The captain turned to the crews of the two personnel carriers, ‘Unload all the supplies and cover the vehicles for the night. I think we are about to have a welcoming party.’
The smiles of the crews did not go unnoticed by the sentry as the captain completed issuing his orders and glanced inside the building, seeing Hausser looking cautiously out at him, the young commander concealed from sight to the left of the main doors. Hase’s eyes then returned to the captain approaching him, his driver directly behind carrying a box of supplies. Behind them the crews were picking up supply boxes, their weapons left in the personnel carriers.
The sentry’s eyes moved back to the captain, now standing before him. The man was smiling, in his hand a large box of cigarettes, his pistol holstered, the light from the building now spilling out onto the approaching figures, the sky darkening further. The sentry smiled warmly and welcomingly, opening the door and extending his hand for the captain to proceed inside.
The Russian captain stepped into the light of the room, his eyes reacting to the brightness, glancing to the right as a man coughed, observing a Russian sergeant stood nearby. As his eyes became accustomed to the light he noticed the steaming cooking pot by the fire, then the tall broader soldier stood opposite him, a reassuring smile on his face beneath his broad moustache. He noticed the man was holding a submachine gun pointing at waist height to his right and followed the direction the gun was pointing in. Looking round, he froze, the hairs on the back of his neck tingling as his mouth went dry. A small group of soldiers were sat cross legged on the floor, their hands behind their heads, their glazed eyes looking up at him. All were sat in their felt underwear, their Russian uniforms piled in the right corner. Empty brandy bottles lay amongst the seated men, none of whom were wearing boots.
‘Guten Abend, Herr Kapitan.’ He heard behind him and spun round in horror. The sergeant was staring at him, a slight smile on his face. In the man’s hands he held a German MP40 submachine gun pointed at his waist, then speaking in fluent hushed Russian, ‘Don’t move or we shoot you all…now call your men inside…carefully.’
The Russian captain’s stomach turned, his eyes drifting down to the man’s neck, his tunic now open at the top. A German uniform beneath the Russian brown colours, the dark cross around his neck outlined in white…the captain shook his head and slowly raised his hands to shoulder height with a reluctant sigh.
The personnel carrier crew members filed into the main hall one by one, each carrying a supply crate, their weapons discarded in the vehicles outside…they were followed by two armed men in Russian uniforms. Each soldier slowly formed a look of amazement and shock on their face as they realised the situation, one by one obediently grouping in the centre of the room. The Russian captain stood amongst his men, a look of dejection and defiance on his face.
The smiling sergeant cautiously approached him, gently removing the captain’s side arm whilst keeping his free hand on the trigger of his submachine gun, the weapon supported by the strap over his right shoulder. As the sergeant stepped back, the side arm retrieved, he spoke firmly again in Russian, indicating to the men seated behind them with a nod, ‘Now please remove your uniforms and boots and join the others.’
The captain addressed the armed sergeant as his men began slowly and reluctantly removing their uniforms. The grim expression of the taller broader man pointing his Russian PPSH41 at the group reducing the motivation to protest. Clearing his throat, he attempted to impose an impression of seniority, ‘I will give you the opportunity to surrender now…I will guarantee your safety and the safety of your men if you give up.’
Hausser cheekily lowered his head to one side, studying the Russian, his eyes seeming to become sad, then a sly grin began forming on his lips, ‘I don’t think so, captain. We have come through too much to just give it up now. After seeing what your army has done to others, I do not hold much faith in your promise of safety. Perhaps from you personally…but not from others in your army.’
The Russian captain nodded reluctantly, ‘I had to offer you this way out…there are thousands of my countrymen between you and your goal to the north, you will not make it to safety. Even if you do, what then? Your Sixth Army is virtually cut off on the Volga…where will you go then? You will lose this war…the seeds are already sown. You are an officer and your responsibility is the safety of your men…as is mine.’
A brief smile formed on the German soldier’s face, ‘Perhaps so, captain, but we will see. You are correct in assuming my responsibility is my men and that will keep us fighting. This position is a setback only I think…the Russian Bear is not yet dead, but mortally wounded I think.’
Hausser turned to the German soldier standing next to him, the man’s rifle pointing at the group, ‘Udet, collect their uniforms and boots and place them in the carriers…we leave in one hour.’
Udet nodded, his body straightening, wary of the on-looking Russians, raising his rifle to place over his shoulder, ‘Jawohl, Herr Leutnant.’ He stepped forward, beginning to collect the discarded uniforms from one of the Russian captives. The other armed Germans and their allies in the room seeming to emphasise their weapons to the startled prisoners.
The burly Romanian man with the bushy moustache now addressed the Russian captain, his gun never leaving his targets further across the room, his eyes stern, ‘Your friends here have killed a lot of our countrymen in the last couple of days captain, think yourself lucky today that this German officer…’ He indicated to Hausser with a jerk of his head, continuing, ‘…has more restraint. If it was just me…you would all be dead now.’
The Russian captain looked across at him, surprised by the outburst, ‘We were instructed to intercept escaping troops…’
‘Intercept!’ The Romanian quartermaster interrupted him, his voice becoming raised with contempt, ‘What does that mean captain? Murder? I see no prisoners you ‘intercepted’.’ The Romanians voice was becoming filled with contempt.
Hausser interjected, ‘Not now, Tatu.’
The quartermaster glanced at Hausser, his eyes narrowing then moving his stare back onto the prisoners, his voice firm and dismissive, ‘Join your friends at the back of the room, captain. Sit cross legged and no sudden movements…all I need is the excuse…’
The Russian captain nodded in defeat, indicating for his men to withdraw to the back of the room with his right hand. Slowly the men followed his lead and cautiously lowered themselves amongst their countrymen on the floor.
The captain observed that all the previous captives were drunk, the smell of alcohol strong amongst the group, his realisation the Germans had contributed to the prisoners rations to reduce resistance and movement. He watched as the Germans and Romanians moved the uniforms and weapons outside, taking some of the recently arrived American ration boxes with them. Noting that one younger man seemed weaker than the rest, his face drawn and colourless, his body covered in additional clothing and a large padded overcoat, one of the Germans assisting him to walk outside.
The captain then studied the sentry he had first met, the German commander addressing him individually and quietly in Russian. Noticing the younger man seemed uncomfortable with his stare, he adjusted his vision to the floor of the room, realising this man was a Russian volunteer. He wondered what could have caused such a change of heart, eventually dismissing the thoughts and simply summarising this man was now also his enemy, if not even more of a target.
As the German preparations for departure became more conclusive, a growing fear rose within him. Would they shoot their captives? Just throw grenades into the room as they departed? He began to realise the same thoughts were beginning to surface amongst his fellow captives, their uneasiness reflected on changing seating positions and concerned eye contact.
The Russian captain watched as the Germans slowly exited the room, leaving just the burly Romanian guarding them, making his stomach turn. He considered the larger man had enough rounds to finish them all off before they could get even ha
lf way across the room towards him. He also seemed to have the motive to kill them all due to his previous outburst.
His line of thought was broken as the German Leutnant re-entered the hall, his exhaled breath indicating the temperature outside was already quite low. The German officer walked confidently into the centre of the room, ensuring the Romanian still had a good line of fire should anyone rise to confront him.
The German Leutnant stood defiantly, surveying the group, then addressed them all, his eyes moving from man to man, ‘We will be leaving now…there are sufficient supplies for you for a number of days and ample firewood outside for cooking.’ He hesitated, watching the group of captives relax slightly as their worst thoughts were addressed, ‘Do not try to follow us as I fear you will get lost in the dark and cold…your winter is oblivious to which country its victims come from.’
Hausser paused again, letting his message be digested by the captive audience, ‘Your captain will look after you as I believe he is a good officer. The men who previously commanded you are all gone now…I wish you good luck gentlemen.’ With this, the German officer clicked his heels together and saluted the seated Russians formally, drawing a surprised wide-eyed response from his audience.
Hausser turned smiling faintly, ‘Tatu, let’s go…I think you have become too settled here by the fire, old man. You will miss all the adventure.’ He grinned at the Romanian quartermaster’s exasperated glance at him in response. As the Romanian responded and passed him, the young German commander slapped his shoulder playfully, the quartermaster returning a forced smile. With that the two exited the building, leaving the relieved yet exasperated audience to consider their situation.
The Russian captain smiled in relief, his stomach settling on hearing the engines of the personnel carriers roar outside and the sound beginning to recede as his enemy slowly moved away in the darkness. He slowly turned to see the Russian soldiers as relief spread across their faces, cautious smiles beginning to form across their faces.
The captain waited for about a minute, his caution finally overcome when he considered they must try and secure the buildings once more. Turning to the men, he instructed certain individuals to gather the food and check the surroundings, posting sentries although unarmed at each doorway and window. Once this was achieved he moved the remaining men near the open fire.
Once they were assembled, the Russian captain indicated for the men to help themselves to the pot of stew next to the burning logs, the soldiers greedily ladling the steaming portions into mess tins and consuming the contents ravenously, their relief at safety motivating their hunger further.
Slowly the scavenging men returned producing some more rations and some firewood, all complaining of their cold feet without the benefit of boots.
One younger soldier returned from the wooden pier, in his hands a pair of boots, the cheeky smile at his confidence of the find evident on his face as he handed them to the captain, ‘Sir…we can now send someone out to get help.’
The captain took the boots from the smiling soldier, turning them over in his hands and inspecting them, a wry smile slowly forming on his face, ‘Perhaps not soldier…the boots are of different size and for the same foot. It seems our Romanian and German captors have a sense of humour…these boots are so we can get firewood without catching frostbite, no one will be able to go long distances in them.’
The soldier’s dampened demeanour amused the captain further and he attempted to lighten the young man’s mood, ‘Good find though. I think the enemy had thought this through, if we get news of them out they will be hunted down. For now, they have escaped.’
The captain’s thoughts became more serious as he considered another issue, addressing the group, ‘What of your commanders…what happened to them?’
The soldier that had produced the boots slowly responded, his eyes downcast, ‘They took them outside sir, their bodies are next to the pier. They blamed them for us killing their countrymen.’
The Russian captain nodded grimly, knowing the characters of the men that had been killed and that there was a degree of truth in the Germans line of thought. He noticed some furtive glances around the group and considered questioning this, but rejected it, ‘Was there an older soldier amongst them? One with a beard?’
The young man looked him in the eyes, his stare dark with suspicion, ‘They took him also…he is out there too…it seems they shot him several times. He is some distance from the others, I think he tried to run. He was a strange man though…perhaps he deserved it sir.’
The captain nodded slowly, relieved his troublesome mission had been accomplished without a decision that had formed confliction within him, ‘I think you may be right there.’
He turned to the talkative soldier, ‘As for the Russian amongst them, do we know anything about him?’
The man hesitated, uncomfortable at the question, ‘He seemed troubled by what happened when they took them outside. When he went out to meet you, I asked the big Romanian about him and he said that the young Russian apparently owes his life to the officer after what happened in the Crimea…so he is bound to him through loyalty.’
The Russian captain nodded thoughtfully, wondering what could have happened in the battles around the Sevastopol peninsula to provoke such service. Dismissing the thoughts, he ate a spoonful of stew hungrily.
In the cold freezing dusk outside, about a half a mile away to the north, the personnel carriers slowly and cautiously drove through the night, their speed minimal to avoid hitting obstacles. All men had now several layers of clothing to protect them and their scarves and felt balaclavas protecting their faces against the extreme temperature.
Hausser slowly turned to Tatu, wary of the older Romanian’s grim mood, ‘We did a good thing tonight Tatu…those men did not need to die.’
The Romanian turned to him, his exhaled breath hanging in the air, ‘Perhaps you are right Hausser, they were following orders at a difficult time…they still deserve some discomfort though.’
The young German commander looked quizzically at the quartermaster, ‘What do you mean?’
The Romanian quartermaster grinned under his scarf, staring mischievously at the German officer, ‘When you were not looking…I took the stew outside and pissed in it.’
Chapter Ten: Understanding
As the personnel carriers lumbered slowly northwards, Hase surveyed the surroundings. The evening was not as cold as the previous night, with a high cloud cover preventing the temperature from plummeting. To his right, the frozen lake had a light mist across its surface, the lower temperature of the ice mixing with the air temperatures about a metre from the surface creating the distorted view as the contrasting levels of cold mixed. Occasionally some light from the moon would penetrate a gap in the clouds and provide further dim light to the surroundings, but the clouds were thick and all were aware that it may only be a matter of time before it began to snow heavily again.
The snow was deep either side of the track, concealing the potential horrors beneath of frozen corpses and discarded equipment. Half submerged bushes and small trees lined the left side of the rutted track with the right side of the track fully exposed allowing a freezing breeze to drift in off the lake.
The front personnel carrier was being driven by Meino with Albrecht sitting beside him, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any potential threat, a newly acquired Russian submachine gun resting on the front of the vehicle’s metal plate. Behind them sat Hausser and Tatu, both engaged in sporadic conversation, their moods seeming light with both men occasionally seen to laugh.
In the second personnel carrier, Udet had been nominated to drive and was accompanied by Petru next to him, his rifle also held at the ready. Next to Hase was Nicu, virtually covered completely in blankets and thick padded clothing to ward against the cold, his body yet to fully recover from the exposure he had suffered. Occasionally the weakened man would adjust position, or moan as the vehicle jolted over an obstacle or rut under the snow.
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At the fork in the track, the vehicles stopped next to each other as Hausser briefed them on his intended plan for the next part of the journey. The young commander explained that the track to the left lead to the main road, but that this would probably have Russian vehicles and patrols along it as they were now behind Russian lines. Hausser explained that his plan was to continue up the coast track, which from inspection showed no evidence of traffic since the last snowfall…that this track would lead into the village to their north, Dubovyy Ovrag…that this route entering the town would probably be not as well guarded as the main road to their west.
The commander advised his intention was to pass through the town innocently, presenting themselves as a returning patrol as they were all now dressed in Russian uniforms. In the confusion of the offensive that seemed to be ongoing, there would be many disorientated units moving about and they were to pass themselves off as a patrolling unit searching the area for stragglers and deserters.
After checking his map briefly, Hausser advised that only the Russian speakers should converse when they neared the town, indicating to himself and Tatu. He advised that if they were to be challenged, they should say they were returning to their unit in the next town to the north, Chapurniki. They would then repeat this in Chapurniki stating they were from Dubovyy Ovrag if questioned. He continued, advising if they were successful in the first town, they would join the main road and make better progress northwards towards safety.
The commander had then smiled briefly, stating that once they were beyond these villages or towns, they would be approaching the Volga bend, near the outskirts of Stalingrad and then would hopefully re-join with German units there if not before.
Realising at that point the men were becoming apprehensive of the journey ahead, Hausser had explained that if they were fortunate, this was the last part of their journey and once past the towns they would be very near German lines if indeed the Russians actually held both towns. He continued that they may be lucky and German and Romanian forces may not be much further north, advising he had explained the most challenging option first. This seemed to alleviate some concerns and the young commander ensured he made eye contact and addressed each man individually as he spoke to bolster their personal moods.
Bloody Stalingrad Page 11