Bloody Stalingrad

by Andrew McGregor

  Udet painfully rose to a seated position and began coughing to his right, falling and rolling on the ground clutching his chest. As Hase looked down, he saw the young German had blood on his lips and was now beginning to moan loudly.

  Further back, Meino was sat dejected, his helmet lying on the ground between his legs. His head in his hands, his shoulders shaking as he cried.

  Hausser broke the silence, ‘Tatu, keep an eye on these,’ The officer indicated to the four prisoners.

  Tatu nodded, turning on his stool to face the four Russians knelt in the snow, his gun lowered.

  The commander then walked over to Udet, kneeling next to him and inspecting him. Udet was sobbing uncontrollably and shaking as Hausser ran his hand down the young German’s chest, then looked in his mouth, ‘Hase! Help Udet back to the carriers…I think he has broken ribs and he has bitten his tongue during the fight. Take Meino with you, and some fuel cans if Petru has found any.’

  Hase moved next to the young commander and leant down towards Udet. As he and Hausser helped Udet to his feet, the young German spat blood and started clutching his side painfully, his face white with shock. Udet placed his arm on his shoulder and they slowly turned to walk away, Hase turned slightly to face the commander, his voice pleading, ‘What of the prisoners?’

  Hausser looked him straight in the eye, ‘They will live long lives I think, young Hase.’ A brief smile flickered across his face, then the commander’s features became serious and turned back as Petru passed him, four fuel cans in his hands.

  As they started back down the slope, Hase was aware that Udet was leaning quite heavily on him, his body hunched in pain, his footing challenged in the snow. Udet was dragging his rifle with his left hand, his right hand across his chest. The young soldier was moaning and occasionally spitting blood into the snow. Meino walked slowly behind them, his rifle slung over his shoulder as petrol cans weighed heavily on his arms.

  Halfway down the slope, his heart sank as he heard five single shots ring out across the snow…the fate of the prisoners sealed. Anger and frustration rose within him as he realised the young commander had lied to him…that they had probably murdered the Russian prisoners in cold blood.

  As they continued slowly, he considered that Hausser had perhaps no option, the Russians were too close to the road and would call for help as soon as they departed, that they could also shoot at them as they walked slowly in the snow. Perhaps there was no other way, despite the callousness of the situation. Despondency and disillusionment set into his mind as they neared the personnel carriers.

  Then four explosions rang out as dull thumps as the breaches of the guns were blown up, the last explosion being far louder, signalling the destruction of the ammunition.

  Hase helped Udet gently into the back of one of the carriers, ignoring Albrecht as he questioned Meino repeatedly of what had happened. Having given Udet some extra blankets and water, he went and sat alone between the destroyed tanks, listening to the excited chatter of Albrecht as he questioned the solemn Meino of the action that had occurred. Meino emptied two of the fuel cans into the personnel carriers’ tanks and packed the rest of the equipment that he had selected to take into the stowage bins.

  Nicu handed him another biscuit bar in comfort and sat down next to him in silence until Tatu, Petru and Hausser descending the slope to join them. The commander slumped next to him exhausted and greedily swigged from a water bottle, his face covered in dried sweat and dirt from the action.

  Slowly Hase turned to the commander, his eyes filling with tears, ‘Did you shoot the prisoners?’

  Hausser sipped from the bottle and slowly lowered it from his mouth, turning to him and clearing his throat as he sighed, ‘As I said before Hase, they will live long lives…they will. If we leave them unharmed they will be placed in a penal battalion for losing a position, they will die within weeks. We shot them in the feet and legs, one bullet each…none will see frontline action again I hope. They also will not be able to get to the road without help…so we are safe for now.’ The young commander sighed, removing his helmet and dropping it to the ground, his hair now matted with sweat to his head, ‘They have enough supplies and medical equipment to last until they get help. We also left them their Vodka, only now its twenty rations amongst five.’ Hausser hesitated, a determined but frustrated expression forming on his face, ‘We can’t take them with us Hase! We need to survive this!’ The commander picked up his helmet and rose to his feet, shaking his head as he turned and walked despondently to the carriers.

  Hausser addressed the men, his face tired and drawn, ‘Get your kit and get redressed in the Russian uniforms…we leave in ten minutes.’

  As they prepared to get into the personnel carriers, Hausser stopped them, his face solemn. ‘Hase, you drive the lead vehicle with Udet, myself and Meino. Petru, you drive the second vehicle with Tatu, Albrecht and Nicu.’

  The soldiers nodded, confused by the new arrangement. Slowly, they mounted their vehicles. As Hase started the carrier’s engine, Hausser got into the seat next to him and offered some brief instructions of how to drive the vehicle.

  Slowly the vehicles pulled out of the makeshift position and descended the slope to join the main road. As they turned left onto the highway, he glanced at Hausser, ‘Were you going to shoot the prisoners when I asked you not to?’

  The young commander smiled briefly before answering, his composure returning, ‘Not really, young Hase…I had no bullets in the gun.’

  As the personnel carriers accelerated northwards on the highway, heavy snowflakes began to fall, drifting down to earth and settling on the frozen landscape, the air becoming crisp as the temperature dropped further.

  On the hill behind them, amongst the trees, sitting in the last remaining upright tent, seven very relieved, wounded and bandaged Russians were getting drunk.

  Chapter Fifteen: Into the Darkest Hour of the Night.

  As the snow fell softly onto the landscape, the visibility decreased dramatically. The personnel carriers slowed to a crawl, the thickness of the snowfall limiting vision to just a few yards.

  Hase sat attentively in the driving seat of the vehicle, straining his eyes into the blizzard before them. The pace of the vehicles had now dropped to minimal speed and he was struggling to see the road in front of them. He could feel the vehicle tracks slipping on the snow above the ice on the road and made gradual changes to the controls to ensure they remained in what he considered to be the middle of the highway.

  The soldiers were gradually becoming covered in the falling snow, the large snowflakes resting upon their uniforms and helmets in the freezing temperature.

  Hausser turned and addressed the two soldiers behind him in the lead carrier as they moved cautiously northwards, advising them of what was required in the village ahead. Udet coughed violently, spitting blood from his mouth over the side of the carrier.

  ‘How are you feeling now, Udet?’ Hausser asked.

  Udet clutched his chest, his face covered by his scarf, but eyes presenting a man in intense pain, ‘I should be alright in a couple of hours…the Russian just knocked the wind out of me, Herr Leutnant.’ He replied, his voice strained in agony.

  ‘Just keep your spirits up.’ Hausser retorted, ‘We should be in Stalingrad later today if all goes well.’

  Meino grinned beneath his scarf, ‘Perhaps the Russkies may wish to delay us longer, Hausser…how will we get through the lines?’

  Hausser nodded, his face grim beneath his own scarf, ‘I understand your concerns Meino, but we will deal with that when we get further north, the next challenge is the town ahead. Once we get through that, then we will worry about trigger happy Germans and Romanians.’

  Meino nodded, ‘Yes Herr Leutnant. Hopefully the snow will continue, that may help us.’

  Hausser nodded and turned back to look into the blizzard, his eyes squinting to try and see through the wall of white falling before them, ‘If this snow keeps up, we will arrive in the to
wn in daylight, something I was hoping to avoid.’

  Behind him, Meino and Udet stole a glance at each other, their concern for the dangers ahead growing.

  Hausser turned to him, ‘Hase, you seem to have mastered the Russian vehicle I think, how do you feel about driving us into Stalingrad?’

  He glanced across at the commander, ‘I would be happy to, the controls are quite straight forward once you get used to them.’ He smiled, ‘Perhaps its best I drive.’

  Hausser studied him, his consideration that the young man may have a number of conflicts on his mind due to the situation. The commander considered that although he felt this man as one of his unit now after all that had happened over the last year, he was still not a German soldier, however he trusted him.

  Seeing a shape in the falling snow before him, Hase braked hard…too late, the personnel carrier hitting the obstacle with its right wing and skidding sideways. The men jolted forward as the vehicle came to an abrupt halt.

  ‘Achtung, Aus!’ Hausser shouted with alarm, grabbing his submachine gun and jumping over the side of the carrier.

  Behind them, Petru braked and the second carrier skidded to a halt at an angle to the first, Tatu already half way out of the vehicle.

  Meino jumped over the other side of the vehicle behind him, grasping his MP40. Hase turned, seeing Udet wince as he tried to climb over the side of the carrier, slipping on the metal plate and falling heavily into the snow, a pained grunt indicating his landing.

  He clambered over to the passenger side and climbed out, kneeling down to help Udet, the young soldier lying groaning in the snow. Udet forced a smile as he saw Hase bending down above him, swearing in pain as he was helped to his feet, his left hand grasping Hase’s upper arm for support, his rifle in his right hand.

  As Udet looked round, he saw the silhouette of Hausser kneeling in the snow to the front side of the carrier before a shadow on the road. Next to him, the upright silhouette of Tatu, his PPSH 41 held pointing forward, into the darkened falling snow. Meino was on the other side of the carrier, also pointing his MP40 into the gloom, moving it sporadically from side to side as he attempted to see through the thick virtually impenetrable snowfall. The others were behind the second carrier, their weapons covering the approaches to the vehicles from all sides, their heads jerking nervously from side to side in attempts to see through the darkness.

  Udet leant heavily on Hase as they slowly moved towards Hausser, becoming aware that the snow was beginning to lie thick on the ice covered road beneath. As they approached, he realised the young commander was kneeling before a body lying almost motionless in front of him.

  Udet looked down as they drew alongside Tatu, seeing a badly wounded Russian soldier lying on his back before the young commander, his right leg shattered due to the impact with the carrier, the white of a bone visible through bloodied flesh and a tear in his uniform. On his left side, blood seeped through a hand pressed firmly on a fresh bullet wound.

  The wounded man was coughing as he strained to talk to Hausser, blood in his mouth preventing him from conversing too much. As he watched, Udet became aware the man was close to death, the blood seeping out onto the snow beneath him from his wounds as he struggled to talk.

  Udet observed that the wounded man was now beginning to shiver, his voice becoming strained as he coughed some more, the exertion bringing more blood into his mouth. Then suddenly, his eyes rolled upwards and his head fell back into the snow as he died.

  Hausser slowly rose from his kneeling position, turning to face them, his eyes saddened. Swallowing, the commander spoke softly, ‘He was from the lorry you saw…they were ambushed up ahead. He believed they were shot at by Kalmyk partisans…escaped from the town behind us.’

  Udet looked into the commander’s eyes, seeing his sorrow, ‘Do you think any Russians are left ahead of us?’

  The young commander shook his head, ‘No, there was just him and two others…they were killed in the ambush. He was trying to make it back down the road to Dubovyy Ovrag.’

  Hausser looked across at Hase, seeing the soldier was staring morosely at the body behind him, aware the man had understood what the dead Russian had told him, ‘You didn’t kill him Hase, he would never have made it back…he was too badly wounded. He would have died on the road in the snow, alone. You couldn’t see him through this.’

  Udet felt the soldier next to him tense, his body straightening up to face the young commander. He looked at Hase, seeing the man nod determinedly back at the commander, sadness in his eyes.

  Hausser maintained eye contact for a second, making sure Hase seemed controlled and then turned to face Udet again, raising his voice to ensure the men on the second carrier heard him, ‘Get back in the carriers. I want to get through the town ahead in this blizzard, its perfect cover. Keep your eyes open, the Kalmyk ambush could be waiting for us ahead, but they probably will have looted the lorry and gone.’

  With this he looked back at Udet, ‘Get yourself covered up in the carrier, the next part of our journey will probably be the trickiest.’ The young commander winked at him, then turned to his right, ‘Meino, can you take the Russian off the road please, I don’t want him being hit by any traffic. He doesn’t deserve that.’

  Meino glanced over his shoulder, nodding, ‘Yes, Herr Leutnant.’

  Udet paused, glancing down at the Russian soldier lying in the road. Noticing he seemed relaxed now, the intense pain and fear he had experienced seconds earlier now gone. He was aware Hase was also looking down at the corpse, his breath being forced through his scarf, tears visible in his eyes. Udet turned to look at the commander, ‘Did he say anything else, Hausser?’

  Hausser sighed, turning slowly and directing his attention back to him, sadness in his eyes, a grim expression on his face as he pulled the scarf down from around his mouth, ‘Yes he did, Udet. He said he loved his wife and child just before he died.’

  Chapter Sixteen: The Kalmyk Rifleman

  Hase gunned the engine of the personnel carrier, revving the machine to keep it warm. Seeing Meino climb in behind him, he engaged gear and the vehicle skidded forward in the snow, its tracks struggling for grip.

  Behind them the other engine roared into life as Petru followed and they slowly progressed northwards. The snowfall was now thickening further and visibility reduced to just in front of the carriers as the flakes swirled around them.

  The soldiers sat in grim silence as the snow slowly settled across their helmets and arms, the vehicles speed inadequate to unsettle the white blanket that slowly began to cover them in the carriers. The anticipation of the struggle ahead immersed each man in pensive thought, their minds filled with a mixture of determination and fear of the unknown. Each man struggling with thoughts of what lay ahead, what a mistake could lead to or even of what lay in store for them if they successfully passed through the Russian lines.

  The drivers sat hunched over their controls, straining their eyes into the darkness and thick snowfall for obstacles. The snow now settling on the iced surface of the road causing the tracks on the vehicles to slip occasionally, pumping adrenalin into the men as they felt the vehicles slide or shudder. In each man’s mind the thought of breaking a track or a vehicle becoming unusable was an additional fear, reducing them once more to walking and potential further dangers this would bring.

  As a cold ground breeze slipped in from lake and enveloped them from the right, the pungent aroma of burning gripped their nostrils briefly, causing the men to raise their weapons in caution. The settled snow falling from their arms and helmets as they raised their arms, the weapons pointing out to each side of the carriers.

  Within seconds the smell was gone, the men peering into the wall of falling snow around them for signs of the aroma’s source or potential attack, but unable to glimpse anything. The thick snowfall concealing the burning lorry some 30 metres to their right, the bodies of the ambushed crew lying on in the cab and out on the iced lake.

  The ammunition lorry’s
cab was burning slowly in the falling snow, the two ambushers having cautiously stopped unloading the back of the truck as they heard the engines approach in the blizzard. Concealing themselves hastily on the bank, they pushed their faces into the broken ice, overburdened lorry tyres having slewed across the frosted terrain, the figures ducked as a new potential enemy passed, wary the arrivals may be looking for the crashed vehicle, or them.

  As the engine noise subsided to the north the ambushers stood up, embracing each other in relief, the Kalmyk mother and fourteen-year-old boy thankful for the snow’s concealment. They slowly picked up the boxes they had chosen from the lorry and trudged off across the road to the west into the blizzard.

  The boy hung his head as he remembered his father’s last words to him earlier that day. To take his mother and flee to the west, to stay with relatives further to the southwest for safety. The Russian soldiers had then come hunting, taking his father away, striking the lad when he tried to resist and knocking him to the floor of their small house.

  He and his mother had collected his father’s rifle, pistol and some food and left within minutes, resigned to proceeding in the bitter cold to endure survival. Trudging through the town and witnessing the Russian soldiers’ brutality to their neighbours, seeing the hatred in their eyes as they taunted people they believed had assisted the German invaders.

  On the outskirts of Dubovyy Ovrag he had come upon his father one last time. His body lifeless, hanging limply above them from a telegraph pole, a message crudely nailed into his chest. ‘The German collaborator’. His father had been beaten before being executed, and it was then the fourteen-year-old boy’s emotions twisted from desperate sorrow to hatred as he consoled his grief stricken mother…at that point he vowed to avenge his dead father. The years of his father’s teachings on hunting for food…only killing for what they needed and sparing animals that were young or female if possible came to fruition. He vowed to hunt in revenge from that moment forth.