Rise of the Bloodied Phoenix

by Andrew McGregor

  The tracks cracked over branches, the engine whining once more as Hausser shouted triumphantly, ‘Look for a way into the field to the right…I see the defensive snow wall in the trees!’

  They jumped as a muffled burst of machine gun fire echoed from the right, the crack of rifles and a distant explosion. Hausser slammed his fist down on the upper armoured plate as Petru struggled from the front, the Hanomag jerking as the two upper figures leant forward, staring into the billowing flakes, Moretti grasping the side frantically as he was thrown backwards.

  Hase screamed as he spun the controls, ‘Hold On!’ The engine roared as the Hanomag swerved to the right, bouncing into the ditch and churning forward, the tracks squealing as the vehicle rose up, tyres spinning before falling back into the deep snow, wood cracking on either side as the dishevelled and frozen border fence cracked and shattered under the oncoming heavy weight.

  Tatu swore loudly, his body thrown into Hausser, the young commander grimacing as he struggled to stay upright, the Hanomag slewing sideways in the snow as Hase fought for grip, the engine rising in intensity as the tracks spun.

  Shouts from outside, Hausser grasping Tatu and pulling him downwards as rifle bullets clunked against the hull, a large group of Russians having been stealthily moving across the darkened field under the cover of the snowfall and night. A muffled explosion, debris thrown into the back of the Hanomag as Udet struggled upwards clutching his rifle, Petru ducked behind the upper shield as he fumbled for the machine gun trigger.

  The tracks spun, Hase gritting his teeth in frustration as the vehicle jolted back and forth, sparks flying across his vision as the Russian riflemen fired towards the roaring engine, the cracking and squealing of roots beneath. His hand rose abruptly across his eyes for protection as flames suddenly erupted across the front bonnet, his pupils contracting rapidly as fire surged through the viewing slits, acrid smoke filling the front cabin. Hase squealed in terror as the flames surged across his chest, feeling the intense heat flow over him briefly, Udet struggling into the front compartment and sweeping a blanket over the Russian as the dog barked furiously, Petru above ducking down further.

  Another grenade erupted nearby, throwing frozen earth and snow across the Hanomag, the engine burbling as Hase and Udet frantically put out the flames, the Molotov cocktail having smashed against the front hull. Hausser shouted frantically from the rear compartment as he scrambled upwards, wary that a further grenade dropping amongst them would be fatal for all, ‘Get us moving!’ He gasped in frustration as Tatu fell to his knees, grasping for a box under one of the benches, Moretti raising his rifle above his head to fire out into the darkness.

  Muffled shouts in Russian outside as bullets clanked off the armoured plate, the engine roaring once more as the tracks spun, flames still flickering on the front armour as acrid smoke swept through the viewing slits. A burst of the upper MG34 machine gun, bullets flying wildly around and high as Petru ducked down, projectiles bouncing and ricocheting off the top shield, the muzzle flashing as several of the Russian infantry dropped instinctively into the snow for cover.

  Hausser rose up, ducking below the upper plate as he raised his MP40, firing a burst blindly over the side, desperate to deter any enemy soldier with a grenade, the engine screaming as Hase attempted to move the Hanomag, exhaust fumes billowing into the falling snow behind them.

  A grenade clunked against the side, the subsequent explosion shaking the Hanomag as Tatu prized the top of the box open, grasping three Model 24 Stielhandgranate and tossing one to Moretti. Fumbling with the screw bases, he shrieked in anger, dragging the gloves from his hands, the frosted metal stinging his palms.

  Heavy machine gun bullets clattered deafeningly against the exposed side, an MG34 from the farmhouse firing blindly towards the gunfire and explosions, the chatter of two other guns filling the field. Roots shrieked and cracked as the tracks spun, tearing at the concealed wood, the Hanomag jolting forward as it gained grip, the carrier slipping and surging through the deep iced snow.

  The SdKfz 251 slewed across the snow, flakes sweeping into the back compartment as screams of anger from outside filled the air, the bedraggled Russian infantry rising to run at half crouches towards the track and possible freedom, the Hanomag gathering speed as Hase strained to see through bloodshot tearful eyes, his jacket smoldering and scorched.

  Tatu tossed a grenade over the side, the muffled explosion behind causing a scream, the carrier turning in a wide circle. Hase and Udet glimpsed silhouettes through the viewing slits, the Russian soldiers diving out of the way in alarm as the weak forward lights pierced the heavy snowfall nearby.

  Slewing round further, the bodies in the rear jolted back and forth, sporadic clanks against the hull and rear doors as the soldiers frantically grasped for support. Hase gritted his teeth, the engine roaring once more as the carrier turned further, Udet shrieking as his body shook, two explosions on either side obscuring vision as dirt cascaded across the front bonnet.

  The remaining Russians realized their opportunity, rising up from the snow and running towards the track, the Hanomag roaring behind many as Hase fought the controls, glimpsing lights ahead through the snowstorm, the farmhouse and barn only a few metres before them.

  Sliding to a near halt, the gunfire decreased, the occasional bullet cracking against the hull as the Russian infantry lumbered past through deep snow and darkness on either side. Edging further forward, Hase pulled the armoured carrier up next to the barn, turning to face the woods at an angle, Petru now behind the upper shield, his shoulder against the butt of the MG34.

  A muffled shout from inside the barn rang out, an MG34 opening fire again, ‘Get inside…they are all around us!’

  Petru turned from the upper shield, hissing at Hausser and the other two, ‘There is a low snow and log wall between the two structures…some cover at least. The machine gunners have made some defenses.’

  Dim light spilled from the farmhouse doorway, Petru recognising the officer from earlier as the man gestured frantically, ‘Come inside…we have some rations! The Russkies seem to be moving past…we hit several of them!’

  Leutnant Hausser rose to below the armoured plate, shouting back his reply, ‘We will take it in turns…we cannot leave the carrier…two will stay with it at all times, we will try and move it further between the buildings for cover.’

  The officer waved in understanding to Petru, closing the door, Hausser slumping back onto the bench as he exhaled heavily, staring round in curiosity, ‘Everyone alright?’ He glanced round, realising the fields had fallen into almost silence, a low muffled mooing from the barn making him smile.

  Tatu winced, nodding as he glanced at Moretti, the Italian breathing heavily, the shock rising within his chest, his voice low as he forced a grin, ‘N-next time we have an Italian night out…I will bring the wine!’

  Hausser nodded grimly, ‘We post a sentry on the front and back of the carrier, pull the cover over most of the rear compartment. I will get Hase to pull the Hanomag further forward…that will give us a clear view east and west, the farmhouse and barn covering the north and south.’ He nodded to Tatu as the MG34s fired quick bursts out in either direction, ‘They are warning the Russkies off rather than engaging them…I think we were unlucky, perhaps driving into a group of them that are escaping northwards towards the Donetz and the lines.’

  Tatu nodded, ‘Udet and Hase struggling from the front compartment, the three men’s eyes widening as they glimpsed the dirt smeared faces, faces flushed and slightly blackened, Hase’s jacket smeared with soot. The Romanian quartermaster gritted his teeth in concern, ‘Are you two alright?’

  Both of the weary soldiers nodded grimly, Udet indicating to the stove as Moretti glanced cautiously over the rear of the Hanomag, ‘I will make some warm drinks…have they got any food?’

  Tatu pulled the box of grenades towards him, collecting three and moving towards the rear of the compartment, depositing them next to the Italian, the remainder le
ft near the front, his eyes strained as he muttered, ‘They should have some cooked by now…unless they have eaten it all, greedy Germans. What have we got left?’

  Udet shrugged despondently, ‘Only bread now and some jam I think…I should have asked for more at the village…’

  The young commander grinned, ‘We can get something tomorrow…as long as we have something. The gunners should at least have some supplies…’

  Hase lowered himself next to Hausser, grinning sheepishly as he whispered, ‘Thought I was going to go up in flames…Udet smothered the fire that swept through into the driver’s compartment.’ He shook his helmeted head, lowering it into his hands, ‘That was close…the tracks stuck. I am sorry I could not get it moving sooner.’

  Hausser slapped his shoulder in reassurance, ‘But you got it going again…probably saved us. Heaven knows how many Russkies there were in the dark.’ He sighed, ‘I will pull it forward between the two buildings…we will sit here for the night, get the stove working to warm the rear section.’ The commander grinned, ‘A good driver…you will stay in the Hanomag I think…too many Russians around and trigger happy machine gunners. I will complete sentry duty with you to ensure there are no problems. Hase and I will take first watch, Tatu and Petru the second with Moretti and Udet the last, I will be with you too…now let’s get some food and warm drinks…’ He indicated to Petru and Tatu, ‘…go and see if we can get some rations from the machine gun section.’ The commander moved forward towards the driver’s compartment, glancing over his shoulder, ‘Hopefully they have hot stew…I am hungry now.’

  Slipping through the pitch black trees, the three young Russians held their breath, hearing muffled German voices on either side, the disgruntled cold enemy sentries sitting in foxholes within the cover of undergrowth and low snow laden branches.

  Stepping carefully, they slid their boots forward silently, feeling for roots or branches that may sound an alarm if broken by a careless placing. Remaining silent, they slipped between two defensive positions, feeling the bitter chill of exposed air as they neared the edge of the trees. Stifling gasps as the freezing cold enveloped them, they lowered to crawl out from the trees, the iced snow seeming to sting their hands and legs as they moved forward.

  Dull pain swept across their temples, the fear and hunger spurring them on over the agony of the cold, heavy flakes falling across their bodies as the land declined before them. They made slow progress, eventually reaching the iced water’s edge, clouds of exhaled breath swirling around them as they gritted their teeth, stepping gingerly onto the frozen river.

  Holding onto each other’s shoulders for support, they crept forward, ears straining for a sudden shot or shout of alarm, the burst of machine gun fire that may end their now miserable lives. It took seventeen terrifying minutes for them to cross, the disorientation and concern filling their conscious thoughts, worn boots slipping on the iced surface, stopping in abject horror as the frozen water suddenly shifted and cracked beneath. Finally reaching the northern bank, they lowered to crouches, gasping in the freezing cold air as it bit at their chests and skin, the older soldier pushing the younger two before him and warned them to stay low as he glanced back fearfully.

  Creeping up the slope, their boots slipped and slid on the snow, the exposed surface iced and unforgiving, blood shot eyes glancing from side to side warily for the signs of defensive positions, their bodies shaking in fright and from the cold. Then the older soldier grinned, seeing the dim flicker of a light ahead, the murmur of voices as he called out in the same language, ‘Don’t shoot Comrades! Russkie soldiers coming in!’

  The crack of rifle bolts as they ducked instinctively in fear, their breath held as they waited, then grins forming as tears of emotion filled their eyes, the startled hissed voice returned, ‘Come forward Comrades…have your weapons lowered!’

  Chapter Thirty Six: The New Day

  Major Wolff sipped from his tea, pushing the half consumed food on the metal plate from the edge of the makeshift table and smiling at the radio operator opposite, the young man shovelling the remnants of his stew into a grinning mouth, ‘So you were hungry after all?’ He smiled thoughtfully as the soldier nodded, the officer lighting a cigarette and blowing blue-grey smoke upwards. Sitting in the basement of a heavily damaged Russian house, the room was relatively dark, candles and an oil lantern flickering in the stale air, the ceiling plaster cracked with exposed beams, several makeshift tables with maps and radio equipment covered in a thin layer of dust. Two further officers read the scribbled reports behind, one raising the radio headphones to his ear as the operator frowned, considering he may be viewed as inadequate as not being at his designated station, the major indicating firmly for him to continue eating.

  The walls showed the test of time, smeared with dirt and splintered plaster, the building above half collapsed. Muffled shellfire resounded in the distance, Grossdeutschland’s guns firing out towards the Russian positions, the return fire less frequent, most Russian batteries having been overrun in the last few days. The major watched his operator chew on another mouthful, clearing his throat as he smiled respectfully, ‘All night on the radio? You must have breaks…I need you alert during the day too…you sleep only one or two hours at most and then only when I order it!’

  The young man nodded, chewing the meat ravenously, his staple diet of coffee substitute and cigarettes keeping him awake but at the expense of his health, dark lines under bloodshot eyes, the eagerness to please his superior and personally assist the advance through duty beginning to seemingly drain his soul, the youngster looking older than his years.

  Wolff leant forward as the younger man sat back, the officer stubbing his cigarette out onto the plate before him, ‘Today you will go to the rear…sleep until tomorrow and then return at first light.’ He grinned as the radio operator grimaced, leaning forward to speak, the major’s hand rising to dismiss his objection, ‘That is a direct order. I will not have you making a mistake through exhaustion, it could cost lives and you would never recover mentally. Have yourself some fun this morning…there are apparently some women of disrepute at the supply depot…they will provide you with some amusement before you sleep soundly.’ He smiled widely, ‘Just don’t come back with any disease…’

  The young soldier nodded, his matted blonde hair clinging to chiselled features, tired widening eyes deep blue, ‘Jawohl, Herr Major…’ He hesitated, the major indicating with a grin and nod for him to continue, the soldier raising his laden metal spoon to shovel more of the warm food into his mouth, ‘…I wish to come back this evening, Herr Major.’

  Wolff shook his head, ‘No, young Heinrich…tomorrow will be the only time, a man of your age must have some fun during war. The battle will intensify as we move further eastwards and I will need you…this is your time for some rest, not then.’ He grinned further, reaching forward and rubbing the soldier’s greasy hair reassuringly, sensing the young man’s concern, ‘You are my radio operator…you will never be replaced, I need you. I am seeking your best performance during the coming days...not a tired countryman I have to make allowances or excuses for…’

  Major Wolff stiffened as the younger man’s eyes suddenly moved to the stairs, the creaks of worn frozen wood resounding across the basement as the other officer spoke softly into the microphone. Wolff glanced round startled, his hand dropping from the young man’s hair as he stared in disbelief, a further smile of greeting spreading across his features.

  Frozen boots crunched downwards, the ice across the stitching steaming as the warm air engulfed the cold leather, further snow dusted padded trousers and tunic beginning to steam with condensation. More steam rose from the tarpaulin and thick padded cloth upper hood with shoulder coverings, the slim soldier’s face obscured by two scarves as iced tentacles glistened with water from cloth across his chin. The helmet frosted, the soldier nodded grimly as the cold deep glistening eyes and brows stared across the basement towards the major, the wisps of melting ice drifting abo
ve the helmet rim, a heavily wrapped scoped Kar 98 rifle strung across his back.

  The figure shivered as Major Wolff rose to his feet abruptly, staring incredulously at the slim body, his eyes widening in surprise and gesturing to one of the two officers as he stepped towards the heavily padded man welcomingly, ‘Get my Austrian sniper friend a drink with warm food and quickly please, he has been missing for two days…he must be very cold…and hungry.’

  Leutnant Hausser shook his head, attempting to shake the weariness from his confused thoughts, a gloved hand rising to his helmet as his mind drifted back towards sleep. He sat in the rear corner of the Hanomag, his senses swirling towards deep exhausted slumber, the attempt to stay up all night in the cold proving too much, the other soldiers asleep in the warm farmhouse.

  Grinning, Sergeant Moretti indicated to the deeply breathing figure, Udet smiling in response from behind the front MG34 shield, the early morning intensely cold as the exhaled breath swirled around them, Hase asleep below in the driver’s compartment. The tarpaulin sheet covered the middle open section of the Hanomag, the meagre warmth surging across their lower legs from the stove as Moretti retrieved a blanket and swept it across Hausser’s slumbering chest and upper legs, ‘We let him sleep…he has been up most of the night.’

  Udet grimaced, turning thoughtfully, ‘Let him sleep for only twenty or thirty minutes…in the first Russian winter, apparently soldiers would just die in the cold, their comrades letting them without knowing, thinking they were resting deeply as they slipped away…Hausser does not deserve that.’

  Moretti glanced towards the young German, nodding warily as he whispered, ‘I will wake him…’ He slipped the blanket over Hausser’s shoulder, tucking it gently behind his padded uniform, ‘…there…he must be exhausted. He only slept during Tatu’s watch, does he not trust us?’