Slowly he lowered the scoped Mosin Nagrant rifle from his eye, shaking his head…the German was gone.
Chapter Thirty Four: The Chase……
Hase had sat under the pier for some time, his muscles and flesh beginning to ache in the extreme cold. As the time had passed, his mind had become more conflicted, his consideration that the longer he waited the more alone he felt. The distant gunfire from both sides of him around the river bend making him feel as though he was not contributing, that his comrades may have needed him. He thought of Hausser, had the commander reached safety and forgotten him perhaps? The young German’s commander’s instruction for him to wait at this point for the others seemed a distant memory now as he sat alone on the frozen snow, his rifle in his gloved hands.
He had pulled the Russian balaclava he had saved around his face, re-adjusting the scarf he had round his mouth as protection against the creeping cold. The freezing breeze slipping through the pillars of the jetty seemed to bite at his flesh beneath the uniform and Russian felt underwear.
He could just make out the subdued chatter of the Russian sentries above him, the men complaining about the cold and the state of their rations. He determined there must be three of them at least, with two speaking mostly, the other adding occasional observations to the others conversation.
His senses had heightened as the gunfire from the storage towers had seemed to escalate, but then had died down, the shooting inside the buildings becoming more muffled. Concern rose within him as he looked out down the snow and river wall to the east, seeing no movement, his comrades still perhaps fighting in the towers? When the shooting subsided more, he had become deeply concerned, had they been killed? Had the Russians taken the towers? Were his friends now prisoners?
He had tensed as the explosions had begun, initially a few distant ‘crumps’ behind the buildings, then he had stood up, ducking his head below the pier as a larger explosion occurred. His eyes widened in shock as he saw the fireball shoot out from where the sewer pipes must be, then his mouth opened in awe as the storage tower further from him shook, then collapsed inwards, the immense dust cloud and smoke billowing outwards and upwards.
He became more confused, should he leave and try to join Hausser’s group or go back and investigate? Then the voices above him became louder as the Russian sentries had ventured out onto the pier to investigate the explosions. The sounds of their boots on the thick wooden beams creaking above and echoing around him as they moved. With the Russians above him, he decided to wait a little longer, emerging from the safety of the pier now would probably alert them to his presence.
As he stared back down the river wall, he strained his eyed to try and see any movement, the pier between his position and the storage towers restricting his view. He moved from side to side to try and see between the pier supports, the darkness and gloom reducing his vision. Then his heart leapt, seeing a figure emerge from the area of the second remaining tower and run along the river wall towards him. Then he saw another figure emerge behind the first, then another. Finally, he saw a tall stocky figure emerge wearing a large cumbersome jacket, the figure waving for the other men to move quickly. A smile crossed his face as he recognised the distant silhouette of Tatu through the dim light.
The figures were running towards him, their bodies crouched against the river wall. As the men in the distance began to negotiate the supports of the first pier, a charge of excitement ran through his body. His adrenalin began to race as he realised the Russians above could not determine whether the approaching figures were German or Russian. Hearing the Russian sentries ready their weapons, he desperately thought how to warn the approaching men.
Turning, he slipped across the snow, making his way to the back of the pier. Looking around desperately, he spotted a ladder leading up to the pier surface attached to a support pillar half way along the jetty. He carefully approached the wooden rungs, hearing the Russian voices above become heightened as they tried to decide whether to open fire or not.
As he pulled himself up the ladder, he felt the cold of the steps through his gloves, the exposed structure freezing in the temperature. Reaching the top, he peered over cautiously, seeing the three Russian soldiers all had their backs to him, two knelt on the pier slowly raising their rifles. Glancing right, he checked the alleyway leading to the pier was empty and rose silently from the ladder.
As he crouched on top of the pier, he realised the men on the snow below were only about one hundred metres away, their urgency to escape and the darkness preventing them from seeing the Russian sentries on the top of the wooden pier. The adrenalin surged through him, his excitement rising as he briefly considered what to do, then running his tongue across his lips he stepped forward silently.
As he moved, he slowly raised his rifle, aiming at the furthest sentry. As he cautiously approached, one of the sentries turned to his countrymen, ‘They must be enemy soldiers! We should fire!’
Hase raised his rifle higher and pulled the trigger, the weapon jolting in his hands. The furthest Russian sentry was hit just behind his shoulder, the bullet shattering his ribcage and collar bone, he spun round with the impact and fell backwards off the pier, rolling down the snow bank below.
The nearest Russian turned sharply, shouting an alarm as he realised the impending attack. As he turned, Hase was almost behind him, bringing the butt of his rifle up hard under the soldier’s chin, hearing a crack as he broke his jaw and knocked him back unconscious. The soldier falling backwards roughly onto the pier’s surface.
The third Russian spun round, his rifle at waist height, raising it to point at Hase. The men’s eyes met as Hase closed in on him, knocking the man’s rifle back to the side with his own and hitting the man in the chest with his rifle butt, winding him. The Russian’s rifle clattered onto the pier and he fell backwards grasping his torso.
Hase ducked as sporadic fire from the riverbank flew over his head, the approaching men alerted by the gunshot. He fell to the pier’s surface as the fire intensified, seeing the Russian soldier he had just attacked scramble away on his hands and knees towards the alleyway.
Breathing heavily, he lay there with his face on the cold wooden beams of the pier, then he shouted hoarsely, ‘Tatu, it’s me, Hase! Don’t shoot!’
There was a short pause as two more shots echoed out across the riverbank, the bullets flying harmlessly above him, then he heard the Romanian Quartermaster’s voice, ‘Hase? Don’t shoot men, he is with us!’
A brief smile spread across Hase’s lips as he slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows, seeing the group of men hurriedly approaching the pier. Then his eyes narrowed as he looked back down the riverbank beyond the first pier, seeing movement in the darkness. As he watched, many more men ran out onto the snow where the original group had emerged. Two dropped to their knees and raised their weapons, his mouth dry, he tried to call out, the sound muffled, ‘Enemy infantry!’
Shots rang out from further down the river, the bullets hitting the pier. Hase grasped his rifle tightly, pulling the bolt back to push another bullet up into the chamber. Raising the weapon, he moved his head to the sight on the rifle and pulled the trigger, the weapon recoiling backwards into his shoulder. As the soldier he had aimed at fell backwards onto the snow, he heard shouting to his right, the escaped sentry calling for help.
Pushing himself backwards across the pier, his body sliding across the cold wood, he heard muffled gunfire from beneath the structure as the Germans and Romanians turned to face their pursuers. Glancing round, he saw the top of the ladder and pushed his body back towards it. Feeling the handle of the ladder on his boot he glanced right, seeing silhouettes of soldiers at the end of the alleyway, his heart sank.
He swung his body over the edge of the pier, grasping the side of the ladder as he did so. He felt rough hands on his legs as he slipped down the ladder, the hands steadying him and preventing his fall. As his boots impacted on the snow, he turned round, seeing Petru’s face before him, holdi
ng his shoulders. Petru’s eyes seemed moist, the emotions welling within him.
Hase nodded to him, a lump in his throat, ‘Thank you.’ Petru’s eyes seemed to sparkle briefly in the darkness, then he turned away, leaning against the thick pier support. As the Romanian pulled the bolt on his own rifle, he glanced round the obstruction, seeing the numerous Russian infantry in the distance.
Hase ran to the river wall, approaching Tatu who was ushering the men under the pier. ‘There are Russians in the street above Tatu! They are coming!’
Tatu turned to face him, his eyes tired but determined, ‘Thank you, young Hase, now run with the others, get to the next pier!’ Turning back, he shouted, ‘All of you run now! Stay along the wall and keep the pier top clear! There are too many of them to fight!’
Hase glanced back down the river wall, seeing perhaps nearly thirty Russian infantry on the snow further down the river, with more emerging behind them. He swallowed, turned and ran along the wall, hearing the firing behind him as Petru and some others fired at the Russian infantry in the distance.
Tatu walked forward, grasping the wooden ladder and stepping onto the bottom rung. Lifting himself up the steps, his PPSH submachine gun in his right hand, he reached the top, the rungs frozen beneath his gloves. Glancing over the top of the pier, he saw several figures running towards them down the alley to his right. He lifted his weapon, resting the metal ammunition drum on the thick wooden surface of the pier. Squinting along the barrel, he fired a burst towards the oncoming Russian infantry. Two silhouettes fell, the rest darting to the side walls of the alleyway for cover. Grinning in satisfaction, he ducked down the ladder, hearing the distinct sound of an MP40 firing beneath the pier into the distance.
Hase lunged alongside the river wall, his breathing laboured and cold legs aching with the strain as his boots slipped, his muscles cold after the inaction. Before him, two soldiers were also running half crouched. Bullets whisked past them wide of the wall, the Russians firing from behind them. As he approached the next pier, he saw the first soldier drop to his knees, turn and raise his rifle. Recognising Udet, he ran up to him, dropping by his side to lie on the frozen snow, lifting his rifle to aim back at the pier.
As he watched, Udet slapped his back, ‘Good to have you back, Hase…now let’s get away from these persistent Russians!’
As Hase looked into the distance, he saw Tatu drop to the ground from the ladder, turning to beckon the men from the pier. As they turned to run, he saw a man collapse between the pier supports, the Russian bullet entering his back as he left cover. Tatu bent down briefly to examine the fallen German, then turned away, running up the slope to the wall.
Hase tensed as he heard shouting from above, the Russians in the building next door becoming aware of the firefight below, their view obstructed by the wall. Nudging Udet, both men backed slowly beneath the pier, glancing round as they became aware of the frozen bodies around them.
The small group was approaching them, the fleeing soldiers running half crouched along the wall. Udet fired his rifle into the distance, seeing movement around the pier through the frozen haze. As he reloaded, Hase fired, the rifle kicking back into his shoulder.
Further round the Volga bend, Nicu had just finished helping the medic carry the unconscious Leutnant Hausser and placed him on the floor of the Hanomag armoured carrier. He bent down and picked up the binoculars the commander had dropped, the firing in the streets south of him intensifying as the Russians prepared to launch a counter attack.
As he lifted the glasses to his scarfed face, he narrowed his bloodshot eyes to scan the riverbank. Seeing figures in the snow, he scanned along the bank to determine the situation. Seeing the Russians looking out from the buildings above the pier, he lowered the glasses, his adrenalin rising as he realised the fleeing group would be exposed to fire from the buildings as they turned the bend further in the river.
He glanced round desperately, seeing a German officer at the other side of the narrow street, outside an open doorway. Shouting to him, the man looked up from the wounded soldier he was talking to, a puzzled expression on his face, not understanding Nicu’s shout in Romanian. Nicu looked through the binoculars briefly once more, then turned and ran to the officer, desperation on his face.
Tatu reached the last pier, ducking under the gap between the roof and the first support. He froze as he heard a thud above, then an explosion, dust and ice dropping from the underneath of the pier surface. Shaking his head, he realised the Russians above were dropping grenades from the windows, unable to see the targets below.
Another grenade bounced onto the ice before them, then rolled down the slope from the wall before exploding, showering the soldiers with iced snow and dirt. Raising his weapon, he fired a burst towards the pier to the east, seeing Russian infantry massing amongst the pier supports.
The last group reached the pier as another explosion echoed around them, the grenade blasting above them on the pier’s surface. Tatu looked around quickly, realising the next part of the escape route was exposed to fire from the buildings above. His stomach twisted as he looked back towards the previous pier, seeing three bodies lying in the snow. There seemed to be no way out now.
He turned, his face screwed in desperation, ‘Take cover, we have to hold them here!’
A further grenade bounced down the iced slope, rolling down the decline to explode on the ice that lead out to the river. Tatu glanced around the men huddled beneath the pier in the dark, crouched between some frozen bodies. He hesitated slightly, his despair rising as he realised most of the corpses were children.
He pushed his eyes from the bodies, the sadness filtering into his thoughts. Forcing himself to count, he estimated there were approximately thirteen or fourteen soldiers under the pier, two of which seemed to be wounded. Tatu sighed, pushing the picture of childhood innocence in death from his thoughts, his mind struggling for a solution.
Hase fired again, the rifle shot echoing around the underside of the pier. Udet also fired, seeing a Russian soldier fall under the next pier, but also glimpsing there were a lot more behind the fallen man. Beyond the next pier he could see many figures on the snow, running towards them. Turning, he saw Tatu in the darkness, ‘We have to go Tatu, there are too many of them!’
Petru leant out from one of the supports, seeing a Russian infantryman above the previous pier leaning out to fire. He fired, the bullet hitting the wall before the Russian, the man ducking back, his face scratched from the flying shattered cement and debris the bullet had caused.
Tatu was mentally struggling for the solution, his mind darting from idea to idea. Then he turned, shouting, ‘Some of you, get along the wall towards that opening.’ He raised his hand to point at the opening in the river wall, some one hundred and fifty metres way. ‘Stay low and watch the windows above us, they will be able to fire on you when you turn the bend further along the river.’
Another grenade bounced off the pier surface, rolling down the iced snow to explode at the foot of the slope, the soldiers ducking their heads instinctively. Meino patted two of the defenders backs and ushered them with him, beginning to run along the iced snow next to the wall towards the bend in the river.
Tatu turned to Petru desperately, ‘Drag the frozen bodies up and build a barricade with them, that’s all we have!’
Petru’s eyes widened in shock, then solemnly nodded in the darkness, reluctantly reaching out for the first corpse, about a metre from him.
Bullets whipped around the pier supports and a scream echoed around them as one of the soldiers fell backwards, clutching his stomach.
Tatu shook his head, realising it was only a matter of time before the Russian machine gunners arrived at the previous pier, that then their escape would really be over. He turned, panic rising within him as another grenade exploded above them. ‘Udet, Petru, Hase stay with me, the rest make your way along the wall. Good Luck!’
Alessio and a Romanian soldier crouched down, grasping and dragging
the wounded man with them, the rest turned and ran from the pier as another grenade bounced down the slope. One man fell to his knees, clutching his leg, the Russian rifle bullet piercing his thigh, Luca and the man next to him grabbing his arm and half dragging him away.
Petru pulled the third frozen corpse up the slope, tears streaming down his face at the task. He realised the children, the eldest in their early teens, were all dead, but the gruesome task was beginning to overwhelm his emotions.
Hase and Udet fired in unison, aiming at the underside of the pier further back down the bank. Bullets splattered onto the pier supports and platform as the Russians returned fire, the defenders ducking in behind the nearest pillars.
Tatu looked round again, seeing Meino had stopped the escaping men at the furthest point he could without exposing them to fire from above. They were some fifty metres away, before the final bend in the dark river wall. The Croatian was getting the men to lie along the wall, aiming their weapons towards the group under the pier, a final defensive position perhaps. Looking further along the wall, Tatu felt defeat rising from his stomach as he saw the distance to the ladder was too great. The hundred metres remaining too far for any of them to achieve against such a strong Russian force firing from three different points. He glanced back along the wall, seeking a closer escape point, but there was not one. The only street nearer, adjacent to the escape route, had no gap in the wall, there was no ladder and the wall was too high.
Another grenade bounced down the slope in front of him, rolling out onto the ice and exploding. He looked around, seeing Petru drag another frozen body towards the front of the defenders. Bullets sprayed around the pier structure as the first Russian DP-28 machine gun opened fire from the pier further along the river bank. The defenders ducking behind pillars as the bullets thudded into the pier supports and frozen corpses they cowered behind.
Bloody Stalingrad Page 31