He was a proficient marksman and the driver’s death had been a simple shot. As the vehicle had slewed across the road and down the slight bank, he had momentarily lost sight of his next target, but had fired again as he saw the Russian soldier run away, smiling inside himself at the man’s fear. He scolded himself for the emotion when he realised he had only wounded him and that he had escaped, using the bank as cover. The last Russian soldier had stayed in the cab of the lorry, initially laughing in relief at the small youth that appeared with the rifle, his size disproportionate to the length of the weapon. The soldier’s mocking quickly transformed to fear and desperate pleading for his life to both the boy and his mother when he glimpsed the hatred within the youth’s eyes and realised the teenager was motivated by revenge. He had slowly trudged miserably in front of the youth as he was forced down to the lake’s edge, tears flowing down his face as he realised the boy had no intention of showing mercy. As he reached the water’s edge, he had turned to face the youth dressed in bedraggled clothing, ‘please’ the only word to pass his lips before he was shot in the face, his body crumpling backwards onto the frozen lakes edge. The blood seeping out across the ice, the soldier dying instantly.
The boy returned to his grief stricken mother, a grim look of satisfaction on his face. The youth then lit a fire in the cab of the lorry with the assistance of a fuel can and the couple had begun to trudge away when they heard the engines approach. In nervousness, they instinctively dropped down on the side of the road whilst the vehicles passed, the shadows of the personnel carriers above them on the road seemed close enough to touch. Realising there was more than one engine, the boy considered this potential foe to be too powerful to engage at this time, vowing he would always try to use the element of surprise in a future attacks. He was learning…and quickly.
As the couple trudged through the snow, now turning slightly to the south west, he smiled briefly as he heard the crump of the lorry exploding some distance behind him. The knowledge the Russians in the next village would now have less ammunition pleasing him…then reality returned, a brief tear rolling down his cheek for the loss of his father, before he placed his arm round his mother’s shoulder for comfort. He realised he needed to be strong now for both of them, this would ensure their survival and the continuation of his new purpose.
Half a kilometre to the north, the personnel carriers accelerated slightly as the snowfall lightened, visibility increasing. They were now less than two kilometres from the outskirts of Bolshiye Chapurniki as dim light filtered through the falling snow. A new day had begun.
Chapter Seventeen: Passage into the Storm.
Hausser blew smoke from his cigarette into the cold air and turned to face the three soldiers in his personnel carrier, his eyes narrowing, ‘The town ahead is only a short distance away now, so check your weapons and remember that only the Russian speakers should talk…no matter what happens.’
The soldiers nodded grimly, their adrenalin rising within them. The metals cracks of bolts being pulled to check rifles and submachine guns echoed around them, indicating for the soldiers in the second carrier to replicate the action.
Tatu turned and addressed Nicu and Albrecht, his hand resting on Petru’s shoulder, ‘Be alert the two of you, do not speak from now on, I will do all the talking if we are challenged…understand?’
Both young soldiers nodded quietly in the back of the second carrier, their faces solemn and eyes wide with anticipation for the road and challenges ahead.
In the front carrier, Hausser turned to face the direction of travel, peering over the front metal plate of the vehicle. He could see the lights of the town before them in the distance with the lake to the right and a snow covered expanse to the left. The tracks of the carrier rolled over the ice, buildings and lights becoming larger as they began their final approach to Bolshiye Chapurniki.
Hase slowly reduced the throttle of the engine as they approached to within two hundred metres of the entry to the town. He observed the burning upright oil drums to either side of the road at the first houses, the crude heating arrangement surrounded by three Russian sentries. As they approached further the sentries turned to face them. To their right, a machine gun behind a sandbagged position was pointing directly towards them.
He swallowed hard as the first carrier slowed further, watching a Russian sentry walk slowly into the middle of the road before them, raising his left hand in indication for them to stop, a PPSH submachine gun in his right hand. The three other soldiers took their rifles from their shoulders and walked slowly out from the cover of the buildings and the warmth to join their sergeant in the road, their bayonets glinting in the morning light.
The last few snowflakes fell across them as the carriers came to a halt before the Russian sentries, their engines idling as the Russian sergeant approached, his felt cloth headwear excellent insulation against the cold.
Hausser smiled a greeting to the man, raising his hand to offer two packets of American cigarettes to the sergeant, ‘Good to see the snow has stopped.’ He smiled widely at the sergeant, dusting his shoulders of the settled snow.
The sergeant smiled briefly back, ‘Yes, quite a snowfall we had…where are you heading?’ He took the cigarette packets from Hausser’s outstretched hand, nodding in gratitude.
Hausser saluted the man casually, ‘We are carrying supplies and despatches for some forward units near the Volga.’ He indicated behind to the empty sealed boxes in the carriers. His smile widening to a grin, ‘We also have a bottle of Romanian brandy for one of the commanders at the front. A ‘special’ delivery.’
‘Which commander?’ The sergeant retorted, his tone questioning.
‘Captain Markov of the NKVD.’ Hausser replied defiantly, his eyes remaining fixed on the sergeant.
‘I see. Have you your papers?’ The sergeant seemed reluctant to challenge further when the gift was for a high ranking political officer at the front.
Hausser reached into his pocket and produced the creased and stained papers, handing them to the sergeant.
The Russian looked down at the paperwork, reading the worn writing slowly, then looking back at the young commander, his eye brows raised, ‘Is Captain Medvedev with you?’ He glanced back at the second carrier.
Hausser shifted slightly in his seat, trying not to display his frustration at the Russian sergeant’s scrutiny. Looking him directly in the eyes, he replied solemnly, ‘No, he remained in Dubovyy Ovrag due to an injury he sustained there in the air raid last night.’
The sergeant eyed him for a couple of seconds more, then nodded, handing Hausser back his papers, ‘That’s fine, please pull over to the left there.’ He indicated with his outstretched hand, ‘I think my officer would like to talk to you.’
As the sergeant stepped back, Hausser indicated to Hase where to park the personnel carrier some twenty metres further just past the first building on the left.
As the vehicles moved slowly forward, the Russian sergeant turned on his heels and strode back towards the wooden building on his right. Hesitating and glancing back at the carriers, he knocked and entered. Hausser tossed a cigarette packet to each sentry as they slowly passed them, the gesture greeted by welcoming smiles from the Russian soldiers as they caught the Lucky Strike packets.
Once they had passed the sentries, Hausser turned slightly to look at Hase, seeing the fear in his expression, then whispered, ‘Stay calm everyone.’
The personnel carriers pulled slowly over to the left and stopped at the side of the road just behind a crudely built wooden house. There were logs lying around the building and smoke gradually rising from its stone chimney. The disinterested sentries slowly re-shouldered their weapons and walked back to the burning fuel drums they were originally using for warmth, resuming their conversation which drifted across the road.
As they sat pensively in the personnel carriers, a lorry slowly approached from the town and passed through the improvised checkpoint, heading south. Udet’s gaze followed
the truck, seeing blood spattered across the tailgate and an arm protruding limply from the covers on the side. The realisation the truck was carrying the wounded and dying chilling him to their own potential fate.
Seeing the door to the hut open, Udet leant forward and touched Hausser’s shoulder to alert him. The young commander turned and saw the Russian officer talking at the doorway to the men inside, feeling the caution within him dissipate as he realised the officer was bidding the occupants of the hut farewell.
The officer turned, seeing the carriers, and placing his cap on his head carefully with both hands as he walked across the road towards them smiling. The Russian commander was in his mid-forties and well dressed, his face reddened from the warmth of the hut and the alcohol rations he had consumed as a ‘precaution against the cold.’ As he reached the carrier, he saluted Hausser, ‘How are you men today? Hopefully you will soon be out of the cold, eh, Comrades?’ He smiled broadly, noting the fleeting smiles and nods from the men in the carriers. Looking at Hausser, he cleared his throat. ‘Now sergeant, if you wouldn’t mind giving me a lift to the bridge up ahead, my transport is delayed it seems.’
Hausser nodded cautiously, ‘Yes sir, would you like to sit in the vehicle?’
The officer shook his head, ‘Not necessary, I am used to these, I will just sit on the centre panel as you men all look tired.’ He clambered over the side of the carrier, apologising to Udet as he stepped clumsily over him. Placing his legs either side of the central stowage bins on the carrier, he gingerly lowered himself onto a blanket Udet had placed over the boxes.
The officer laughed slightly, ‘Well I may look silly up here, but I will be able to see what everyone is up to at least.’
Hausser grinned in response, turning to the others to ensure they understood to smile also. Looking back at Hase, the young commander tapped him on the shoulder, ‘Let’s go then, don’t drive too quickly as we do not want to lose our special cargo.’
The officer laughed, slapping Meino’s arm in jest, noticing the men grin back. ‘Yes, let’s not make me look more of an ass than I already do.’ He declared, ‘Carefully onwards please.’
As the personnel carriers moved slowly forward, the officer grasped the metal centre console either side of his thighs to steady himself, ‘So sergeant, where are you from?’
Hausser half turned to eye the officer behind him, ‘Cholm, sir.’
The officer thought for a second, his demeanour becoming stern, ‘Ah yes, currently in enemy territory I think…you are a long way from home, sergeant.’
‘Yes Sir, but one day I will return, once we have pushed the fascists back,’ Hausser retorted.
The officer smiled again, ‘That’s the spirit. We will return once we push them back, then overall victory will follow shortly afterwards I think. Don’t you all agree?’ He looked around the carrier observing the smiling faces, ‘Your men are very quiet, sergeant, are they ill or hungry?’
‘Yes sir, just very tired I think…we have been on the move for days.’ Hausser replied, becoming cautious should the officer direct a question to one of the others.
‘I understand, perhaps some rest when you get to your destination will be in order.’ The officer leant back against the box behind him, a comforting smile on his face.
Udet adjusted the blankets around his shoulders, attempting to conceal his unease at the closeness of the Russian officer. Looking around, he started to observe the early morning movements in the town. The buildings were mostly wooden huts of varying sizes with a scattering of stone built houses. Small gardens bordered the buildings and some had a variety of belongings strewn about the front of the dwellings. There were a number of small side lanes leading from the main highway towards unseen huts and buildings behind. In several of the side lanes he saw the bedraggled local inhabitants grouped together or gathering snow to heat for water for the day.
As they drove slowly northwards, he saw the parked American made trucks to the sides of the road, the Russian infantry sleepily beginning to exit buildings to either side encouraged by their officers and sergeants. The dull hangovers of the billeted soldiers evident in their bleary eyes and bewildered expressions, their unsteady stances indicative of the previous night’s revelry.
After about two hundred metres, they crossed a small town square and Udet counted five white Russian camouflaged tanks parked on the right side of the square, their crews busily attending to their vehicles, a couple making tea over a burning oil drum.
The Russian officer addressed Hausser again, ‘You have a number of fascist weapons with you, sergeant, where did you get them?’ He indicated to Udet’s rifle and Hausser’s MP40 lying in the foot well.
Hausser turned slightly, ‘There was insufficient weapons for the front line soldiers, sir, so we gave them ours and took weapons from the enemy fallen.’ He studied the officer, hoping his explanation did not arouse suspicion.
The officer nodded, ‘Very good of you and your men sergeant, we must all show our willingness for sacrifice to ensure victory.’ He paused, retrieving a cigarette from his pocket, ‘Anyway, between us…’ Lighting the cigarette, he drew deeply, ‘…I prefer the Kar 98 German rifle to our own Mosin Nagant, better aim I think.’ He withdrew the cigarette from his lips, holding it between his fingers and indicating to the MP40, ‘Not as good as our PPSH, not enough in the magazine and exposes the user to enemy fire if he’s not careful.’
Hausser smiled reassuringly, ‘I agree, sir, a useful weapon, but not as good as our own submachine guns.’
The Russian officer nodded, ‘Yes, the submachine gun and our resolve will drive the fascists back for our final victory I think.’
The personnel carrier slowed as it approached the bridge in front of them. Hausser looked round and saw the sandbagged emplacements either side of the waterway and a number of Russian soldiers standing around the start of the bridge. All the Russian soldiers wore white padded camouflage uniforms and seemed well armed.
The officer leant forward, ‘Ah, here we are…my command post for the day.’ He saw the Russian soldiers at the bridge begin to remove their rifles from their shoulders as they approached. Noticing the sergeant tense in front of him, he laid a hand on his shoulder, ‘Don’t worry about them, sergeant, they are just very cautious. Mostly from the east, some virtually oriental, they are vicious soldiers, but they can’t understand a word I say and I have no idea what they say to me most of the time.’ The officer laughed, waving to the Russian soldiers at the bridge to alleviate their concerns, ‘They can all drink more than me too!’ He laughed aloud, ‘And they don’t seem to feel the cold at all.’
Hausser nodded cautiously, ‘They look fearsome enough.’ He quickly glanced round to reassure the other men in the carrier with his eyes, ‘I don’t think the fascists will be able to resist them when they attack.’
As the carriers came to a stop before the bridge, the Russian officer clambered out, once again apologising to Udet for leaning on him as he exited the vehicle. Udet nodded in return, smiling reassuringly at the man.
The Russian officer turned and leant across the carrier, extending his hand to Hausser, ‘Thank you for the lift sergeant…I hope we will meet again.’
The young commander grasped his hand smiling, ‘I hope so too, sir. Is there anything you can tell us about the road ahead?’
The officer straightened up, smiling, ‘Yes, be careful on the road from now on. The fascists are shelling the northern part of the town at times, but hopefully our aircraft will take out their guns soon.’ The officer saluted Hausser, smiling as the salute was returned. He turned and indicated to the nearest guard on the bridge, shouting, ‘Let them through to the other side…they are on special orders.’
As the guards began to move slowly to the side, the carrier advanced forward cautiously, jolting to a halt as the officer turned back to face them, the lead vehicle nearly stalling until Hase revved the engine.
Smiling, the Russian officer leant forward slightly, ‘One more th
ing that should cheer you men up that I heard on the radio earlier. The Russian armies have just closed the ring around Stalingrad this morning at Kalach. The fascists are now cut off in the city ahead. It’s only a matter of time now.’ He glanced at the smiling soldiers in the back of the carrier and turned, walking away towards the soldiers on the right side of the bridge.
Hausser turned to face the front, his expression rapidly becoming grave as he considered the Russian officer’s statement, ‘Drive on!’
Chapter Eighteen: Malye Chapurniki
Both personnel carriers passed over the bridge slowly, the occupants eyeing the Siberian soldiers with controlled caution, intrigued by the differing facial features and the fact these men were well equipped with grenades and new rifles. The Russians returned their stares as they passed, used to the attention their presence brought and presuming this was a similar behaviour. Udet noticed some with faces indicating Mongolian descent, their high cheek bones and differing eye contours puzzling him.
The lead personnel carrier rattled over the bridge, the steel tracks squealing as they gained contact with the road again and skidding for a second as the ground surface changed. Hase accelerated, passing the remaining Siberian guards on the road northwards and passing into Malye Chapurniki.
As they gained distance from the Russians, Udet groaned, his voice deliberately subdued, ‘Bloody clumsy oaf, he stood on me twice.’
Meino grinned at Udet’s discomfort, leaning forward, he whispered between the two front passengers, ‘We had better make good progress through here…I think the Russian bear is awakening and we are in the middle of their reinforcements.’
Hausser nodded, turning his head slightly, ‘I agree, but no speaking please you two, any hint of a German voice here and we are all dead, understand?’
Meino nodded, ‘Yes, sorry.’ Leaning back in his seat, he swallowed, trying to alleviate the nervous lump in his throat. Turning to Udet, he put his finger to his lips indicating for the younger soldier to remain quiet.
Bloody Stalingrad Page 16