The young commander slapped Hase’s shoulder, his voice becoming a hiss, ‘Let’s go, my friend…time to run the Russkies away!’
Both men lunged upwards, the train wheels squealing behind as they ran across the tracks, Hausser staring forward between the silhouettes ahead of them, a couple of the soldiers stopping and raising their Kar98 rifles towards the distant figures. The muzzles flashed as the barrels bucked, six other soldiers running past with their helmets bowed.
Hase looked towards the burning blockhouse, glimpsing two figures stumble at the entrance, one collapsing, the other cracking against the wall from the impact, then sliding down to the gravel. Smoke billowed around the angular upper structure with flickering shadows from the windows, frantic shouts of alarm ringing out as the partisans suddenly realised German infantry were approaching through the darkness, the spotlights and train moving slowly towards them.
Gunshots rang out from beyond the burning building as five soldiers from the next blockhouse attempted to approach, the men lowered on the southern side of the tracks and firing their rifles, wary they were outnumbered.
The forest came to an abrupt end on the left, sawn stumps filling the undergrowth for approximately one hundred metres and cut back around the blockhouse. Hausser surged forward, shouting as he glimpsed several figures scramble from the doorway ahead and run for the trees, the shadows clear from flickering flames behind, ‘Shoot at the silhouettes…they are probably looting supplies! Stay together and move from the trees…’
The shrill train whistle shrieked behind, the captain urging the driver on as the torches flashed across the tracks from over the sandbags. Several more shadows scrambled from the open doorway ahead, some clutching sacks and bags as they ran, two dropping to a crouch and raising rifles to fire at the oncoming soldiers. Flashes in the distance, a scream as one of the infantrymen fell and writhed in agony, rolling through the undergrowth and bushes, his hands clutching his stomach.
A couple of the German troopers dropped to their knees, weapons rising as the bolts cracked back, a volley of shots ringing out as the Kar 98 rifles bucked. Several more lowering to fire next to their countrymen at the escaping Russians as Hase raised his rifle once more, Hausser turning his head next to him to check on the train’s progress. Then the Hiwi stiffened, seeing the upper silhouetted figures through the billowing shroud from the wide roof observation window, his breath catching as he gasped glimpsing the distinctive extended outline of a DP28 machine gun barrel and ammunition magazine in the smoke.
Gritting his teeth, the rifle kicked back into his shoulder, the bullets smacking against the frame below the window, his breath held as eyes widened, the machine gun barrel rapidly lowering. Spinning round, he dropped the weapon, hands stretching out for the officer waving to the train as he shouted frantically, ‘Get down!’
Hase thrust forward, Hausser’s legs sagging as he pushed him roughly, the two men toppling into the undergrowth roughly, two of the other soldiers with them dropping instinctively. Crashing through ferns and bushes, the commander landed roughly, his voice a disgruntled and surprised hiss, ‘Scheisse!’ He struggled free, shaking his helmeted head in brief confusion as he attempted to rise, Hase dragging heavily on the officer’s padded jacket.
Falling back, the commander yanked his arm free then ducked down, bullets spraying and splattering into the moist earth and undergrowth before them, cracking against the tree trunks as debris and splinters flew into the air. Three figures fell ahead of them, the bodies twisting and shuddering as they were hit several times, the flashing DP28 spewing bullets into the darkness. Shocked screams and whimpers filled the air as the men dropped into the undergrowth, the rest of the soldiers throwing themselves down, another jerking as he yelped, a bullet passing through his back.
Hausser scrambled sideways, his raised voice hoarse with shock as his hands fumbled across the wet earth for the MP40, heart pounding in his chest, ‘Stay down…return fire…’
Hase ducked down behind a sawn trunk, hearing the pitiful moaning as another burst of bullets cracked against the earth and bark in front of them. Dragging the rifle forward in his hand, he drew breath and twisted it round, yanking the bolt back. Sighing in anticipation, he leant out quickly, the butt jerking back into his shoulder as he fired before pushing himself back into cover once more.
The DP28 fired again, a short burst cracking across the ground as a muffled scream rang out. Then the whistle from the engine behind shrieked loudly, spotlights bathing the burning building as acrid smoke swirled around the structure. Hausser glanced round as the forward MG34 machine guns opened fire, tracers zipping through the air towards the stricken tower, his nervousness rising as he glanced back, glimpsing bullets clatter and smash against the upper observation window, the Russian machine gun falling silent.
Struggling upwards to one knee, his tone rose with adrenalin and overwhelming anger, ‘Keep firing…don’t let them escape!’ He lunged forward before slowing and dropping low, the MP40 barrel rising as he jumped over the outstretched legs below, the soldier groaning loudly as he shouted once more, ‘Medic!’
Hase scrambled after the officer, glimpsing two soldiers rise to their knees on either side, his widened eyes then rising to stare at the looming building and the flickering windows, the Kar 98 rising to his shoulder as he pushed forward. The barrel jerked from side to side nervously as he neared Hausser, the MP40 chattering as the officer fired, two padded uniformed Russians screaming from the open doorway as they were hit.
Tracers and bullets ricocheted off the sloped roof and bricked sides of the blockhouse, several shattering through the weakened structure as dirt and debris was thrown through the smoke. Leutnant Hausser glanced sideways as Hase dropped breathlessly next to him, a wry grateful smile on his face as he raised the submachine gun once more, ‘It appears you have been useful again in perhaps preventing my demise…’ His head nodded forward, hearing muffled footsteps behind, three other soldiers joining them, ‘Shall we clear this building?’
Staring back at the upper windows, Hase nodded, the machine gun fire from behind dying down, the familiar voice of the captain urging them forward, ‘Move up! We will cover…’ The officer disappeared back inside the engine cab, spotlights sweeping through the mirk and illuminating the burning structure as the five men lunged forward.
Leutnant Hausser grimaced as they approached the open main door, smoke billowing around the upper frame, ‘Two men stay outside and cover the trees, stay low…’
Reaching the blockhouse, lights flickered across their solemn faces, the young commander ducking to the side of the doorway, carefully stepping over the twitching body of a Russian partisan below, the man’s groin torn wide open with a darkened blood pool around him. Another body lay further from the doorway, the bedraggled figure missing an arm, the man having attempted to crawl painfully away before passing out from blood loss.
Hase lowered on the other side of the opening, feeling the heat against his face from the flames inside, the acrid smoke swirling around his upper frame as he coughed, holding his breath. Hausser stole a glance inside as two accompanying soldiers lowered to their knees, their rifles raised towards the darkness to the left, the trees set back from the side of the building, one trooper reaching for a stick grenade from his belt as he hissed, ‘Herr Leutnant…I think the rebels must have gone…’
Hausser gritted his teeth, pushing from the wall and advancing into the ground floor, the flames flickering on either side as he gasped, the nausea rising within him as he struggled to breath. Glancing round, he kicked the rifles from the two slumped bodies inside, one groaning loudly, the grey padded tunic soaked dark in blood, his eyes moving round the area as he ducked below the gathering smoke.
The lower room was relatively wide, a smouldering staircase extending upwards along the far wall, sacks of supplies and boxes stacked to the left, the wooden floorboards splintered and warped from grenade explosions. Three other bodies lay across the rations and food boxes, tw
o Russians killed from explosions and a German soldier in the far corner beneath the stairs, the young officer recognising the soles of hobnailed boots that extended over some smouldering sacks.
Flames licked up the wall to the left, the fire slowly consuming a stack of charred wooden supply boxes, the support beams above beginning to smoulder. A broken stove in the corner crackled and burned, embers and acrid smoke swirling around the ground floor. Hase pushed past him as Hausser stepped towards the stairs, the soldier behind inspecting the bodies as the young commander raised the muzzle of his MP40, pointing up towards the opening above, his lowered body reaching the side of the stairs.
Hase lowered his rifle into one hand, pulling the sacks to either side and glancing over the outstretched legs of the German soldier, wincing as he glimpsed the burnt and smouldering tunic, the stench of melted flesh engulfing his nostrils. The defending soldier’s scorched and disfigured face was contorted sideways in agonising death, the man having been killed by an explosion and the incendiary engulfing flash of a burning Molotov cocktail, his lungs and flesh seared as his body was blown across the room, neck breaking as his frame had cracked violently against the staircase.
The wooden stairs creaked as Hausser stepped gingerly onto the first step, the MP40 raised to shoulder height as he tested the wood with his weight. The planks strained and cracked as he climbed slowly, his breath held as light flickered across the smeared and bullet pocked walls above, his chest heaving as he heard the muffled German shouts from outside, further soldiers reaching the blockhouse from the train.
Hase stepped gingerly in behind the officer, looking upwards with his rifle raised towards the top of the staircase. His body flinched as several muffled shots rang out, a shriek outside as one of the German soldiers fell to his knees painfully. Machine guns burst into life as further single shots rang out, a distant crashing of glass as Partisans targeted the illuminations through the windows, the defenders ducking back as two grenades exploded next to the carriages. The darkness lit up as the roof mounted MG34s opened fire, tracers and zipping bullets tearing through the branches and trees, the screeching of wood as saplings were shredded, shouts of alarm as the rebels withdrew quickly into the darker trees, turning to flee into the forest.
Climbing further, Leutnant Hausser stiffened as he heard shuffling, the noise from above, his hands tensing on the submachine gun further as his tongue slipped across his lower lip nervously. The stairs beneath him creaked once more, Hase now at the foot of the stairs with rifle raised, his voice nervous, ‘Be careful…’
Leutnant Hausser glanced round briefly, their sight meeting as he smiled, his eyes bloodshot from the rising smoke. Then he climbed further, sweeping the MP40 upwards to scan the next floor, his stinging eyes blinking furiously to see through the swirling mirk. The upper office walls were scorched and cracked, flames licking against the reinforced wooden surrounds, a broken table and chairs smashed in the far corner with a Russian lying face down beneath. Blackened playing cards lay across the smouldering floor, with cracked ceramic jugs and a number of overturned metal mugs. Three bodies lay slumped across the far wall, two with their heads bent forward onto their chests, the other lying on his side, a large blood pool and stains stretching across the debris strewn floorboards. A smashed stove lay in the corner, the numerous explosions having torn the chimney pipe from its upward housing, other extending pipes from the stove below torn and shattered, smoke swirling from the shredded openings and either billowing outwards or hanging in clouds below the cracked and smouldering beams above.
Hausser gritted his teeth as he glimpsed the torn blood soaked tunics, the stunned and mortally wounded soldiers having been bayoneted several times as the Russians stormed the upper floors. Grenades had been used to subdue the defenders before the rebels below overwhelmed them, butchering the wounded men. One had lost an arm and lower leg, probably in one of the explosions, the soldier’s body perforated by numerous shrapnel pieces, the bloodied stumps of his torn arm and leg still seeping blood onto the floorboards. The other two corpses had been stabbed numerous times, one with his lower abdomen torn open, Hausser swallowing hard to suppress his nausea as he rose through the opening.
The observation windows were shattered on three of the walls, his boots crunching on the broken glass as he surmised the enemy had come from the east, the one side without any opening to prevent pre-warning. Then he stiffened, the shuffling once more, his eyes scanning the charred and broken windows before glimpsing the wooden stepladder to the upper room, flames flickering from above through the square opening.
A low painful groan came from above, Hausser stepping carefully across the creaking floor as he heard Hase on the stairs behind. Voices and shuffling below, the arriving German soldiers attempting to beat out the flames and remove smouldering sacks and boxes. Shouting from outside as the captain organised the defence of the blockhouse, his voice commanding as he instructed the troopers to keep an eye on the darkened forest.
Glancing down at the prone Russian, he realised the man’s head was broken beneath his felt cap, a blow from a swinging rifle ending his life as he struggled with one of the desperately wounded defenders. Reaching the ladder, he tensed, realising he would have to climb carefully, moving the MP40 into one hand as he grasped one of the rungs with the other, the wood warm as smoke swept through the opening above his head, sucked out through the open upper machine gun hatches.
The rungs creaked as he climbed, his eyes narrowing and breath held as he slipped upwards into the swirling shroud, his nervousness rising. Coughing briefly as the acrid smoke overpowered his nostrils and senses, he grunted, pushing upwards towards the flickering light, his lowered helmet emerging through embers and the rising heated mass.
Tear filled eyes strained to look round, the upper defensive room torn and blackened from explosions and the flames. Several bodies lay across the floorboards as he rose further, the MP40 ammunition magazine lowering to rest of the scuffed raised section surrounding the opening. Seeing most of the men were dead, his stinging eyes strained against the smoke surging upwards around him, embers and flickering debris drawn swirling towards the four openings above.
Feeling the cold air against his dirt smeared features, Leutnant Hausser glanced across the walls, the additional wooden beams and chopped logs placed for additional protection cracked and pock marked, several scorched with resin running and dripping from the crudely cut wood from the rising heat below. Splintered surrounds and shattered pieces lay across the seven bodies, Hausser scrutinising the still frames for the source of the earlier noise, his boots rising on the ladder to free himself from the smoke that burned his nostrils and throat.
Realising there were three dead German soldiers and four Russians, the MP40 rose above the smouldering hatch, the muzzle piercing a cloud of smoke from below, Hausser grasping the weapon in both hands tightly as he heard hobnailed boots creak on the ladder beneath him. His eyes watering uncontrollably, he edged forward, a boot extending to kick the nearest prone leg, the limb resettling without reaction after moving.
The cold air swept across his exposed features, a chilled breeze blowing through the four openings around him, his eyes straining further in the darkness, flickering flames in the corner from two smashed oil lanterns, the fuel almost exhausted. The DP28 lay bent and broken beneath the defensive opening, the young commander glimpsing two rifles and a PPSH submachine gun between the bodies, spent bullet casings scattered across the blood smeared uneven floorboards.
Breathing heavily, he stepped forward over the body below him, the soldier’s back torn from machine gun fire from the train, blood covering the back of the perforated helmet. His stomach twisted as he glimpsed the flickering light reflect in the next soldier’s lifeless eyes, the young German having been bayoneted several times, both thighs torn open from close pistol fire, the youth’s face twisted permanently in final pain.
Hausser glanced round the room once more, two broken stools and a small overturned table at t
he back of the defensive position, several half used belts of MG34 ammunition lying in the corner behind the hatch. Wide shelves were positioned beneath the openings, a couple cracked and splintered from the raking of bullets and bitter fight that had occurred.
Then he stiffened, hearing the brief shuffling once more, his head twisting round to stare into the darkened far corner, the noise coming from beyond the overturned table. Raising the MP40 further, he edged closer, stepping over the outstretched legs of another dead soldier, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Then his strained ears heard the rasped breathing, wheezing and a low cough, his voice breaking in anxiety, ‘Raise your hands…’
The cough came again, a forced pained chuckle as a strained voice returned wheezed Russian, ‘Comrade…I have little time left to raise my hands…I have lost too much blood.’
Leutnant Hausser slipped his boot forward, the floorboards creaking below, his head moving from side to side in attempt to glimpse the slumped figure in the gloom, his nervousness rising as he hissed, ‘Are you wounded? We have medics…’
The voice interrupted, gasping, ‘Too late comrade…’ Hausser glimpsed movement as his boot hit an outstretched arm, his sight flicking downwards to see lifeless eyes staring up at him, the dead young Russian’s face covered in blood, a dark pool beneath his head, his chest and neck punctured with gaping bullet wounds.
Then a clatter, his eyes widening as he spun round, lunging for the stepladder, the grenade rolling from behind the table as the Russian slipped into unconsciousness. Stumbling, Hausser fell over the outstretched legs, screaming as he fell as Hase’s head appeared through the hatch, ‘Get Down!’
Falling roughly, he rolled over, pushing his body as he twisted frantically towards the opening, his hands raising to his helmet and grasping it tightly, his mouth opening as he thrust his fingers into his ears. Hase gasped in shock and dropped below on the ladder, the rough wood tearing at his hands as he slipped downwards, terror etched on his face as he thrust his head downwards, his knees and shins cracking painfully against the rungs and sides.
Bloody Citadel Page 9