On the Approach to Stalingrad: Chuikov’s Service with the 64th Army

Pictured: Lieutenant-General V.I. Chuikov, Stalingrad, summer 1942.

Marshal Chuikov is best known for his leadership of the 62nd Army, later redesignated the 8th Guards Army, during the Battle of Stalingrad and the final campaigns of the Great Patriotic War. Less widely known is his service with the 64th Army during the critical summer of 1942. Before assuming command of the 62nd Army, Chuikov commanded the 64th Army from July to August 1942 as German forces advanced toward Stalingrad. He participated in the fierce defensive battles fought on the distant approaches to the city, helping to slow the enemy's advance and gain precious time for the defense of Stalingrad.

Vasily Ivanovich also gained valuable insight into German blitzkrieg tactics during the early stages of the Battle for Stalingrad This experience helped him understand both the strengths and vulnerabilities of German operations, knowledge he later applied at Stalingrad. In the close confines of urban combat, Chuikov developed tactics that reduced the effectiveness of German armor, artillery, and air power, helping Soviet forces counter and ultimately neutralize many of the advantages that had made the blitzkrieg so successful in open terrain.

Before the outbreak of the Great Patriotic War, Chuikov was assigned to a highly sensitive mission in the Far East. By June 1941, he was serving in China as the chief Soviet military adviser to Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek and as the Soviet military attaché in Chongqing. It was there that he received news of Nazi Germany's invasion of the Soviet Union. Eager to return home and join the fight, Vasily Ivanovich immediately requested reassignment to active combat duty. Moscow, however, hesitated to recall him. After several years in China, he had become one of the Soviet Union's most experienced military representatives in the region, possessing valuable knowledge and a deep understanding of the complex political and military situation. As a result, Soviet authorities were reluctant to replace an adviser who had proven so effective in carrying out his mission.

In early 1942, Chuikov was finally recalled to the Soviet Union. Upon his return, he received command of the 1st Reserve Army, which was stationed near Tula. The formation underwent extensive preparation and training, building its combat readiness methodically before being committed to battle. On 9 July 1942, a directive ordered the army's reorganization as the 64th Army and directed its deployment on 12 July to the southeast, where it would take up positions between the Don and Volga Rivers.

With the 64th Army, Chuikov entered combat on the distant approaches to Stalingrad, participating in the fierce defensive battles that sought to slow the German advance toward the city. As the fighting intensified during the summer of 1942, it became increasingly clear that the decisive struggle would take place on the banks of the Volga itself. By early September, the burden of defending the city would fall primarily upon the 62nd Army, whose fate would soon become inseparable from Chuikov's own—he took command on 12 September 1942.

On 3 September, following heavy artillery bombardment and air attacks, German forces launched a major assault across the front of the 64th Army, then commanded by General Mikhail Shumilov. By midday, enemy troops had crossed the Chervlenaya River on the army's left flank, creating a dangerous breakthrough. Front Commander Andrei Yeremenko ordered the position restored immediately and directed Shumilov to personally lead a counterattack from Hill 128.2. While Shumilov coordinated operations under constant mortar and air attack, the army command post remained in place despite increasing danger because communications with frontline units depended upon it.

During the afternoon, German reconnaissance aircraft located the command post, and waves of bombers struck the area repeatedly. Chuikov later recalled how he and Military Council member Abramov continued working from cramped dugouts as bombs exploded around them. Eventually, a direct hit landed near the command post, destroying vehicles, radio equipment, and telephone communications while killing and wounding personnel.

Although emergency communications were quickly restored, the situation continued to deteriorate. German tanks had broken through Soviet defenses near Tsybenko and Nariman and were advancing toward the rear areas. As evening approached, both the 62nd and 64th Armies were forced into a bitter fighting withdrawal toward their final defensive positions on the approaches to Stalingrad. The battle for the city itself was rapidly drawing near. In his memoir titled The Battle for Stalingrad, Marshal Chuikov shared a particularly harrowing episode on the Russian steppes during his service with the 64^th Army:

“The enemy’s air reconnaissance must have detected our command post and promptly sent in bombers. We had no right to move anywhere else: our communications were from here and our troops were being administered from here. In any case, to move in the open steppe under a bombing attack was out of the question.

We therefore had to carry on working in the dugouts, with a nine-inch thick roof of poles and earth over our heads. My tiny desk with telephones stood opposite Abramov’s. Our six square yards of space with walls of earth and a low ceiling reminded me of a ready-prepared grave. It was hot, stuffy and dusty. Soil poured through cracks between the poles in the roof.

After sitting like this under bombardment for several hours, we began to grow accustomed to it and took no notice of the roar of engines and the explosion of bombs. Suddenly our dug-out seemed to be thrown into the air. There was a deafening explosion. Abramov and I found ourselves on the floor, together with the overturned desks and stools. Above us was the sky, choked with dust. Lumps of earth and stones were flying about, and around us people were crying out and groaning.

When the dust had settled a little, we saw an enormous crater some six to ten yards from our dug-out. Round it lay a number of mutilated bodies, and scattered about were overturned trucks and our radio transmitter, now out of action. Our telephone communications had also been destroyed. The Army’s emergency signals post was near the village of Yagodny, over a mile south of the main command post. I decided to go and maintain contact with our units from there.

I sent for my truck, and with Klimov, my aide-de-camp, and Kayum Kalimulin, the driver, I set off. But we had scarcely emerged from the gully when the enemy’s aeroplanes again started peppering our command post with small bombs. We could see Ju 88’s coming in for low-level attacks, dropping some ten or a dozen bombs each on the gully, and then going after individual vehicles. One Junker came after us. We were saved, and I say this without embarrassment, by firmness and calculation.

Not taking my eyes off the Junker, I shouted to the driver: ‘Drive straight ahead and don’t turn off!’

When I saw the first bomb leave the plane I ordered him to turn sharp right. The vehicle swung round ninety degrees at full speed. By the time the bombs hit the ground we were already over a hundred yards away. The Junker dropped about a dozen bombs, but not one of us was hurt. Our vehicle’s battery, however, had a hole in it and the electrolyte was running out; the engine would not start. All this happened about 350-550 yards from our command post.” (72-73)