The elder Russian nodded obediently, swallowing and standing to one side, the door opening wider, ‘Certainly Sir...we can get you some hot tea. Food is limited, but perhaps a snack...we have bread?’
Leutnant Hausser shook his head, ‘Not necessary, but thank you...’ He nodded towards the room ahead, ‘…shall we go in there to talk?’
The man nodded obediently, ‘My wife is there...she is not well, very weak. Please do not frighten her...’
Hausser swallowed hard, shaking his head in irritation at the man’s obvious rising apprehension and stepping towards the door indicated, the small hallway sparsely decorated and furnished with a small table and vase. As the door to one of only two rooms opened, he smiled encouragingly at the woman who sat by the iron stove for warmth, her hand rising to the blankets wrapped around her chest nervously as he stepped into the room, his boot studs clicking on the wooden floorboards.
The elderly man followed him into the room, shuffling quickly to his wife and resting a comforting hand on her shoulder, his eyes strained in fear, ‘What can we do for you Sir? Are you checking to see if we can accommodate more people or move out?’
The German officer glanced round the poorly lit room, the warmth from the stove weak, which he imagined provided some comfort against the cold. An ample faintly decorated table sat before a boarded up window, a candle flickering in a bottle on its painted surface. Hausser moved to glance through one of the cracks in the obstruction for a view of the Kubelwagen below, a smirk crossing his lips as he glimpsed the two boys guarding it keenly.
Lowering the pack from his shoulder onto the table surface, he turned abruptly, the Russian couple eyeing him with suspicion, his head shaking as he realised he had been considering perhaps happier times for the couple at the expense of their worry, ‘My apologies...please do not be concerned, I just wish to talk to you.’ He unbuckled the top of the pack, reaching to the breast pocket of his tunic and pulling the staff book from within. Flicking through the pages, he grinned as he located what he sought, the crumpled black and white photograph of a young man smiling to the camera, the warm sun on his bare chest as he sat peeling potatoes on a coastline, several of his countrymen sat around him with the sea behind.
He glanced up, his eyes glistening in the light from the stove as he slowly raised the picture, turning it in his hand, ‘Do you recognise this soldier?’
Both the man and his wife leant forward, seeming to scrutinise the picture intently, their eyes straining at the poor quality. Suddenly, tears filled the eyes of the woman, her lips curling into a loving smile and joy spreading across her face, her hand slipping to hold one of her husband’s arms as the man drew a deep breath, his own eyes moving to study the German officer’s face desperately, ‘We know him...what has he done? Is he alive?’
His wife nudged him, staring at the picture fondly as Hausser offered it to her, the elderly woman grasping the picture tightly and pulling it to her chest, tears flowing freely down her cheeks, ‘This is our Valentin...a good boy. Our boy...we have not seen him in nearly two years...’
Leutnant Hausser grinned widely, nodding in satisfaction as he wiped a glistening eye with his glove, ‘He is very much alive...he is with my unit and in the city, the picture is taken in the Crimea last year. He requested I come and ask if you perhaps would like to meet him away from this neighbourhood...he is in a German uniform now and was scared that his arrival may cause you problems with your neighbours...’
The elderly man’s eyes widened, creases of worry forming on his forehead as he absorbed the information, his voice broken, ‘M-my boy fights for the Germans?’
Leutnant Hausser’s eyes narrowed, deciding to lighten the heavy load he had just delivered innocently and without thinking, ‘Yes sir, well more importantly with my squad...he drives and helps with chores, there is little fighting involved. He supports my unit...I captured him in the Crimea fighting loyally for the Russian Motherland. He joined us to save his platoon, they would probably have been killed otherwise.’
The woman raised the picture from her breast, her fragile frame warmed by the numerous blankets and steaming cooker, a small narrow bunk for both residents on the other side of the stove. Staring at the picture, a finger touched the smiling man that had stared into the camera fondly, a sniff of emotion as she slowly looked up at the German officer before her, ‘He is my boy...and he is alive. We will love him with all our hearts forever...’ She glanced at her husband, ‘Even if he fights for the fascists, then he will have his reasons...we cannot desert him now this officer has brought him back to life in our hearts...’ She stared down at the picture once more, tears falling from her chin as she whispered towards the image, ‘Such a lovely boy...always helpful and dutiful...’
Her husband nodded, swallowing hard, ‘When can we see our son?’
Hausser smiled comfortingly, his own chest swelling with emotion, ‘I will come tomorrow and collect you...he is in a German field hospital at the moment keeping two of our wounded men company and seeing to their needs. Tomorrow morning, I will come for you...towards midday.’ He turned, indicating to the bulging army pack, ‘These are German rations for you both, keep them for yourselves...hide them…I will bring more tomorrow when I visit. Eat them, they will give you strength and make you well...I can arrange for a doctor to examine you both tomorrow.’
He stepped away, turning towards the door before hesitating, clearing his throat emotionally as he stared back at the two shocked elderly Russians, ‘I am proud to call your Valentin a friend...and a close friend. He has saved my life several times and the lives of my men. He has spared his countrymen when he could and demonstrated considerable honour.’ He sighed in reflection, ‘No matter what uniform he wears now, he is a good man…’
The elderly man stared open eyed at the German officer as he briefly glimpsed the top of an Iron Cross between the open jacket collar around Hausser’s neck, the grey tunic unbuttoned underneath, the officer blushing slightly as the older man spoke, ‘I thank you for bringing us word of our boy and for the supplies...we will be ready tomorrow for you and be waiting at the end of the street.’
Leutnant Hausser stiffened, ‘It is my pleasure Sir...and an honour to meet you. We call your son Hase and he is close to our hearts.’ His heels clicked together in respect as a gloved hand rose to his field cap in salute. Then he turned, his eyes glistening once more as he stepped out into the darkened hallway, the front door closing behind him several seconds later.
Thank you for reading this book, I hope you enjoyed the experience as much as I did writing it.
Please investigate the following adventures currently available or in production from the author:
World War Two:
Bloody Iced BulletBloody RattenkriegBloody Kessel Bloody Stalingrad (Trilogy)
Bloody Kharkov IBloody Kharkov IIBloody Citadel
Science Fiction:
The Last Marine in the Galaxy The Red Leopards of Zaxon BGalaxies Collide: First Contact
Planet Genocide I Zaxon B: The Final StrugglePlanet Genocide II
Planet Genocide III
Fantasy:
Blades of the Undead Blade of the Iced WarriorArmy of the Skeletal Prince
Crime Drama (Dark Humour):
Bloodied Hunger Bloodied InsurgentsBloodied London I
Blood and Intoxication The Hong Kong Scotsman The Werewolves of New Hong Kong
New Hong Kong: Demonology The Scourge of the Northern Lights
Historical Drama:
The Last Highlanders The Last Highlanders: Rebels
Authors Note: The Third Battle of Kharkov
(Some personal opinion included)
Erich Von Manstein’s ‘back hand’ counter offensive to retake Kharkov and Belgorod is viewed by many as a masterstroke of military strategy, demonstrating to a stunned Red Army and Stalin that German forces were far from finished on the Eastern Front after the fall of Stalingrad.
The Germans faced a far superior foe, but were well aware
that the Russian Army had overextended supply lines, many of their forward units simply unable to offer offensive operations due to lack of fuel or shells. The eagerness of the Red Army to destroy Army Group South following the fall of Stalingrad came close to success and it is doubtful there were many other commanders available that could have stabilised the front as well as Von Manstein.
Had the Red Army been successful and the advance towards the Dneiper and Crimea in early 1943 come to fruition, it is unlikely the Wehrmacht would have recovered, the war perhaps ending two years before it actually did historically.
German factories, now under the supervision on Albert Speer, produced enormous quantities of armaments in the first half of 1943, bolstering Hitler’s belief that he could once again launch offensive operations on a grand scale. This contradicted Von Manstein’s view, the senior commander keen to continue the ‘back hand’ tactic of allowing the Red Army to advance too far before dealing a counter blow to cut off and annihilate the forward units.
The success of Von Manstein’s attack further enhanced Hitler’s view, his eyes falling in the large bulge or salient the victory created, the city of Kursk at its centre. Attacking from north and south would not only shorten the German front line and free up units for use elsewhere, but also perhaps deal the final blow that Hitler still believed could occur. Something we now know in hindsight was probably a fiction, devised by Berlin propaganda over time and now believed by many senior commanders…a fantastical comfort zone and failing grasp of reality in the belief ‘final victory’ was still achievable.
With British Intelligence now reading enigma messages at Bletchley Park, the Russians and Stalin became fully aware of the offensive planned for the summer. Hitler delaying the attack to provide upgraded tanks and assault guns, to strengthen the German forces further for yet one more ‘One last push’…thus allowing the Red Army to amass one of the most formidable defensive lines in history.
The stage was set for one of the largest battles in history…’The battle for Kursk’ or ‘Operation Citadel’ was upon the world…the summer of 1943 would decide it all.
Story Prequels
Leutnant Hausser’s and his squad’s individual stories begin a long time before Kharkov and Stalingrad, further works are planned to reveal how the characters met and their previous war exploits. From the war in France to the Balkans and the opening of Operation Barbarossa through to a bitter first winter before Moscow and then the Crimea lies the experiences that created the soldiers of the small unit.
Story Sequels
The war for Leutnant Hausser continues in Bloody Citadel, the successful German assault of Kharkov creating a vast salient with Kursk at its centre. Destroying the mass of Russian forces within would not only severely weaken the Russians once more, but shorten the front line for Axis forces, freeing up valuable units for new offensives and to potentially be sent to strengthen other fronts.
With the Americans and British armies nearly victorious in North Africa, where would their eyes stray next? The ‘soft underbelly of Europe’ or even the beaches of north west France…either way, the Russians would have to be subdued before German forces were turned to face the new danger.
Contributors:
I would like to thank four of my colleagues for their voluntary assistance with this project.
Kara has offered continual encouragement throughout the previous book and the current projects. Listening to ideas and offering ideas on alternatives or additions to existing plot lines. This has been of considerable assistance and I am very grateful for the ‘on-call’ facility that emerged for me to express ideas and twists as they came to mind.
Sally has offered many ideas and sat politely listening to the ramblings as I formulated ideas and incidents in my mind. Patiently offering advice and never displaying frustration and impatience as I bounced from idea to idea. This has been immensely helpful and reassuring.
Nigel has offered ideas and pictures to work from completely at his own motivation, a contribution I am very grateful for.
Kevin has helped with plots and offered structured ideas, including changes in direction or alternatives. Never complaining when I developed other ideas or rang/texted at inhospitable times. He provided an inspirational level of support during recent personal losses and for that alone I will be eternally grateful.
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