Tatu then lowered his cigarette, glaring in jest at the man opposite, ‘Silent? You have not spoken in kilometres…damn Italians are no use in the cold, they sulk too much for their pasta and blue Mediterranean!’
Moretti laughed out loud, dusting snow from his padded jacket and leaning forward, a finger pointing incriminatingly at the Romanian, his beard glinting with crystallising frost and brown eyes staring meaningfully, ‘These Italians you speak of have fought in Russia and North Africa as well as Southern France…our supplies are some of the best in the world. You Romanians fight bravely for your country, but only in Russia…yes, you have oilfields, but your tanks are rubbish and your food is too spicy!’
Udet burst out laughing as Tatu’s eyes narrowed in irritation, hearing Petru chuckle behind, flakes flurrying around them as the engine burbled, ‘Spicy! Our national dishes are far superior to any muck the Germans serve up…before Stalingrad, we had regular visits from our Wehrmacht neighbours for food!’ Moretti giggled further as Tatu drew on his cigarette deeply, blowing smoke into the turbulent snowfall as he glared back, then winked, ‘Still…I have to admit your rations are excellent…the tinned ones especially!’
Udet reached forward towards the small stove, the cooking utensil wedged between his boots to secure it, his hands rubbing together, ‘A hot drink for everyone?’ He grinned, indicating painfully to the mess tins lain across the floor, most now full of snow, ‘Our liquid rations have now been replenished!’
Leutnant Hausser turned abruptly from the upper machine gun position and hissing as he shivered, ‘Enough! Houses ahead…and lights…destroyed Russian tanks to either side.’
A muffled volley of shots rang out in the distance, Tatu stiffening and grasping his PPSH, rising next to the commander, his eyes widening as he glimpsed the destroyed burnt hulks of T34s on either side, three on the left and two on the right. His voice lowered, he stared into the distance through the falling heavy flakes, ‘Russkies defended here…sentries ahead at the edge of the hamlet…machine gun positions…’ His voice trailed off as he glimpsed the silhouettes against the white snow, the groups of dishevelled and poorly dressed inhabitants sat grouped together in cold silence across the near open field next to the tanks, two small crackling fires before them comprised of whatever meagre combustible material they could gather at short notice. The figures looked up in abject misery as the engine whined, tracks spinning through the frozen snow as the carrier slowed, his voice still a chilled whisper, ‘Hausser…they will surely die out here in this bitter cold...and soon.’ He stared down at the despondent faces, elderly people and young children huddled together, several seeming bruised or injured, many hugging each other for what meagre warmth they could extract as the heavy snowflakes continued to fall. The pitiful muffled sound of a baby crying in the distance, the mother slumped against a destroyed tank in despondency, cradling her young son tightly in her arms.
Several frozen hands and limbs stretched out from the cold blanket of snow around and between the huddled villagers, the Russian soldiers and tank crews killed as they defended the village against a determined advancing Wehrmacht unit.
Three infantry in padded uniforms stood halfway between the bedraggled groupings and the outskirts to the hamlet, two with rifles across their chests, the other with his weapon strung across his back, the soldiers staring warily at the carrier. Tatu’s grip on his weapon tightened as he whispered determinedly in disgust, ‘Herr Leutnant…Einsatzgruppen…’
Hausser raised his gloved hand for the Romanian to be quiet, ‘This will require some explanation…our major in the north may now have to promoted to an oberst (Colonel) I think…play along, tell the rest they must stay silent and have their rifles ready in their hands!’ Tatu nodded obediently, a faint smile of anticipation and adrenalin sweeping across his face as he turned to whisper to the men behind furtively.
In the front compartment, Petru’s gloved hand swept to Hase’s shoulder in reassurance, the Hiwi grinding his teeth and feeling the fear rise up his spine as he glimpsed the silhouettes across the snow through the side slits, the Romanian whispering, ‘Stay silent…no matter what happens!’ Hase forced his vision forward as he glimpsed the feared soldiers, slowing the halftrack further as a fist banged on the armoured plate above, his ears straining as two of the sentries at the entrance to the village stepped forward, raising their hands for them to stop, another hesitating then moving to join his countrymen. Behind them, light flickered above the low buildings, evidence of a fire beyond, two sandbagged machine gun positions on either side of the track. The buildings were low single storey and typical of the barren steppe, built for protection against the elements, with windows facing into the village, their roofs bowed from heavy snow deposits.
One of the soldiers raised a lantern, shouting demandingly as his eyes narrowed through the thickening snowfall, frozen flakes settling on the front of the armoured carrier, the sentries’ rifles behind held forward, ‘What unit are you?’
Hausser’s distinctive irritated voice echoed around Hase from above, ‘76th Infantry Division…and where are your salutes? I am a commander…I require respect, what is happening here?’
Petru grinned briefly, then his eyes narrowed in anger as the soldier seemed unimpressed and full of contempt, ‘76th Infantry…where are they now…cowering in the rear whilst we fight the Russkies?’ Petru’s hand reached out to pat Hase’s shoulder, realising his friend did not understand, but was becoming distraught with rising anguish.
Leutnant Hausser’s voice rose to a shout in anger as he leant forward in determination, ‘The 76th Infantry Division fell at Stalingrad and we are the remnants, now attached to Grossdeutschland Division.’ He gestured to the field on either side, ‘These are civilians, not enemy soldiers, why are they left out in the cold?’
The robust sentry stepped further forward, Hase staring at his sneering features through the viewing slit in contempt as the man spat onto the bonnet before them, the soldier wearing a heavily padded uniform with ear protectors beneath his helmet, ‘They are the enemy never the less…harbouring Russian soldiers before our advance and helping them escape. They are enemies of the Reich!’
Hausser’s eyes widened in utter hatred, his voice rising further, ‘This is unacceptable! You will salute and will explain to me what is going on here…or I will have my men take you under military arrest pending immediate court martial!’ The young commander hesitated, then continued with rising rage, ‘The sentence can be carried out immediately…and in this field…in front of your defenceless enemy!’ He turned to stare into the rear compartment, projecting his angered voice as if speaking to ten men almost venomously as the miserable grouped silhouettes outside filled his vision once more, ‘Soldiers…arm your weapons…ready two firing squads!’
Udet and Moretti reacted in stunned silence, frantically adjusting their rifles, cracking the bolts back a couple of times as discharged bullets clattered onto the metal floor. Glancing in worry at each other, Moretti shook his head for Udet to be quiet, the young German turning to stare upwards at his commander.
Tatu shouted defiantly with adrenalin from next to the livid and physically trembling commander, glimpsing the other SD men tighten their grips on their rifles as he raised his PPSH submachine gun menacingly, ‘Any other soldier here who wishes to join these three cowards step forward…lower your weapons or we will presume you are disobeying a direct order…you will then be tried immediately in accordance with Wehrmacht military regulations!’
The sentry chuckled defiantly, ‘We report only to the senior military, SS Reichsfuhrer Himmler himself no less…’ He stiffened as he glimpsed Hausser reach for the MG34, the barrel slowly lowering as he swallowed nervously, the two sentries behind taking a step backwards. Lowering his rifle slowly, he reluctantly raised a hand to his helmet, his voice more subservient, ‘…we mean no disrespect Sir…we are just following orders from our hauptmann…he told us to evacuate the village, to persecute those that assisted the enemy.�
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Leutnant Hausser’s eyes narrowed, his voice still raised, ‘So tell me…and my men. What enemy wielding weapons have you actually faced?’ He waved across at the tanks, emotion filling his tone, ‘Were you here for this fight?’
The stout soldier lowered his head, sighing deeply, ‘No Sir…we followed on…’ He shrugged, ‘…in our trucks…they are in the village behind.’
The young commander moved to lean against the upper armoured shield, his tone firm and more controlled as the flakes fell around them, an ominous silence descending, ‘So…you and your men have limited combat experience, other than targeting unarmed locals and civilians…what of partisans?’
The soldier looked up, defiance and hatred filling his eyes, ‘We organise local clearances…those are our orders…we follow them. We are loyal soldiers of the Reich!’
Hausser shouted commandingly, Tatu jumping behind as the officer’s tone rose venomously further, ‘Organise? So you have never faced Russian bullets?’ He shifted as the soldier bowed his head once more, ‘I report to Grossdeutschland Division…directly to an Oberst…shall I arrange for you and your men to spend time on the front lines…to face enemy soldiers directly?’ He shifted further, leaning over the shield, ‘Showing wilful disrespect to an officer of Stalingrad and refusing to respond directly to his challenges…do you think that is the behaviour of a loyal soldier of the Reich?’ His gloved hand rose quickly to his throat, the SD soldier’s eyes widening in horror as he glimpsed the dark Iron Cross against the white padded jacket, ‘You show disrespect to an officer decorated with this medal? This is a disgrace…your unit is a disgrace…perpetrating the deaths of women and children, old people that have lived here all their lives…take me to your commander now! Army Group South and Von Manstein’s headquarters will hear of this in my report!’
The soldier stepped back, shaking his head as he stammered, ‘S-sir…we…’
Hausser pushed the point, waving the man away dismissively, ‘That is enough from you! Take me to your commander…I wish his explanation!’ He spun round, indicating to Udet, ‘Get me the Herr Oberst on the radio, he needs to know of this now…these soldiers will be transferred to front line units with immediate effect…a penal battalion if I have my way!’ He indicated to Tatu, ‘Sergeant! You are in charge of these soldiers until I return…take one man and move the civilians back into the village, allow them to billet with our soldiers…in their own homes. Provide warm drinks and food if available.’
Tatu shivered, nodding in shock at Hausser’s rage as he stiffened, raising a hand in salute, ‘Jawohl, Herr Leutnant!’ His hand grasped the officer’s arm in alarm as he whispered in alarm, ‘Hausser…we have no jurisdiction…these are SD soldiers…’
The officer spun round, inhaling deeply and winking as he attempted to settle his anger, his voice lowered, ‘Einsatzgruppen in a combat zone? The front line is less than two or three kilometres away to our east…they come under Wehrmacht control in the war regulations with no combat experience…they are out of their area, too far forward…’ He sighed in despondency, ‘I lost my temper…Wolff will probably have me for this, but I think I am right…’
Tatu gasped in horror, blinking furiously as frozen flakes settled across his eyebrows, virtually obscuring his vision, ‘You think?’
Chapter Thirty Four: A Village From Hell
The Hanomag churned forward through the snow, Tatu and Sergeant Moretti slamming the rear doors as they dropped into the frozen snow, the sentries stiffening and saluting officially as Hausser stared down, the Romanian quartermaster struggling towards them, his gasping voice rising in the frozen air, ‘Get these people back into the village…’
The young commander lowered, hissing into the front compartment, ‘Petru, back here with me…Hase speaks to no one…protect him!’
The Romanian corporal struggled upwards, slapping the Hiwi on the shoulder and whispering, ‘Stay here…don’t get out, no matter what happens. We are in a situation of our own making…but I believe Hausser will get us through.’ He lowered the wired terrier into his makeshift bed, clicking his tongue, ‘Keep you and the dog safe…’ Hase’s eyes widened as the carrier slipped between the first two low houses, two sentries running forward to either side and shouting at the couple of reserve troops emerging from buildings before them. The nearest subdued a grin and stiffened, the driver recognising them as Fallschirmjager from their rounded helmets as more emerged, the soldiers clicking their heels and saluting the officer above in the carrier, many stifling smiles after they had heard the recent exchange.
The carrier lumbered on, low houses covered in snow to either side, a muffled rifle shot in the distance as Hausser grimaced, turning to Petru and Udet in regret, ‘I may have overstepped my rank, if they place me under arrest you must get out of here with the other two…go back to the farm and stay with the officer there…’
Petru nodded warily, glancing at the bodies of two Russian soldiers in the snow to the side of the track, as the Hanomag rumbled forward slowly, lights flickering from the small shuttered windows on either side, the snowflakes swirling around them as the temperature seemed to drop. His gloved hand grasped Hausser’s arm as he stared into the officer’s bloodshot eyes, clouds of exhaled breath between them, ‘We are with you…you are our commander, but we will go back if you order. Until that command is given, we stay by your side…’
Hausser nodded grimly as Udet spoke into the radio microphone, the carrier slowing as it reached a small square. The young German looked up, ‘Wolff is coming to the radio, Herr Leutnant…I have told them it is urgent.’
The young commander lowered to a crouch, taking the earphones offered and raising them to his head, the static surging through his ears as a voice on the other end wavered, ‘Major Wolff here…Leutnant, I hear this is important?’
Hausser swallowed nervously, ‘Yes Sir, we are at a village near the Donetz…I may have reacted beyond my rank…my apologies.’
Wolff hesitated, turning to look at the radio operator, ‘Very well…what have you done?’
The young commander stiffened in apprehension, ‘There are Einsatzgruppen here…it seems all the civilians have been pushed out into the snow and will die from the cold. I have challenged their soldiers in my anger and have ordered the inhabitants back to billet with our troops…I am sorry, I have placed my men in danger and compromised our orders…’
Petru turned slowly in horror from the front of the Hanomag, gasping, ‘Herr Leutnant…you need to see this…’
Hausser coughed as the increasingly intense cold caught in his throat, ‘One moment please, Herr Major…’
Wolff leant forward as the radio operator offered a light to his cigarette, drawing deeply on the smoke as he listened, hearing the younger officer swear in a hiss, Hausser staring out over the village square. The darkened low buildings were steeped in snow, several soldiers standing in the square with their backs to them, three Opel Blitz lorries and a Kubelwagen parked to the right, their headlight beams shining across the opening towards the armed figures.
Several makeshift gallows had been constructed, the wooden structures frozen and iced ropes taught, his eyes reading the daubed messages across the emaciated dead civilians’ chests, their heads twisted at unnatural angles, the skin tainted blue and purple from the length of time they had been deceased. The frost tinged corpses had been severely tortured, their bloated faces disfigured and covered in dried crusted blood. Finally hung for their supposed crimes, the crimson written signs were in Russian and pinned to their chests, blood lines spread across the whitewashed broken wood, ‘I am a traitor, I helped the fascists!’
At the far end of the square, a line of seven padded uniformed soldiers stood, rifles brandished across their chests. Before them, the crumpled bodies of sixteen civilians that had been shot lay across the blood stained snow, several still twitching as a great coated officer stepped forward, firing indiscriminatingly into the frames with his Luger, the bodies jerking further. To the rig
ht of the corpses stood a small line of several shuffling despondent residents, mostly elderly, three heavily uniformed soldiers guarding the bedraggled queue with raised weapons.
Leutnant Hausser drew a deep breath, his tone becoming more desperate as he spoke into the microphone, ‘Herr Major, they are shooting some of the inhabitants…surely we can intervene and stop them…this is not right!’ He glanced round wide eyed through the falling snow, glimpsing several Russian soldiers’ bodies across the whitened square, the corpse of a German soldier nearby.
Major Wolff stiffened, hearing the anguish in Hausser’s voice and shouting, his radio operator jumping at the outburst, ‘Hausser…listen to me!’
The younger officer stiffened in apprehension, ‘Yes Sir…my apologies!’ He shook his head as more civilians were ushered forward, glimpsing two women amongst the elderly men, the static rising again in his ears.
Major Wolff continued, his tone lowering, but decisive, ‘They are SD in a combat zone…you can take command, but this may prove to be a bad decision in the future…you may make enemies and high ranking ones at that…’ He sighed, feeling the younger man’s pain and frustration, ‘…you have my backing, but do not, I repeat not overstep your position! I want you here to the north with full reports and your men, not in shallow graves on the steppe…they are only Russkies after all…they will turn on you if they get the chance!’ He tensed his grip around the microphone, ‘Ask yourself…would they try to prevent your execution in the hands of the enemy? This is Russia now…even though we are now back in the Ukraine…the Einsatzgruppen have created that.’
The major listened for a response, hearing shuffling, his breath held as he strained his hearing, the earphones pressed against the side of his head, his helmet removed. A burst of heavy machine gun fire, his eyes rolling in response, a low frustrated whisper coming from his lips as he handed the radio microphone and headset back to the operator, ‘Damn stubborn soldier!’ He nodded to the trooper next to him in resignation as he turned away, ‘Admirable principles and intent have got many a good man killed…’ He snatched the helmet from next to the radio, waving his arm despondently, ‘…their bodies lie all across this damn country and one day there may be none left!’
Rise of the Bloodied Phoenix Page 32