Bloody Citadel

by Andrew McGregor

  Gunfire echoed all around him with several more explosions, his body stiffening with each eruption for fear of being seen in any flash. Then he groaned inside, hearing the puff of flares, Russian machine gun fire then drowning the rifle fire out from the top of the field, his breath held as he pressed his face despondently into the moist earth once more.

  Bullets splattered across the earth before him as he gritted his teeth in dread, then the smoke billowed over his frame, his eyes opening briefly as his body was engulfed, a burst of machine gun from behind him, then another. He glanced to either side, blinded by the smoke, then dragged his body round, scrambling away to the south, but wary of raising his head as bullets whistled above.

  Flares pulsed through the thick shroud, further smoke grenades bouncing across the earth as energy shot through his frame, realising two MG34s were firing to the south and heading for the bursts of fire, a distant MP40 and then rifle cracks.

  Pulling himself forward faster and faster, he gasped for air, the machine gun fire getting nearer, a shouted voice in German, ‘This way Kameraden!’

  Dragging his exhausted body across the earth, he neared the cracks of rifles, the rattle of machine guns firing to either side, his voice hoarse with excitement, ‘Freund! Freund!’

  A familiar shout was returned, the rifle fire abruptly ceasing as he struggled on, rough hands grasping both his shoulders with a tense shout in his ear, ‘We need to retreat! Russkie artillery will be targeting our position...is there anyone else?’

  Hausser shook his head, spluttering as he drew breath, his chest shaking, ‘I-I don’t know…Hase is missing…several men killed…’

  Dragged through the trees, the familiar voice of Major Wolff barked once more, ‘Fall back…our mortars are about to fire high explosive rounds!’

  The voice echoed in his ear once more, his eyes straining as he recognised the breathless and mischievous tone, ‘Hase is already back…and you are a mess. Every time I leave you alone, you get into a mess…pig headed Berliners…now run with us, I am not carrying you back to Germany!’

  Leutnant Hausser gritted his teeth, then grinned in disbelief as he struggled upwards, his MP40 trailing in one hand as he forced his legs to run, realising the man next him was taller as another familiar voice on the other side interjected, ‘Herr Leutnant, apologies...he is worse than ever now. Once again us Romanians are here to haunt you!’

  Chapter Thirteen: The Final Preparations and Delay

  Three Weeks Later

  Major Wolff walked smiling from his compact personal bunker, glancing upwards at the clear blue sky, the strong sun beating down as he felt his body physically warm. Lowering his head to light a cigarette, he grinned as a young soldier rounded the corner of the logged defensive wall, stopping abruptly in surprise before him, stiffening and saluting, the fresh faced youth flushing beneath his camouflaged and cloth covered helmet, ‘Herr Major…I am bringing the supply reports to your bunker.’

  Wolff glanced upwards once more, hearing the chatter of machine guns to the north and a muffled explosion, blowing grey-blue smoke into the warm air above him, ‘Stand easy…just deliver the reports to Heinrich and have a drink…then get a couple of men and go to the rear for more rations. I want our forward units to eat and drink well tonight…get extra Schnapps and beer for the men.’

  He stared at the young soldier, smiling in encouragement as the flushed blue eyed youth seemed confused and embarrassed, his smeared young face lined with stubble with weary lined eyes, the uniformed tunic seeming relatively new, ‘Wie heißen Sie (what is your name)?’

  The young man bowed his head, his voice low and subservient, ‘Kurt…Herr Major…Kurt Schneider. I have just arrived sir…new recruit…’

  Major Wolff grinned further at the young man’s embarrassment, warming to his behaviour and demeanour, ‘Very well young Kurt…deliver your report and have a quick drink, then follow me before getting the supplies, you are about to witness the decoration of a soldier and be assigned to a new unit. Once we have finished the award, you collect your rifle and join with this unit. I expect good things from you…listen to the men around you and stay alive…the next few weeks will be interesting and make you a soldier.’ Major Wolff stiffened and raised his right hand formally to his brow beneath the officer’s cap, ‘Do you understand?’

  Kurt Schneider abruptly stood to attention, saluting back eagerly as he failed to conceal his surprise, ‘Jawohl, Herr Major…I will do my duty as always…I will follow orders as instructed.’

  Wolff shook his head and chuckled as an explosion erupted to the north, the youth ducking instinctively and in fear as particles of earth pattered down nearby, ‘Do your duty and listen to the men I assign you to…you may live longer…but with your head down and in that helmet at all times...’

  The major emerged from the entrance to the earthworks, the defences now extended further to the rear to counter the Russian mortars and shelling. The extensive network was now covered with camouflaged netting, lined with chopped logs on either side and along the walkway. Additional mortar pits and machine gun positions had been added to the sides, Flak 30 and 38 quad guns placed along the rear of the defensive works in the treeline for additional protection and to deter the Red Air Force. All had additional brush and branches added for camouflage with several Pak gun positions placed along the line concealed from prying observers to engage any Russian armour or possible assault.

  Walking along a winding path through trees, Major Wolff nodded to three soldiers carrying boxes as they passed, waving nonchalantly for them to proceed and not stop to salute as they hesitated, then grinned, nodding and continuing, the soldiers keen to unload a lorry at the rear before the next supply truck arrived. Nearing the end of the path, he stepped to one side as another man struggled past, weighted down with a wooden crate in either hand, the man smiling his thanks as the officer gestured for him not to stop. Wolff stared through the remaining trees and into the light, the Opel Blitz lorry beyond, three further soldiers unloading wooden boxes from the dropped tailgate as the driver smoked next to his cab.

  Grinning mischievously, Major Wolff strode from the trees, the three infantrymen immediately straightening and standing to attention, the middle aged driver tossing his cigarette and following suit, his eyes wide with alarm as the officer approached, his capped head cocked to one side curiously, ‘Why are my soldiers unloading this lorry whilst you relax and smoke? An extra pair of hands will ensure the lorry is emptied quicker…’

  The short grey haired driver nodded, staring straight ahead and seeming to shiver, his hands shaking, ‘Jawohl, Herr Major…it was just a long drive…the other lorries all stopped further along the line with our military escort. Partisans are behind us Sir…several lorries have been attacked, or mines placed on the dirt roads at night.’

  Major Wolff nodded, sighing in despondency at the soldier’s obvious stress and reached for his tunic breast pocket and cigarettes, his head turning to the three other soldiers, ‘Gather round men and stand easy…we will all have a smoke and chat and then finish with the rations…’ He looked back at the driver as he handed the packet to the nearest infantryman, ‘…what are you carrying anyway?’

  The driver swallowed nervously as a smoke cloud swept over him, ‘Fleischkonserve (tinned meat) and Hartzweiback (a hard biscuit-like bread) …’

  The major turned back to him and smiled reassuringly, ‘Yes…I recognised the boxes, but what I want to know is what every supply driver knows…what meat is in the tins? On our last batch the labelling was incorrect…surely you know?’ He glanced round as two of the young soldiers chuckled, drawing on their cigarettes once more.

  The middle aged driver grinned and nodded knowingly, ‘Yes…we noticed too.’ Shifting uncomfortably, he glanced skywards, ‘This lorry has tins of Rinderbraten (roast beef) and Hahnchenfleisch (chicken), there are also some ‘extras’ and vegetables at the back of the lorry…I managed to get them from the central quartermaster…we are to deliver the
m to each field kitchen.’

  Major Wolff stepped back, ‘Good…that should cheer the men up…’ He turned away, stepping to move round the front of the lorry, a distant explosion resounding to the north, ‘…very well, gentlemen…carry on…I will look forward to tonight’s dinner with interest. Ensure our cooks make extra effort this evening, I will be providing some drinks for the men from captured stock that was recently delivered…’ He raised his hand to his forehead informally, smiling back at the grinning soldiers before nodding to the driver, ‘I wish you well on your return journey…’

  The three lines of twelve soldiers snapped to attention in the next clearing, Leutnant Hausser stepping forward as the major walked from the trees and coming to a halt before him, smiling faintly as both men saluted, the junior officer nodding a greeting, ‘Good afternoon Herr Major…the men you asked for are ready for inspection.’

  Wolff looked beyond him, smiling as his eyes drifted along the lines, ‘Good…then let us inspect your command…’ He chuckled as Hausser’s eyes widened, the two men turning to walk slowly, the line of field grey tunics and darker breeched soldiers before them, ‘There is one more to join us…I am keen to place some of our younger recruits or replacements from home with your men and have selected several from the recent arrivals. I have added a number of experienced men to bolster the support you will have…’ He grinned widely as they stopped before Hase, Tatu and Udet, Petru at the end of the line, ‘…I see the rogues from the frozen east are together once more…good.’ His eyebrows raised glimpsing Petru shuffle uncomfortably under his gaze, ‘Is this the man we spoke of…the one that disabled a Russian tank to the south of Stalingrad?’

  Leutnant Hausser nodded, ‘Yes Major…but he was helped by Tatu here…’ He indicated to the moustached Romanian, the tall soldier staring straight ahead.

  Major Wolff smirked knowingly, ‘Yes…I recall. But I believe decorating such a soldier after recent events could draw unwelcome attention…’ He waved as Kurt Schneider emerged sheepishly from the trees, indicating for the young soldier to join the line next to Petru as the youthful infantryman jogged forward, continuing, ‘…but a decoration for your men is required I believe…although they may soon be overburdened with Verwundetenabzeichen (wound badges).’

  Hausser glanced sideways to Tatu, the taller Romanian’s stare unaffected, ‘I understand sir…’

  Major Wolff turned to face Petru, a hand reaching for his breast pocket as he smiled, inspecting the soldier, the field grey tunic and trousers complimented by a darker helmet with a leather circling side strap, ‘For your service to your fellow soldiers and your unit, I hereby award you the tank destruction badge in silver and a black wound badge for your suffering near Belgorod during the Kharkov advance. It is irregular for these decorations to be awarded to a soldier that does not directly serve in the Wehrmacht…but my consideration is that you are now all serving troops in Leutnant Hausser’s unit…regardless of your nationality.’

  The major’s hands extended to the man’s chest, pinning the black oval decoration to his combat tunic as Petru drew a sharp breath, the Romanian’s eyes glistening with emotion. Wolff then saluted and offered his hand, Petru nodding nervously as he stiffened further and returned the salute, shaking the major’s hand vigorously, the officer handing him the cloth tank destruction badge, ‘I expect to see this on your right arm by the end of this day…’

  Petru smiled briefly, his voice shaking, ‘Thank you, Herr Major…’

  Wolff grinned, straightening the wound badge and stepping back to inspect the soldier before him, his eyes staring into the Romanian’s as he spoke, ‘Impressive…your men brush up well.’ He glanced sideways to Hausser, ‘I feel there may be the opportunity for more medals before the summer is out…’

  The major stepped sideways, staring into the younger eyes of Udet and raising another wound badge to the infantryman’s chest, ‘For wounds sustained in Stalingrad and the advance near Belgorod, you are awarded this decoration for loyalty to your commander and other men in your unit. I hope your parents will be very proud of your sacrifices.’

  Udet saluted formally as Wolff’s eyes widened in surprise, Hausser shaking his head behind in disbelief as a flicker went through Tatu’s eyes, the tall Romanian stifling a faint smile. The major returned the salute, grinning, ‘Impetuous…isn’t he? I like that…’

  They shook hands as Udet’s cheeks flushed, ‘Thank you Herr Major.’

  Major Wolff stepped back, chuckling to himself as he looked into the young determined dark brown eyes, ‘Make sure that eagerness does not get you any more wounds…’ He turned abruptly to Hausser as two muffled explosions erupted near the front line, ‘Let’s have a walk shall we…talk about what the future holds? I see the mortars are at it again…’

  Strolling through the trees to the east of the clearing, Major Wolff tutted, shaking his head in disappointment, ‘I never got my cigarettes back…damn field kitchen thieves…they take everything!’ He giggled, glancing at the more junior officer as Hausser reached to his own chest pocket, ‘Bring those two men to my bunker later for some Schnapps, that should warm their hearts and yours a little.’ He glanced down at the man’s tunic fleetingly, the senior officer remarking, ‘You have no wound badge…lucky or lost it?’

  Leutnant Hausser offered the major his own packet, ‘I have been lucky so far…’

  Major Wolff smiled as he reached for his lighter, taking a black wound badge from his pocket and offering it to the junior officer, ‘Never the less, you were hit in the shoulder…so this is yours.’

  Hausser’s eyes widened, ‘Thank you sir…’

  The major waved his hand to dismiss the gratitude, ‘It is the least I can offer, just get your new command organised. I would choose that Petru and perhaps Tatu to lead one of your squads, maybe use one of the experienced men I gave you to command the second and you the third. Tomorrow you can move up and man the front line for a couple of days to gain the men further experience together.’

  Hausser nodded as Wolff flicked the lighter, drawing in the cigarette between his lips before looking up into the trees above, his mind seeming to wander and voice distant, ‘What I am to tell you stays between us. They have delayed our offensive once more…now until July. There are new tanks and guns coming…apparently planes too, so we wait for them.’ He kicked out at the dirt beneath his boots, ‘The Russkies are digging heavy defences and many of the commanders are saying we should just forget this attack…move over onto the defensive. That we have lost the initiative…what do you think?’

  Leutnant Hausser drew on his own cigarette, the two men walking slowly between the trees, beams of sunlight spilling through the foliage and branches above, ‘The Russians will have nearly four months to ready themselves…surely there is no surprise left now. Our men have talked about new tanks arriving at the rear…of extra soldiers moving up, so they know an attack is planned…surely the Russian do too?’

  Major Wolff nodded resolutely, ‘They know we will come…reports from the few prisoners we have taken talk of tank ditches, trench systems and heavy minefields, one mentioned that he had seen artillery concentrations and Katyusha batteries to the rear…that there were many tanks hidden under trees hidden from the Luftwaffe spotters.’ The officer sighed, looking upwards once more, ‘They are ready and waiting for us…and what then? What if we fail to break through? Blitzkrieg is one thing, but not against such deep defences…the SS grenadier units to the east have built bunkers and are training their men to attack them…I have sent some of our own troops for experience.’

  Hausser grimaced, ‘I see…well there is still time for it to be called off. I am suspicious that we are not digging the same kind of defences though. We could then hold the enemy here…drag them into stalemate or force them to attack perhaps…grind them down?’

  The major turned to him, his eyes strained, ‘I fear that is what they will do to us my friend…unless this attack is stopped.’

  Chapter Fourteen: Back
to the Front

  Leutnant Ernst Brandt sat with several other pilots in the passenger car of an armoured train heading back eastwards, his distant thoughtful eyes staring out at the fields and trees, examining each farm and passing village as his countrymen played cards and smoked on the seats beside him. Many of the nine pilots possessed the usual high spirits of combat veterans, chatting of their exploits excitedly or even demonstrating some successful or new manoeuvres through elaborate hand gestures. The addition of two large bottles of French brandy from the Luftwaffe stores in Bremen as a parting gift enhanced their moods, several flushed and outspoken as the Wehrmacht soldiers across the rest of the busy carriage stared on enviously.

  Ernst’s thoughts were subdued and dark, the experience of continually facing almost overwhelming American and British bomber formations having troubled him deeply, the drain on his morale and normal vigour obvious to his companions. Of the six trainee pilots he had started with at Hannover, now only two were still flying with three killed and one so badly injured he was unlikely to walk properly again. Ernst had watched on in horror as the fighter disintegrated during a dog fight and plummeted to earth, the pilot falling from the shattered cockpit and deploying his chute before drifting unconscious from his wounds, his lower body seared from a fuel based fire.

  American P47 fighters had begun escorting their bombers in early May, adding additional strain to the Luftwaffe pilots, Ernst having been moved all across north west Germany to fly virtually continuously in combat and on training missions. More and more young pilots were thrown at the allied bombers streams and fighters with less and less experience or flying time to prepare the defenders…casualties reflected the lack of training, Ernst beginning to withdraw mentally and become more subdued as he witnessed the loss of so many young keen and eager flyers.