remained to be seen how far Paul von Kleist would be driven, how many men he would lose, and whether his name would remain proud.

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