Bloody Citadel

by Andrew McGregor

  Hausser nudged him forcefully, ‘You will get a present too if you don’t keep your eyes on the land…I will tell you when to look up, you are our main weapon now…keep focussed else the Russkies will gift you a bullet!’

  Udet’s eyes widened as Hausser grinned, lifting his MP40 strap from his shoulder, ‘We will disembark…you cover us from the carrier…’

  The young German smiled briefly, turning back and lowering himself behind the armoured shield, ‘I know, Herr Leutnant…I am the gunner…I stay here.’

  The commander rolled his eyes, turning and lowering to a crouch as Hase’s voice echoed from the driver’s compartment, ‘The major has stopped ahead…Tatu’s carrier also…there is a bunker and rifle fire…’ A clunk against the front armoured plate, several muffled explosions from the north and machine gun fire, then the distant screams of Stuka mechanical sirens as the Hanomag slowed and stopped with a jolt.

  Hausser grasped his MP40, glancing at the pensive soldiers sitting lower on either side, ‘Stay together…follow me…we clear the trenches and bunkers ahead and then move on. We have stopped short in case they have satchel charges or grenades. Our engineers will now be creating lanes through their minefields further north…we know from Russian prisoners that they will be difficult.’ He hesitated and frowned at some of the youthful helmeted faces staring up at him, ‘Keep your heads down and don’t emerge in front of the carriers…the jumpy gunners will cut you down.’ He glanced back at Udet as the younger German shrugged, still leaning into the MG34, the protective shield moving from side to side slowly.

  The Leutnant grimaced, raising his voice, ‘Right…form up around the back of the carrier…Alles Aus!’ Turning his head, he hissed at Udet, ‘Cover fire when I say…’

  Tatu gritted his teeth, grunting in dissatisfaction as he looked down at the MP40 in his hands, ‘Not as good as the Russian PPSH 41…’

  Petru pushed the sergeant, ‘Shut up and get moving…we are waiting for a Russian shell to hit us here…’ He shook his head in distain, ‘Why he makes you squad leader every time I really don’t know…you take too many risks and are too fussy!’

  Tatu drew breath sharply, turning to glare at his countryman before sighing, ‘Don’t you know, ‘Gott mit Uns’ (inscribed on German belt buckles), but he has to give us the weapons to win…the Russkie communists don’t believe in him...’ He turned away sharply, indicating to the back of the Hanomag and the German soldiers seated on either side, ‘Let’s get this done…clear the trenches and advance further…time is short and I am not falling behind.’

  The rear doors creaked open as the ducked soldiers filed out, muffled shellfire to the north and rifle cracks clunking against the armoured plate, Petru shaking his head in astonishment, grinning ironically as he whispered, ‘I didn’t know you did…but if he is watching at least he will have a laugh at your pig-headedness amongst this insanity…’

  Further sporadic rifle bullets pinged and cracked against the steel armoured sides, the darkened bunker some distance away to the left as Hausser lowered to one knee, the ten soldiers around him concealed and grouped behind the back of the Hanomag. The commander ducked down further as a shell burst behind to the south, then glanced up, seeing Tatu standing upright with the soldiers crouched around him at the back of the armoured carrier ahead, Petru emerging behind him and raising a hand.

  His eyes moved across to the left, the three vehicles placed at angles to cover the soldiers behind, Major Wolff and Heinrich both crouched with MP40s behind their SdKfz 250, two other soldiers beside them with bayoneted rifles. The senior officer indicating to him, nodding his approval.

  Lifting a hand in understanding, the Leutnant stiffened in nervousness, raising his voice to a shout, ‘Cover fire and smoke…then attack!’

  Three MG34s burst into life, earth thrown upwards from the low terrain ahead as the bullets tore across the ground, several rifle flashes following as a grenade exploded in the air, the Russian thrower twisting backwards in the trench, his upper body shuddering as it was perforated several times. Screams rang out as the surviving defenders ducked down, two hit by shrapnel from the grenade detonation.

  The German soldiers lunged upwards, flashes and puffs of smoke on the ground between the Hanomags and trenches while the infantrymen lobbed grenades over their vehicles, several edging to the angled corners, their rifles raised and breath held.

  Leutnant Hausser moved to the edge of the armoured vehicles, gritting his teeth as the MG34s flashed before them, the gunners spraying the defences some fifty metres ahead, Hase dropping to one knee next to him with his Kar 98 rifle.

  Glancing round, the commander’s eyes widened, ‘Are you not driving? Moving up once we break into the trench?’

  Hase shook his head, indicating over his shoulder as he grinned, ‘Your German soldier offered to do that...difficult conversation as neither of us understood the other, but we waved our hands a lot!’

  Hausser chuckled, ducking further as several bullets clanked against the armoured plate, his helmeted head then rising cautiously to peer into the billowing smoke as it began to drift over the angled rear offside, his voice rising, ‘Forward...’

  Major Wolff moved to one side as another soldier clambered from the back of the SdKfz 250, the man weighed down with two heavy horizontal cylinders on his back, his gloved hands grasping a metal protruding tube. Several of the German soldiers glanced at the soldier as they lunged ahead. Hausser moved from behind the carrier, his soldiers all at a half crouch as they darted forward low, his voice raised as he indicated to either side, Hase next to him with rifle raised, ‘Attack either side of the carriers...stay in groups and support the Flammenwerfer (flame thrower)!’

  The advancing figures disappeared into the billowing shroud, a low cheer as rifle shots rang out, a few crumps of grenades, Hausser and Hase running after the soldiers as Major Wolff joined them, advancing behind the flame thrower, his voice low, ‘We will head for the bunker...burn the Russkies out!’

  Tatu surged into trenches over to the right, his boots dropping into the emplacement as he raised the MP40 to his eye, advancing eastwards and hearing the frantic whining of some of the wounded as he stepped over outstretched legs, several dead defenders lying slumped in the earthworks. The smoke billowed around his frame, the MP40 jerking from side to side as Petru dropped in behind him, the Kar 98 rifle rising upwards as the younger Peter dropped in behind them.

  Tatu edged along, stepping over another set of outstretched legs, the prone Russian soldier’s chest torn open by shrapnel, his bloodied head lolling forward. Gunfire echoed around them, the cries and scuffling of bodies as the Romanian tensed, nearing a junction in the trench, his eyes straining through the smoke. His feet slipped and crunched on discarded bullet casings, shattered wood and ration boxes, scattered across the trench, his jaw stiffening in apprehension.

  The sun suddenly broke through a cloud of smoke, his eyes blinking as he was once again shrouded, his boots edging nervously nearer the corner. Then he ducked instinctively, flashes ahead and a muffled scream, a flash of a grenade as he bit his bottom lip, lunging into the junction and turning north, the floor declining away as he pushed himself against the left wall.

  Glimpsing the darkened opening of one of the bunker entrances ahead, he ducked further, pushing the muzzle of the MP40 ahead of him as he dragged his shoulder along the dried earth wall. Then a shadow, the submachine gun jerking back into his shoulder as he fired a short burst, the body falling and groaning loudly.

  Stepping cautiously, he glanced down, the MP40 still pointing ahead as he saw the Russian soldier clawing his way across the dirt, the back of his brown uniform perforated and bloodstained as the man shuddered, his head dropping and a last exhaled gasp came from his chest.

  Tatu stepped over the outstretched arms, the darkened cement doorway of the bunker seeming to beckon him towards it, his eyes straining as the sun broke through the smoke once more, his pupils contracting in the sharp brightness before the gloo
m engulfed him.

  Blinking furiously, he slipped forward, the musky aroma of the underground bunker filling his nostrils as he frantically waited for his eyes to accustom to the darkness. Petru edged in behind his countryman at a crouch, the barrel of the Kar 98 jerking to the right as they realised they were in a gloomy supply room, wooden boxes littering the dirt encrusted cement floor, several with their lids forced open in the panic that had ensued with advancing German armour. Distant shouts echoed through the stained and dirt laden corridors, several shots ringing out as some of the Russian defenders attempted to drive off the attackers, unaware the Panzers were now roaming across open country behind them.

  Tatu stared across the square room, realising there were two exits, one heading north and the other to the east, his hand dropping from the MP40 to gesture to the opening ahead, a hissed whisper coming from his lips as two muffled explosions erupted outside, a burst of machine gun fire followed by rifle cracks, ‘Cover both the doors…’

  Stepping forward cautiously, he strained his eyes and glanced into the eastern passageway, his body twisting suddenly as the submachine gun bucked, the muzzle flashing once more. Two Russians twisted and fell, screams of surprise resounding across the walls as they smacked against the sides of the tunnel, their bodies slumping downwards, rifles clattering onto the dried earth.

  Petru lunged past behind him as the Romanian sergeant dropped to one knee, his countryman thrusting a shoulder against the side of the opening to the north, the rifle edging out into the corridor as he strained to see.

  Tatu glanced round once more, stiffening as he glimpsed something in the darkened corner of the square room, a grin slowly forming across his lips as he looked back to the entrance, Peter on one knee with his rifle raised. The Romanian quartermaster grinned, indicating for the young German to follow them into the room and pointing to a position behind Petru, his voice a hiss as shouts echoed across the walls from further inside the bunker, ‘Stay behind us as we advance...’

  Peter darted forward, nodding wide eyed, one white knuckled hand grasping his rifle as Tatu slowly straightened, his eyes now staring back down the eastern corridor. Grunting, Tatu lowered the MP40, striding quickly to the corner, Petru straining his eyes and shaking his head, ‘What are you doing, you old fool?’

  Tatu grunted again, bending double and collecting a couple of items, shaking and dropping one before rising, the snap of metal and crack of a bolt being pulled back as he turned, spitting into the dirt and striding towards his friend. Lowering as he neared the other side of the doorway, he grinned, extending the grip of the MP40 towards Petru and gesturing as he grasped the barrel, lifting a PPSH 41 from his side as he smiled triumphantly, ‘Now I have my weapon again...’

  Petru’s eyes rolled, lowering the rifle and slipping the strap over his back as he hissed, ‘Could you not have come back for that?’ They ducked as muffled gunfire swept through the corridors, a Maxim machine gun firing along one of the walkways leading to the central bunker, loud screaming abruptly cut short then an explosion.

  Tatu shrugged innocently, ‘I am coming back for the ammunition drums...there must be twenty here. If I leave the PPSH, someone else will only steal it...’

  Petru’s eyes narrowed as he jabbed his friend in the chest with a finger, ‘You have just stolen it…’

  Tatu nodded innocently, ‘Yes, but I stole it first…that’s the main thing!’

  Petru shook his head in disbelief as Peter stammered, his face emerging from behind the Romanian’s shoulder, ‘C-can I have the MP40?’

  Petru’s head turned abruptly, ‘No...and don’t copy this ass...he is dangerous.’

  Tatu grunted again, rubbing his moustache as he grinned triumphantly at his find, lowering and ducking his head quickly into the corridor, his eyes straining as he darted forward into the passageway.

  Leutnant Hausser leapt across one of the trenches, ducking into the thick bushes behind and lowering, his eyes darting from side to side as he struggled through the undergrowth. Hase pushed through next to him, grimacing as the branches dragged on his tunic, their eyes straining in the bright light as they stared beyond the defences.

  Crouching further, the commander stared out into the light, the open land rising gradually before them to a rise before undulating terrain and grassland beyond, the distant rumble of artillery and engines filling their ears, rifle shots and machine guns firing all across the front.

  Hase glanced upwards as further fighters roared overhead, sixteen twin engine ME110s sweeping across the landscape towards the Russian first defensive line, several Panzers already engaging Russian T34s across a wide minefield as engineers began to clear paths through the hidden traps, the halftracks waiting behind to advance. The sun was now seemingly glaring down, the warmth spreading across the smouldering grass, thin black smoke plumes rising across the distant sky where the German shells and Panzers had found victims.

  Black dots swirled and rose in the heavens, the first dogfights over Russian lines breaking out as the Red Air force and Luftwaffe began the battle for air supremacy, the vapour trails at high altitude beginning to create patterns across the clear blue sky. Hase pointed as he suddenly glimpsed three brown uniformed Russian soldiers running away to the left, the men scrambling from depression to depression, glancing round in fear at the roar of engines behind, an SdKfz222 bouncing across the landscape towards them, an officer shouting and gesturing menacingly from the hatch as the three men slowly and reluctantly crouched and raised their hands.

  Hausser ducked back into the bushes, whispering, ‘Today will be hot…let us hope our Hanomag has plenty of water…’ He dropped back, slipping down into the trench as Hase stared at the prisoners, the German officer still shouting as the soldiers knelt before the armoured car, heads bowed. Turning, he slipped back through the undergrowth, leaves dragging on the lip of his helmet, his body stiffening in shock as he heard the sudden burst of gunfire.

  Muffled shouting and bursts of submachine gun fire, Hausser grabbing Hase’s arm as he dropped into the trench and pulling him down, the major’s muffled shouts ahead, ‘We go into the main complex…kill anyone that does not surrender…’

  Hausser shook his head, ‘Come on my friend…stay close…’

  He lowered further, advancing towards the bunker ahead, the stained and overgrown cement walls rising up before them, the roof smouldering with cracks and potholes beneath the top, toppled sandbags and shattered equipment littering the trench and surrounds. Hase glimpsed a bloodied arm hanging over the roof edge, sucking air in shock as he saw the lines of blood across the weathered cement.

  More gunfire as they neared a low firing point on the right just above them, smoke drifting upwards from the opening as Hausser drew alongside it, the blackened muzzle of a DP28 machine gun pointing skywards. The officer ducked below the hollow, then quickly stole a glance in, his eyes widening in horror as he dropped back and moved further at a crouch, indicating determinedly for Hase to follow, perspiration beginning to glisten across their faces as the sun’s heat increased. The room to their right was blackened inside, fire having engulfed the occupants as a direct shell hit cracked and shattered the roof, the burnt and twisted bodies now entombed in the room as fallen concrete blocked the closed door, the overpowering stench of seared flesh engulfing their senses.

  Progressing further, the MG34s opened fire once more, bullets scything across the earth towards the bunker firing slits, Udet and the others reacting to movement as two Russian helmets had risen to glance out, the young inexperienced soldiers ducking back down in horror as muffled shouts and gunfire from elsewhere in the complex reached their ears.

  Leutnant Hausser raised his MP40 further, staring along the barrel as he stepped cautiously forward, a right bend in the trench ahead as they moved closer. Several explosions as he clenched his teeth, grenades thrown by the defenders along passageways, two Germans accidently walking through tripwires. Screams and then silence, Hausser lifting his head briefly to glimpse th
e Hanomags to the left, the muzzles of the MG34s smouldering, the front plates moving back and forth slowly as he ducked back realising the vehicles they had mounted during darkness were camouflaged, with swirling green and brown lines across the armoured plate.

  Drawing breath, he ducked out to stare into the turn, pushing his body onto the opposite wall and aiming to the left as his back scraped against the solid earth, Hase’s rifle cautiously extending round the bend.

  The trench ahead led into darkness, the emplacements above pock holed with fragments of cement littering the earthed floor. Then light lit up the darkness, the metallic whoosh of flame engulfing the passageway ahead from right to left briefly, Hausser drawing breath as he saw the bodies under the bunker, several smouldering and seemingly twisted together. Edging forward, the stench of burnt flesh filled his nostrils, his eyes clenching as his boots slipped across the debris strewn earth floor.

  Slipping under the scorched cement roof, he stepped over outstretched limbs, swallowing deeply as he realised most of the six torched bodies were of very young soldiers, several obviously clinging to each other as the fire swept over them. His jaw hardened as he looked down upon open red half-cooked flesh, many of the bodies with melted skin and scorched scalps, the uniforms burnt into follicles, wisps of blond and brown hair still smouldering.

  Hase gulped air behind him, feeling the nausea sweep upwards from his stomach, his body shuddering as he retched, dropping to his knees. Hausser turned swiftly, grasping his friend’s upper tunic and dragging him upwards and forward, his own stomach twisting in pained suppression of the rising bile as he coughed. Half supporting Hase, he stepped over burnt and smouldering limbs, feeling his friend shudder as he coughed and retched further, a low sob coming from his lips as he gasped for air.