Bloody Stalingrad

by Andrew McGregor

  Excitement rose within him as the slightly delayed sound reached his ears, his recognition of the distinctive noise, a German machine gun firing.

  Chapter Twenty Two: Gauntlet

  Meino grasped Hausser’s sleeve, his grip tight, voice trembling with excitement, ‘The Russians are outside in the street, Hausser. It’s only a matter of time now…we need to go!’

  The Croatian turned and raised his weapon along the hallway, cautiously stepping back towards the closed entrance door at the back of the building, his eyes fixed on the door handle and latch he had locked previously. Udet and Tatu also turned, using the protruding staircase as cover, they raised their weapons. Tatu ascended several of the steps, the wood creaking beneath his weight, leaning over the broken bannister, his submachine gun barrel resting on the balustrade.

  Hausser looked back out into the gloom, considering their options. The road was a perfect killing zone with the destroyed armoured car as the only cover, yet the distance to the burning warehouses was short. If they could get across the road, then they may reach safety within the burning buildings.

  He moved around inside the doorway, from right to left, keeping a metre from the entrance to avoid being spotted. Glancing all around, he sighed, realising the Russians were positioned some distance to their right, the possibility of being fired on by both sides high if they ran out suddenly.

  Hausser looked back at the men in the hallway, his face grim, ‘We will have to go across…but we have no cover on the other side unless we can get into one of the warehouses. The Germans have a line of fire at us from the left and the Russians from the right…so we need ideas.’

  The commander’s eyes met with Hase’s, realising the man had not understood what he had said. The soldier looking concerned, with dark lines under his eyes, then the contact was broken as Hase looked back out into the street.

  Hase had realised the predicament they were in before the commander had spoken, knowing time was short as he recognised the distant voices in the street behind them, the Russian soldiers searching for them. He had felt utterly exhausted in the hallway and had slowly lowered himself to the floor at the foot of the staircase when they had entered. As he looked out into the gloom of the street before them, he could just see beyond the armoured car’s rear wheels, the angle of his vision different from Hausser’s. Glimpsing something through the smoke filled air, he leant forward, squinting to make out what it was that had aroused his curiosity.

  A voice in Russian from the street behind them startled him, the noise from just the other side of the closed door. He turned, seeing Udet tense next to him, the young German swallowing hard. The soldiers in the narrow hallway instinctively holding their breaths.

  Hase slowly slid his back up the wall, feeling the muscles in his tired legs complain at the strain. His heart beginning to beat faster in his chest, his mouth becoming dry, the adrenalin rising within him once more.

  As Hase stepped forward Hausser turned to look at him, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. He leant forward towards the young commander and whispered, ‘Get the men to put their scarves over their mouths and follow me when I wave back.’

  Hausser stared at him, his eyes momentarily uncertain, then he smiled and nodded slowly, placing his hand on the soldier’s arm, ‘Don’t leave us too long young Hase…we need you.’ Patting his shoulder further, he slowly broke eye contact and turned to face the other men.

  Hase turned, his stomach twisting in excitement and fear. Lifting his scarf from around his neck, he tightened it across his mouth. A cool breeze drifted in through the doorway, the tentacles of cold air seeming to grasp him and entice him out into the street.

  He stepped gingerly forward to the left of the door, clearing his throat. Raising his voice, he shouted, ‘Russians coming out, don’t shoot comrades!’

  Behind him in the hallway, Hausser forced a wry grin, hearing the emphasis Hase placed on his Ukrainian accent.

  There was a brief pause, the silence only broken by Tatu shuffling his boots on the wooden staircase, his calf muscles aching from the position he had adopted.

  Hase took a deep breath and shouted again, ‘Russians coming across the street, don’t shoot comrades!’

  He squinted further, straining his ears to hear any response. Then he heard distant voices to his right, some shouting of commands, then ‘Proceed comrade…don’t shoot men, Russian infantry ahead!’

  Hase pushed himself forward, his heart beating loudly in his chest and his mouth dry, he ran half crouched into the light. His legs feeling heavy as his boots crunched glass on the cobblestones, he darted to the left, jumping over an abandoned ammunition box.

  Hausser had grimaced as he turned his face, seeing the young soldier run out through the doorway, his ears listened for the sound of gunfire. Behind him the door handle moved on the thick door leading into the hallway. Meino clenched his teeth, his palms becoming moist with sweat.

  Hase slipped on landing on the cobblestones and slid on the glass fragments, his body coming to rest half under the smouldering armoured car, his rifle clattering onto the street beside him. The metallic tinkering of machine gun fire on the front left side of the armoured car indicated the gunner in the tall storage buildings had seen a Russian soldier run out, but his line of sight was obstructed by the smoke and angle of the warehouse roofs.

  Hase gasped as he realised he was now safe from the German guns, turning himself slowly and cautiously, moaning at the scuffed pain in his legs and knees from falling on the cobblestones. Lying on his front beneath the armoured car, he slowly and pensively crawled forward to the rear right wheel of the vehicle. Behind him he could hear the Russian soldiers further down the street return fire against the machine gunner in the storage building, forcing him to duck away from his position.

  In the building behind him, Hausser slowly raised his weapon towards the doorway further down the hall, the handle twitching as the Russian soldier on the other side attempted to open the door. Turning, the soldier shouted across the street, indicating for the men opposite to come towards him, his shout cut short as Meino fired a burst of his submachine gun through the door, hitting the Russian soldier several times as he fell backwards into the road.

  Hase stretched forward beyond the rear wheel of the armoured car, his hands reaching over the cold cobblestones and grasping the sides of a manhole cover. The oily dirt was caked round the thick steel cover and it slipped under his nails as he attempted to gain leverage on the heavy disc. Retrieving his bayonet from his belt, he furiously began to scrape the dirt from the gap between the cobblestoned road and the thick steel cover, spurred on by the burst of gunfire behind him.

  Placing the bayonet on the road, his fingers moved into the gap he had created, grasping the sides of the steel cover once more. He exerted pressure, his arms tensing as he tried to lift the heavy lid…but it wouldn’t move…seeming to be stuck fast.

  He sighed, frustration rising within him, retrieving the bayonet again, his fingers bleeding from scraping against the rough steel. Jabbing the long knife back into the narrow gap he had created, he began scraping feverishly again, trying to clear enough space to form a more suitable grip, the sweat beginning to run down his face as he felt the panic begin to rise within him.

  An explosion in the street the other side of the door caused Meino to fire another burst of his submachine gun. Russian voices echoed in the hallway as the soldiers began to gather in the street outside, their caution at approaching the door evident, delaying their attack.

  A frustrated groan rose from within his chest as Hase struggled with the steel disc, his fingers being cut on the rough steel as he desperately tried to gain a grip on the cover. He heard the clanking as another burst of machine gun fire hit the armoured car’s metal plate, the bullets ricocheting off to the left and front of the disabled vehicle.

  Explosions and crumps from the warehouse opposite forced him to duck his head, dropping his bayonet, his hands rising up over his helmet. Dirt and roo
f fragments showered down onto his body and the cobblestones around him, with dust and smoke billowing out from the burning building and enveloping him. He slowly lifted his head, spitting dust from his mouth as he opened his eyes. Nicu slid across the cobblestones next to him, his boots narrowly missing the Russian’s outstretched right hand. Looking up, the young Romanian winked down at him, and thrust his bayonet into the gap between the cobblestones and the steel manhole cover.

  Invigorated, he grabbed his own discarded bayonet from next to him and jabbed it into the gap opposite Nicu’s weapon. Hearing another burst of machine gun fire from the building behind them, their eyes met. With a nod, they both simultaneously pushed down hard, hearing a scrapes as the bayonets forced their way between the cover and its housing, the heavy metal disc jolting upwards.

  Smiles widened across the two men’s faces as they pushed the thick metal cover off to the side making a heavy scraping noise as the encrusted metal grated across the cobblestones. The smiles dropped from their faces as the fragrance of stagnant water and excrement rose from the dark opening. Nicu leant down, his hands placed either side of the opening, his head slipping into the hole, stretching down into the shaft beyond. He checked from side to side and retracted his head again, smiling briefly at Hase to indicate the tunnel below was clear.

  Nicu twisted his legs round and sat on the edge of the manhole as a shell burst further down the street behind them. Ducking slightly as they were showered in dirt, he turned to look towards the doorway, shouting, ‘Hausser!’ Picking up his rifle from the road, he dropped into the opening below, his hands grasping the top rung of a metal ladder leading seven metres down into the dark sewer.

  Hausser twisted his head, looking out of the doorway, his face grim. Turning back, he glanced at Udet excitedly, ‘Go!’

  Udet slapped Petru’s shoulder and both men darted through the open doorway, Udet struggling with the bulky blanket as Hausser grimaced incredulously. Meino fired another burst into the entrance doorway and backed towards Hausser. As he passed the bottom of the staircase, the commander’s hand dropped onto his shoulder, ‘Get out there…we will hold here.’ Hausser whispered over his shoulder, the Croatian nodded and turned quickly to run past the officer into the dim light.

  An explosion upstairs brought dust and plaster falling from the ceiling, a dust cloud drifting down the stairs, enveloping Tatu. Bullets splattered across the right wall, the plaster showering Hausser as the Russian soldiers outside fired through the closed door at an angle.

  Tatu turned and looked at the commander from his position on the staircase, his vision obscured by the dust cloud, his voice strained, ‘Time to go, Hausser! I will cover you two.’

  Hausser nodded, ‘You follow quickly, don’t wait around here.’ He turned to face the young soldier knelt by the wall, his rifle pointing at the door, ‘Come on Albrecht…let’s go.’ The young commander turned briskly and ran out into the light, glimpsing Udet drop the bulging blanket down through the manhole before scrambling after it.

  A loud crunch resounded round the hallway, then another, the rifle butts smashing on the other side of the door one after the other. Albrecht fired, the rifle kicking upwards in his inexperienced hands, the bullet piercing the door and hitting one of the Russian soldiers in the shoulder, knocking him backwards.

  The door splintered as the crashing continued. Tatu rose from his position on the stairs and descended a step, jumping the last two to the floor in the hallway, his large thick jacket rising behind him as he leapt. Albrecht pulled the bolt back on his rifle, his hands shaking as Tatu turned and fired a burst of his PPSH submachine gun down the hallway, the bullets splattering into the frame and thick wooden door.

  Grabbing Albrecht’s shoulder, he propelled the young German forward through the back entrance as he heard the door buckle behind them, the wood cracking in the frame. Firing another burst with his left hand as he pushed Albrecht forward with his right, they emerged into the dim light.

  Bullets spattered across the front of the armoured car as the two men lunged towards it, the Russians further down the street returning fire at the position high in the building. As Tatu and Albrecht reached the right corner of the armoured car, Tatu looked down, seeing the dark opening below them on the cobblestones. He spun round, raising his weapon, firing a burst at the doorway, his weapon clicking as the magazine emptied. A Russian infantryman at the opening ducking back inside the hallway, the bullets hitting the frame next to him.

  Tatu reached for another magazine, seeing Albrecht raise his rifle to cover the doorway, the young German shouting desperately at him, ‘Get into the sewers, I will cover!’

  Tatu swiftly knelt and turned his body, inhibited by his large jacket, his right boot placed on the top rung of the ladder leading down from the manhole and into the shaft to the sewer. He looked up as he descended the steel ladder, ‘Come straight after me.’ A look of desperation forming on his face.

  Albrecht fired across into the hallway, the rifle kicking upwards again in his hands. Pulling the bolt, he grinned, his eyes sparkling, the thought of him holding back the Russian infantry heightening his adrenalin. As he pushed the bolt forward, a Russian leant out quickly from the doorway, his rifle raised, the bullet whipping past Albrecht’s ear. The Russian then ducked back in.

  Startled by the shot, Albrecht fired again, dropping to his knees and swinging his legs over and into the manhole. The smile dropping from his face as a grenade bounced across the road some feet from him, his eyes widening as he frantically pushed himself down the ladder rungs.

  Catching his helmet on the rim of the manhole, his head knocked backwards as he hastily descended the steps, lowering himself into the manhole shaft. His breath was caught in his chest and his heart beat loud as the explosion above threw dust and debris down the hole, the metallic pings from the impacts loud on his helmet.

  A panic fuelled smile began to form on his face once again as he quickly descended, the adrenalin rush running through his head and body once more. He shouted as his boots clunked on the metal ladder, ‘Get going, they are through the door.’

  As he got nearly to the foot of the ladder, he felt the relief begin to run through his body, the urgency and excitement still in his actions. He looked up at the circular light above as he reached the foot of the ladder, his boots splashing into the flowing water in the bottom of the sewer pipe.

  His eyes suddenly widened in terror as the small black oval shape disrupted the circular light, the dark object dropping over the side of the manhole and falling towards him. His mouth opened as adrenalin intoxicatingly shot through his body, his voice hoarse, ‘Run!’

  Chapter Twenty Three: Through the Darkness

  Tatu was about ten metres further down the dark narrow tunnel when he heard the squealed shout from behind him, ‘Run!’ Spinning round, he saw the grenade drop from the light, instinctively throwing himself forwards, his weapon discarded beside him, hands reaching behind his head to protect his neck.

  Further along in the dark sewer, the other soldiers turned, seeing the flash as the grenade landed on the ground at Albrecht’s feet. The explosion propelled the young German into the metal ladder, his nose shattering as it struck one of the rungs, the broken bone propelled upwards into his brain, killing him instantly. Metal fragments from the grenade pierced the back of his legs and lower back tearing through his internal organs as his lifeless body slowly slid down the ladder and came to rest in a heap, slumped at its base.

  Petru screamed, propelling himself back towards Tatu, the stale and polluted water splashing around his boots. Russian voices echoed around the tunnel from the opening as Udet raised his rifle towards the light cascading into the tunnel.

  As Petru reached the fallen Tatu, he roughly grabbed his countryman’s thick jacket and pulled him upwards, half dragging him down the tunnel. Tatu groaned loudly, reaching out and grasping the barrel of his weapon as his boots dragged through the putrid water.

  Two more grenades fell through t
he opening, one clunking against one of the steps on the ladder and falling forward of the other. The concurrent explosions sending a wall of sound echoing down the tunnel, the blast wave following, constrained and concentrated by the wet tunnel walls.

  Petru twisted as he dropped Tatu into the slurry, throwing himself forward as he heard the blast, putrid water thrown up from the explosion falling over them. The soldiers further along the tunnel turning to protect their faces, the shrapnel hitting the tunnel walls either side of the explosion.

  Tatu immediately raised his head from beneath the water spluttering and spitting the foul liquid from his nose and mouth. He gasped for air, winded by the blast, determination pushing his body upwards and dragging his weapon along with him.

  Before him, Petru had risen to his hands and knees, his mind stunned and disorientated by the blasts. Tatu grabbed his friend’s collar roughly, pulling his countryman with him as he trudged along the dark tunnel, pushing his boots through the putrid water. The relatively narrow sewer walls were circular on either side, brick smeared with dried excrement and frost, the central channel on the slime covered floor filled with putrid and darkened slurry.

  Before them, Udet had turned back and was aiming his weapon at the exit from the manhole shaft opening some twenty two metres away, a shaft of dim light illuminating the ladder from above. A Russian infantryman twisted his body in the upper shaft, ducking his head into the tunnel from the covered ladder and keen to see into the sewer, encouraged by the sight of a dead soldier slumped at the foot of the ladder.

  Udet raised his weapon slightly to his right eye and fired, the rifle kicking back into his shoulder. The shot echoing round the wet tunnel walls, a slight metal clunk as the bullet hit and forced its way through the Russian’s helmet. The Russian infantryman’s head fell limp, a lifeless arm dropping through the manhole shaft opening, his legs caught on the upper rungs of the ladder.