Bloody Stalingrad

by Andrew McGregor

  The major cleared his throat, taking another draw on his cigarette and studying the two men, staring them in the eyes, ‘Let’s start with the overall picture. Well, there is no point in trying to give you a good version of events…there isn’t one.’ He smiled ironically, his eyes saddened, ‘The Russians have cut us off and we are awaiting rescue, or orders to break out. There is even talk of a counter offensive to re-establish the position along the Volga, but I doubt that will occur in this weather, or indeed in the foreseeable future. Until a decision is made or actions to the effect, the Luftwaffe will supply us by air.’ He paused, waiting for Hausser to digest the information.

  Looking down at one of the bedraggled maps on the table, the major leant forward, turning the map with the palm of his hand to face the two officers. ‘We will only be here for a short time Hausser, the adjutant and I will head northwest to form a command post near our own 76th Infantry Division. They are preparing defences and a new home on the outskirts of the pocket.’ He pointed to the map with the pencil, indicating an area to the northwest of their position, then circling it with the pointer. ‘However, you will be going into the city to meet with your men. I have arranged some stragglers and ‘misfits’ to join your little detachment, most are men cut off from their units or survivors of the Russian assault. Their morale is probably not great, but you should be able to get them together. You will have a mixture of Romanians and Germans, maybe some Hungarians.’

  He paused, a frown forming on his face, he sipped from his glass. ‘Now, here is the Russian Sixty Second army, still clinging onto the banks of the Volga.’ He drew a narrow short line along the banks of the river on the map, ‘They are the thorn in our side…perhaps our backside.’ He glanced up, taking a draw from his cigarette. Seeing the solemn faces of the two officers, he resumed his briefing, ‘They are a cunning unit, we drove them back from the Don bend, but the bastards refuse to give up. They are supplied from the east side of the river and are causing all sorts of problems. Fighting in the sewer, small attacks, taking buildings under our noses and sniping our troops. I will pass your command over to a Major Slusser, who is in the area opposing them.’ The major stopped talking for a second, seeming to consider what he was to say next, ‘He is desperate for men to contain them or drive them out, even into the river. Personally, we have not achieved it in three months of heavy fighting, so I doubt you will be able to change this, but he needs help never the less, so I have to send you for now. Once the Russkies realise they cannot start trouble because of what has happened we should be able to stabilise the situation. Hopefully we will get you back soon.’

  Hausser shifted his stance, looking up from the map, the major indicating for him to speak with a nod. The young commander spoke slowly, studying the map before him, ‘I presume the supplies are coming in through Gumrak and Pitomnik airfields?’ He pointed at the crude aircraft drawings on the map, ‘Are they vulnerable if the Russians break through?’

  The major smiled, ignoring the latter question, ‘Yes, you are correct. Most will land there, but a few to Stalingradski flight school…mostly smaller aircraft and some fighters for the pocket. The Luftwaffe are attempting to repeat their success in supplying the Demyansk pocket earlier this year.’ He paused, his eyes becoming strained in the candle light, ‘To be brutally honest, I cannot see this myself…this is much bigger, perhaps beyond the ability of our air force. We have already had to reduce rations and our shells are limited, the fighters short of fuel, but we will see. They may surprise me.’

  Hausser shook his head slowly, pursing his lips, ‘The winter is upon us, Major, how will they keep flying in that weather?’

  The major leant back, slowly drawing on his cigarette and looking the young commander in the eye, his expression grim, ‘That is for us to find out, only time will tell.’ He leant forward, placing his pencil on the map near the river, ‘Now let me show you where you will be going, after which you can stay and eat with us before we all depart our separate ways. We need to build your strength up.’

  Hausser stood in the snow outside the makeshift bunker, a converted wide trench dug in parkland near the flight school. Facing south, he lit a cigarette and looked up at the winter storm clouds, hearing distant artillery landing in the city to his left. Pushing his MP40 round his shoulder, he adjusted his helmet, the bandages round his head irritating him.

  Hearing footsteps in the snow ‘crunch’ to his right, he turned his head, seeing Oberleutnant Baumann join him, buttoning his staff overcoat against the cold breeze.

  ‘So what do you think, Hausser?’ The adjutant asked, reaching into his side pocket for his packet of cigarettes.

  Hausser blew smoke into the crisp air, feeling the warmth in his chest. ‘I don’t know, is it as bad as it was before…last winter?’

  The Oberleutnant looked away, lighting his cigarette. Turning to stare at his friend, his face saddened as he sighed, ‘I am sorry, but I cannot lie to you…it’s far worse now. The Russians are throwing everything against us. Our casualties have been terrible.’ He coughed, emotion rising within him, ‘So many men have fallen my friend, good men, and experienced soldiers…this is a different war now. The Russkies have learnt a lot in the last eighteen months and we are using units that are a shadow of what they used to be. I cannot say what will happen to us as this becomes a frozen hell.’

  Hausser tried to turn the conversation, ‘How about the supply situation?’

  Baumann swallowed hard, trying to change his demeanour in front of his friend, his voice breaking, ‘We have started slaughtering the horses for food now. Perhaps the Luftwaffe can change that with their supply drops.’

  Hausser nodded slowly, uneasiness and concern rising within him, his voice low, ‘Perhaps…’ Feeling dejected, the young commander’s mind was surprised, seeing his friend becoming quite emotional, his eyes moist. The man he had known had usually been upbeat and confident, but now he seemed to have descended into a dark mental place, somewhere he seemed unable to escape from.

  The men stood in silence for a while, smoking and looking up at the heavy snow clouds above them, the devastated city stretching across the landscape before them and to their left. Broken and damaged buildings skirted the small park, their windows and some roofs shattered in the months of fighting as the Sixth Army had advanced into the city. Sporadic gunfire could be heard in the distance to the left, the occasional explosion breaking the rattle of machine gun fire.

  Above them, a twin engine German fighter slowly circled before coming into land at the nearby flight school airfield, its precious cargo, an intelligence officer with the latest instructions from thousands of miles away. A repeat of the orders received by radio a couple of day earlier, this time in writing. The instructions for the Sixth Army to ‘stand firm’ on the banks of the River Volga…that no breakout was to be attempted. A relief effort was being organised and would commence within days.

  Chapter Thirty Seven: Returning to the Fray

  Hausser had eaten a small meal with his friend before departing to head into the city, the major being called away for a situation briefing. The officers ate in troubled silence as their personal thoughts had become darker and bleaker at the situation. Small talk had been attempted, but the conversation had invariably returned to the military situation they found themselves in. The enormity of the challenges they individually and collectively perceived to face slowly eroding the will and motivation to continue the discussion.

  As he prepared to depart, Baumann had given him a couple of tins of meat rations from their meagre stock, advising that he should savour the food when he could and use it to rebuild his strength. The army only had food supplies for a short period and rations had already been reduced to most soldiers in the pocket.

  As the major and his adjutant prepared to leave to re-join the 76th Infantry Division, Hausser had made his excuses and left them, finding their company depressing. They were collectively unable to raise each other’s morale as they had done so in the past.
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  Walking away from the makeshift bunker, he had wondered to himself if he would ever see the two men again, the situation was certainly grave, but also being parted from his unit troubled him. Had the major offered to send him into the city, knowing the situation out on the steppe outside the city was grim or even the opposite? After two hundred metres of walking, he had dismissed this mental reasoning and attempt to understand the situation, realising he would probably never come up with the correct answer, perhaps he did not even want to know.

  He walked along virtually deserted devastated streets, a cold wind blowing through the city, the inhabitants and soldiers sheltering in the damaged buildings from the freezing temperatures. The gunfire in the distance would occasionally get louder as he crossed a street, or turned into an alleyway. Snowflakes began to fall as he made his way through the outskirts of the city, the roads beginning to become covered in a gathering white blanket as the temperature dropped in the late afternoon. He stopped briefly to don his gloves and adjust the scarf across his mouth, preparing for the drop in temperature that would surely follow as the afternoon progressed. Stepping around rubble and the through the sharp crunches of broken glass beneath his boots, he mentally ran through his orders again, considering what the future may bring for him and his men.

  Shell explosions and automatic fire echoed in the distance, in the direction of the river. Hausser headed slowly towards the sounds and as he progressed the noise began to spread across the landscape in front of him. He eventually realised the noises had become a wall of distant sound, being unable to distinguish a direction in which to head.

  He passed damaged and destroyed vehicles in the streets, the gruesome signs indicating he was following the route previously taken by an advancing unit, the fighting having been heavy. The vehicles were of both sides, seemingly now allies in their destruction, exposed to the elements, their burnt hulks stripped of equipment and supplies.

  He occasionally spotted civilians huddled together, busily searching for food, or combustible material to provide warmth. They viewed him with suspicion and dread as he slowly walked by. Passing sentries from several units, he saw the grim determination or underlying fear in the men’s eyes, their inner thoughts betraying their concern for the situation they were all in. Their uniforms covered in a variety of clothing to provide any additional warmth, he considered the identity of individual units had now virtually ceased to exist, as if a common bond between the men, a common bond in addition to the hunger that was beginning to spread through the city on the reduced rations.

  The snow gradually settled on his shoulders and arms, causing him to occasionally brush off the flakes, his insulated underwear releasing little heat for the flakes to melt into his uniform. To amuse himself he considered the compliments he would pay to the Russians they had ‘liberated’ the underwear from, the material was certainly superior to the German standard issue clothing.

  Every now and again, he could occasionally see smoke in the distance, in the direction of the river, but the snowfall generally reduced his visibility to a couple of hundred metres. The continuous sounds of war echoed across the streets he trudged along grimly.

  At one point, a small Kubelwagen jeep had sped past him in a side street, the officer in the passenger seat studying him suspiciously as they drove by, even turning to stare at him. Unbeknown to Hausser, the jeep carrying orders for a forward unit, their communication lines cut.

  As the light began to fade in the mid to late afternoon, he realised it would take a lot longer for him to find his destination than he originally anticipated. Progress was slow in the many streets and thoroughfares through the city. He was challenged a number of times by soldiers wary of infiltrators, but all allowed him to continue after brief conversations and having shown them his orders.

  Slowly, as it got darker, the dim lights from oil lamps and candles in the buildings on either side began to become evident, their illumination struggling to force its way through the falling snow. The faint glows from the buildings seeming to highlight the broken and damaged window frames and doors more than in daylight, as if to emphasise the hurt the city had sustained.

  Hausser progressed further towards the river and the distant sounds of gunfire. Occasionally a shell would land closer than the noise level he was used to, causing him to stop and consider whether to proceed. He was now becoming unnervingly confused as to what direction to head, knowing from the briefing he was required to head to the north east, but this had become increasingly difficult to gauge in the heavy snowfall and with the streets turning to the right and left. With the light now gone, he determined to approach the next sentry or group of soldiers for assistance.

  Several lorries passed as he crossed a wide thoroughfare, the snowflakes falling gently onto the roads surface as he walked across. The vehicles slowly heading northwards, accompanied by an SdKfz 251 Hanomag, the occupants talking loudly inside. As the armoured car passed, the exposed machine gunner raised his hand in greeting having spotted him, a German officer waiting to cross behind them.

  He ventured into a narrow dimly lit street and saw a group of soldiers ahead through the snow flurry and slowly approached them, crossing the road. The men were standing before a half track and seemed to be preparing to move forward, an officer barking instructions nearby for them to leave the building they had been sheltering in. As he approached, he could hear the discontented mutterings of the enlisted men as they waited in the street for their countrymen to join them from the nearby building.

  Aa he approached the soldiers, the nearest to him turned sensing his presence, stiffening as he recognised the officer’s dirt covered shoulder boards and epaulettes. He nodded as Hausser came nearer, moving to the side to let him pass, his rifle on his shoulder. Hausser stopped before the man as the other soldiers noticed him, their conversation falling off due to their apprehension of the new arrival.

  The young commander smiled under his scarf, his amusement at the soldiers’ caution becoming evident in his eyes, ‘Evening gentlemen, I wondered if you could assist me with some directions?’ He reached into his tunic pocket for his orders, wary the soldiers would be suspicious.

  The soldier’s eyes narrowed, his voice becoming challenging, ‘Which unit are you from Sir?

  Hausser nodded, understanding the soldiers caution, ‘76th Infantry Division, now detached to the 305th Infantry Division.’ Adding some emphasis to his Berlin accent.

  The soldier smiled, reading his orders. ‘We are the 100th Jager Division, Herr Leutnant. You are a little too far south I think. You had better ask our officer, he will know the exact location you require I believe.’

  Hausser nodded, ‘Thank you, are you men moving up?’

  The soldier’s eyes looked strained, ‘Yes sir, our company has had a day’s respite from the front, so now we are moving up to relieve the next company. We are on two day rotations, two days at the front, one away, but I think that may be only for a short time now.’ The soldier’s voice tailed off as he turned his head to look into the entrance of the apartment block. The soldier extended his arm towards the open doorway of the building before them ‘There is our officer sir, a Hauptmann Graner.’

  Hausser turned to see the officer through the open doorway, a dim light flickering from within. The officer was talking very closely to a soldier in the hallway, their faces some two or three inches apart.

  Hausser placed a friendly hand on the Jager infantryman’s shoulder as he turned to walk into the hallway, ‘I am sure you will enjoy many more respites from the enemy, just take care at the front.’

  The soldier nodded surprised, a brief grin forming across his face, ‘Er…yes sir, I will do, thank you.’ He turned to smile at the soldiers with him, their eyes widened.

  Hausser stepped into the entrance hall dusting the snow from his uniform. The officer and infantryman turning their heads as they realised his approach. Hauptmann Graner stepped back from the soldier, indicating with his hand for the trooper to leave, ‘Go j
oin the others, Beltz, and don’t be late again. We need to be ready when the transport arrives, not after.’

  Hausser saluted, approaching the officer. In return, the Hauptmann raised his right hand to his helmet, ‘Can I help you, Leutnant?’

  Hausser nodded once, ‘Yes please, Leutnant Hausser, sir. I am on my way to join the 305th Infantry, but I seem to have got disorientated. Your men told me you would have a better knowledge of where they are.’

  Hauptmann Graner smiled, his face unshaven and dirty from the days of fighting, ‘Yes, they are north of us, perhaps three or four kilometres. Which way were you heading?’

  Hausser smiled in return, hearing a shell burst in the direction of the river, ‘’I was heading towards the river, but have got a little lost.’

  The Hauptmann stood back, resting his hands on his MP40, the strap round his neck, ‘Well I am glad you stopped here, the Russians are ahead, so it is unlikely you would have got much further without ‘Ivan’ taking a shot at you!’ He grinned, indicating to his own dirty uniform, ‘As you can see, we are struggling a little to maintain our control near the river. They are a cunning enemy, snipers, fighting in the sewers, attacking sentries, they do not let us rest much.’ He stopped, looking more cautiously at the Leutnant, ‘So where have you been for the last few weeks if you don’t know what it is like here?’

  Hausser’s smile fell, realising the captain’s suspicion was rising, ‘Apologies sir, I have been in the south with the Romanian Fourth Army for the last two months, but now sent by Major Schenk into the city. I heard it was difficult, how are the men holding up?’ He extended his hand with his orders.

  The Hauptmann took the paper, holding it to the side for more light, he examined the writing and signature. He was perhaps in his mid-thirties, with dark tired lines under his eyes, the dirt and dust smeared across his face. His brown eyes nervously darting from the paperwork and resting on Hausser’s uniform, a sign of his stress being stretched after weeks of bitter fighting. He licked his lips, the condensed breath escaping from his mouth, seeming satisfied, he spoke, ‘This platoon is at about three quarters strength, but it is stronger than most of the others…I would say most are about fifty to sixty percent strength. I imagine it is much the same across the southern front.’