Author’s note: The Germans never successfully developed Penicillin to treat their front line troops in the quantities required, whereas the allies had stocks since the 1930s. Most soldiers therefore were left to their body’s own immune systems and strength to combat infections although some less effective medicine was available to front line medical staff. Infections from shrapnel and bullet wounds were common for all armies, the bacteria sourced from minute particles of dirt laden uniform fabric, torn by the lacerating hot steel that entered flesh.
In short, the unfortunate infantryman or other serviceman was usually always carrying any infection on his uniform before it was propelled into and became part of any wound. If the wound did not directly kill him, then the infection would perhaps create another opportunity to end his life. Many would die or take longer to recover, whereas the wounded of western armies were immediately treated with Penicillin.
The young soldier twisted back and forth once more, sweat seeping from his soaked frame as his temperature rose dramatically, his body shivering as the contorted memories swept back. The young blonde Russian nurse leant forward, her hand reaching for his as tears filled her eyes, emotionally wanting to share his hell, to diminish his torture and suffering.
The deep dream would always start the same, his pained and undernourished body pushing through biting frozen snow, muscles sore and aching through a tattered uniform, panic gripping his chest and very breathing. His shoulder and arm were grasped tightly by a comrade as they struggled onwards, the rattle of machine gun fire and explosions behind, frantic shouting ringing in their ears and the whine of tank tracks just becoming audible.
His senses were swimming, the lack of sustenance and food over weeks draining his strength, his energy levels too low to respond to his body’s requirements, his boots seeming to drag as both men gasped for air. Dirt laden bitterly cold scarves were wrapped round their mouths, their chests wheezing and painful against the bitter temperature, the need to force oxygen through the frozen material straining their hearts and lungs almost unbearably further.
Figures ran past, several struggling through the snow as they whimpered and screamed for the chance to escape, some carrying weapons, others having discarded rifles and machine guns in panic. Russian tanks ground forward behind as the defensive line collapsed, crushing the weakened wounded and shell shocked mercilessly beneath wide squealing tracks, mortar shells throwing snow and frozen earth up around the fleeing men, the blast waves shaking their stumbling figures.
Behind them, streams of smoke trails soared into the air, a voice shouting loudly into his almost incoherent ear, ‘Keep going…there is another defensive line, we will hold them there…we have to hold them, Gumrak airfield is beyond!’
The deafening drone of an aircraft overhead, his eyes glancing up in response as a JU52 banked violently above, the pilot realising he was flying into the eye of a Russian advance, the young soldier glimpsing the large back crosses as the engines screamed, the large plane banking sharply away to the south as the deep roar filled his ears.
Then the snow suddenly lit up brightly before them, a sheer blinding flash as explosions tore across the terrain, muffled screams filling the air as the Katyusha rockets erupted, bodies torn and thrown upwards as more eruptions threw frozen dirt and ice into the bitter air. Snow and ice blinded him as his body rose upwards weightlessly, the shock wave overwhelming as his frame twisted and was thrown sideways, arms rising over his face instinctively for protection, the breath sucked from him.
He seemed to hang in the freezing air, shrapnel cracking against his shoulder and ribs, a squeal of shock and pain uttered from cold lips as his arms flailed, glimpsing the earth rising towards him as more explosions echoed through his stunned ears. The air seemed to be burning, an overpowering acrid aroma filling his nostrils and senses as ice and snow swept across his exposed and scratched features, his eyes closing as if to welcome inevitable death. Struggling to breathe, his conscious mind seemed to become blank, then fully aware, his body falling further and crashing into the snow, his chest winded painfully as he gasped for the frozen oxygen. His leg twisted uncomfortably, a shriek uttered from his lips as his body shook in agony and shock, pitch darkness descending as he slipped rapidly into unconsciousness.
He was choking, his chest heaving as he spluttered, the scarf round his mouth tight and restricting his breathing, his hands grasping frantically for the frozen cloth, pain searing through his shoulder and chest. His consciousness becoming clearer, he tore the scarf from his mouth, drawing cold air in agony as he coughed uncontrollably. His mind struggled to comprehend what was occurring, his body seeming to bounce and shudder as he gasped for air, the sky above dull and foreboding, the endless greyness almost engulfing him as he tasted the freezing moisture on his lips.
Then the sounds swept into his ringing ears, vivid and intense, the roar of engines and frantic screaming, his boots bouncing off the iced snow as tears of confusion and terror filled his bloodshot eyes. Machine guns chattered from above his head, more shouting and rumbling as earth and snow fell onto his body, the pops of mortars as bullets splattered across the snow, the young soldier withdrawing his legs fearfully. Then he heard the desperate shout above his head, briefly recognising the low strained gasping voice, ‘Stay with us, Udet…help us!’
Another deafening roar of engines, a large shadow sweeping over him as he winced in fear, black crosses briefly above as the plane banked away. His hands were dragging across the freezing cold snow as his body bounced further, a whimper coming from his lips as his damaged shoulder hit something solid, then broke free, his mind briefly realising he had passed over a discarded rifle.
Then he realised his tunic was stretched across his neck, rough hands dragging his body across the snow, whining coming from the lips of two men above his head from their exertions, physical strain their undernourished bodies were no longer able to sustain after weeks of poor food. He glanced down, seeing the blood across his chest, his befuddled and confused mental anguish rising as he vaguely considered he was dying, his eyes then widening as he stared beyond his bouncing boots.
The iced snow seemed a deep white, then figures of men running and floundering towards him, his shocked mind recognising the uniforms of his countrymen, clouds of exhaled breath coming from their mouths as they struggled after him. Several were glancing over their shoulders fearfully, explosions further away as the guns beyond his head opened fire, ammunition no longer rationed for simple basic and desperate survival.
Then he glimpsed the distant dark silhouettes, his mind clearing rapidly in fear as he realised they were tanks, his breathing quickening in almost panic as he understood the sheer number across his view. Behind the hulks, the numerous dots of infantry struggling forward, his heart pounding as he saw the bodies in the snow, hundreds of isolated frames and groupings, the white terrain stained red in places from direct shell hits.
His eyes widened briefly as he glimpsed some isolated soldiers simply standing or sat slumped in the snow…determinedly awaiting the end, the lone figures’ mental ability to continue in the living hell or escape a vicious enemy was broken beyond repair…their will for survival and future lives now worthless and beyond even basic comprehension.
He glimpsed the helmets in a couple of low machine gun positions, the flashes from their guns pouring fire towards the advancing troops, his eyes filling with tears as he realised their inevitable fate, the men sacrificing themselves so that others may have the chance to escape, explosions erupting around their positions. Then his mind rapidly drifted into darkness, his head slumping sideways as the frantic shouting continued around him.
Another roar above and deep shadow as the men struggled on, the remaining planes now frantically lining up behind on Gumrak airfield to fly out of the pocket, pilots shouting at ground crews to even board themselves and to fill the holds as soon as possible…that they were leaving now and that time was rapidly running out. The co-pilots shouting and gesturing in panic as
shells erupted across the end of the field, several of the buildings now burning furiously, the remaining fighter pilots attempting to get airborne as soon as possible, some even beckoning single men forward desperately to sit on or beneath them as they flew out.
The screams of the wounded in burning hangars went unheard, most medical staff fleeing or ushered to lorries, even onto planes as the pilots screamed to leave, the denotations and sounds of war nearing…they could all see the dots of escaping soldiers running onto the field from the west, the flashes and thumps of artillery in the distance. The distant western sky began to fill with pocks of black smoke, Russian flak opening fire at the few approaching aircraft...the astonished and despondent flight crews unaware that the 44th Austrian Infantry Division below was being completely overrun, that a mass of Russian tanks and infantry were driving straight for Gumrak airfield...the arriving planes had no fuel to make the return journey, the only other remaining shorter airfield believed to be further into the city outskirts, a flying school before the war…many would not make it.
The young soldier was bounced awake, terrified and frantic shouts around him, his body drenched in sweat as the vicious dream continued. As his heart rate rose dramatically once more, he was dropped into a low shell crater, the bitter cold seeping through his thin torn jacket, his body shuddering in fear as he struggled to breathe, his chest shaking in pain.
The roar of artillery explosions around him was deafening, his screams going unheard as he briefly heard a voice he recognised nearby, another soldier pulling his body close to him, hugging him tightly for warmth as he listened through clenched eyes, frozen earth and snow falling onto his body and helmet as shock wave after shock wave swept over the trembling figures.
The officer was shouting, attempting to be heard over the roar of detonations and gunfire, the young soldier grasping the man clutching his chest in fear, the words finally audible, ‘Where is the command post? Where?’
The reply was curt as the pak gun commander screamed back in despondency and rising panic, ‘It’s gone...all dead! We have hardly any more ammunition, Herr Leutnant...keep running, escape whilst you can...we cannot stop them now! The 88s are also nearly out of shells...there is nothing left to stop them…this Division is gone!’
The roar of aircraft engines, the soldier’s eyes opening as another JU52 swept low overhead, his confused mind realising in panic that they must now be on the edge of the airfield, the wheels seeming almost close enough to touch. Then he gasped as he saw a figure fall from the right wing, the large plane banking and twisting hard to the south to avoid the flak and approaching Russian machine guns.
The arms around him gripped him tighter as machine guns opened fire on either side, a muffled ordered shout through the rattle, ‘Fire everything...then run to the rear!’
Rough hands grabbed him, the familiar voice shouting desperately near his ear to the man holding him, ‘Come on...lift him...the Russkie T34s are getting closer!’
A nearby loud explosion as a blast wave swept over them, the men coughing as smoke billowed around their figures, the screams for a ‘Medic’ going unanswered, then the distant roar of engines...diesel engines...Russian tank motors and many of them. He started to whine, his body shaking uncontrollably in terror as his eyes clenched shut once more to blank out the horror, the men still coughing as one swore, ‘Scheisse...the gunners are all dead...get him up and run!’
Agonised whining from nearby as boots crunched past through the snow, frantic whimpering and terror filling the running soldiers’ chests, explosions to either side, the T34s firing high explosive shells at the remnants of the fleeing defenders.
His body rose abruptly, one man throwing him brutally over his shoulder, his muffled shout with a heavy accent, ‘I carry...you defend us...there is nothing but survival now! Where is Hase?’
His body was bouncing from side to side painfully, his head lolling back and forth as he tried to look back, the familiar voice seeming distant, then nearer, but breathless and rising with adrenalin, ‘There...over there!’ Then another frantic shout from nearby, ‘In Deckung (get down)! Artillerie!’
They crashed into the frozen snow abruptly, the young soldier screaming in pain as his body was almost thrown forward, the seeming heated and loud whoosh above, thunderous explosions beyond his shuddering body as screams filled the air. He was shaken by the blast waves, frozen dirt and snow pounding his body as it fell back to earth, his hands rising to his face in sheer terror.
Then his collar was grabbed roughly again, a shout as he felt the uneven ground beneath his back, ‘Pull him...there will be mortar fire next...head for the back of the runway...we head directly east! Once the tanks break through it will be chaos! Murder!’
The roar of engines again to his right, one of the last planes attempting to get airborne before the Russian tanks and infantry reached the edge of the airfield. Numerous explosions from further to the right as his body trembled in fear, his head shaking in confusion as he glanced across the pitted strip, flames and black smoke billowing upwards as gunfire rang out to either side, the Luftwaffe ground crews blowing up the remaining meagre stocks of fuel.
His eyes half closed, he looked back down towards his shaking boots, the large HE111 converted bomber rising slowly from the end of the runway, the wings already beginning to tilt as the pilot banked frantically south, another two bodies falling from the undercarriage, their freezing hands unable to sustain grip, the men desperate to escape.
Explosions seemed to fill the end of the field, Russian artillery pounding the defences as their tanks approached, unaware most were deserted...there were no shells left for the sandbagged guns. He watched as torn metal and the shattered bodies of the wounded were tossed into the air with defensive sandbags and abandoned equipment, stinging and cold tears once again filling his eyes as he glimpsed the first Russian tanks appearing over the low hills beyond the end of the airstrip.
Two Bf109 fighters bounced past, the engines screaming as the pilots attempted to get airborne as soon as possible, further fighters burning to the right side of the airfield, the young soldier glimpsing a number of destroyed and crashed JU52s and HE111s as he was dragged further, their hulks half covered in frozen snow, two burning furiously with bodies scattered across the snow around them.
Tracers seemed to fill the dull grey sky, machine gun positions atop the airport building opening fire as infantry emerged with the tanks, the inexperienced defenders firing too soon and ultimately in vain. He looked back at the growing number of tank hulls on the slope to the west, flashes from their forward guns as the turrets bucked, explosions rocking the buildings and field as they suddenly seemed to increase pace, a breathless shout he recognised from above, ‘Get alongside the buildings for cover...keep moving! Das is das Ende (this is the end)!’
A further roar of explosions as the tanks’ shells hit hangars and buildings across the field, distant screams and shouts, his eyes half closed as he began to struggle with his hands, his boots kicking against the snow as his chest heaved painfully, the grip on his tightening collar restricting his breathing once more. One abandoned Bf110 burst into flames nearby, ground crews unable to repair the aircraft in time and leaving it to its fate, a soldier throwing a grenade into the cockpit. Further explosions as shadows ran past, the bedraggled soldiers gasping for breath in fear.
Feeling the heat briefly against his cheek, he tried to call out, his throat gurgling and coughing, one of the two men dragging him shouting frantically, ‘He is back with us...get him to the buildings and stand him up...see if he can run with us!’
Darkness enveloped them, his body dragged between two buildings, fires now raging across the airfield as they were enveloped in acrid smoke, one coughing as he shouted breathlessly, ‘We have not long...drag him up...if he cannot stand, then we carry on...’
Rough hands grabbed his tunic, his body lifted upwards as his boots struggled to gain grip on the ice beneath, his hands rising instinctively to push the arms aw
ay, chest heaving in pain as his eyes flickered, then opened. A face was close to his, exhaled air and spittle hitting his cold cheeks as his back was pushed violently against cold brick behind, the helmet clanking, ‘Udet...can you hear me? Wake up...we need to get out of here!’
He shook his head, his senses swimming as he stared into the face, a flicker of recognition crossing his dilated pupils. The soldier was older, his frame thin and uniform torn, a dirt smeared scarf around his neck as the man coughed and wheezed, ‘Can you walk...wake up!’ The man stepped back and pulled his scarf down as the young soldier strained his eyes, dust and snow falling onto the men from above, his mind confused and bewildered. Machine gun fire erupted nearby, further detonations and explosions causing the men around him to duck their heads instinctively. Then the man looked into his eyes determinedly, a hand striking him across the cheek quickly, his body staggering then rising defiantly, his words distant, ‘I-Ich bin ein Deutsche soldat!’
The man’s eyes widened in surprise, then a grin formed beneath his bushy moustache, ‘Yes you are fool...now we run together...’
Two other faces drew close to him, one asking in demanding tone as Udet stared back at him, the man’s hand rising to his shoulder comfortingly, ‘Who am I?’ A muffled explosion above, dust and snow showering downward as they ducked their heads, the alleyway bathed in light briefly as flames surged outwards above.
The young soldier stiffened, shouts and frantic orders filtering into the narrow alleyway, several more explosions as he shook his head, some clarity briefly returning, ‘L-Leutnant Hausser...my commander...’
A soldier pushed roughly past, his eyes wide with fear as he progressed along between the buildings, weapon discarded, Tatu grunting, ‘We need to go…it’s falling to bits…’
Bloody Citadel Page 12