Hausser nodded solemnly, ‘We will head off in 5 minutes…we may stop him to see if he has fuel…that is now my major concern. If we have to resort to movement on foot, I am worried it will take a lot longer and expose us to extra risk.’
Turning to Meino, who was sorting through the contents of the stowage bins in the snow next to the carriers, Hausser drew breath, ‘How is it coming along, Meino? Are we nearly done? I want to leave soon.’
Meino looked up from the assortment of supplies on the ground. ‘I am nearly finished; all the fuel is spread equally between the carriers…but it is not enough I think. I have removed all the supplies we do not need, leaving ammunition, food for 2 days and the water. We should be re-packed in a couple of minutes.’
Hausser nodded, addressing all the men around him, ‘Good…then we leave shortly.’
Meino interjected, ‘What shall I do with our helmets, Herr Leutnant? We have them stacked in one of the cars.’
Hausser considered for a moment, ‘Take them, I don’t want a German…’ He hesitated, looking across at Tatu, ‘…or indeed a Romanian sniper taking our heads off from a distance because we have the wrong helmet on.’ He grinned, seeing Tatu ‘tut’ and raise his eyes in response.
Meino started handing items from the pile of equipment in the snow to the men around him, indicating for them to be placed in the carriers. As the stowage bins on the personnel carriers were opened and the items dropped inside, a distant ‘crump’ noise echoed across the landscape.
Hausser flinched and stiffened, dropping to a crouch, indicating for the men around him to do the same.
Another sound similar to the first drifted across the snow as the soldiers moved silently behind the carriers, facing up the hill, their weapons at the ready.
‘What was….?’ Albrecht whispered, his eyes wide with fear. His right hand pulling the catch on his PPSH submachine gun, the loud metallic click seeming to break the silence further.
‘Shhh!’ Hausser interrupted him, ‘Quiet.’ The young commander scanned the ridge above them, his eyes squinting to try and pierce through the gloom. In the darkness he could only see the snow continuing up to the top of the hill, there were no shapes or movement he could make out in the white expanse before him.
Then another ‘crump’, but this time he glimpsed a slight flash of light off to his right, in the trees at the top of the hill, some three hundred metres away. Hausser exhaled slowly, his breath held as he had scanned the snow in front of them…he now knew the source of the noise.
‘Hausser, what is it?’ Udet had crept to join the others and was now behind the commander.
Hausser looked over his shoulder slightly to acknowledge the infantryman, his voice a whisper, ‘Artillery battery in the trees, firing north I think…into Stalingrad.’
The soldiers crouched behind the personnel carriers all cautiously turned to look up the hill towards the trees, their adrenalin rising as they realised how close they were to an enemy artillery battery.
Hausser paused, straining his ears to listen, then spoke, turning his head to address the others to his left, ‘Probably three guns I think, they are reloading now…perhaps.’
Tatu leant forward past Petru who was between him and the commander, ‘Hausser, let’s take them…they will have fuel. We destroy the guns and take the fuel…simple.’
The commander’s eyes narrowed, his expression grim, ‘We don’t know how many they are. Until we do, we stay put. If we start the engines now, they may hear us.’
Tatu shook his head, ‘Let Petru and I go and take a look…we are in Russian uniforms and we need the fuel…what do you say?’
Hausser hesitated, his mind seeming conflicted between escaping and gaining the fuel they needed. After several seconds, he turned to face Tatu, their eyes meeting, ‘Go then. No shooting, just find out how many they have, their sentries. See if they have any vehicles, that’s where the fuel will be.’
Tatu nodded once, running his tongue over his lips and right hand nervously over his moustache, ‘Very well…we will be back in ten minutes.’ The Romanian slapped Petru’s left shoulder with the outside of his right hand and both men pushed themselves from the carriers, running half-crouched off to the right.
Hausser turned to the remaining men, indicating for them to close in around him. As they did so, he became aware that they were breathing heavily, their eyes wide and pupils dilated, the signs of excitement and adrenalin. He drew breath, ‘If we attack, I want to come in from two sides. That will confuse them as to how many we are. We will attack along the hill and from the right, hopefully disrupting any defence.’
The soldiers nodded in response, their faces grim.
The young commander continued, ‘Meino, you go with Tatu and take Udet with you. Hase, you and Petru come with me. Albrecht, you will stay with Nicu. Now, do you all understand?’
Albrecht interjected, ‘I can come…I know what to do.’
Hausser turned to look at the young dispatch rider, his voice firm, ‘You will do what you are told…you are not a front line soldier yet. You stay here with Nicu.’
Albrecht nodded slowly, his face flushed after the embarrassing contradiction, the realisation he should not question his orders, ‘Yes sir.’ He whispered slowly, ‘I am sorry.’
The commander’s eyes lightened, ‘That’s alright…there will be plenty of opportunity for you to prove yourself later I think.’ Pointing at the young German’s weapon, he paused, then continued. ‘Take a rifle instead of that submachine gun, you will be more use to us with a different weapon.’ He leant forward and patted the young soldier’s shoulder to reassure him.
Leaning back, Hausser looked round the other soldiers, ‘Now, remove your Russian uniforms. We have too much clothing on to move quickly. We attack dressed as Germans, then we have the chance of being prisoners if it goes wrong.’
The men nodded grimly, slowly beginning to remove the Russian grey felt tunics.
The commander turned to Hase, his face downcast, ‘Hase, if we fail…you run. Do you understand?’
Hase swallowed hard, wary of Hausser’s scrutinising eyes upon him. Nodding, he whispered cautiously, ‘I understand.’
‘Good.’ The commander stated, ‘Then let’s get ready.’ With that he turned and began unbuttoning his Russian tunic.
Albrecht stopped and stared at the young commander, his eyes fixed on the commander’s neck, ‘You have the iron cross, Hausser?’ His eyes examining the black cross outlined in white.
Meino prodded Albrecht with his right hand, ‘Yes he has…but he does not talk about it. Concentrate on what we have to do.’
Albrecht shook his head, ‘Y-yes, sorry, I just saw it and….’
Hausser interjected, ‘It was a long time ago.’ Pushing the metal cross back inside his German tunic, he leant over into one of the stowage bins and picked up his MP40, collecting some extra magazines from the bin and pushing them into his belt. Picking up his steel helmet, he placed it carefully on his head and grinned thoughtfully, turning to face them, ‘It feels like a distant dream now.’
They turned as Petru approached from the left, running half crouched towards them in the snow. As he came to a stop, breathless in front of Hausser, his eyes widened as he realised they were all in German uniforms. Gulping air, he began to speak, ‘They have three guns in a clearing in the trees, heavy artillery.’ He exhaled a cloud of air, ‘There is a machine gun position to the left covering that approach, but I do not think they expect trouble, there seems to be only two guards. The rest are firing the guns, or trying to sleep I think.’
Hausser nodded, indicating for him to continue, ‘How many men?’
Petru continued, his breathing becoming more relaxed, ‘Maybe twenty?’
The young commander pursed his lips, ‘That many? We are six…where is Tatu?’
Petru smiled slightly, the corners of his mouth rising, ‘The old fool is already near or in the trees…he said he wants the perfect position.’
H
ausser shook his head slowly in disbelief, a frustrated smile forming on his lips, ‘Blood thirsty fool, we have to attack now just to get him back!’
Petru continued, ‘Tatu is going to try and stop them organising a defence against us, he will create a diversion.’ He paused looking around the soldiers watching him, ‘They have a carrier like ours I think, so there should be fuel there.’
The commander hesitated for a moment, thinking through the situation. Turning to the others, he observed they had all removed any excess clothing or equipment they did not require, ‘Very well…change of plan slightly. Meino, go with Petru and Udet. Hase, stay close to me.’ He indicated with his free hand, ‘We set off up the slope and then move to the flanks after about 100 metres, I will give the signal. Meino, take your group in along the ridge. Hase and I will come in from the right. Do you all understand?’
The soldiers nodded in grim silence, the colour draining from their faces, their adrenalin rising once more.
Hausser continued, ‘They have more men than us…so we go in shooting, we do not have any other option.’ He looked into each man’s face to determine their individual resolve, ‘Spread out and keep low until we are near the trees, then follow me in.’ He hesitated, waiting for the information to sink in, then continued, ‘Let’s go!’
They moved out from the cover of the personnel carriers into the field, all half crouched, their boots slipping in the snow as they began to ascend the slope. Hausser assumed a position on the right with Hase some eight metres from him, equally spaced from Udet, then Meino, with Petru on the far left, heading for the top of the crest...and the trees.
Hase looked to his right, wary Hausser was ahead of him on the incline. His heart was beating loudly in his chest, the excitement and adrenalin spurring him forward as he propelled himself up the incline. His breathing became sharp and heavy as the exertion on the slope began to become tiring against the freezing air, his calf muscles aching as they struggled against the terrain.
He gripped his rifle tightly as he felt the cool breeze from the lakes across his face, his realisation of sweat running down his face as the warm liquid chilled quickly upon coming into contact with the cold air. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled as he pushed himself up the incline, his arms aching with the weight of his rifle and the exertion.
As he moved to the right following Hausser, he looked up at their objective. The trees were now becoming larger as they approached, their branches heavily weighted down with snow. Beyond the trees he heard a thump as one of the Russian guns fired again into the distance, the flash of light through the branches causing him to duck his head instinctively.
The distance to the trees narrowed to fifty metres and he could hear another artillery piece fire, the smoke from the blast rising from the trees before him. The distance was now thirty metres and his breathing was now very heavy, the sweat pouring down his face and into his scarf. As he neared the first group of trees he heard a shout of alarm from within the bushes to his right, cut short by the flashes from Hausser’s MP40, the Russian sentry falling backwards into the branches.
He crashed into the first tree trunk, his body heaving from the exertion as he glanced round the large trunk, branches concealing a full view. From the flickering lights of three small fires behind the guns, he saw the Russian gunners momentarily freeze in their positions at the shots then turn towards them, reaching down for their weapons next to the artillery pieces.
Hase leant round the tree and raised his rifle to his eye, seeing a gunner raise a pistol towards Hausser’s direction in the trees to his right. The rifle jerked upwards as he fired, the Russian artillery gunner twisting left as the bullet entered his shoulder at high speed, the pistol falling from his grasp.
To the left, he heard an explosion and his back was hit with debris from the blast, the shock wave pushing past him round the tree, the air filled with twigs and dirt, distracting his view. He closed his eyes quickly in reaction and then opened them, pulling the bolt back on his rifle.
Submachine gun bursts from the right and left felled several gunners and he saw Tatu dart out from the trees far to the right, his PPSH submachine gun held at waist height flashing indiscriminately into the Russian positions. Hausser advanced more cautiously, half crouched from the bushes nearer him, firing controlled bursts from his MP40 before him as the Russians desperately tried to defend themselves.
Squinting through the branches, he saw a Russian crouched behind one of the artillery pieces, his felt cap moving rapidly from side to side. He noticed him playing an object in his hands and realised his intention, raising his rifle again and firing, the weapon kicking back into his shoulder as he forcibly gained more control.
The Russian jerked as the bullet hit him in the thigh, blood spurting across the snow. As the soldier slid backwards across the side of the artillery piece, the grenade in his hand dropped next to him, the Russian next to him screaming in panic. There was a flash and the artillerymen were blown backwards from the grenade, the fragmentations and blast killing them instantly.
Hase pushed himself from the trunk, advancing through the trees, the branches scratching and clawing at his uniform and face. He frantically pulled the bolt back on his rifle and raised it again, biting his lip hard as he fired at a Russian soldier at the doorway of his tent. The bullet entered centrally through the soldier’s chest, the man’s legs buckling as he sank to his knees, falling forward into the snow with blood soaking across his full length grey felt underwear.
As Hase entered the clearing, he saw Tatu turn and fire into the tent he had just shot at, the burst from his submachine gun killing the four occupants almost instantly as they struggled with their equipment and to free themselves from their sleeping bags.
Hausser was reloading in front of him, tossing his spent magazine onto the ground and replacing it with a fresh one. Pulling the bolt back, the commander turned to make eye contact, nodding as Hase emerged from the trees, his rifle before him.
Another explosion to the left followed, and he ducked his head as the frozen earth and snow hit him on his left side, the blast of air dirty and foul smelling. He staggered, spitting earth from his mouth and lips, turning determinedly to the left to advance further.
Sporadic gunfire from in front of him and further back in the small camp echoed across the clearing as the three other Germans and Romanians fought for control of the tented section. As Hase advanced further, he became aware of Hausser to his right side, his submachine gun at waist height.
He flinched as a Russian ran screaming out towards him from the trees on the left, a bayonet in his hand. Hausser turned and fired a burst from his submachine gun and the soldier spun backwards, the bayonet falling into the snow, blood splattering across Hase’s face as he advanced further.
As they turned slightly into a bend in the clearing, Hase saw Meino on the ground fighting with a larger and broader Russian, the Croatian grappling with the man above him as the Russian tried to stab him with his bayonet. Meino was holding the Russians wrists and desperately trying to hold back the blade, the sharpened tip dipping downwards towards his chest as they fought.
Hase raised his rifle quickly, sucking in his breath and holding it as he fired. The rifle butt kicked backwards into his shoulder as the Russian fell sideways, the bullet entering his right temple. Hase looked down at his weapon, pulling back the bolt and loading another bullet into the chamber. Raising it again he fired and hit another gunner bearing down on Udet who was half crouched, his rifle held in defence above him with both hands, the German’s weapon empty. The Russian fell sideways as the bullet hit his left side.
Hase pulled back on the bolt once more, looking down briefly, realising he had one last bullet. As he looked up, he saw another Russian kick Udet in the chest and jump forward on top of him as the young Berliner fell backwards. The Russian soldier was grasping for his knife as he fell forwards onto the young soldier, a frustrated whine coming from the Germans lips as he hit the ground awkwardly,
his hands attempting to rise above him in defence.
A scream of hatred and frustration emanated from Hase’s lips as he charged forward, the adrenalin surging through him. As he neared the pair on the ground, he brought his rifle swiftly up, hitting the Russian on the left shoulder, unbalancing him and knocking him off the young soldier, the knife landing innocently on Udet’s chest as he fell.
Hase jumped over Udet’s body and stood above the Russian, looking down into his face as the man twisted on the ground, his arm broken. The Russian stared up at him, terror in his eyes as he saw the man in the German uniform above him lower his rifle to point at his face. The Russian soldier started shaking desperately, his lips moving uncontrollably, ‘Nein! Bitte! Bitte!’ The subdued man pleading as he looked up at him, his eyes wide in fear.
Hase stared down, the realisation the begging man was his countryman surging through him. He hesitated, startled by the man’s pleading eyes and outstretched hand desperately begging him not to shoot. Then he twisted the weapon round in his hands, dealing the prone man a swift blow to the left temple, knocking him unconscious.
As Hase straightened up, he became aware the shooting had stopped. Turning slowly, he saw Hausser standing over four kneeling Russians, their hands behind their heads, his submachine gun pointing at them menacingly. Two were weeping and must have been no older than eighteen.
‘Please don’t Hausser!’ He called across as he saw the commander pull back on the bolt on his weapon.
Hausser glanced across at him briefly, making eye contact and nodding slowly, his breathing heavy.
Behind the commander, Tatu sat breathless on a stool outside one of the Russian tents, the body of a Russian artilleryman half in and half out of the tent doorway, the remaining occupants all dead inside.
Petru was further back, inspecting the personnel carrier parked behind the tents. Next to it was the main supply emplacement for the guns with boxes of food and ammunition strewn across the area.
Bloody Stalingrad Page 14