Bloody Stalingrad

by Andrew McGregor

He stared in awe, his hands over his ears as the first carrier slowed, reaching the point where the first bomb had landed, the carrier bouncing as it traversed the shrapnel and damaged road surface…Tatu did not hear the cracking of bones as the vehicles rode over the dead in the urgency to escape.

  The sirens stopped dramatically as the planes levelled and then rose steeply back into the air, the explosions in their wake throwing frozen snow and broken men into the air behind them. Tatu felt the blast wave of the nearest explosion on the back of his head, dirt and debris being thrown into the carrier.

  He turned and looked up as the planes began banking to the east, their sirens once again beginning to sound as they turned in a wide circle to the south. Tatu’s eyes widened as he saw their intent and shouted once again for the carriers to accelerate, realising the planes intended to fly down the road using their machine guns. As the vehicles jerked forward again, he glanced across at Petru, his friend covered in dirt and sweating profusely.

  The Romanian quartermaster turned in his seat to see where the planes were and looked back down the road at the devastation behind them. Smoke was still rising from where the bombs had landed, with several small fires on the road and verges as uniforms and equipment burned. He looked back up the gradual incline, the many bodies of Russian infantry lay across the slope, the snow stained red with the blood of those that had been torn apart or bodies that had disintegrated under the explosive force.

  He watched as many of the surviving dazed Russians started moving from the road, fully aware of the intention of the pilots. Seeing several men not moving he presumed them dead or wounded until he realised their inexperience or terror may have kept them there. As he watched the surviving officers and commissars barking orders to move away, he felt an urge to tell them to move, to get the young men to safety, but looking beyond them into the sky he realised it was already too late as one of the Stukas began a strafing run along the road.

  The carrier bounced in the tarmac as Petru hit an obstruction and Tatu turned back, grasping the sides of the carrier for support, forcing himself to look away from what was happening behind them. As he did, he realised the carriers were just entering the first set of buildings, some low concrete apartment blocks. The road banked slightly to the right and as the vehicle turned, Petru quickly reducing speed, Tatu glancing back briefly, his view of the hill gone.

  He sat back in his seat exhausted, the noises of war now became louder to their front, the muffled machine gun fire behind. As they drove slowly forward, he noticed terrified and relieved Russian soldiers huddled or crouched in large numbers on either side of the street.

  Tatu exhaled heavily, running his hand down over his moustache and chin. Realising his mouth was very dry, he looked down into the foot well for his water canteen. Leaning forward he caught the eye of an older Russian soldier observing him from the side of the street, the man smiling and nodding a toothless greeting, ‘Welcome to Stalingrad, comrade.’

  Chapter Twenty: A Soldier Born

  Hausser leant forward and placed his hand on Hase’s arm whispering, ‘Slowly my friend, we need to understand how to get through.’

  The lead personnel carrier’s speed dropped to a crawl as it proceeded down the street, the Russian soldiers crouched on either side observing the vehicles as they passed. As the carriers gradually approached a left corner, the speed dropped further, the drivers cautiously aware that this turning meant they would be facing in the direction of the river ahead.

  As Hausser removed his hand from his arm, Hase looked around, seeing the Russian soldiers studying them. The sounds of war echoed round the corner, the explosions, rattle of machine gun fire and the occasional shout ringing in his ears. His stomach turned as the small carrier’s tracks rattled on the tarmac road as it advanced the last few feet to the bend.

  He edged the vehicle past the corner and slowly turned the small tracked carrier into the left bend on the street. The morning sun broke through the clouds as they turned, bathing the street in light and forcing him to narrow his eyes, raising his left hand to shield his vision.

  Hase blinked several times before the street in front of him came fully into focus, his eyes widening as he saw the street was almost deserted. Smoke billowed from a housing block on fire on the right side, the ashen air and sparks swirling in the morning sun. Rubble was strewn across the road from numerous explosions on the already damaged buildings that lined the thoroughfare. The damaged and fractured masonry and splintered broken woodwork hanging on the buildings that once provided sturdy residences for factory and river workers.

  The street was approximately two hundred metres long, running south to north, with a Russian checkpoint at the end. Two mobile barriers of logs wrapped in barbed wire lay on the tarmac surface. Three soldiers stood uneasily at the sides of the street next to the barriers, their stances nervous and apprehensive, wary of the shellfire overhead. An officer stood with them, smoking a cigarette and talking to one of the men, his right hand gesturing as if to emphasise a point.

  In the distance, above the rooftops and housing blocks Hase could see the columns of dark smoke rising into the air. The noise of distant gunfire and explosions echoed across the street, the sounds of bitter fighting and an ongoing battle further to the north seeming to welcome them to their next challenge. As he watched he saw tracer bullets rise into the sky in the distance, between the smoke plumes, the red hot metal projectiles slowly dimming and disappearing over distance.

  Udet leant forward slightly, the excitement rising in his whisper, ‘I can hear an MG34…they are our guns in the distance.’

  Hausser turned his head slightly next to him, his eyes fixed on the Russians at the end of the street, ‘Shhh! No talking, Udet. This is more dangerous now!’ Udet leant back dejected, his face becoming solemn as he realised they were now slowly approaching the Russian position.

  The Russian soldiers turned to observe the carriers as they neared, instinctively ducking their heads as a shell landed on a rooftop a short distance away to the right. The carriers slowly advanced towards the checkpoint, weaving around the rubble strewn across the road. The occupants avoided looking into the broken brick and masonry for fear of observing the charred body protruding from one of the piles of brick.

  As they drifted in and out of the dense smoke, the familiar aroma of burnt flesh filled their nostrils, forcing them to hold their breaths. The flames licked upwards from the burning building windows, the heat intense as they slowly passed, the men shielding their faces from the dramatic temperature change.

  The Russian officer stepped out into the middle of the street, leaving his three squad members standing by the building corners at the junction of the thoroughfare. Two soldiers on the right corner and one on the left, their duty to police entrants to the forward combat zone. The Russian officer raised his hand as the lead vehicle ground to a halt in front of him, his expression solemn as he confidently stood before them, his greatcoat buttoned up to his chin, the collar pulled up around his ears.

  The Russian political officer looked down at Hausser sitting in the carrier and returned his salute officially, ‘Where are you going, sergeant?’ He asked, a determined look on his face.

  Hausser shifted in his seat, uneasy at the man’s scrutiny, ‘Despatches for the forward command post, sir. We also have some supplies.’

  The officer narrowed his eyes, ‘Who are you to report to?’ His tone becoming more demanding.

  Hausser returned his stare, ‘We were told to hand the despatches to the commander in the forward command post, I don’t know his name. Can you direct us please, sir?’

  Next to Hausser, Hase glanced at the young Russian political officer, wary of provoking the man further. The officer was probably in his late twenties and of polished appearance. His boots and uniform were virtually immaculate and visibly out of place in a war zone. He considered that by comparison they must seem like the brushings from the street, unshaven, dirty, dishevelled soldiers attempting to gain access
through the officer’s checkpoint.

  The officer outstretched his hand, his demeanour becoming irritated, ‘I will take the despatches…go back and join the other men at the end of the street, the fascists are barricaded in the warehouses on the river. We will need every man to attack and drive them out shortly.’

  Hausser shook his head, his voice calm, ‘Sorry sir, those are not my orders. My orders are to deliver the despatches to the commander in person. They come from the towns to the south, combat and a situation report on reinforcements and availability I think. Then we have to report back to Bolshiye Chapurniki.’

  The officer’s face flushed with anger, his voice raised, ‘What do you mean, not your orders! I am a superior officer, I am ordering you to hand over your despatches and join the soldiers at the end of the street in preparation for an attack. The command post is just round this corner in the bakery basement, I will deliver your ‘despatches’!’ He stood staring at Hausser, hand outstretched, his lips pursed in sneering anger.

  Behind them, Udet shifted in his seat, moving his hands beneath the blanket across his legs.

  The officer glanced round the carrier, a determined look on his face, his stare stopping at Udet, the young soldier’s smirk irritating him, ‘What are you smiling at?’

  Udet shrugged his shoulders, the smile on his face defiant.

  The political officer took a determined step towards him, past Hausser, ‘I said…what are you smiling at? What is the matter with you men, do you not understand orders?’

  Hausser interjected, ‘Sorry sir, our orders are…’

  The officer turned his head towards him, ‘Silence, I am speaking to this man.’ He indicated to Udet, turning back to the young soldier. The officer leant forward, his flushed face drawing close to Udet’s face, ‘Now I will ask you again…what are you smiling at?’

  In the driving seat, Hase noticed the three Russian soldiers at either side of the checkpoint becoming uneasy, their stances now becoming more rigid, their hands reaching slowly for their rifles.

  The officer’s face was now inches from Udet’s, his cheeks flushed red with anger, his right hand began to move to the pistol holster by his waist, ‘I will have you all placed in a penal battalion for this behaviour…now I am asking you again, what are you smiling at?’

  The officer’s spare hand rose slowly from his waist and he prodded Udet in the chest with his finger, his voice menacing, ‘Why do you not answer, soldier?’ His face now red with anger, spittle splashing onto Udet’s face.

  Hausser sighed, turning in his seat quickly, ‘Sir…’

  Udet’s left hand shot up from under the blanket, grasping the officer’s collar tightly, preventing the man from moving backwards. In a flash, his other hand emerged from the blanket and struck the officer below his jaw, pushing upwards as he did so, a slight crunch the only noise. He pulled the officer’s face slightly towards him, the officer’s eyes wide with shock, his mouth open, his lips moving but no sound other than a gurgle escaping from his throat. The pistol clattering to the ground at the side of the carrier.

  Udet leant forward, his smile turning to gritted teeth as he whispered into the Russian’s ear, his eyes sparkling with adrenalin, ‘Wir sind Deutsche Soldaten, Russkie schwein!’

  He pushed the officer sideways, the man slipping back over the side of the carrier, a gurgling sound coming from his mouth as he gasped for air, his hands rising to his throat, the blood pouring down the side of the vehicle from the wound he had sustained.

  Meino’s eyes widened as he saw the bloodied knife in Udet’s hand, realising it had entered the officer underneath his chin, probably going through his mouth and then puncturing his brain. Seeing the Russian guards initially look inquisitively, then reach for their rifles as they mentally grasped what had happened, he rose up from his seat, the blanket falling into the foot well. He lifted his MP40 with his right hand, firing a burst as he grasped the magazine with his left, the two Russian infantry on the right propelled backwards against the wall, blood splatters extending across the torn brick.

  A shell burst overhead, causing all to duck instinctively in response. Meino turned to fire at the Russian on the left to see him disappear round the corner, his rifle discarded in his panic to escape.

  Hausser jumped from the carrier, pulling the strap on his MP40 over his shoulder. He spun round to see Nicu run past him to the barrier, the young Romanian determined to clear the obstacle, grasping the wire wrapped round the right log, pushing the barrier slightly. Hausser moved to join him, shouting over his shoulder, ‘It seems our luck has finally run out…get ready everyone!’

  Shouts could be heard far behind them and Petru turned to see several Russian infantry at the southern end of the street seeming hesitant at the sight before them, trying to understand what was happening. Next to him, Tatu fired a burst from his submachine gun at them, the Russians ducking back behind the corner in the street in response. Tatu then clumsily clambered over the back of his seat and assumed a position in the back of the carrier, next to Albrecht.

  Albrecht had originally struggled to comprehend what he had seen around the front vehicle, but now turned quickly in the back of the second carrier, struggling with his rifle, pulling the bolt back and sliding down into the foot well for cover.

  Hausser and Nicu were pushing the log to the side, the obstacle scraping across the road, its movement constricted by the scattered debris. Behind them, the engines on the carriers revved, the vehicles slowly moving to the right to proceed through the gap they had created, past the twitching bloodied corpse. Hausser raised his hand to indicate for the vehicles to stop, checking the street to either side.

  A shell exploded off to the left as Hausser rolled over the log, coming to rest against the wall, a few inches from the corner. Looking to the left, he could see the burning buildings in the distance and the escaped soldier running down the middle of the street towards a Russian armoured car parked on the right side of the thoroughfare.

  He turned to glance to the right, crawling forward to the corner and grasping his MP40 in both hands. A shot rang out and he glanced back to the left, seeing the escaping Russian fall forward, his arms flailing as the bullet entered his arched back. He heard a bolt pulled next to him and looked up. Udet stood next to him, smoke rising from his rifle muzzle.

  Udet glanced down at him, a grim smile on his face, ‘Enough of this…Hausser, let’s teach these Russkies what we can do!’

  Hausser blinked, their eyes meeting, then he twisted his head to glance round the corner. Two Russian soldiers stood in the street, their weapons at waist height, looking towards them. Their uncertainty evident in their stances, their confusion clear at what was going on and what they faced. Behind them he could see an open doorway on the left, probably the forward command post he surmised, the soldiers it’s sentries.

  Hausser glanced back at Udet, seeing Nicu behind him, his rifle also at the ready. Behind them Tatu fired another burst of his submachine gun at the Russians cautiously glancing round the corner of the street some two hundred metres behind.

  Leutnant Hausser rose to a crouched position, grasping his weapon tightly, a grim determination overcoming him. He considered walking out and trying to bluff his way through the sentries and discarded this idea quickly, realising they would be ready to shoot before listening to him.

  He turned to Udet and Nicu, ‘Right, I will run across, you two fire.’ He commanded, his voice shaking. Both men nodded resolutely, their determination to escape clear in their expressions.

  Hausser nodded at them once, then sprinted across the road, seeing some steps opposite as a potential hiding place. He glanced right as he reached the middle of the road, seeing the Russians raise their weapons towards him. Swallowing hard, his heart beating loudly in his chest, feeling exposed in the middle of the street, he stumbled and fell near the steps as he heard gunfire behind him.

  Looking up he saw the Russian on the left spin round and fall face down on the road, the bullet fr
om Nicu’s rifle hitting him on the left of his chest and propelling him backwards.

  The second Russian fell backwards as Udet’s bullet hit him mid chest, shattering his ribcage and killing him instantly.

  Hausser looked to the left, seeing a Russian soldier kneeling by the body of the Russian who had tried to escape. Their eyes met, some 50 metres apart and he saw the Russian’s alarm, watching him turn and shout for assistance, the engine on the BA-10 armoured car starting abruptly and roaring into life.

  The young commander looked back across the street, seeing the carriers negotiate the gap that they had created through the barrier and turn slowly to the right alongside him. He pushed himself upright, and clambered over the side of the first vehicle, glancing back at the armoured car which was attempting to turn round to face them further along the street. Several Russian soldiers were attempting to get past the vehicle as it turned in the road, their weapons raised.

  As the engine revved, he saw in front of him both Nicu and Udet fire their rifles into the open doorway, a scream coming from within of injury and surprise. The Russian radio operator sent by the commander to see what was going on outside dying before he could determine what was happening.

  As he sat upright in his seat, Meino dropped two Russian grenades over his shoulder and into Hausser’s lap as the vehicle surged forward, swerving around Udet who was facing the doorway, his rifle held at eye level pointing inside. They jolted to a halt as Udet backed towards them, then scrambled over the side of the carrier.

  Hausser pulled the pins on the grenades and tossed them inside the doorway, hearing them bounce and clatter inside and the frantic shouts of alarm from within. He glimpsed two other objects following his as Meino threw his remaining grenades through the wide doorway, then the vehicle surged forward, its tracks clattering on the now cobbled street.

  Behind them, Tatu fired his submachine gun at the Russians near the armoured car, the soldiers ducking instinctively in response. The second carrier passed the doorway as the blast from the explosions inside threw debris and papers out of the entrance. Nicu was several metres ahead of the open door and the carrier slowed to allow him to clamber on board and into the front seat.