Hausser’s fists were clenched by his sides, anger engulfing his frame as he turned abruptly away, Major Wolff indicating to his startled radio operator on the other side of the narrow bunker to pour a drink, waving his hand reassuringly to address the younger man’s obvious concerns. Heinrich nodded, struggling upwards with a heavily bandaged arm in a sling, the major reaching for his cigarettes as the officer before him composed himself, Hausser’s hand pinching the brow of his nose in exhaustion.
Slowly the officer turned to face the major once more, the Leutnant’s face still flushed, his eyes bloodshot and heavily lined as he spoke, ‘My apologies Herr Major, it’s just our men believed...and so did I…this will do nothing for them. We may hold ground or take it, but we are losing men to achieve this…valuable men, soldiers I know…’
The major’s expression softened, his hand extending with a cigarette, ‘Have a seat and we shall discuss it. Let’s get you a drink and more relaxed, we have to plan this correctly or the Russkies will not want us to go...if they attack when we are pulling away there could be a slaughter...3rd Panzer Division must be able to advance and cover our flank to ensure victory.’
Leutnant Hausser nodded grimly, placing the cigarette between his teeth and accepting the drink from Heinrich, coughing as the major raised his lighter, the flame flickering in the draft. Glancing round, he realised the Russian bunker he had just entered was dimly lit, the three men standing near the entrance, muffled shots just audible in the distance. Narrow at one end and wider at the other, the bunker had only one small doorway covered in branches and bushes, ideal for concealment or to possibly confuse attackers. At the more open end, a small chair and table for the radio operator, the set burbling upon it with a low candle burning above, smoke drifting upwards in the musky low ceilinged room, a thin cloud of smoke gathered below the ceiling. The roof was constructed of heavy logs and thickly packed earth, ideal for cover and protection in all events other than a direct hit. Two low bunks lined the walls with a makeshift bench between for meetings, at other times, the major and his radio operator taking it in turns to snatch some sleep whilst the other manned the set.
The Leutnant followed the major’s outstretched hand, lowering himself wearily onto the bench whilst the superior officer sat on his bunk opposite, Heinrich returning to the radio set and painfully donning his headphones as the two men behind blew smoke upwards in silence.
Major Wolff raised his metal tumbler, smiling warmly at the exhausted junior officer, ‘Prost, Herr Hausser…don’t take it too much to heart…our job is to continue the advance and follow our orders.’
Leutnant Hausser stared directly at him, his eyes narrowing as his voice lowered, ‘I understand that, but it still does not make me feel any better or bring those young men back…’
He slugged the small cup back, wincing and shaking his head at the power of the harsh liquid, the major grinning, ‘Commissar vodka…we found it in a hidden cache beneath another bunker, the Russkies must have been running too fast to remember to pick them up or they were hiding it from their own troops…’
Hausser chuckled ironically, shaking his head in disgust as the major picked up the ceramic flask from the grimy cracked floorboards, gesturing towards him, then topping both the tumblers up. Lowering the flask once more, he downed his own metal cup, the senior officer watching his subordinate intently as he spoke, ‘Even in this madness there are favourites and games…little ‘comforts’ for the elite, you should know that, it is the same in our army…’
The Leutnant’s head swept back as he downed the next tumbler, coughing once more and raising the cigarette to his mouth, his bleary eyes staring at the major in determination, ‘Very well, what is the plan? I want to get the rest of my men out of here if we are moving elsewhere…I also need to get back to them.’ He ducked slightly in reaction as a muffled explosion erupted nearby, dust drifting down from the logs above, the radio operator wincing as another detonation occurred further east, then another followed by the rattle of a machine gun.
Major Wolff nodded solemnly, ‘I have already briefed the other officers in my sector…you are the furthest forward from me, so I left you until last. You will all have your own maps prepared by Heinrich and myself.’ He drew on his cigarette quickly, glancing round at the radio operator as Heinrich began scribbling on his notepad furiously, ‘There will be a rear-guard to support our redirection initially, but not your men. I have planned each unit to leave at different times…we will slowly move across to the attack the Russkie flank…I imagine being harassed by enemy aircraft and possible flanking attacks from the north.’ He leant forward, looking into Hausser’s eyes, ‘This will be very dangerous if the Russkies find out what we are doing too early…I think they suspect something, the patrols are becoming more ambitious and probing. If we did not have our artillery and Panzers as protection, then I think we would really be in trouble.’ He swigged from his drink once more nervously, ‘I have marked the places where some units will stop as others move past to hit the Russkies hard if they probe our northern flank…you will have one of these points with some Stug III and pak support. The Luftwaffe have also assigned fighters and dive bombers to our sector for the movement.’
Leutnant Hausser nodded in agreement, extending his tumbler once more as the major grinned in surprise, ‘So, when do we leave the line Herr Major?’
Quartermaster sergeant Tatu stared out through binoculars, his lips pursed as he observed the Russian lines in the distance, Petru ducked next to him behind the thicket, the low trench with prized hill behind overlooking open undulating grassland and in the distance, a large grain field with a track and forest beyond. On either side, woodland and the smouldering buildings of two hamlets lined the wide expanse, the fields offering little cover as they led towards the Russian trenches and gun positions, the land dotted with numerous mines and anti-tank obstacles or ditches. At the far end of the open land, a small destroyed farmhouse and outbuildings were situated just behind where they believed the enemy to be, the dugouts and lines across the terrain indicating a defence in depth, Tatu envisaging there would be considerable obstacles in the grain field, smoke plumes rising on the horizon from burning supplies and a recent Luftwaffe ground attack.
The Romanian squad leader slipped back beneath the wall of the trench with his countryman, the German positions before the low brow of a slope, originally the Russian rear line for defences behind them. Several distant shots rang out, a skirmish developing in the forest to the east between two opposing forward patrols.
Glancing round at the nervous lowered soldiers of their squad, Tatu continued, ‘The next part of any advance will be difficult...let us hope the Panzers are available in considerable numbers for cover...this is all open ground.’ He sighed, sitting back and lowering himself further, ‘These Russkies are tougher than before...they don’t give ground easily. They are no fun and I think they want to retake our hill 260.8…they do not like us here.’
Petru grinned, pushing his countryman back onto the dried earth, both men glistening in sweat from the intense July heat, ‘When did you become a strategist?’ He giggled further, more muffled shots and an explosion in the distance, ‘Von Manstein has nothing to fear from you, silly old fool. The Germans will pound the Russkies with artillery, then dive bomb them...there will be nothing left to fight when we attack with tanks, they will run again like mice...’
Petru stuck his tongue out as Tatu grimaced, rolling over onto his side and grunting before glaring back at him, the other soldiers on either side chuckling as he flushed with embarrassment, Petru continuing, ‘Perhaps your strategy in cooking with limited supplies was excellent, the food and drink good...apart from your obsession with spice, but now you only have your beloved Russian submachine gun not a damn spoon and your favourite pots and pans are all gone...the Russkies are using them now in the south.’
Tatu pursed his lips, grinning back at his friend and extending a hand for assistance as he glanced round at the others, ‘We
can’t even make furniture here either...damn Russkies and Germans will only shoot at it, blow it up or drive tanks over it...that’s all they know how to do.’ He groaned as Petru dragged him up to a seated position, ‘I miss our cooking...people smile, they thank you...some even liked the taste. Now we have to eat the German rubbish they give as supplies and everyone shoots at us. I will speak to the Leutnant and see if we can make our platoon a feast when it goes quiet. Food for thirty men and a party with Romanian brandy...that will cheer them all up.’
Petru rolled his eyes in distain and irritation, ‘Silly fool...it’s only twenty one men now and that includes all of us oldies. If you don’t cook soon, we will be able to get the whole unit around one table. The Russkies will then only ruin it by shelling...’ He grinned thoughtfully, ‘...we could invite them though. Now that would be a party, though they drink and burp too much from what I can remember...no manners.’
Tatu shrugged in jest, ‘The more the merrier...perhaps we can persuade them to stop shooting at us for a time...’ He grinned mischievously, ‘...or give them the runs with spice and chillies, either way we will be safe for a while.’ The sergeant glanced round, stiffening and pulling his body upwards as he glimpsed Hausser progress towards them along the trench, the young commander half crouched and chatting briefly to each soldier, patting them on the back or shoulders for encouragement.
Chuckling, the Romanian then slumped back flamboyantly in mock pain, grinning widely as Hausser waved at them to remain lying opposite each other in the trench, Petru’s eyes narrowing in annoyance. The officer chuckled at the two of them as he lowered to one knee, his MP40 in one hand by his thigh, ‘I see you two are enjoying the sun and getting a tan…you are not by the sea in Romania or even Italy now.’
Petru winced, ‘Now that is something to dream about…’ He gestured towards his friend, ‘Tatu was devising a menu to poison our Russian friends across the field...we intend to invite them for dinner this evening.’
Leutnant Hausser’s eyes widened as he grinned, Tatu interjecting, ‘I have decided to open a bistro after the war, then I can feed who I like with what I like…we will also make the furniture piece by piece, then we can guarantee the quality. No one will be permitted to complain in my restaurant and the menu will offer German, Romanian, Italian and Russian food. My bistro will also be very cold in winter and hot in summer…that should remind us all of our adventures. I will put dust and snow into the food to add to our memories, perhaps insects too.’
Hausser’s eyebrows rose in curiosity, ‘So where will this soup kitchen be? Somewhere is Russia?’ He glanced round as a burst of machine gun fire sounded to the west with several isolated rifle shots following.
Tatu grimaced, then thought for a second, several of the smiling German soldiers listening to the exchange intently, ‘Bah! No…my beloved Romania or Berlin…I have never been to your city and would like to go. Besides, if we move there I can use Udet as a waiter then…Hase too. Petru and I will cook and you Herr Leutnant…’ His grin widened as he winked at his countryman, ‘…you can be our concierge. Show people to their tables and take the money. I trust you…’
Leutnant Hausser shook his head, still smiling, ‘Well, thank you for such a fantastic offer and compliment.’ Then his jaw tightened, ‘Unfortunately, although I wish this dream to continue, I think the war will prevent us…unless that is you have visions of opening the next Adlon Hotel…now that would be impressive.’ He lowered to sit in the trench, his expression becoming more serious as the two Romanians stiffened in reaction, ‘We may never see Oboyan gentlemen…we are to withdraw from these positions later today as 3rd Panzer Division needs our help to the west. There will be rear guard units to prevent Ivan probing us from the north too closely and we will move towards Hill 243 and 247, then attack first light tomorrow.’
Tatu clenched his fists, shaking his head in disgust as he spat onto the trench floor, ‘We have to help others after all this…why? We are just moving from east to west and then probably back again…what about advancing north?’
Petru’s head dropped, his eyes straining as he whispered, ‘We have lost young soldiers taking this ground and these damn hills…now we just give it up to move somewhere else…’
Hausser nodded grimly, ‘I know, but apparently the Russkies may attack in force in the far north soon…they are afraid they may do the same here. We have come too far, if they launch an offensive against the south eastern flank and breakthrough we could be cut off and surrounded.’ He drew a deep breath, ‘We all know what that is like…and I don’t want to go through it again. The major says we will attack towards Hill 243 with powerful Panzer forces…once 3rd Panzer is moving again; the Russians will be too scared to attack apparently.’
Tatu sighed despondently, ‘Very well…if you explain it like that, then I think we should move too. What of the Panzers and your air force…I thought we were winning?’
Hausser shook his head, ‘Here and the SS to the east are doing well…but the rest are bogged down or some even withdrawing already in the north…they were unable to break through. There is talk of large Russian reserves and even that the Luftwaffe are struggling against more and more enemy aircraft…we need to move to strike a final blow…concentrate our forces.’
Tatu’s eyes widened, glancing at the morose Petru before his eyes narrowed in determination, ‘So what is the plan…when will we be the rear or flanking guard?’
The Leutnant patted Petru’s lower arm reassuringly, ‘We will move at night to conceal the changeover from the Russkies.’ Then he looked up and stared into Tatu’s eyes, ‘We split the men into two groups now…you lead one and I will lead the other. There will be a heavy artillery barrage this evening and we will start to leave then covered by the Luftwaffe. We are to advance…erm, well, move to the high ground leading to the hill in the west…that is where we deploy along with some other sections and the rest of the division. We will then attack at first light, drive north west and take the Russian defences to allow the 3rd to move up. The SS will be covering our right flank; they also have a similar task…we will also apparently be provided with Stugs as support as well as our own Panzers.’
Tatu nodded, thinking for a second, his hand running nervously over his moustache, ‘It will be dangerous…disengaging and relocating is never easy, especially with these damn Russkies…they have no mercy. I will get the men ready to move Hausser, then we can go over the route together?’
The young commander smiled briefly, ‘Good…there is another squad joining with us as well and we will split them between us…they lost their commander yesterday to a sniper. I will go and locate their soldiers and arrange where their men will meet us.’
Then his eyes darkened, dull thumps echoing from the north as he stretched upwards, glimpsing black dots in the distant sky, his body slumping downwards as he shouted, ‘Take cover…Artillerie and enemy planes!’
Situation Report:
Army Group Centre:
The northern commanders met on 9th July, agreeing that 9th Army lacked the strength to break through the Russian defences, but that pressure should be maintained to assist the southern front in the hope that a victory there could reset the balance.
Further agreement was made for an all-out push the following day against Olkhovatka, a last optimistic attempt to break through the Russian lines.
Army Group South:
Heavy fighting as units of II SS Panzer Corps were used to break Soviet defensive resistance on either side for neighbouring Wehrmacht units to advance. The first German infantry units reached the Psel River under heavy fire. Despite slow progress (but still a surprise to Soviet commanders), German morale was high with low tank losses albeit the unreliable Panthers. Concern moved to the eastern flank where Army Detachment Kempf had stalled, unable to bring all its forces to bear across the Donetz River.
Chapter Twenty Five: Fallschirmjagers in Sicily
Historical Backdrop (some Author Opinion included):
O
n May 12th 1943, the Deutsches Afrika Corps (DAK) surrendered in North Africa, ending over two years of fighting in blistering heat and sand, the severe temperature at night sometimes rivalling Russia. Infamous for the exploits of Erwin Rommel (the Desert Fox), the DAK had advanced as far as El Alamein, panic spreading through Cairo and the Middle East as the prospects of a German link up in Syria or Southern Russia on the other side of the Mediterranean actually became a possibility in Axis and some Allied minds.
But it was not to be, the cunning positioning of Montgomery’s defensive forces on the narrowest section of land available for tanks, bled the German and Italian forces, before a devastating counter offensive pushed them back. The swinging pendulum of the North African campaign would now only move in one direction, the Americans were readying their own surprise with Axis supply and reinforcement ships regularly being prevented from reaching a beleaguered and more isolated DAK across the Mediterranean.
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