Rise of the Bloodied Phoenix

by Andrew McGregor

  Rough hands grasped his lapels, forcing the almost dreamy slumbered recollections from his mind, his head shaking as spittle splashed across his grime and blood matted face, the soldier shouting frantically, ‘Captain…the enemy planes have gone…we need to get across the river and into Kharkov.’ The young soldier above him grinned as the officer’s eyes flickered open, seeming to stare upwards at him in focus, ‘Captain…I will drive…you are completely exhausted.’

  The Hanomag’s tracks clattered across the snow bound cobblestones, the carrier lumbering into the small village, the frozen low single storey buildings lining either side of the twin lane street. With whitewashed Kubelwagens and Opel Blitz lorries parked along the right facing them, the column of advancing vehicles proceeded in single file. Several soldiers were braced against the cold in the narrow street, their padded jackets complete with hoods as they stood before their vehicles chatting or smoking, several stamping their feet to ward off the low temperature.

  Leutnant Hausser leant on the top upper armour of the Hanomag, Tatu next to him with both gloved hands leaning against the upper angled metal sides, his muscles tensing as he stretched backwards, the PPSH submachine gun strap slung across shoulder, the weapon by his side. The young commander noticed many of the surrounding soldiers were Wehrmacht infantry, the regular infantry lorries obviously having joined the main track from nearer the river, their commanding officer keen to join the advance towards the main city ahead.

  Glancing round, he nodded to the upper gunner of the armoured carrier behind, the padded SS soldier leaning against his protective shield and raising an arm in greeting in return, the early afternoon gloom of heavy grey snow clouds above. Tatu twisted his neck as they passed the numerous lorries, his eyes widening at the muscle strain across his shoulders, ‘It seems everyone is coming to this party now...’ He nodded as some of the infantrymen smiled at him, ‘...they seem to have had an interesting advance, I bet along the river reinforcing the line.’

  Hausser grinned, patting him on the back, ‘They are covering our eastern flank, ensuring the Russkies don’t try to repeat what we have just done to them.’

  He turned as Udet rose stiffly next to him, offering steaming mess tins, his figure swaying in conjunction with the carrier as they gratefully took the warm drinks from the young German. Udet grinned, waving to some of the infantry as they ground past, ‘How much further is it to the city? Will we be there by nightfall?’

  Tatu grunted, chuckling as he moved the mess tin to his left hand, slapping Udet gently on the shoulder, ‘Tomorrow night perhaps if we are lucky...there is a river ahead and my bet is our friend Ivan will have dug in there, that’s what I would do. They will try and stop us from crossing...if we break through then maybe tonight we will reach the city outskirts.’ He glanced upwards at the dull cloud filled sky, ‘If they hold us, we will be cold tonight out on the steppe...’

  Hausser nodded thoughtfully, ‘Some armour is ahead of us, but most of the Panzers are behind in our column. It may take a while to reorganise if they intend to launch a major assault...if that’s what they intend to do...’ He shrugged, ‘…but these are SS troops, so they may just continue with the attack...prevent the Russkies from reorganising.’ He glanced up, glimpsing the fighters flying south, the single seater aircraft returning from raiding Russian positions in the north, ‘It really depends what forces they have to try and stop us...’ His eyes narrowed as he saw a Fiesler Storch spotter plane circling, then banking to continue northwards, the distant drone of engines just audible over the burbling Maybach engine, ‘We have observation aircraft up…the Russkie Air Force seems to now have lost any presence in the sky.’

  The Hanomag slowed behind a queue of vehicles, Hausser turning to lean against the front upper defensive plate as Tatu stared ahead, Moretti rising behind them in curiosity. The Romanian’s hand fell to Hausser’s arm to gain his attention as the commander turned to speak to Udet, his head twisting to stare forward in response. The lorries on the right came to an end near a junction, the track leading off to the east, probably where the Wehrmacht unit had emerged from.

  Tatu indicated beyond the two stout leather great coated military policemen on the corner, the soldiers stood beside their motorbike and sidecar combination, MP40s across their chests as they smoked. The tarmacked road then continued through a small square, a two storey building set back from the cobblestones on the right overlooking the village’s main gathering point, the possible site of the local NKVD Headquarters. The building was of dark grey stone construction, the materials a contrast from the local wooden and lighter stone dwellings with a narrow alleyway down each side. Two padded sentries stared out with binoculars towards the north behind a low bordering wall, a machine gun crew setting up position beside them on the outer corner of the flat roof. In contrast to other dwellings in the village which were thatched, the upper exposed walls and windows were lined with heavy snow, frosted icicles clinging to the upper storeys.

  An open courtyard before the ornate building had a number of figures huddled in groups, their frames shaking in the bitter cold, Hausser considering possibly twenty five or thirty in all, the Hanomag edging forward as a Kubelwagen jeep pulled out from the track on the right, the three occupants staring at the miserable and dishevelled figures. SD troops with rifles stood before the mass of bedraggled men, most of the prisoners stood in torn tunics and combat trousers, lacking the comfort of greatcoats and all barefoot. Grime and blood smeared faces stared fearfully at the rifled sentries, the Russian captives fearing the worst as the German army vehicles nudged past.

  The Hanomag ground forward before stopping again, Tatu nudging Hausser as they glimpsed a senior officer before the sentries, the man dressed in a padded greatcoat with furred collar and cap, his hands on his hips as he bellowed into the groups of prisoners, ‘I am still waiting...once again I demand you identify any commissars amongst you...they are enemies of the Reich and have betrayed your people. We will question them in your NKVD Headquarters, you will then be provided with warm soup as a reward and your boots and jackets will be returned to you.’ He stepped back, raising his voice more determinedly, ‘If you fail to identify the man or men amongst you that we require, there will be no food and no warm clothing...it is your choice. We will march you to the rear as you stand...not many will reach the prisoner assembly area...’

  Tatu slowly turned, indicating for Moretti and Udet to sit back down, his expression sombre as he collected the mess tin from Hausser, the Romanian’s teeth grinding as he withdrew from view to place their tins on the bench below, shaking his head in distain as he rose once more.

  The great coated officer turned, glimpsing Hausser staring at him and raising a gloved hand in greeting and then informal salute, a cloud of exhaled air billowing around his older face as he turned back, frustration obvious in his raised tone, ‘I have little patience left, we know there is at least one political officer amongst you, we have found his tunic and trousers...identify him and you will all live.’ He drew a deep breath, coughing, ‘The man is a coward...strutting like a peacock before you in his Communist uniform and then changing to hide as we Germans get near...why are you protecting him? It is scum like this coward that have brought this war and destruction to your country...’

  The Hanomag jolted to a halt, Hausser grasping Tatu’s jacket as they lunged forward, both men staring down as two soldiers with rifles stepped before the armoured carrier, behind them a battered young soldier, his brown hair matted with blood, face heavily bruised and beaten. His brown tunic was torn open to the waist, dark marks across his exposed chest, the man barefoot as he stumbled, pushed forward roughly by the butt of a rifle from behind, Tatu glimpsing the dirt smeared red shoulder straps, the young soldier a political adviser or observer for the Russian Army.

  Petru’s hand swept across Hase’s chest, his voice firm as the Hiwi stared wide eyed at the young man before the bonnet through the viewing slits, the soldier seeming to glance back briefly into the fr
ont compartment, his eyes blacked and one heavily bloodshot as he nodded defiantly. His body was pushed forward once more, the burly SD soldier behind sneering in hatred, ‘Keep moving Russkie scum...not long for you now...’

  Hase glanced round, staring into the small square and seeing the four lined soldiers opposite the two storey building, three checking their rifles as a great coated officer spoke softly to each man. Before them, the stone outer wall of a house was being used as a makeshift point for executions, two bodies lying crumpled against the frosted and blood splattered stone, the deceased soldiers with wounds across their chests.

  He watched in horror as the young soldier was led across to stand next to the prone figures, the burly guard talking to him briefly, seeming to taunt him, the German’s lips pursed in bullying hatred. The young soldier staring defiantly and with indifference into the larger man’s face, the guard becoming visibly irritated as he drew intimidatingly nearer the prisoner. The officer turned from the firing squad, stepping tentatively across the iced cobblestones towards the condemned soldier, nodding to him and indicating with a wave of his gloved hand for the guard to leave.

  Tatu hissed at Hausser, his hand tightening around the commander’s lower arm, ‘Shouldn’t we stop this? Can we?’

  Leutnant Hausser turned slowly to look into the eyes of the sergeant, his stare piercing as he shook his head, his eyes lowering as if in shame, ‘There are SS here...and these are SD soldiers behind the line, they have jurisdiction.’ He sighed despondently, ‘If we try, we will likely find ourselves against that same wall...’

  Tatu turned away in rising anger, slowly lowering himself below the sides of the carrier, his hands shaking in fury as he glared at Udet, the young German preparing to rise in curiosity, Udet dropping back into his seat as Moretti also lowered next to him, the Italian’s arm across the young German’s chest.

  Tears filled Hase’s eyes as the young political soldier shook his head, refusing a blindfold, the officer shrugging with disinterest and turning away, the young barefoot and dishevelled shivering Russian glancing across at the carrier once more before straightening his frame painfully, his defiant stare turning back to the four man execution squad as he attempted to stand painfully to attention.

  The SD soldiers raised their rifles, their officer speaking softly to them, his eyes staring at the condemned man, the young bloodied soldier staring bravely back, seeming to will them to shoot. The officer raised his hand, his voice echoing across the square, ‘Feuer!’

  Four rifles cracked, the young Russian political soldier jerking and stumbling backwards from the impact before painfully in almost resignation dropping to his knees, his eyes seeming to strain in agony as he stared at the four riflemen briefly, then his head drooped, blood dripping from his mouth as he slumped forward, his head cracking against the cobblestones.

  Hase’s head lowered in shame, Petru’s arm sweeping across to comfort him as the Romanian stared across the small square, the body twitching as blood began to spread across and around the cobblestones beneath the corpse, the Hiwi’s head shaking in despair as the firing squad jerked the bolts of their rifles back, preparing for the next victim. A tear rolled down Hase’s cheek as he sniffed, gritting his teeth and staring at the vehicle’s controls, his jaw tensing.

  Leutnant Hausser turned away, swallowing hard and staring back into the gathered men before the building, the middle aged officer now standing very close to one young soldier, the smaller man seeming to shake uncontrollably in broken fear as the German hissed into his ear, the young matted black haired prisoner visibly terrified. Slowly the captive nodded, turning to stare at a group to his left, nearer the Hanomag, the officer’s eyes following his, the German’s hand rising to point incriminatingly, ‘Take those four men away...place them in separate interrogation rooms, the five SD interviewers will make them talk...they are specialists flown in earlier today.’

  Hausser jolted in surprise as a fist slammed against the back of the Hanomag, his head turning to glimpse one of the military policemen staring up at him, the stout man clearly unamused, ‘Keep moving...the front requires soldiers ahead, not onlookers...this is an SD operation only, you Wehrmacht have no say here.’ His eyes narrowed beneath the steel helmet, ‘Get your carrier going, Leutnant!’

  Hausser nodded in sombre shock, realising there was an extensive gap between their vehicle and the one in front, his head ducking beneath the upper armoured plate to hiss into the driver’s compartment, ‘Move forward...and quickly…they are watching us.’

  Hase engaged gear, glancing with tear filled eyes one last time through the side slit, a deep uncontrollable sob emitted from his lips as he glimpsed the next victim pushed from alongside the NKVD Headquarters. With a lower basement door on each side, the cells and interrogation rooms that formed the level below ground were able to be accessed without inconveniencing the clerks and officials that had worked on the upper floors, the building administering the local area, the staff keeping a watchful eye over the population.

  Another young soldier was hunched in the alleyway, two armed SD guards behind, the prisoner’s uniform badly torn, his face bruised and contorted in pain. Barefoot like the others, his right hand cradled his left arm, the limb obviously broken, his head bowed as the two great coated guards pushed him forwards, the man stumbling and falling to his knees in the snow.

  The other shivering prisoner groups turning to stare as the four men were pushed towards the opposite alleyway by the guards, their eyes staring menacingly at the soldier that had revealed their identity. Another crack against the outer armoured plate made Hase jump, the military policeman shouting through the side viewing slit, ‘Move your vehicle!’

  Hase nodded, drawing a sharp breath as Petru leant forward, grimacing as he saw the young man on his knees in the snow, one of the guards kicking him hard from behind and shouting, the voice unheard above the engine noise as the Maybach motor burbled, the Hanomag jerking forward as the tracks clattered across the cobblestones, the sight falling behind and out of view.

  The armoured carrier continued along the narrow street, Hausser staring down as soldiers in padded uniforms marched forward on either side, rifles slung over their shoulders, their officers with MP40s in their gloved hands, caps beneath their protective hoods as they urged their men onwards.

  Several glanced upwards, Hausser leaning on the front upper plate and staring forwards, his mood subdued with the others after what they had seen, a muffled crack of rifle shots behind chilling him as the firing squad claimed the next victim. The buildings began to come to an end, the armoured carriers once more surging out onto the frozen track heading north.

  Leutnant Hausser glanced to either side, a Nebelwerfer battery and half-tracks concealed under trees to the east, some distance from the outer houses of the village, their crews carrying rockets towards their weapons. Across the snow, several soldiers advanced across the fields as the land began to decline towards the river in the distance.

  The Hanomag engine roared as the speed suddenly increased, the carriers ahead accelerating towards the river. Tatu rose next to Hausser and offered the commander binoculars, his hand gesturing forward, ‘Let us see what is in store for us now then...’

  The drone of engines above, Messerschmitt Bf110s flying high over the terrain as the Fiesler Storch became visible once more in the distance, the small aircraft circling near the river to the north. Hausser raised the glasses, panning them forward, his eyes straining in the dull light as he saw tanks ahead on the other side of a treeline. The exhaust plumes rose as crews prepared to advance, a number of Hanomags behind bouncing from the track and into the field on the left, moving to adopt positions behind the armour.

  The young commander turned, his expression grim as he nodded to the two seated soldiers, ‘It looks as though we are just in time...the SS Panzers ahead are about to move forward I think. Best make ready...’ He forced a smile at Udet as the younger soldier grasped his Kar 98 rifle tightly, his boots either side
of the stove for warmth, ‘...let’s have one last drink then before it starts...’ Udet grinned in response, Tatu chuckling and collecting the mess tins, Moretti reaching for the water bottles beneath the benches.

  Hase sipped from the warm tea, grinning as Petru played with the small terrier, the Romanian pretending to hide morsels of bread in parts of his greatcoat, the wire haired terrier then pawing the pockets ravenously as he sniffed and searched around the large jacket, his tail wagging furiously at the game.

  Having parked the Hanomag in a clearing near trees, Leutnant Hausser had departed to find one of the local commanders for an update and orders, the others remaining in the carrier, several other armoured vehicles drawing up around them whilst they awaited the final instruction to advance.

  Tatu leant back, staring upwards at the heavy grey clouds overhead, his eyes straining as he spoke thoughtfully, ‘It looks like more snow later...a cold night too. Let’s hope we are in the city by then...or at least under cover.’

  Udet grinned, preparing some bread with a thick layer of jam, ‘We have the tarpaulin and stove...it will not be that cold if we sit together...’

  Sergeant Moretti giggled deviously, indicating towards Tatu, the dog growling mischievously in the front compartment, ‘I don’t want Romanian lice...I prefer the Italian version...I will sit alone…’