The man fell backwards, blood pouring from his throat, the bullet cutting through his wind pipe. Udet’s eyes widened in shock, ducking into the emplacement. In desperation he pushed Hase to the floor of the trench, shouting at the men in the alleyway, ‘Stay back…sniper!’
Hausser had turned as he heard the screams, the frustration clear on his face as he realised the wounded man had no chance of survival.
The soldier struggled as he lay on the road, his hands around his bloody throat, his body convulsing in panic as he went into shock, the blood pouring from his deep wound. The soldiers in the alleyway backed away in terror, watching as the dying man stretched his hands out towards them, his eyes begging for help.
Tatu forced himself through the group of men in the alleyway, shaking his head in disgust as he reached the front of the group and saw what was before them, the soldier in the road now beginning to twitch as his body was starved of oxygen, the blood filling his lungs.
Hearing bursts of machine gun fire in the distance as German gunners sprayed the buildings at the top of the riverbank, he reached into his jacket for a smoke grenade, pulling the pin and tossing it over the street, the canister landing just before the broken buildings on the other side of the road. As the dense smoke rose into the air, he prodded the Hungarian soldier next to him, ‘Take another man and clear the body, he doesn’t deserve to be left there.’
The soldier nodded, grabbing the man next to him as Tatu lower himself to a crouch and ran into the road. Stopping briefly at the twitching mortally wounded soldier, then continuing into the trench, he nodded grimly at Hausser to continue, then turned and indicated for the other soldiers to cross.
As the men cautiously ran out of the alleyway, their bodies lowered, they heard the ‘puffs’ of mortars to the left as the gunners fired a salvo towards the smoking buildings in the distance.
Walking round to the left, his body lowered, Hausser looked despondently into the entrance to the building to his right, the opening smashed into the foundation wall. Seeing the basement illuminated, he dipped his head inside, noticing two German soldiers sat on boxes on either side of an oil lamp to his left. Two passageways lead away from the large room, one towards the river and the other to the south. Raising his right leg, he stepped though the opening, startling the soldiers. They stood up abruptly, the boxes falling backwards, both snapping to attention. Hausser saluted, both man returning the gesture, his voice low, ‘Morning gentlemen, how are things?’
Both soldiers wore greatcoats, gloves and balaclavas, their clothing worn and dirty. The soldier on the right scratched the side of his cloth covered face, seeing the disgruntled look on the commander’s face, ‘The front seems quiet this morning, Herr Leutnant.’
Hausser nodded, ‘Good. Are you men resting?’
The soldier nodded, ‘Yes sir, we had sentry duty during the night.’
The officer lifted the strap of his MP40 onto his shoulder, ‘We are moving up to take up positions in front of the tractor factory, I presume it’s further to the north?’
The soldier nodded, seeing another German soldier step into the basement behind the officer, ‘Yes sir.’
Hausser smiled under his scarf, ‘I have a number of men with me, but they have limited warm clothing, can they wait in here until I find the position, then come back for them?’
The soldier stepped forward, ‘Yes sir, there is plenty of room, the passageways lead off to other trenches.’ His eyes lightened, ‘The extra bodies may warm the place, this is a fall-back position.’
The officer nodded, ‘Good.’ He turned indicating to Udet who had pushed his head through the opening, ‘Udet, bring the men in here to wait, we will go on ahead and find the positions. Hopefully by the time we come back, Meino will have arrived with the extra clothing.’
Udet nodded, his eyes glinting in the light, ‘Yes, Herr Leutnant.’ His head disappeared back through the opening and they could hear him outside, ‘You men, in here. Sit together to keep warm, the commander will go on ahead.’
As the men began to clamber through the opening, Hausser turned back to the soldier in the greatcoat, pointing at the passageway to towards the river, ‘Should I go this way?’
The man nodded, ‘Yes sir, when you get to the trenches, turn to the north. That’s the second defensive line. Don’t go any further forward, the Russkies are shooting at any movement.’
The officer nodded, adjusting his helmet, ‘Thank you. Hase, Udet, follow me.’
The soldier spoke again nervously, ‘Sorry sir, but may I suggest something?’ The room was beginning to fill with men, the soldier raising his voice to get the officer’s attention.
Hausser had reached the entrance to the passageway, he spun round, his eyes quizzical, ‘Yes of course.’
The soldier stepped forward, pointing at his shoulder, ‘Best remove your epaulettes and insignia sir, the Russian snipers are targeting our officers.’
The young commander’s eyes widened in surprise, ‘Er…yes, thank you, I will.’ He nodded, and turned abruptly, disappearing into the passageway towards the river, his free gloved hand rising to his shoulder. Udet and Hase were standing at the opening, as he passed between them, they turned and followed their officer, hob nailed boots echoing across the basement.
Chapter Forty: The Red October Tractor Factory
Udet followed Hausser down the narrow passageway as it continued for some distance before widening into a larger storage area, some twenty metres long. Wounded lay on either side of the wide area and the three soldiers began stepping carefully forward between outstretched legs and discarded equipment. The misery in the room was almost overpowering, the bitter and forlorn moans filling the area. He glanced at several, his expression hidden beneath his scarf, the blood soaked bandages covering a man’s face, the broken and shattered limbs, the exposed stomach and chest wounds. A young soldier was crying to his left, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably, his hands covered in blood from his thigh wound, the liquid soaking down his combat trousers and dribbling onto the cement floor.
A muffled explosion shook the building, the noise coming from above them, plaster and cement dust falling from the ceiling. Udet looked to the left, through an opening, glimpsing further casualties inside a similar sized room, most of the soldiers more severely wounded, others lying still, lifeless, their eyes staring if open. Blood covered the floor as two uniformed medics busied around the wounded attempting to attend to them with limited resources, their unshaven faces stressed with the days and weeks of the consequences of heavy fighting. Several candles lit the two rooms, the only warmth, the light flickering across the dirt and blood smeared walls and broken men’s faces.
Udet’s eyes were becoming moist as his emotions welled up within him, realising the difference between these men and himself was simply where he stood, what he did, how long his luck would hold.
The three men passed through the doorway at the end, arriving in another similar sized room at a right angle to the previous, a hole in the wall to the left at the end leading to another trench. Hausser turned to Udet and Hase beckoning to the left hand side, out of sight of the room they had just passed through. He looked at them individually, seeing Udet was the most affected from look in his eyes. Placing his hand gently on his shoulder, he moved closer to both of them, his voice lowered but firm, determination in his eyes, ‘It is difficult, but I need you two to concentrate. If you are distracted, then there is a chance you may end up in one of those rooms. Do you understand?’
Udet sniffled under his scarf, ‘Y…Yes sir!’ He blinked several times to clear his eyes.
Hausser turned to Hase, checking to see if he understood the meaning of what he had said, he saw the soldier nodding, his eyes stern, seeming to supress his emotions. The young commander decided not to repeat the message in the man’s language, observing he seemed to have grasped the conversation, ‘Good, now Udet, I will send you back to get the men. Do not bring them through the wounded, can you find another way?�
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Udet nodded, his voice soft, eyes wide, ‘Yes Hausser, sorry.’
Hausser smiled beneath his scarf, trying to raise the young soldier’s spirits, ‘Macht nichts! (it doesn’t matter)’ He patted his shoulder, ‘It’s a natural reaction.’ He turned as a soldier scrambled through the hole in the wall, dragging his rifle behind him, snowflakes flurrying around the man.
The soldier looked up, nodding, his eyes tired, ‘Leutnant Hausser?’
The young commander nodded, ‘Yes, what is it?’
The soldier saluted casually, his dirt caked uniform and unshaven features the signs of some considerable time on the frontline, ‘I have come to collect you sir. Escort you and your men to the right section of the front.’
Hausser pursed his lips, saluting back. ‘My men have no warm clothing as yet, shall we proceed to our positions and I will send then back for them?’ A burst of muffled gunfire echoed through the opening, the soldiers tensing in response.
The man at the opening nodded uncomfortably, unperturbed by the gunfire, ‘Yes sir, follow me please. Keep you heads down, the Russians in this sector are good shots.’ He turned abruptly, ducking back through the opening.
An explosion outside the opening threw dirt and snow through the hole in the basement wall. Hausser walked to the opening, bending to look out, seeing the soldier further down the trench beckoning him forward.
Hausser ducked under the broken masonry on top of the opening, emerging half crouched into the trench, the cold air enveloping him as he moved. Behind him, Udet and Hase crouched to negotiate the hole, their breath held. A shell burst to the south caused them to duck instinctively, the chatter of machine gun fire and rifle shots across the immediate vicinity rising in intensity. Udet slipped through the hole in the basement wall and approached Hausser, his body half hunched. The young commander turning and advancing further down the deep trench, glancing up at the soldier before him and a junction ahead.
Hase peered cautiously into the distance towards the river after he slipped through the opening, seeing the broken open topped buildings and the many smoke plumes rising into the sky. Looking round, the scenes extended as far as he could see to the south and north. The buildings immediately before them were of fewer stories than the ones in the distance, the many lower warehouses and factories supplying the taller storage buildings for distribution of their goods to boats on the river. The river being a major supply artery between the south and the north of Russia before the German forces reached the west bank three months previously.
Beyond these taller buildings he saw nothing but the snow clouded sky, the start of the land declining to the river only some three hundred and fifty metres away. Small flashes from the far buildings indicated rifle and machine gun fire from the Russian Sixty Second Army positions, the Red Army holding some of the taller buildings at the top of the slope, the sound of the shots reaching him a second later.
The trenches snaked through and between the buildings, the elaborate network linking forward positions to the secondary and third defensive lines. Attacks and counterattacks had reduced many of the buildings to shells, their roofs torn, walls punctured or shattered. Some buildings had been completely flattened, the only signs of their previous existence being a lone chimney or half destroyed wall, the bombing, shelling and rocket fire having been falling upon the factory district for weeks.
Hundreds of frozen bodies lay amongst the ruins, sharing their existence with the living. Some were buried in collapsed buildings, others shattered and broken in the open, having been hit by bullets and shellfire, the remainder lay in the sewers below. Russian and German corpses finding a common final resting place in the northern ruins of Stalingrad’s factory district.
The bodies were not all soldiers, civilians and hastily formed worker units attempting to hold or resist the German invader also lay amongst the dead, their inexperience or innocence no match or protection from the advancing Germans and their heavy weaponry.
Hase remembered the stories from the advance in August. As the Wehrmacht neared the city and reached the river to the north, the worker battalions had responded en-masse to their forced conscription. Hastily formed from the employees of the factories, they had apparently walked out confidently at first, spurred on by the political officer’s words of encouragement, of impending heroism and victory. They faced a strong experienced army with tanks and machine guns that could fire between 800 and 1500 rounds per minute, precision designed for killing and killing as many victims as possible. Most of the innocent defenders were overwhelmed and slaughtered in the street and factories they had worked in only days previously. Many of the political officers had then escaped, back across the Volga.
Hausser turned at the junction in the trench ahead, ‘Hase! Come on!’ He looked curiously at the soldier who stood by the end of the trench, urging him on.
Hase shook his head, breaking his thoughts and focussing on the commander to his front, ‘Coming sir!’ He ran forward half-crouching towards Hausser and Udet.
They turned left to the north, walking slowly along the trench, stepping across discarded equipment and bullet casings. Snowflakes fluttered to the ground from the overcast sky, a cold breeze sweeping in from the river and the east bank, unimpeded by the shattered buildings. The men’s breath began to become condensed as they walked, half crouched. Shells burst to the north and south across the devastated landscape, the rattle of machine guns and sporadic rifle shots heard in the distance, towards the river.
Turning right, following the trench, they passed under warped railway tracks, the sleepers below them on the trench floor, the frozen wood creaking as their weight descended onto it through their boots. Then they moved to the side, pushing against the wall of the trench as two soldiers approached them, carrying a wounded man, his eyes closed tightly. Both his hands were pressed across his stomach wound, his dirty uniform stained deep red, and a thin blood trail left behind him.
The trench continued for some distance before splitting. They turned left, once again heading to the north. As they walked down the trench, they passed firing positions and bunkers, dug into city streets and underneath buildings. Sheltering inside were dishevelled soldiers, their uniforms dirty below their unwashed and unshaven faces, the signs of exhaustion and stress on their faces. Bullet fire whipped above them as they stepped carefully over discarded boxes and bullet casings, the items frozen into the earth on the floor of the trench.
Their exhaled breath condensed, the snowflakes slowly drifted to earth around them. At a bend in the trench, turning more to the north east, they passed under a knocked out Panzer IV tank, the tracks gone from the steel wheels. The armoured vehicle had been hit several times with small anti-tank projectiles, the scars across its armoured plate indicating a number of direct hits from several attackers. Glancing out above the trench briefly, Udet saw a destroyed Russian T34 tank some distance away across the destroyed landscape, the vehicle charred from a heavy fire. The two tanks having duelled in the streets some weeks ago as the supporting infantry attempted to assist in taking out the enemy vehicle, the conclusion leading to both steel warriors being destroyed, and both their crews killed.
Continuing in the trench, they passed many emplacements, the infantry within all of similar appearance to the previous sights. Most were subdued, several indicating a greeting through a briefly raised hand or grim nod, their faces covered by scarves or a few lucky ones, with balaclavas.
They progressed through many junctions in their journey, some other trenches heading to the forward positions, others to emplacements or supply areas. Udet paused by one smaller narrow trench, leading off to the left. The smaller trench lead to a lower, almost circular emplacement and he noticed the steel cylinders standing almost upright on the frosted ground of the emplacement. The mortar crews sat smoking in improvised shelters on the emplacements edges, their fire support role now limited to defensive fire only with the rationing of ammunition. The grim realisation that they would soon be joinin
g the ranks of infantrymen etched on their dirt covered faces, the ammunition stock almost exhausted.
Udet turned, following Hase and Hausser, his pace increased to narrow the distance. As he got within three metres of the back of Hase, a shout from a position to their right startled them, ‘Enemy aircraft! Take cover!’ Ducking instinctively, Udet glanced to the right, looking towards the river.
He stared at the smouldering buildings in the distance and could just make out the black dots beyond the damaged structures at the top of the riverbank. As he watched, he became aware that Hase and Hausser were now next to him, crouched in the trench, their breathing heavy in the cold temperature.
The dots seemed to be moving slowly, the aircraft flying low and directly towards them. The dots began to get bigger, a shaft of light hitting one of the cockpits and sparkling in the distance. Then the aircraft disappeared as they swooped down before the buildings on the skyline, the roar of engines sweeping across the terrain as they crossed the Volga.
Udet could hear the crew of a nearby machine gun frantically loading their weapon, then the planes swept over the smouldering buildings in the distance, the rising smoke swirling around them as the pilots pushed their controls to lower the front of their aircraft. Tracer bullets soared up from the defensive positions as the German gunners desperately tried to target the six aircraft, their machine guns firing controlled bursts.
Hausser pushed the two helmets next to him into the trench and the planes roared down from the high buildings, beginning to level out to start a strafing run. The soldiers’ guide dropping to the ground and covering his head with his hands.
Bloody Stalingrad Page 36