Rise of the Bloodied Phoenix

by Andrew McGregor

  Tatu and Leutnant Hausser had stared down ominously at a small burnt out convoy by the side of the track as they ground past, the limbs of half covered frozen bodies extending from the white blanket around three destroyed lorries and small armoured carriers the like of which they had driven south of Stalingrad. The Russian communications unit had been destroyed as they sought cover under the trees days earlier by roaming Bf110 fighter bombers with their ME109 fighter escorts, their commander amazed German aircraft were virtually unopposed in controlling the skies.

  Bodies lay across the fields further south, many now buried under fallen or drifted snow, the soldiers caught in the open by Luftwaffe pilots in their fighters, eager for revenge from what they had seen in previous months…mercy was no longer evident on the Russian Front.

  With heavy strafing of the roads and bombing of any troop concentrations, the rumours of SS Divisions and crack German units spread like wildfire amongst the depleted and demoralised Russian rear echelon and reserve troops. The visibly increasing strength of the Luftwaffe when propaganda had proclaimed the fascists were defeated once and for all had reduced low morale further, the German planes flying almost unopposed at the commencement of rumours of an offensive, the return to the skies of dreaded Stuka dive-bombers proving too much for many.

  Further information that the 1st Guards Army was being attacked and perhaps cut off with Popov’s advancing armour further south surrounded was the final deciding factor, many Russian unit commanders and their men lacking constructive senior leadership as radio messages became more frantic, garbled and desperate…they relied upon information from bedraggled soldiers fleeing northwards. As panic spread, equipment and supplies were simply abandoned as many soldiers and startled leaders heard of enemy units reaching the river bank further south east, the soldiers seeking the sanctuary of defensive positions further north, on the other side of the frozen Donetz River, welcomed by their worried and depleted countrymen.

  The unfortunate units with commissars and staunch communist officers continued forward southwards, urged into a deadly closing trap by senior commanders as their own information was derived from fantasy. That ‘German units were being held further south’, ‘The fascists were retreating after a brief counterattack’ and ‘Russian forward units had experienced initial setbacks’, the communist leadership simply dumbfounded that an offensive of such a scale was possible after the collapse at Stalingrad. The Russian High Command had simply no or little comprehension of what was happening…hesitation and incompetence that would prove fatal for far too many.

  Sergeant Tatu glanced across the snow covered field to his left, indicating to a small farmstead in the distance and sniffing in the cold, ‘Shall we stop there for the night?’

  The young commander shook his head, resting his arms on the armoured shield housing the MG34 machine gun, darkened trees passing in the right, ‘There is a village a couple of kilometres further north…we should rest there…it is apparently in German hands.’ He shrugged as the Romanian wiped his bushy moustache, ‘We don’t know where the Russian straggler units are in the fields and woods around us, the officer behind told me we need to be careful…to not be out of the villages at night, too many partisans and scared Russkies are roaming the countryside!’

  Grinning, Hausser raised his hand in acknowledgement, a German machine gun platoon ahead, their three weapons trained on the fields to their left from shallow emplacements. An officer struggled upwards from a low slit trench, waving in return as the carrier slowed, his eyes widening at the scratched and damaged hull as he shouted, ‘The Russians are everywhere…trying to escape. Shattered units and small squads mostly…where are you heading?’

  Leutnant Hausser smiled, seeing the clouds of exhaled air around the troopers, the helmets beginning to glisten with frost as the soldiers eyed their armoured carrier in jealous irritation, the gunners straining their eyes in the gloom across the fields as the slim officer in his thirties approached, slapping the front armoured plate and saluting informally. Several behind were working in the trees, the young commander raising his right hand to his helmet in response, ‘We will billet in the village to the north…I am told it is held by us…’ He stiffened, feeling the frost across his face, ‘What about you and your men…surely it will be too cold out here?’

  The officer nodded, his expression stiffening as Tatu noticed the deep scars on the man’s face, ‘We have adequate covers for my men, insulated tarpaulin that we are stretching over the defences with increased snow walls…it will be cold, but there are no billets in the houses ahead, the soldiers there have taken them all…pushed the civilians out…we will have no part in that.’ A faint devious smile crossed his lips, ‘There is also a field kitchen nearby…only a couple of hundred metres, so we will have regular warm drinks and food. You are welcome to stay with us, cover your Hanomag under the trees.’

  Hausser’s eyes darkened, his lips pursing as Tatu sighed in irritation next to him, ‘Pushed the residents out…where too? It will be freezing later, even with the cloud cover. What units are ahead, who ordered the civilians out of their homes?’

  The officer shrugged, ‘Cossacks and SD units are there…as well as some Fallschirmjager. The Wehrmacht units are fighting further north…we saw Panzers earlier today as we set up position with artillery units following…you will hear the shellfire from the village.’ The officer swallowed against the gripping cold, pushing his MP40 across his padded shoulder and smiling in greeting to Tatu as the Romanian rested his gloves on the side plate, ‘It’s not pleasant in the village…the Russkies only held it for a couple of weeks, but they took heavy revenge on the population.’ He glanced down despondently, ‘I was up there earlier to check the defences, the SD have taken it upon themselves to wreak havoc with anyone they suspect of assisting the enemy…they have a senior officer, outranking the parachutists and myself…so we could do nothing but protest.’

  Tatu stiffened, drawing a deep breath in distain, ‘What kind are these reprisals and revenge?’

  Hausser’s hand swept onto the Romanian’s arm reassuringly, clearing his throat, ‘No need to explain…we will see when we get there.’ He stared down at the officer, ‘Where are the main Russian forces…our SS?’

  The man stared upwards, wiping his nose as his bloodshot eyes glistened with excitement, ‘The nearest SS are to the north west…breaking through the Russian flanks apparently, or so the radio reports tell us…they should meet up with the Wehrmacht in the next couple of days, then the enemy forces to the south are doomed. We are strengthening our positions on the river, the Russkies behind us to the east on the other side are too weak to attack I think…they are also scared…very. They are not even opposing the forward patrols…occasional shots to warn us off, but other than that they seem happy sitting in foxholes and trenches.’ He glanced upwards into the darkening sky, snowflakes beginning to drift downwards around them, ‘If the sky is clear, the Luftwaffe will fly sorties all day tomorrow…and every day from now on, the Russians are shitting themselves and sticking to the forests and foxholes for cover…’

  Udet’s raised pained voice came from the rear compartment, his ears covered by the radio headphones, Sergeant Moretti grinning at the exaggerated tone as Petru slipped through from the front compartment, ‘Herr Leutnant, radio message for us I think…from Grossdeutschland forward units, a Major Wolff for you.’

  Hausser nodded to the officer below, the man turning and urging his men on, to fully cover the machine gun positions, especially now that it was snowing. The younger commander lowered behind the armoured plate to collect the headphones and microphone from the young German soldier, raising them to his ears and mouth, ‘Leutnant Hausser, Herr Major?’

  Major Wolff grinned as he listened, distant shellfire resounding across his small dugout as the Red Army desperately probed strongly held defensive lines further north, ‘Ah, Herr Hausser…how is our southern advance progressing through your eyes?’

  The young commander smiled
as he instinctively stiffened, Tatu concealing a devious grin as Petru nudged his friend in disapproval, ‘Fine Sir…we are moving northwards beyond Izyum and will soon reach the front lines. Our forward units to the east are digging in on the banks of the Donetz to protect the flanks, the Russkies attacked earlier today to break through, but they were pushed back…we assisted the forward defence…causing some delay. There are reports of Russians attempting to break out through our lines…’ Petru leant down and collected the binoculars Hausser had deposited on the bench, raising them upwards and staring through the lenses to the west and south, the light dimming across a cold sky as the flakes began to fall across the fields.

  Wolff chuckled quietly, glancing round knowingly as his plan came to fruition to his radio operator and junior officers awaiting a briefing, static surging across the set speaker and earphones, ‘Good to hear, Hausser…it should not be long before you join with the main drive north, I need you there as soon as you can after a rest tonight…I want reports on progress…Moscow and Kursk are not far now…’

  Leutnant Hausser’s eyes widened in surprise, then nodded obediently, ‘Yes Sir, we will advance as fast as we can tomorrow…’ He hesitated, then continued, ‘…may I ask Sir, how is the operation going to the north?’

  Major Wolff smiled widely, enjoying the conversation further and warming to the junior officer with his unknowing direct honesty, aware of probable Russian intercepts on their signal, ‘It’s going very well, Leutnant…we have met our objectives so far and expect that to continue…we will meet soon again I think, perhaps in the city itself, or beyond…now is the time for a decisive victory as we advance into the Russian hinterland! I will speak to you again tomorrow…keep you and your men safe…Wolff out.’ He indicated to the radio operator firmly, the soldier nodding and adjusting the set knobs, the signal lost.

  Slowly the major turned, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight of the bunker, ‘Well gentlemen, we have created realistic radio traffic for our Russkie friends and I have a reliable source for updates…I think Leutnant Hausser and his men will be joining us for a while, perhaps permanently…they are valuable.’ He rubbed his stubbled chin as a muffled explosion erupted outside, his voice seeming reflective as he thought, ‘This is the time to beat the Russkies…they have fear again, I can sense it.’ He nodded to one of his junior officers, ‘As they advance further, you will go south and find these soldiers…I have a view to giving him a command, see how he does…’ Two officers grinned, considering their commander was jesting. The major scowled in response as his hands rose to his hips, his tone escalating in disbelief and distain, ‘These are men that survived Stalingrad…you will show some damn respect!’

  Petru scanned the low farmstead ahead, his view obstructed by the falling snow as he grimaced, glimpsing smoke rising from the lone chimney, a light flickering behind one of the boarded windows. Panning the glasses across, he noted a low snow covered barn nearby, smiling as he imagined perhaps cows and Panje horses lying next to each other for warmth inside, the stale familiar aroma of excrement and sodden animal hair filling the air, his fondness for the innocent beasts rising in his chest.

  Beyond the farm, the fields stretched for some distance, the ground undulating before reaching the darkness of high trees, seeming to stretch along the horizon in either direction. Considering the machine guns were ideally placed in clear weather, he shook his head at the possibility of an attack in darkness, the enemy able to advance almost undetected after nightfall.

  He lowered his voice as Hausser rose next to him, ‘We should stay with these men Herr Leutnant, they are exposed in a bad position during darkness…their officer was over eager to place them near to the field kitchen, but has not even posted sentries and the frost will soon be upon them.’ He pointed out as the commander nodded, indicating for him to continue, ‘Any Russians can form up behind the farmhouse and buildings, get warm by the fire and launch an attack during darkness, they will be upon the guns before the cold soldiers can react.’

  Petru handed the binoculars to Hausser, the Leutnant raising them to his eyes as the snow continued to fall, flakes resting on their shoulders as they shivered. The young commander nodded, ‘Good observation, if they placed their machine guns in the barn and farm they would force any Russkies out into the open, use the cold against them…they would have a line of fire across either side of the field…a great defence. The enemy would have to stay in the woods or move to the north or south…either way, we would force their hand…’ He swallowed nervously, lowering the glasses and nudging the Romanian, ‘I have a feeling our kind officer has not been in Russia long…I wonder how he will take our advice…’ He shrugged, ‘We are about to find out…’

  Hausser turned, raising his voice as he beckoned to the officer near the trees, ‘Mein Herr! Kommen Sie, Bitte (Sir, come here please)!’

  The captain in his thirties nodded in startled amusement, struggling over a low snow wall as he slipped, his disgruntled soldiers continuing to work on the defences as ordered. Steadying himself and grinning, he stepped further through the snow, glancing to either side as he approached the rear doors of the Hanomag, Tatu reluctantly opening them from the inside.

  Struggling upwards, he smiled expectantly, Udet moving to one side painfully as he glimpsed the man’s scars, his eyes widening in sympathy. Rising next to Hausser, the captain stared into the falling snow, ‘What have you seen, gentlemen?’

  Hausser nudged Petru, his voice low, ‘My corporal has an idea, but first I would like to ask how long you have been in the east?’

  The captain grinned in surprise, deciding to be completely honest as his eyes strained, ‘Not long, a month at most. I was transferred from Norway after upsetting a general…drunk on duty and late for a briefing in Narvik, the Kubelwagen broke down…’ He shook his head in despondency, ‘I have tried to gain the respect of the men, but they are suspicious of why I am here…I have heard their mutterings and see the subdued glares as I give orders.’ He sighed, continuing to shake his head, ‘They are good troops, but their officer was badly wounded and sent back to Germany…I think they miss him a lot…I am no comparison and I know it, he was very experienced.’

  Tatu grunted behind, Petru staring at the officer, his mood mellowing as he glimpsed the openness in the man’s eyes, ‘May I speak freely, Herr Hauptmann?’

  The captain nodded willingly, his eyes widening, ‘Yes, why not…please do…’

  The Romanian corporal continued, his voice becoming more urgent as he realised the light was fading, ‘I respect your honesty, but you have organised your defence with weaknesses. This is Russia…the inhabitants now mostly hate us and are very used to war…move your machine guns up to the farmhouse and barn, their arcs covering the fields to the west and either side. Your men will be warm and comfortable, and even more importantly…alert…any Russkies will be very cold. Explain to them that this is a fall-back position and arrange for adequate supplies to be brought up from the field kitchen for the night.’ He extended his hand, pointing towards the darkened buildings ahead, ‘From the rising smoke, they have a fire to warm any provisions…provide the farmer and his family with food and drink and they will help you…probably be more comfortable with the protection once they realise you are Wehrmacht and not SD or Cossacks. At the moment, they are in the firing line and I imagine, very scared…they are not stupid, this land has changed ownership many times over the last two years.’

  Leutnant Hausser interjected, raising the binoculars once more, ‘Move one machine gun up at a time with adequate riflemen support…your men will advance quickly once they know they will be in the warmth. Once the first gun is set up, move up the next and so on…we will go on to the village and then return to assist you once we have established what is happening there.’

  He grimaced, gritting his teeth in anticipation of the impending task, ‘We report to a major of Grossdeutschland Division to the north, I will use his authority to ensure the locals ahead are cared for no matter w
hat the damn SD are up to, then come back. There are enough partisans out in the woods without us creating more…’ He moved the glasses across the falling snow again, ‘You have maybe twenty minutes before it is dark and from the heavy cloud cover and falling snow, it will be very dark…ideal for a Russian assault on your current position.’ He glanced round, lowering the glasses temporarily, his expression grim, ‘If we were attacking you, we would creep up in the snow, surprise you on your flanks through the trees and then front…it would only take minutes before we were gone. I am sorry, Herr Hauptmann, but this is not Norway now.’

  The captain nodded wide eyed, his pupils glistening as he spoke softly, ‘I will tell my men…we move up immediately and I request you to be back within the hour…please.’

  Udet grinned with rising adrenalin from behind, wincing as pain shot through his padded ribs, Sergeant Moretti shaking his head in dread as the young German raised his voice, ‘Don’t worry, Herr Hauptmann, we will be back. We are the remains of the 76th Infantry Division from Stalingrad…another few kilometres are nothing…the ghosts of the frozen steppe are with us!’

  The officer gasped as he glanced round in surprise at the retort, ‘Y-you are from Stalingrad?’

  Chapter Thirty Three: Gaining Entry

  The Hanomag lumbered on, snow billowing into the rear compartment as Tatu drew on his cigarette, shaking his head and grinning tauntingly as he stared at Udet, imitating his voice, ‘The ghosts of the frozen steppe are with us? Dummkopf!’

  The young German stuck his tongue out in response as Sergeant Moretti giggled, a cloud of frozen exhaled breath rising from his lips, ‘At least he said something…you were very quiet…grumpy silent Romanians!’ Udet adjusted his seated position, his upper body covered with two oversized padded jackets, the Romanian gesturing further towards him in humour.