The captain turned to the younger commander, his voice resolute, ‘It is decided then…gather your men and start the escape, Leutnant Hausser.’
The young Berliner nodded, turning to glance out of the gap once more, his voice firm, ‘Yes Sir, we will leave as soon as possible.’
As he looked out over the darkened town below, he stiffened, glimpsing some distant flashes on the horizon high beyond the buildings and streets that stretched away from the water’s edge. Seeing distant smoke trails above the closely grouped flashes the adrenalin swept through his body, an electric charge sweeping up his spine. Turning to the captain, a look of desperation forming on his face, his voice rising in alarm, ‘Katyusha’s firing, get away from the windows.’
Both men pushed themselves from the window, lunging to the floor, their hands rising over their heads. As they did so, Hausser could just hear a muffled panicked shout from the floor below, ‘Panzer Alarm! Enemy tank in the street!’
The building shook as the rockets hit the upper floors, throwing plaster and debris from ceilings onto the men in the rooms below. Next to the radio operator, the oil lantern fell from the top of the radio set, igniting on the floor as it smashed, the operator jumping backwards to escape the flame. On the top floor, still smouldering from the fire earlier in the day, half the ceiling collapsed completely, already weakened from the damage it had sustained.
Hausser held his hands over his head as the plaster dust and fragments fell onto his back and helmet. He glanced sideways down the rectangular room, through the falling dust to see the sandbags in the far window fall inwards, the building movement dislodging them. Falling onto the machine gun and gunner as he lay curled on the floor below the window, the man’s body shuddered, his arms pushing the bags from his back as he swore. Bullets sprayed across the ceiling causing further plaster and cement to fall as Russian machine gun fire from the street entered the open window.
In the small office, the radio operator and soldier were throwing sand and dirt from a nearby bucket onto the burning oil, the light from the flames highlighting their silhouettes and shadows as it flickered through the open doorway.
An explosion on the outside wall broke Hausser’s stare, the Russian SU-5 Self Propelled gun firing at the building from the opposite side of the wide thoroughfare some seventy metres away. A metal clank echoed across the darkness as a gunner on the ground floor opened fire on the tank with a small anti-tank rifle.
Captain Becker struggled to his feet, an outstretched hand assisting Hausser to stand, ‘Time for you to leave my friend.’ The captain shouted, dust and dirt now covering his tunic. He leant forward as another shell hit the building, dust billowing around him, ‘Take six men and secure your escape route, Herr Leutnant. I think our time here is now short.’
Hausser nodded, spitting dust from his mouth, ‘I will get my men…we leave immediately.’ He turned and walked briskly to the doorway to the stairs.
Behind him, Captain Becker turned to his men, pointing to the open window, ‘Re-barricade that window, and keep your heads down. Return fire when you can men, I want no heroics tonight…we just hold the Russians off. There is a way out!’
The soldiers nodded grimly, rising to positions next to their selected windows and peering out through gaps in the sandbags. The captain moved towards the small office, seeing the fire was almost out, ‘Get on the radio…see if the guns in Stalingrad can provide some artillery fire to support us.’ He pointed to the soldier next to the operator, ‘You, check the floors for casualties, tell the men they will be leaving soon. I want four volunteers to stay with me and the wounded to surrender to the Russkies once the rest are away. Understood?’
The soldier nodded, his face grim, ‘Jawohl, Herr Hauptmann!’ Saluting, he moved quickly past the captain and headed for the door to the stairs.
Hausser stood on the third floor landing as another shell hit the outside of the building, throwing dust down from higher in the structure. Sporadic gunfire from the ground floors echoed in the stairwell as the soldiers fired at movement in the streets. The metal clank of a small anti-tank rifle firing at the thick front armoured plate of the Russian SPG filtered in through the broken windows.
As the German soldier pushed past him to ascend the building stairs, Tatu appeared inquisitively at the turn in the stairwell above, his PPSH 41 submachine gun in his left hand. ‘What is going on, Hausser? This does not look good, Russian soldiers are in the streets heading this way.’
The German commander looked up at him, seeing the eagerness and excitement in the Romanian’s eyes. Hausser cleared his throat, ‘Get the others, and choose three Romanians to come with us. Meet me at the sewer exit entrance, we are leaving!’
Tatu nodded, turned and disappeared back up the staircase. Hausser began to descend the steps to the ground floor, gunfire now echoing around the stairwell from below. As he reached the second floor, Luca emerged from the right side room, concern on his face. Seeing Hausser, a brief smile crossed his face, ‘What are we going to do, Herr Leutnant?’
The young commander looked at him, ‘Get yourself a weapon, Luca, you are coming with us to secure an escape route.’
The Italian nodded, his eyes widening at the command, ‘Yes sir!’ Turning quickly, he disappeared back into the gloom of the side room.
As Hausser turned to descend the next few concrete steps, Luca reappeared from the darkness of the room, a Russian Mosin-Nagant rifle brandished in his right hand. Reaching out he stopped the commander by grasping his arm with his left hand, handing Hausser some MP40 ammunition clips. Then he turned back into the room and began rummaging for rifle ammunition amongst the stores in the darkened office.
As the German commander descended the next set of concrete steps, tucking the clips into his belt, he shouted over his shoulder, ‘Meet me at the sewer exit to the building Luca, bring three men.’
Luca shouted from within the darkened room, ‘I will be there shortly, Herr Leutnant!’ The Italian had just located the appropriate ammunition box and was pushing handfuls of bullets into his pockets, tunic and a knapsack he found next to the ammunition crates. Eventually emptying the ammunition box, he grasped a Romanian metal helmet and ran from the room.
Several more rockets hit the upper stories of the building as Hausser reached the ground floor. Dust and plaster poured down the stairwell as he grasped the metal hand rail with both hands, the building seeming to shake even at ground level. Hearing boots on the staircase of the floors above, he pushed himself forwards to the right, towards the side office on the ground floor.
Behind him, there was another clank as the anti-tank rifle fired again at the Russian SPG in the street. Rifle shots and submachine gunfire echoed around the building as the soldiers within fired out at any movement in the streets outside.
As Hausser stood in the doorway to the small side office, the soldier in front of him spun round, his hands grasping his rifle tightly at chest height. He was breathing heavily, the adrenalin rushing through his body, ‘F..Firing in the sewer, sir! The Russians are attacking!’ As he spoke, a shell from the Russian SPG across the wide street exploded behind him just outside the room opposite, the shrieks of pain from a wounded soldier resounding off the walls around them.
Hausser walked towards the outside doorway of the small room, used to check delivery paperwork and the drivers or boatmen in as they delivered their cargo. The doorway had been two thirds barricaded with sandbags and furniture and he passed the sentry beginning to pull some of the furniture aside. The soldier leant forwards and promptly began helping him, pulling the table on its side away from the sandbags. As they moved the table, Hausser addressed the private, their eyes meeting, ‘When my men come…tell them I will be just outside.’
The soldier nodded, ‘Yes sir. Are you going to get help?’
Hausser frowned, his voice lowered, ‘I doubt it…we hope to get round the river bend. Once we secure that point, we will send men back for you and the others.’
The s
oldier nodded grimly, ‘I think we have not much time now sir, the Russians are massing for an attack.’ He hesitated, his eyes saddening, ‘Good luck sir.’
The German commander nodded grimly, then turned and grasped a chair, removing it from its position, gaining closer access to the sandbags. As the furniture was finally removed, Hausser slowly clambered on top of the barricade, a blast of cold icy air enveloping him as he rose above the obstruction. Glancing from side to side to check if the area was clear in the darkness, he half crawled across the top of the sandbags. Once through the opening, he dropped out of sight, landing with a crunch in the frozen snow outside.
Chapter Twenty Six: The Rubber Dinghy
Hausser landed roughly in the frozen snow, the crisp top of the blanket of flakes crunching under his boots. He hesitated, crouching on the bank, his breathing heavy. To his right, a freezing breeze swept over him, the slight wind coming in from the eastern side of the river Volga. He looked round, seeing the snow decline away from him, down the bank towards the frozen river. Glancing left, the darkness of the street was some distance away, the firing echoing in the passageway between the buildings.
A burst of submachine gun fire resounded from the opening in the roof of the smashed sewage pipe, below him to the left. The other sounds of war were further to his left, the sounds bouncing off the walls of the two buildings.
He shivered slightly as his body adapted to the more exposed lower temperature, his ears listening to the sporadic fire from within the building behind him. Grasping his MP40 in both hands he slowly lowered his body onto the snow, nudging himself down the slope towards the rubble strewn opening to the sewer tunnel.
His body slipped on the icy slope, sliding the last couple of metres down the incline, his boots breaking his descent as they made contact with the rubble and sides of the fractured tunnel. Gingerly, he lowered himself over the edge of the shattered sewer entrance and dropped onto the rubble a metre below.
Another burst of submachine gun fire to his left startled him briefly, the noise far louder as the sound echoed off the walls of the tunnel. Pushing himself to a crouched position, the muscles in his legs complaining at the strain, he slowly advanced into the darkened tunnel, the stench sweeping into his nostrils. As he stepped into the water, it seeped into his boots through the stitching, the severe temperature making him draw breath. The putrid water swirled around his boots as he pushed them along the floor of the sewer, a thin ice beginning to form on the surface.
Flashes from another submachine gun burst at the junction of the sewer lit up the tunnel briefly. Near the junction he saw two German soldiers, both crouched in the freezing foul water. As he slowly and carefully pushed his feet through the slimy water, feeling for footholds, one of the soldiers leant out and fired again down the main tunnel to the left. The muzzle flashes lit up the side tunnel again, revealing the dead Russian soldier he had seen earlier in the day, his body contorted in the same position.
Hausser paused, wary the men were at a high state of alertness. Swallowing to moisten his lips he called out in a low voice, ‘Deutsche Soldat!’
One of the soldiers spun round, hearing the commander call out, his weapon ready and raised. Slowly lowering his rife as he saw the silhouette in the tunnel, he gestured for Hausser to approach with his right hand, a strained whisper coming from his lips, ‘Komm!’
The German commander shuffled through the water towards the soldier as the other leant out into the tunnel and fired another short burst, the muzzle flashes illuminating the darkness in the tunnel for a couple of seconds. Glancing down, he carefully stepped over the outstretched body, looking up as he neared the two soldiers at the junction in the tunnel. The darkness in the sewer prevented him for making out their features, but he could just distinguish their shapes as he approached.
Crouching next to the soldier that had beckoned him forward, Hausser whispered, ‘How far away are the Russians?’
Russian bullets whipped through the tunnel before them, impacting on the wall of the turning in the tunnel to their right. The soldier adjusted his position uncomfortably, ‘Further down the tunnel…they keep trying to advance but we have this approach covered. They have been dropping smoke to try and get forward, but I think we can hold them here. We have killed several.’
Hausser nodded, his feet feeling numb in the cold water, ‘Have you got enough ammunition to keep them back?’
The soldier paused as the other man leant out, firing a short burst from his MP40 again, the flashes briefly illuminating their faces, ‘We have enough I think…we also have some grenades if they get much closer. The Russkies have got as far as the next side tunnel but they won’t get any further tonight.’ He grinned, ‘The tunnel to the right has collapsed round the bend, so the Russkies can’t get in that way. I can only guess what will happen up top if they attack in force though, we have nothing to stop tanks.’
The young commander pursed his lips, ‘I thought there was three of you down here?’
The soldier paused, his voice straining with emotion, ‘There was…Manfred is over there.’ He indicated by outstretching his hand into the darkness to Hausser’s right, ‘He got hit in the throat coming back from checking the collapsed section round the bend, falling face down in the water. We couldn’t get to him in time with the crossfire. All we could hear was him slowly drowning in this poisoned water.’
The German commander sighed realising the soldier’s pain. There was silence for some seconds before he spoke again, ‘How are you able to stay down here in this freezing water?’
The soldier slowly smiled again, his voice now a whisper, ‘There was a rubber dinghy in the warehouse, we cut sections and wrapped the rubber round our boots before we came in here, didn’t you?’
Hausser shook his head, smiling ironically, ‘I didn’t think of that.’
The soldier’s voice became concerned, ‘Best not stay too long then I think…frostbite is not pleasant. We will hold here…how is it up top?’
The young commander moved his weight across his body from one leg to the other, his thigh muscles beginning to ache, ‘I don’t know how long they can hold out. I am going to lead some men round the bend in the river and see if we can create an escape route for most of you.’
‘Fantastic! Shall we just wait here for you then?’ The soldier replied, a hopeful grin forming on his face.
The soldier behind him turned, his MP40 lowered, ‘That’s the best news I have heard in the last week, how long before you come back for us?’ He raised his weapon again, leaned out and fired another burst into the dense smoke at the far end of the tunnel.
Hausser smiled briefly, waiting for the firing to stop, ‘Hopefully one hour, it will depend how much resistance there is along the river.’ Bullets splattered across the wall opposite throwing dust and grime across the dark tunnel, causing the men to duck back instinctively, the Russian infantry returning fire in the darkness.
The soldier in front of him retrieved an MP40 ammunition clip from his belt and held it aloft for his countryman to collect, his voice becoming solemn, ‘I think it is time for you to leave…you will get frostbite otherwise. We will hold here…you have a long walk ahead of you on those feet. Remember to collect us please.’
Hausser nodded, turning, ‘I will remember, try and keep them out of the side tunnel if you can.’ Rising from his crouched position, the German commander cautiously stepped over the outstretched legs of the body and began forcing his numb feet through the slimy water, the cold now biting at his ankles in the sodden boots.
As another burst of submachine gun fire echoed across the walls, Hausser made his way carefully towards the debris at the end of the tunnel, seeing tracer fire cross the river in the distance. Looking back briefly, he raised his hand as a gesture towards the men in the darkness, hearing a whispered, ‘Good Luck’ in return.
As he reached the rubble, he slowly lifted his right foot out of the slurried water, placing it onto the fallen bricks, hearing a clank from the a
ging anti-tank rifle echo across the walls of the buildings either side, followed by the metallic pings of bullets hitting the Russian SPG across the road to his rear.
Grasping the side of the broken tunnel, he looked up and saw Tatu extend a hand to him. The Romanian smiling as he grasped his arm, helping him out of the darkness.
Chapter Twenty Seven: Prelude to escape.
As Hausser straightened up from the climb out of the sewer, he glanced around in the gloom, the gunfire from the street behind him causing concern. Tatu pulled the strap of his PPSH 41 over his shoulder, ‘The men are waiting inside, Hausser. I thought it best to keep them under cover until it is time to leave.’
The German commander nodded, his exhaled breath now forming into clouds of condensed air in the dropping temperature, ‘Let’s check the route before we start out. It will be even colder on the riverbank, have they all got their balaclavas and gloves?’
Tatu turned to look towards the river, running his hand over his moustache and grinning, ‘I told them to get ready for the cold…they should all have the kit we issued them with. It is unfortunate we left the greatcoats in the carriers…if we had not been dressed in two layers of clothing, we may have remembered them.’
Hausser glanced around further, then faced the Romanian, ‘The extra kit would have just slowed us down, perhaps none of us would be here if we had been wearing the greatcoats, they are too cumbersome.’ He indicated towards the river as the Romanian quartermaster turned to look at him in the gloom, ‘Let’s go and check the route we will take.’
Both men looked cautiously north along the alleyway between the two storage towers, their breath forming clouds between them in the freezing temperature. Behind them, sporadic fire both in the sewer and from the defenders in the buildings echoed between the walls of the towers. Before them, the land rose slightly before falling away, the decline leading to the banks of the frozen river. Broken brick and debris from shellfire lay across the end of the opening, half covered in frozen snow, on top of the remaining part of the broken sewer tunnel, providing possible cover and a vantage point.
Bloody Stalingrad Page 23