Chapter Twenty Nine: The Lower Bank of the River Volga
Hausser had waited in the biting cold at the corner of the storage tower, turning only from the sights of the devastated city beyond the Volga bend as he heard the crunch of boots in the iced snow behind him. As the group of soldiers gathered around him, he noticed their eyes widen as they looked out across the river. The burning buildings and battle raging on the west side of the Volga a visible surprise to most of the infantrymen.
Exhaling heavily, he addressed the assembled group, the condensed air from their breath swirling around the men, ‘We will make our way along the riverbank as quickly as we can.’ He stated, the men watching him apprehensively, ‘Stay close to the walls of the river, this will conceal our shadows. If you venture too far from the wall, the snipers may see you against the snow, do you understand?’
The soldiers slowly nodded solemnly, their expressions grim as they looked beyond him in awe at the fires and fighting further north along the river.
Luca stepped forward, ‘Shall I get some men from the storage building next door?’
Hausser considered the proposal for a second, ‘Yes, get half of them, there is little time left now…I think we had better get as many men away as possible.’
Luca nodded, his teeth clenched, ‘Yes sir, I will catch you up.’ He turned and slipped through the other men, heading for the building next door.
Hausser turned back to the assembled men, ‘Keep your voices down as we make our way along the river, we don’t know where the Russians are…let’s go!’
The commander turned and slipped out from the side of the building, feeling the colder air grasp his body as he slid down the slope towards the frozen riverbank. Slowly the soldiers followed, their footsteps deliberate on the iced surface, all wary of slipping and potentially injuring themselves.
Reaching the riverbank wall on the opposite end of the alleyway, Hausser hesitated and waited for all the soldiers to join him. The burning buildings casting light across the ice leading to the river…below the wall, they were in almost complete darkness.
Slowly their eyes adjusted to the darkness and they were able to see a brief distance in front of them, the intense cold beginning to penetrate their extra layers of clothing and seemingly bite at their flesh.
Moving carefully along the base of the wall, Hausser occasionally stopped to check the men behind him. His breathing was shallow and he felt his stomach twist with apprehension. Passing the corner of the second storage building he looked up, seeing the dark shadow of the solid structure above them. Swallowing hard and attempting to remove the lump from his throat as he passed across a narrow gap between the storage building and the next structure, this building in darkness.
Reaching another sewage pipe set into the cold dark wall, he cautiously glanced into the narrow tunnel, its end obstructed by a wire mesh grill. Seeing only pitch black in the tunnel, he held his breath and advanced across it, the sounds of gunfire further round the river becoming slightly louder.
As they progressed, he approached a jetty stretching out from the wall, the shadows of the wooden and metal structure becoming larger as they neared. Turning, he realised Nicu was behind him, indicating for the young Romanian to stop, he edged forward to the first pillar of the structure. Listening intently, he could hear muffled Russian voices from the alleyway above, the sentries staying back from the cold water’s edge to claim limited comfort against the exposed temperature.
Turning to check the group behind him, he indicated with his right hand for them to approach cautiously, pressing his finger to his lips and pointing upwards. As the group reached him, they passed individually, crawling under the structure on the ice and cautiously pulling themselves forward across the cold snow.
As the second last man reached him, Hausser realised Hase was following the group, moving his head cautiously from side to side to check the surroundings for any threat. Hausser hesitated, then grasped the soldier’s shoulder as he drew near, whispering next to his ear, ‘Wait here for a short time Hase, make sure that impetuous Italian does not alert the Russians above us.’
Hase turned to look at him, nodding, his voice lowered and hushed, ‘Yes sir, I will wait for them.’
Hausser lowered himself to a crawl and pushed himself across the snow under the jetty, feeling the cold seep through his uniform and Russian underwear as his body moved across the ice. Emerging from the pitch black beneath the structure, he joined the waiting group of men, their apprehension clearly rising as they turned to progress.
Hausser slipped through the waiting soldiers, assuming his position at the front again. The wall was beginning to gradually turn to the right as they reached the bend in the river and he could now make out a number of other jetties in the distance.
Glancing upwards, he saw the building above them was in darkness, the towering structure containing stores and foodstuffs for shipping north on the river, the stock now rotting in its boxes. As he cautiously passed the building, the lower section of the Volga bend began to turn towards the northwest, exposing the snow’s surface to additional cold from the icy breezes drifting across the river.
Checking his footing more carefully for fear of slipping down the heavily iced slope to the riverbank, he turned to place his back against the wall, feeling the freezing stone against his body as he drew breath. The soldiers behind him adopted similar positions, grasping each other’s shoulders to steady themselves.
As the wall turned further towards the north, Hausser glanced back towards the storage tower, his heart sinking, stomach twisting as he glimpsed explosions against the dark building, the flames from the roof shooting upwards and spreading into the air. Stopping for a second, he realised Udet was not with the group, his lips pursing under his scarf, ‘Pig headed stubborn Berliners!’ He mouthed to himself as he considered the battle that was raging in the storage tower.
The sights from the storage tower spurred Hausser on as he started pushing the pace along the side of the wall, side stepping in the ice and pressing his weight onto his left foot before progressing, ensuring he did not slip. The soldiers behind him were scrutinising the ice for shadows of the steps the previous man had taken and adopting these in the darkness.
Approaching another jetty, Hausser pushed himself from the cold stone and leant against the first support pillar, creating a gap for the soldiers to proceed between him and the wall. Slowly each man dropped to a crawl to fit under the pier and progressed through the darkness under the wooden structure, their bodies sliding slightly on the ice.
As the last man passed him, Hausser looked back down the riverbank, squinting to see if he could make out Hase and the group from the second tower. Unable to see anything in the darkness, he shook his head in frustration, turned his body and crept below the pier, crawling across the iced snow to the other side.
As he emerged from beneath the other side of the pier, he re-joined the group of soldiers collected on the iced snow. The bank was now more gradual as it declined towards the ice at the foot of the slope and the men were grouped around the pier supports awaiting his arrival.
Hausser hesitated, straining his ears as he thought he heard a sound, muffled laughter emerging from the building above as the Russian platoon housed in the darkened structure gained some rest from the extreme temperature and fighting during the day. The Russians were drinking heavily, and their conversation and laughter drifted from the building to the listening soldiers below.
A rifle crack echoed from the roof as a sniper fired out across the river bend, his position cold and isolated on top of the building. The sounds of gunfire and shell explosions drifted across the ice as the lower Volga river wall started to bend round towards the north.
Hausser pushed himself from his crouched position and started to walk carefully along the base of the wall, feeling for footsteps of the soldiers ahead of him on the ice. As they advanced some twenty metres further, he froze as he heard a ‘puff’ from above them. Looking up, he c
aught his breath as a flare rose into the sky. He dropped to a crouched position, his heart beating loudly in his chest as he watched the glowing projectile rise into the frozen air. His fear rose as he tried to anticipate where it would land, possibly illuminating the soldiers and exposing them to fire if it landed too close.
On the eastern side of the river, the Russian sniper raised the binoculars to his eyes, the flare from his countryman on the rooftop opposite an agreed prior arrangement to enable him to check the riverbank for enemy soldiers. As he adjusted the zoom, he gradually moved the glasses along the bank from a point in the city opposite back down the river as it bent round towards his position. Checking the darkened piers individually, he then lifted the binoculars to check the trajectory of the flare, then lowered the glasses again. Shivering below his blankets and the bushes he had placed around him, he scanned the opposite bank again for movement. Seeing nothing, he placed the binoculars onto the bushes concealing his position before him. Slowly he reached behind for his ration pack.
Hausser exhaled gradually as the flare dropped slowly onto the ice further up the riverbank, the breeze guiding the projectile towards the burning buildings in front of them. The flare glowed brightly and intensely as it landed on the ice further up the river, beyond the next jetty as he slowly rose from his position and backed against the wall again, feeling the cold stone against his body.
Edging forward, Hausser could now just make out the gap in the wall he had seen from the storage tower, the flames from the buildings in the street above lighting the edges of the stone around the entrance to the street, now some one hundred and fifty metres further from their position. Below the wall would be the ladder he had seen through the binoculars, now obscured in the darkness.
As the group moved further, they approached the last jetty before their potential exit and escape from the riverbank. Hausser slowed as he approached the darkened structure, the cold now becoming intense to the exposed men. As he crouched to go below the pier, he glimpsed darkened frozen bodies beneath the structure on the ice. Grasping his MP40, he cautiously edged nearer, pointing the weapon towards the prone figures, cautiously watching them for movement.
As he ducked under the platform, the realisation was the bodies were of civilians, frozen in death’s embrace. He swallowed as he observed the bodies were mostly small, of young children that had hidden from the fighting, their parents leading them to potential safety from gunfire. The exposure to the elements providing no mercy as their body temperatures dropped dramatically. He grimly counted five children and one adult, considering they had been eagerly awaiting someone to come and rescue them or to tell them the battle had passed…that they were now safe…that perhaps their rescuer had been killed before getting to them.
Crawling forward, he carefully but forcefully pushed the frozen bodies aside, moving them further down the decline. Considering their innocence as they waited, their hopes of rescue high as they slowly dropped into a warm sleep in the cold. Two of the bodies were frozen on the surface of the ice and he reluctantly applied pressure with his boot to dislodge them. The bodies slipping gradually across the frozen snow once this was achieved, a slight noise as the iced grip on the corpses gave way.
As the other soldiers passed, several closed their eyes, the bitterness of the scene causing them to become aware of their fragile existence in this environment.
Hausser waited for the men on the other side of the pier, wary the experience could disturb some of them. Slowly they all emerged onto the iced snow, the condensed breath from their exhalations now hanging in the air. The commander indicated for them all to gather round as he spoke in a whisper, ‘We are nearly there…so don’t make any mistakes now. The Russians are in the streets around us and probably between us and our lines even when we get off this bank.’ He looked across the soldiers darkened faces as he spoke, noticing most were quite withdrawn from their vacant expressions, the early signs of exposure. Continuing he drew breath, ‘When we get up the ladder, move away from the edge quickly and to the sides of the street, this will reduce the chances or sniper fire. Keep low, even lie down on the road until I can make a decision what to do next.’
He watched as individually the soldiers slowly nodded, his apprehension high as he considered their potentially limited combat experience. Turning thoughtfully, he moved at a crouch towards the wall, now feeling the cold in his thigh muscles. He realised they now needed to get off the exposed bank quickly if they were going to be able to fight in the streets beyond the ladder….exposure was now also a deep concern.
Moving along next to the wall, Hausser hoped Hase had not waited too long for the follow up group, the temperature now bitterly low. He considered that even his young Russian friend would struggle if left out too long in the bitter dropping temperature.
Glancing out onto the ice, he observed the flare had now died, the last ‘whisps’ of smoke rising from the projectile as it lay on the white iced surface.
The commander increased his pace along the wall, a freezing breeze from the east now drifting directly onto them as they progressed north. His boots slipped occasionally on the ice, but the decline was now very slight, so this limited his chances of falling. As they trudged forward, he occasionally glanced back at the group, checking their progress. He observed a couple of soldiers had fallen slightly behind, but decided the distance remaining was too slight to justify stopping to regroup.
Approaching the ladder, his uneasiness faded. Grasping the cold metal with his gloved hands, he stepped onto the first frozen rung and started to ascend towards the street.
Back in the small fourth floor office of the storage tower, Tatu scanned the bank of the river bend with binoculars through the shell hole in the wall. Below him, sporadic gunfire echoed in the stairwell as the Russians tried to gain an understanding of the strength they faced before attacking. The occasional explosion within and outside the building indicated the grenades the defenders were using to deter the attackers, a stock of grenades that were now beginning to run out.
He tensed, lowering the glasses for a second as he heard a grinding noise above him in the building. The noise becoming slightly louder, then silence. Raising the glasses again, he scanned the ice as it bent around the river, looking for a shadow or silhouette. Seeing nothing, he began looking along the river wall silhouetted from the fires beyond.
A smile crossed his lips as he thought he glimpsed something against a gap in the wall, then he ducked his head as shells exploded above him on the roof, a shower of dust falling from the ceiling above him. Raising the glasses, he looked again…seeing nothing, he reluctantly dismissed his earlier thought.
As he lowered the binoculars from his eyes, he heard Udet’s shouting in the stairwell, a desperation in his voice, ‘Tatu, come quickly, we need your help.’ Dropping the binoculars, he ran his shaking hand over his moustache and grasped his PPSH 41 submachine gun. Turning abruptly, he ran from the office.
Chapter Thirty: Der Kessel
Hausser slowly and carefully clambered to the top of the metal ladder, the cold from the rungs beginning to seep through his gloves. He moved his boots slowly and purposefully, aware that the hob nails in the soles could make extra noise on the metal rungs.
Approaching the top of the ladder, he carefully raised his head over the top rung so he could peer into the street beyond. As his eyes adjusted to the light from the burning buildings on either side of the narrow street, he took in the sights before him.
The street was approximately seventy metres long, ending in an intersection with a main road. To either side were low two storey buildings, probably apartments and houses for the many workers and political officers that had resided in the city. Flames licked from most of the windows and doorways, the signs of heavy fighting during this and the preceding days. Several doorways were open, smoke billowing from within some as he looked on.
In the middle of the street, some thirty metres from him, sat a disabled German armoured car, an SdKfz 221 facin
g away from him. He had glimpsed this vehicle through the binoculars he had used from the storage tower, and was curious as to the vehicle’s condition. Looking from his hiding spot, he examined the armoured car, seeing the dead gunner slumped in the upper hatch, his body bent backwards after being hit in the face by Russian bullets. Several bodies lay further down the street, the victims of vicious hand to hand fighting.
The vehicle was sat at an angle, its axle damaged, with both right tyres punctured. Beyond his sight, the front radiator had been punctured from Russian machine gun fire, but he was encouraged to see the main cupola machine gun was still in the open hatch, pointing skywards as the gunner’s body had fallen backwards, wedging the weapon in its current position.
At the end of the street, next to the intersection, were some twenty Russians, some crouched next to the right corner, others stood behind them or in the middle of the street, all positioned some distance before the main road. From their stances, he realised they were in a state of high alertness, either preparing to attack to the right or readying to receive a counter attack.
A shell burst occurred to his left, causing him to duck below the top of the wall instinctively. As the dust and debris dropped onto the street in front of the wall, he slowly lifted his head again to further look down the street.
Tracer bullets zipped across the junction beyond, the Russians ducking back from the corner of the right wall. A brief smile crossed his lips as he realised the tracer fire was coming from the right, that these were German machine guns firing. The sounds from the streets and buildings in the immediate vicinity were of small arms fire, rifle shots and bursts of hand held submachine guns, broken only by the explosions from grenades.
Excitement rose within him as he realised the German lines may only be a short distance to the north. The Russian infantry’s obvious tenseness seen in their stances and body movement indicating the German force opposing them was potentially strong or even superior to the Russian numbers.
Bloody Stalingrad Page 26