The Hanomag engine revved as the vehicle slowed, the armoured carrier pulling over into the forward assembly area, the vehicles and tents placed across a wide snow covered field skirted by high trees, netting covering the low ammunition stores and strung between the tree trunks, Hausser noting several larger tents between the branches. Glancing sideways after seeing the markings on the halftracks, he whispered to Tatu, ‘Forward command post…the high trees will offer excellent cover.’ Their eyes met as he continued, ‘This is an SS Unit…probably coordinating efforts with 4th Panzer Army.’
He stiffened as the carrier pulled over to the right, an officer glancing round suspiciously from a group ahead and stepping towards them, several soldiers eyeing the new arrivals furtively, the approaching major indicating for two sentries to accompany him.
Tatu groaned, lowering himself back below the armoured plate as he hissed, ‘You are on your own now…I don’t like these units very much…’
He glanced round as Petru slipped from the front, glaring at his countryman as he spoke in a low tone, ‘Not very helpful as usual…we could ask of they have a doctor to examine Udet rather than just consider your feelings…’
Tatu glared back, waving his hand to dismiss his corporal, ‘Very well…’ He glanced upwards, ‘Herr Leutnant…a medic perhaps to inspect our young man please…’
The young commander grinned, placing his hands on his hips in mock irritation, ‘I do speak Romanian…you don’t need to translate for the man who is stood next to me!’ Petru grinned as he passed the officer, rising next to him to face the major.
Sergeant Moretti chuckled, indicating to the younger German opposite him as Udet smiled in response, ‘Perhaps you will get a nice hospital bed after all…pretty nurses and bed baths…everything a young man could dream of…’
Udet waved his hand in defence, glancing down at the stove between his boots before looking up again, ‘I am not leaving this carrier…’ He winked at Tatu as the Romanian looked up, ‘My Romanian uncles are here…they need my help…’
The young soldier smiled further as Tatu’s eyes widened and softened, Moretti protesting, ‘They are your uncles…so what does that make me?’
The Romanian quartermaster grinned deviously and indicated to Udet’s chest, the padded jacket concealing tight bandages beneath, ‘You are his nurse and nanny…’
Moretti clicked his tongue in disagreement, his right hand sweeping under his chin and flicking forward as he stared at the Romanian, ‘Puttana (Bitch)!’
Tatu giggled, reaching forward and slapping the Italian’s knee, ‘Let’s have a drink whilst the officer negotiates our next move…Udet, have we tea please for each of your extended family?’
Hausser raised his hand to his helmet, the major in padded jacket beneath him with two soldiers, ‘Leutnant Hausser, Herr Major…76th Infantry Division, now attached to Grossdeutschland.’ Petru saluted next to him, staring formally forward into the trees.
The major grinned breathlessly at the unit name, stamping his boots in the snow as he saluted back, ‘SS-Sturmbannführer Gerber, 1st SS Panzer…Liebstandarte Division.’ He reached up to collect the papers offered by the Leutnant, ‘Grossdeutschland is to the north…I presume you are to re-join with them…’ His voice tailed off as he studied the worn papers in his hand, grinning further as he recognised the name, ‘Wolff…I have heard of him if it’s the same man…’ He glanced back up at the two men, ‘…about mid-thirties, quite a talker as I recall…dark eyes and charisma…’ He grinned widely as Hausser nodded, slapping the side of the carrier and extending the papers, ‘…we were billeted near each other in Kiev…we were also at the same briefing for this operation…stubborn fool he is and very outspoken!’
Leutnant Hausser accepted the paperwork, smiling politely, ‘I do not know the major that well sir…but what time we have spent together…he seemed very pleasant…’
The major waved his hand, his voice becoming more informal, ‘I am playing with you Leutnant…he is an outstanding officer, decorated with the Iron Cross as I recall…’ He grinned sheepishly, ‘…we had dinner together in a function at Kiev…he was at my table.’ He shook his head, grinning widely, ‘Apologies Leutnant, my sense of humour is renowned through the unit…I can’t resist the temptation…’ He stared upwards, his eyes narrowing as he pointed towards the assault guns warming their engines across the clearing, ‘Your orders say you can assist local operations if required…you will advance with the tank destroyers and Hanomags as support…’ He hesitated, glimpsing the junior officer’s surprise before continuing, a sigh coming from his clenched lips, ‘We have advanced from the west Leutnant, and now are instructed to move northwards, attack the city itself. I will speak to Major Wolff…arrange your transferral to our command for the advance…once we reach Kharkov and secure its capture, you may continue to re-join your division.’
He spun round, pointing towards some of the tents, ‘Get two men to replenish your supplies and ammunition, but do it quickly…we move out in fifteen minutes and will not be stopping.’
The snow billowed from the back of the two Sturmgeschutz IIIs, the open backed Marder III crews wrapping scarves around their mouths, their padded jackets offering more insulation than the standard issue winter clothing due to their exposed positions, pulling heavy mittens over their gloves.
Engines roared as the heavily padded gunners mounted the back of their Marders, two waving gratefully to the supply troops as the tracks churned, the Hanomag engines idling as they nudged forward, Tatu grimacing in disapproval as Hausser sat down next to him, ‘So…we are now riding with the SS? I have changed units so many times now and am still in the same damn uniform…with the same friendly lice!’
Leutnant Hausser grinned, ‘It’s only until we get to the city…whilst you were loading ammunition, Gerber told me we are now part of this infantry support unit…that we are destined to eventually attack the city from the north west…’ He shook his head in curiosity, ‘We are now south and due to attack from almost the north…then we will be released to head for Grossdeutschland…and Belgorod.’
Tatu stiffened, rubbing his bushy moustache suspiciously before grinning, ‘Interesting, there is some plan afoot then…perhaps everything will unfold and become apparent just before we end up in the shit this time?’ The Hanomag jolted forward, Petru now sat with Hase and Crina in the front as Tatu glanced towards Moretti and Udet, still smiling, ‘What do you two rogues think?’
Udet shrugged, sticking his tongue out at the retort, Moretti rubbing his beard and smiling, ‘They have surrounded and captured many Russian units…one of the fuel troops told me. Perhaps they have a plan to destroy more? They may just want us to carry on with our own mission…’
Tatu nodded his thanks as the young German soldier handed him a steaming mess tin, ‘We have enough fuel and rations now for not only a considerable distance, but perhaps two weeks’ food…they were very insistent on us taking extra supplies.’ He sipped the strong tea and glanced at the young commander, ‘That could mean we are with this ‘new’ unit for longer than you suspect…or to be left on our own, Herr Leutnant.’
The commander smiled with rising adrenalin, hearing the muffled gunfire and explosions resounding from the north, ‘Whatever is planned or will happen does not matter now…we are advancing, so let’s get ready.’ He rose to his feet slowly, gasping the MP40 from the bench, ‘Sergeant Moretti on the front machine gun…Tatu and myself to protect him…Udet you can swap with Petru if it gets difficult...’ His grin widened, slinging the strap of the weapon over his shoulder and raising the binoculars to his eyes, ‘…otherwise keep hot drinks coming, it will probably snow again soon and it’s still cold!’
Captain Medvedev stared through his binoculars, distant explosions erupting along the line to the west, the Russian defenders fighting desperately to halt the attack of infantry and tanks. Lowering and running at a half crouch behind the smouldering defensive line, he realised there were only two surviving pak guns s
till available in this area of the line, the commanding officer killed.
Bloodied bodies lay amongst the defenders, some survivors shielding their eyes from the sight of dead and mutilated friends, several having eaten breakfast earlier that day with the now deceased. Grim and dirt smeared faces stared down the slope, hearing the whine of tracks below, many waiting in dread for the Panzers to appear, the distant cracking of branches behind signalling the few T34s available to counter the enemy armour, the tank commanders attempting to maximise their defensive positions.
Ducking next to one of the pak gunners, Medvedev raised his binoculars once more, frantically scanning the terrain below, the roar of engines getting louder. He stopped suddenly, panning back, his eyes narrowing as he gasped, turning to shout in alarm, ‘Fascist tanks to the right! Panzer IVs…long barrels…’ He moved the glasses back to his front, staring at the second treeline and dark undergrowth in the valley below, the narrow trunks and snow bound bushes suddenly bulging and crashing forward, the long barrelled gun surging out across the snow, an angled low hull behind.
Captain Medvedev shouted, gesturing frantically, ‘Enemy self-propelled guns…take them out!’
The gunner next to him grunted, spinning the wheels behind the armoured shield, the barrel lowering and turning to the left, another crew member pushing his eyes to the sight and shouting, ‘No more…we are ready…’
His eyes strained, Medvedev raising the binoculars once more, the Sturmgeschutz III lumbering out onto the field, several rings around its barrel, his hand rising, ‘Fire!’
The field gun bucked, a flash of fire from the muzzle as smoke billowed over the crew, Medvedev biting his lip as he strained to see. The glowing shell swept across the snow, the other pak gun opening fire to the right, a flash from the trees as the gun jolted backwards.
The Stug commander’s mouth opened, the explosion rocking the low machine, his eyes dropping to the sights as the 7.5cm gun motor whirred, the barrel turning as the tracks slewed sideways and surged forward. The vehicle shuddered as the muzzle flashed, acrid smoke sweeping through viewing slits as the shell swept up the slope, a Marder III crashing through the trees behind, the crew grasping the sides tightly as the vehicle bounced out onto the field. Further machines smashed through the treeline and undergrowth on either side, the engines roaring as the SPGs and Panzer IIIs surged forward.
Infantry darted through the smashed and crushed openings in the trees, the soldiers fanning out as they struggled across the ditch and into the field. Hanomags also tore through the bushes on either side, branches screeching and cracking against the armoured hulls as the engines roared, the gunners inside struggling upwards as the carriers levelled on the frozen snow.
The explosion erupted before the Russian line, Medvedev’s eyes widening in shock at the accuracy of the gunner, the Stug moving as it fired, his hand rising again, the dull clunk of a shell into the breech next to him. The barrel slowly moved, the squeal of the wheel, the gunners shouting, ‘Targeting fascist armoured carriers…’ Machine gun fire rattled across the line, several rifles cracking as Medvedev swore, the inexperienced defenders firing too soon.
The captain turned frantically, seeing the numerous puffs of smoke across the snow before them, ‘Fire at them, before we lose sight!’
The pak gun rocked backwards, smoke engulfing them from the muzzle discharge, the glowing shell sweeping forward as the pops of mortars behind echoed around them, Medvedev smiling in relish as flames rose in the distance, the Hanomag exploding. Another explosion erupted before the line, his head ducking as debris and frozen dirt fell into the defences, his body turning to scramble away. Pulling back, he ran along the line, the T34s firing out in unison, the flashes amongst the trees in the distance as smoke swirled around him, obscuring his vision.
Hausser’s eyes widened, the shell zipping past the front of the Hanomag, the commander feeling the air distortion across his face, his voice rising, ‘Get on the machine gun…’ He thrust his upper body into the front compartment, voice a hiss, ‘Weave the carrier…accelerate into the smoke and keep going!’
Hase nodded in fear, having seen the glowing shell zip past, the explosion rocking the carrier, frozen dirt falling across the bonnet and rear occupants. Petru patted his shoulder comfortingly as the commander disappeared back into the rear compartment, smiling as he heard the officer swear, ‘Scheisse! That was close…get ready…as soon as we are through the next trees, the Russkie line is up the slope!’
Bullets clanked against the exterior hull, Moretti ducking behind the gun shield as the engine roared, the Hanomag surging into the billowing shroud, Hase straining his eyes as tentacles of smoke drifted through the forward slits. Udet grasped his rifle, wincing as he struggled upwards, Hausser gritting his teeth as Tatu pushed the young German back down forcefully, ‘Not until we stop…if you fall over on the slope or in a fight, we won’t be able to help you…stay down!’
The commander spun round and grasped the front shield, raising his MP40 as the vehicle swayed back and forth, the officer glimpsing the shadows of other armoured vehicles on either side, a flash in the smoke to the right as a shell detonated on the field.
Mortar rounds exploded to the front, the dirt and frozen snow thrown upwards as he shouted further, ‘Faster…drive through their range now…if a shell lands in the back, we will never see Germany again!’
Tatu swore in Romanian, Moretti and Udet smirking with adrenalin, ‘I have never been…so am not missing it!’
Hase swallowed hard, debris clattering across the front of the carrier, the engine roar escalating as he accelerated, his eyes widening as the trees loomed into view, the Hanomag bouncing as the front plate cracked between the bushes and trees, the occupants above ducking back as branches and leaves fell into the rear compartment.
Captain Medvedev was screaming at his defenders, the smoke billowing across them as the infantrymen ducked down, ‘Get Ready! The fascists will be stopped here…’ More flashes of smoke grenades erupting on the slope as German infantry swarmed through the gaps in the last tree line, struggling up the slope as mortar rounds detonated behind, several of the follow up troops knocked or blown from their feet, a number wounded or killed.
Engines roared below as the Stugs and Marders slowed, the Hanomags surging past as the self-propelled guns raised to target up the slope, their frames jolting as high explosive shells swept across the snowbound incline.
The captain’s eyes widened in horror as explosions ripped through the trees, several of the defenders thrown from their positions, shocked shrieks filling the air as Maybach motors burbled nearer, the whines of tracks and roar of engines now almost deafening. Screaming in panic, his words were mostly drowned out, ‘Throw grenades…drive them back…’
Bullets tore through the trees from the upper mounted MG34s, screams of fear and terror filling the defences as several men were hit, their bodies jolting under the impacts, the captain ducking down as others cowered in the defensive line. Some inexperienced soldiers rose, scrambling towards the rear in panic, many of the bodies twisting as bullets scythed through their frames and organs.
Hearing the clanks of bullets against the hulls of the armoured vehicles less than sixty metres away, he shook his head, realising the follow up infantry would soon overwhelm the line, his eyes widening further as he heard the hoarse cheers of hatred, SS Grenadiers surging from the back of their carriers, their bayoneted rifles lowered as they charged forward with the follow up infantry.
Several figures rose next to him, rifles raised to fire as he struggled to a crouch shouting, ‘Kill them all!’ Projectiles swept through the undergrowth, the figure next to him crumpling as the soldier jerked violently, several bullets tearing through his chest. Medvedev raised his PPSH submachine gun, firing into the shroud, shocked screams as several of the charging men were hit, their bodies twisting as they fell.
MG34 bullets swept the treeline briefly once more, Medvedev ducking as shattered branches and snow fell onto
his back and helmet, his head glancing from side to side and glimpsing some more defenders turning to flee in terror, a number falling as they were cut down. Gritting his teeth, he saw German soldiers in the smoke to the left, the silhouettes increasing in number as he turned to run, ‘Retreat!’
The Hanomag charged forward, Hase biting his tongue painfully as the carrier slewed up the slope, tracks spinning as they neared the Russian line. Pulling over abruptly with the others, he glimpsed the flashes through the smoke, Moretti firing bursts of the machine gun above into the trees ahead. His eyes straining with sparks erupting across the bonnet, bullets clattering and clanking against the hull as he and Petru ducked instinctively, the small dog whimpering and shivering in the Romanian’s arms as frozen earth bounced off the steel armour.
Engines roared behind, the Stugs and Marders advancing up the slope to open further fire on the defenders, Panzer IIIs sweeping around on the flanks, infantry struggling past in the snow as the SS soldiers charged out from their Hanomags, surging into the defences before them.
Hase closed his eyes briefly in dread, hearing the screams from further into the smoke, the defenders that had not run desperately engaging in hand to hand fighting, the survivors brutally subdued as several raised their hands in surrender. Petru grasped his arm fondly, understanding his emotional torment, his voice low, ‘You are with us now Hase…not out there…’
They jumped as Hausser’s head swept into the compartment, ‘Forward through the trees…we are vulnerable to the mortars and artillery here…follow the Stug through the line!’
The angled hull of a Sturmgeschutz lumbered past in the dissipating smoke, a commander rising through the hatch and waving at the infantry in front, afraid of driving into his own men. More engines roared, the rattle of tracks as the Hanomags began to advance once more, radios burbling as the news of Panzers breaking through to the west came through.
Rise of the Bloodied Phoenix Page 39