The freezing water seeped into his boots as he pushed his feet carefully through the poisoned slurry and thinly formed ice towards the two soldiers at the junction. He froze as the sounds of the explosions entered the narrow tunnel behind him, echoing off the walls to either side, his heart beating loudly in his chest and mouth dry. The stench had been overwhelming at first, but this had been rapidly overcome by his increasing fear as he realised the Russian attack was imminent. He heard the distant ‘Hurrahs’ as the Russian infantry emerged from cover, throwing more smoke grenades towards the storage building in an attempt to blind the defenders.
Before him, one of the soldiers in the tunnel had leant out slightly, squinting into the darkness that extended off down the sewer tunnel. The smoke seemed thicker than previously and this drifted towards and around them in the darkness. Unable to make out any shapes or movement, he slowly raised his MP40 once again to fire a burst along the tunnel. As the smoke swirled around him, he strained his ears for sounds of movement, the noise of rifle and submachine gun fire from above ground distorted in the tunnel, preventing him from making out any distinct sound.
He leant out further, adjusting his body to allow him to lean more into the main tunnel, his eyes and ears struggling to identify a noise or movement in front of him. The feeling of disorientation beginning to seep into his mind as the smoke and darkness eliminated any vision. Then his eyes widened, his mouth opening to shout an alarm as he heard the metallic ‘whoosh’ before him. The oncoming flames filling and lighting up the tunnel in front of him as they surged towards him. His pupils tried to adjust to the extreme light and his mind screamed at him to move back into the side tunnel, to safety as the flames engulfed his body. The chemically induced fire swept across his body and around him and past him down the tunnel. The intense flame and heat seared his skin, burning it from his bones instantly, his uniform igniting and combusting with the chemical fuel. The burning liquid poured into his body through his nose and mouth, instantly searing his throat and lungs and enveloping him as his body twisted in an attempt to deflect itself from the oncoming wave of light and fire. The intense agony from both inside and outside his body briefly overcame him as he passed out and fell sideways into the main tunnel, his body still burning ferociously. His body writhing and twitching in final unconscious agony in the sewer water, the struggling ceasing as the fire burnt though his organs, cooking them…he died within seconds.
The soldier behind him in the side tunnel instinctively threw himself backwards, the side of his face scorched by the surging flame. He landed in the putrid ice and water, the rifle falling from his grasp, the terror overcoming him, the intense cold of the water an extreme shock to his body after the searing heat. As he struggled to raise himself from the water, spluttering, his frightened shout echoed through the tunnels, ‘Flammenwerfer!’
As the soldier in the water some ten metres before him flayed around in an attempt to rise from the slurry and ice, the young German military policeman’s eyes widened in horror and terror. The burning body lying at the intersection of the tunnel illuminated the sewer before him. Flames burned on the walls and surface of the water as the chemicals were consumed by the fire. Dried excrement, dust and dirt also ignited in the intense heat, the flames burning for a short time on spots on the walls and the rounded roof of the tunnel.
In panic, his heart beating wildly in his chest, he dropped his rifle. Reaching frantically to his waist, he grasped the stick grenade in his belt, pulling the cold metal from between his tunic and thick leather belt. His hands were shaking in terror as he unscrewed the base of the grenade, hearing the splashing of water to the left of the intersection as the Russian infantry advanced. Pulling the cord that fell from the unscrewed base, he tossed the grenade forward, the metal stick hitting the right wall of the tunnel and bouncing into the middle of the intersection, coming to rest next to the burning body.
A spurt of flame shot along the right wall as the soldier pressed the trigger on his weapon of flames, the Russian combat engineer’s stance to the left of the corner to limit his exposure to fire. The young German fell backwards into the polluted water as his body twisted to avoid the oncoming ignited chemicals propelled along the wall. The intense cold seeming to grasp at his body as the poisoned water enveloped him.
The grenade’s explosion at the intersection of the tunnel killed the approaching Russian flamethrower instantly, igniting the metal canisters of chemicals on his back. The subsequent fireball engulfing the cautious infantry advancing behind him, their screams echoing across the walls. The fire surged forward along the tunnels, igniting the dried dirt and soldiers alike as the chemically induced flame sought out further victims.
The flames in the side tunnel shot along the right side of the sewer roof, the angle of the corner of the intersection saving the two German infantrymen a similar fate to the Russian soldiers. The German nearest the intersection had turned and was scrambling on his hands and knees away from the corner, the slurried water splashing onto the walls on either side. As the fireball receded, he rose desperately from the water, attempting to run, forcing his legs through the freezing liquid. His sight was obscured by the returning darkness, his right eye blinded, the side of his face burnt from the chemicals. He was disorientated, his panic to escape back down the side tunnel overpowering. Advancing blindly, he fell headlong over the outstretched legs of the Russian body, falling face down into the freezing water, his outstretched arms breaking his fall, a shriek of panic coming from his swollen lips.
Hands roughly grabbed the back of his tunic, pulling him forward. The younger German military policeman gripping his countryman’s wet uniform and dragging him along the side tunnel. Behind them, the screams of dying and critically wounded Russian soldiers echoed across the slimy walls of the sewer, the still burning chemical patches and bodies casting flickering shadows and light around them. As the two men struggled up the rubble that lead from the sewer, the cold air enveloped them, sending chills across their bodies. To their upper right, the infantryman at the delivery doorway was leaning out firing his rifle towards the street behind them as they scrambled up the iced slope. The soldier at the doorway turned his head as they approached, the fear evident on his face, ‘Get inside, quickly!’ As they struggled through the doorway, one supporting the other, the submachine gun fire and rifle shots were loud around them. Screams of wounded from the street drifted along the alleyway as they struggled into the office to the side of the storage tower.
Tatu glanced to his right to see the two men struggle into the stairwell, then fired a burst from his submachine gun out through a gap in the sandbags, the muzzle flashes illuminating his face. As he looked back to the stairwell, the young German military policeman shouted to him, desperation on his face, ‘The Russians have the sewer!’
As the two men struggled to ascend the stairs, Udet pushed past them on his way back down. Reaching the doorway, he looked across the large storage room, seeing the soldiers fire from their individual windows, then duck back behind cover. Shouts in Russian could be heard from just the other side of the wall as the first wave of surviving infantry reached the building, still disorientated in the smoke.
Udet hesitated, seeing Tatu fire out of the window again, then shouted at the Romanian, ‘A German Battery in Stalingrad is ready to fire, Tatu. Where do you want the artillery?’
Tatu glanced round at him, moving his body from the window, desperation on his face, ‘Bring it down just the other side of the street…drop grenades out of the windows!’
Udet nodded, turned and started to hurriedly ascend the stairs, pulling himself upwards with his gloved hands on the cold metal hand rail.
Petru glanced out through a small gap in the barricade on his window, the swirling smoke before the building obscuring his vision. Shadows moved through the smoke as he raised his rifle, firing at a silhouette in the cloud, the shadow falling backwards onto the cobblestones.
The sounds of engines revving from the street aler
ted Tatu to a new danger, he stooped and glanced out of a gap in the sandbags, his adrenalin rising further. The smoke billowed in through the gap as he blinked to clear his eyes. Seeing the burning debris on the cobblestones, the smoke slightly dispersed, he glanced at the shapes across the thoroughfare. His spine tingling as he noticed the distinctive silhouette of a Russian field gun being manhandled by its crew emerging from a side street of the buildings opposite.
The clatter of tank tracks rattled over the cobblestones as the silhouette of a T34 Russian tank swept out from behind the buildings and field gun, the armoured vehicle abruptly turning to face the storage tower. A flash in the smoke as the 76mm tank’s turret gun fired, the high explosive shell hitting the front of the building near one of the windows. Plaster and debris shot across the room as Tatu instinctively ducked, the taste of plaster dust in his mouth as some of the sandbags toppled from the window.
Rising again, he fired through the widened gap, hearing screams from the street as the burst from his submachine gun hit several advancing Russian infantrymen. As he ducked away from the opening, bullets poured through as the Russians fired back, the bullets slamming onto the ceiling and walls at the back of the room.
Explosions echoed through the building as grenades bounced onto the tarmac, tossed from the upper windows. Tatu raised his weapon, firing blindly through the opening, the screaming of men and gunfire echoing in his ears. Looking quickly around, he saw two of the defenders lying on the warehouse floor, blood seeping from wounds they had sustained. Hearing the ‘Hurrahs’ from Russian infantrymen outside, he realised the second wave was now moving towards them, the gunfire from above in the building heightened as the machine gunners fired desperately into the smoke filled street below. The ‘pings’ as bullets bounced off the T34 opposite distinctive through the other sounds of war.
Hauptmann Becker appeared at the foot of the stairs, an MP40 in his hands. Seeing the Romanian quartermaster look across at him, he shouted desperately, ‘Artillery incoming, they only have one salvo to offer us though!’
Tatu nodded, his teeth gritted. Rising slightly and glancing out into the street, his eyes widened as he saw the shadows of the gun crew opposite step back from their field gun. One of the gunners shuddering and falling as he was hit by machine gun fire from above. Tatu’s desperation rising, he turned, screaming ‘Get back!’
The flash from the field gun was followed immediately by an explosion, the shell hitting the exterior wall in front of the foot of the stairs. Tatu stared through the doorway as the wall implode inwards, Hauptmann Becker and the soldier behind him disappearing as the brickwork and masonry blew into the figures, engulfing them. Dust and cement fragments flew sideways into the wide room, forcing the remaining defenders to duck their heads.
The T34 fired again, the tank jolting backwards with the force. The shell smashed through one of the first floor windows, exploding inside, killing three of the German defenders in the storage room as they attempted to repel the Russian attack.
Bullets poured through the broken barricades as the T34’s machine guns opened fire, the lead projectiles flying above the defenders heads as they ducked for cover, splattering against the back wall.
Tatu gulped, realising the situation was hopeless, firing another blind burst of his submachine gun through the opening he turned, shouting to the remaining soldiers in the room, his voice hoarse, ‘Get up the stairs, we can’t hold them here!’
The screams from outside in the street were drowned out as more artillery shells struck the upper floors of the building, shaking the structure. Plaster dust and fragments billowed from the ceiling around them, the dust now thick on the floor. The soldier next to Tatu rose and began to run towards the doorway to the stairs, spinning round as he passed the window, then falling backwards as he was hit in the chest and shoulder by machine gun fire from the T34.
Tatu scrambled across the floor towards the opening, hearing Petru shout at the remaining men in the room to follow them. As he reached the doorway, he turned, leaning into the corner of the room, raising his PPSH 41 to cover the other men’s retreat. Seeing the three remaining soldiers scramble across the floor towards him, their faces contorted in terror with bullets flying above them through the windows. Petru was making his way along the side of the wall, some five metres away as the first grenade fell at the back of the room, thrown in through the broken barricades from a Russian leaning against the outside wall.
‘Grenade!’ Tatu shouted as the first man reached him, turning his face from the expected blast and raising his hands in protection. The other two German soldiers were desperately scrambling to get closer to the doorway as the grenade exploded, the fragmentation hitting one on the side and rear as he tried to get to the opening. The soldier slumped onto the floor, his hands clenched and back arching in pain as he reached out towards Tatu, his eyes desperate.
The other soldier was covered by his countryman’s body and reached the doorway just behind Petru. Two more grenades flew into the room through the openings in the barricades, clattering across the floor and coming to rest against the far wall. Tatu pushed himself to his feet, turning and running through the opening as the explosions ripped through the room behind him.
Petru was firing through the opening in the destroyed wall as the quartermaster came through the doorway. The shell hole was roughly at waist height and was of about a metre in circumference. The surviving infantrymen from the ground floor storage room and office were now climbing the stairs quickly, their desperation to escape causing them to push against each other. Tatu turned, looking back into the darkened room. Seeing the bodies lying across the floor, he raised his weapon to chest height to cover any eager Russian infantry men that may attempt to climb through the windows.
As Tatu stared into the room, his eyes darting across the floor and walls as the bullets from the T34 flew through the windows, the wooden doors at the far end of the storage area blew inwards as the Russian engineers outside detonated their charges. The barricades that had been stacked across the double doors flew inwards, clattering across the cement floor. The debris lay scattered across the floor near the now open double doorway, one of the doors hanging weakly from its hinges as the other fell from the broken metal supports. Further smoke canisters and grenades clattered across the floor as the Russian infantry either side of the large door prepared to storm the area.
Tatu slapped Petru’s shoulder, firing his PPSH submachine gun at the wide opening on the other side of the area. ‘Get up the stairs! This floor is lost!’
Further explosions in the room they had exited occurred as the grenades timers ran out. The fragmentation killing any remaining wounded in the room that had been desperately clinging to life, their prone bodies shuddering with each blast. Sporadic firing from the open doorway splattered across the walls on either side as the Russians prepared to enter the ground floor.
Tatu turned away, hearing Petru’s footsteps on the stairway. Opposite he glanced a Russian infantryman advancing into the office, his rifle raised. Reacting quickly, he raised his submachine gun and fired a short burst. The man screamed as the bullets entered his chest, falling backwards onto the scattered sandbags.
Tatu grasped the handrail on the stairs, pulling himself upwards as he heard the shouts echo in the room behind him, the Russians making each other aware of their positions before entering. Glancing down as he mounted the first step, he saw the body of Hauptmann Becker to the side of the stairs, his uniform covered in rubble and dust. Blood was on the floor around his body and the infantryman lying prone next to him, the explosive blast and shell fragments having probably ended their lives.
As he quickly ascended the steps, he saw Udet and Petru above him, half concealed behind the next set of stairs, their weapons pointing down towards the stairwell to cover him. As he passed them, he could hear a ‘Whoosh’ of shells fly past the building and land in the streets to the south of the tower. A faint smile crossing his lips, the German artillery had finally arri
ved…unfortunately too late, he mused to himself.
Machine gun fire echoed down from the floors above as the gunners fired out into the street, attempting to prevent further infantry from reaching the building. Tatu could hear the explosions outside as the salvo of German artillery landed amongst the streets opposite, hitting several Russian squads grouping to advance. The engines of the T34 revving as the shaken tank commander decided to distance himself from the artillery’s target area.
As he passed Udet and Petru crouched on the stairs, the young German spoke, ‘You are in command now Tatu!’
As Tatu wearily ascended the next few steps, passing two more soldiers, he replied, his voice tired, ‘Of what?’ He hesitated wearily, composing himself and turning on the steps, ‘Move most of the men to the third floor…leave only a couple on the first and second floors, that should reduce their tank and gun targets, their guns cannot traverse that high. Get more men to cover the stairs, it’s their only way up now.’
He looked back at the young German, seeing the man’s wide eyes with fright, ‘We have a short respite I think, they will regroup before storming the stairs. Drop grenades out of the windows when you see smoke. Use grenades on the stairs when they try and come up. I am going to see how Hausser is doing along the river…there is still hope.’
Bloody Stalingrad Page 25