‘Yes, thank you.’ He lifted a gloved hand to his helmet and rose from his knelt position, turning he moved half crouched towards Udet, indicating for him to head back down the stairs. The room seemed darker now, the light of the late afternoon beginning to fade.
The major called after him, ‘Stay close to the radio Hausser and keep me updated of anything that happens.’
Hausser stopped at the wall, half turning and grinning, ‘Yes sir, you will be the second to know!’ Then he disappeared from view, the sound of boots descending the wooden stairs echoing round the silent room.
Major Slusser turned to Hauptmann Gerstle, his expression grim, ‘Get a few of your men to sandbag the windows and barricade the doors of this building when they are fully relieved. I want additional fire-points and emplacements prepared along this line, this building in the centre, impregnable. Your men will man this line if…when the Russians attack Hausser, understand? Our friend Ivan will pay dearly for every metre…in blood!’
Chapter Forty Two: Croatian Ingenuity
The forty plus men moved swiftly through the darkness, stopping at cover points and waiting for others to catch up. Using two main paths through the factory complex, they stepped cautiously forward, their weapons at the ready. The boots crunched unnervingly on the iced snow, their exhaled breath condensed in clouds as it forced its way through their scarves and balaclavas.
Hausser moved up, advancing in the middle of the group, escorted by Udet and Hase, his men behind him following their progress. To the right moved Meino and his squad, with the Italians, Luca and Alessio. His squad had picked up additional supplies on Hausser’s instructions and they were slowed by the extra rolls of barbed wire and flares he had told them to collect. Tatu and Petru took the left position, moving swiftly but cautiously along towards the side of the main heavily damaged factory building.
As the men moved forward, the first snowflakes began to fall for the night, becoming thicker as they progressed, the clouds above dropping a heavy snow fall as they slowly progressed across the sky. Hausser was relieved that the snow would provide additional cover, but this also provided an additional challenge to keep the men together. In unfamiliar terrain there was a chance some would stray past the forward positions, becoming disorientated in the heavy snow fall.
He began to stop more frequently, gathering the men together and ensuring there were no stragglers. As night had fallen, the temperature had dropped further and he was keen to get all the men into the forward positions before the conditions deteriorated further.
As the soldiers moved alongside the large main factory building, the large dark structure high above them to the left, they passed several defensive positions. The men manning the emplacements braced against the temperature, their candles or improvised lights covered from the snow and to prevent light escaping, thus preventing markers for any Russian observers.
Meino was struggling to keep his men together on the right, the Hungarians in his charge resentful of being put under Croatian leadership. He hissed instructions into the darkness, seeing only snowflakes and silhouettes, reminding them of the importance of staying together. Luca and Alessio had opted to carry the extra rolls of barbed wire and flares and were slowed by their burden, following directly behind Meino.
The Croatian soldier looked to the left and saw the end of the large shadow above them, as they passed the Tractor factory, realising it must only be a number of metres before they reached the trenches. Moving slowly forward he called out quietly, the unnerving feeling of disorientation beginning to enter his mind. After about three minutes he began to become concerned, considering he must have covered almost fifty metres, then he heard a faint response to one of his calls, the word, ‘Heir!’ drifting through the snowfall towards him. Skirting a low damaged wall, he almost fell into the forward trench, slipping on the edge when it loomed up before him.
As he slipped downwards into the trench, hands grasped his uniform, preventing him from falling, two soldiers of the 305th Infantry Division grinning as he regained his stance in the emplacement. Thanking them, he moved up and down the trench for some distance, inspecting the area he was to defend, ensuring all his men had reached their destination. The trench turned at an angle directly opposite the tall buildings he had seen in the distance, the broken and shattered blocks Hausser had advised the Russians occupied. He realised he had a position of about one hundred metres to defend with only twelve men, a daunting and unnerving prospect, making him slightly uneasy.
He slowly made his way along the trench towards the front of the tractor factory to report to his concerns to Hausser, passing soldiers as they briefed the new arriving unit on the situation and their individual positions. He reached a small low accommodation block, the trench entered the building through an opening in the basement wall. He cautiously climbed through, finding the officer speaking with Hauptmann Gerstle, the room lit by dim candlelight, the light flickering across the walls.
He stepped forward, stamping his feet from the cold and dusting the snow from his uniform with his spare hand, his other grasping his MP40. As the officer and captain turned to look at him, he stood more sharply, saluting, ‘All men in position sir. I have to report the section we cover is extensive for the men I have under my command. We are nearest the enemy positions and will require reinforcements if attacked.’
Hausser nodded grimly, ‘I understand, I will move one of the machine gunners to your sector and a couple of riflemen to compensate.’ The commander thought for a second, ‘The other machine gun will be placed in the building above us as it has a good line of fire.’ He turned to Hauptmann Gerstle, ‘Can I also have your heavy weapons please?’
The captain smiled under his scarf, ‘We only have one MG34, set up in the factory roof above us, but I see I have a lot more men.’ He considered for a second, ‘I will leave it there for you, but you will have to man it. That gives you three MGs for a front of about three hundred metres Leutnant.’
Hausser nodded, ‘Good, thank you. That should be an excellent deterrent.’
The captain continued, ‘There is also a good sniping position in the remains of the factory roof, do you have a suitable man?’
Hausser thought for a second, then his eyes lightened, ‘Yes, perhaps…have you a sighted rifle for him?’
Hauptmann Gerstle nodded, ‘I think we have a spare, our sniper is quite proficient and organised.’ He smiled slightly, ‘He will be reluctant to give up his replacement weapon, but under the circumstances…’
Hausser nodded, ‘Good, then we have a man for it.’ He turned back to Meino, ‘Get the Italians to place extra wire, flares and some Russian grenade traps out in the ground in front of your position. That should hold the enemy for a while, or even persuade them to move around you, exposing them to extra fire.’ A grin formed on the officer’s face, ‘Once they are finished, send young Luca to me, it’s time to see if his shooting is as good as his cooking!’
Meino nodded slowly, a smile briefly crossing his face, ‘Yes sir. I will get it done now.’ He turned abruptly, heading back for the opening in the wall behind him.
Hausser called after him, ‘I will have the squads rotated every couple of hours, that should reduce their exposure to the cold. They will spend one third of their time in the building.’
Meino turned his head as he stepped through the opening, the cold air enveloping him again, ‘Thank you sir, I will tell the men.’
He passed through the hole in the wall and began to walk back down the trench, passing the mixed nationalities of soldiers as he went, the snow now falling heavily. As he progressed, his breathing becoming laboured, he noticed the unit they had come up to relieve was beginning to leave, the troops having changed positions with the new arrivals in the variety of firing positions. He stopped briefly to exchange a few words with a corporal who was preparing to depart.
Luca and Alessio turned to look at him as the Croatian arrived back at their position, the Italians’ faces solemn beneath th
eir scarves, knowing full well what the squad commander would want them to do. Sitting opposite each other in the trench, both were smoking heavily, knowing the dangers of the task at hand.
Meino crouched down before them, accepting the lit cigarette Alessio offered him, his hand outstretched towards him. Lowering his scarf, he took a deep draw on the cigarette, the Croatian began to talk in a whisper, ‘Once we have finished our smoke, we will head out and bolster the wire defences in front of our position, specifically around the bend in the trench.’ He indicated further along the trench with the hand holding the cigarette, ‘One of us will have to crawl out to the edge of the defences and set up more flare and grenade traps. The cylinder grenades are best, so leave any stick grenades behind.’
Luca smiled, patting his knapsack, ‘I have brought a couple of Romanian grenades and three or four Russian Limonka ones, will they do?’
Meino’s eyes widened, ‘Good, quite resourceful of you young Luca, we will use those then. I have a couple too, how about you Alessio?’ The Italian raised his hand in the gloom, showing three fingers, his face strained against the biting cold. Meino nodded, his expression becoming serious again, reaching into his tunic pockets, he produced three half used rolls of twine, ‘Use this to attach to the pins on the grenades and stretch the cord out before the wire. Do the same with the flares. Remember, the cord must be taut, but not too much, the snow lying on top of it will set them off otherwise.’
Both Italians nodded slowly, the smile fading from Luca’s face as he drew on his medicated cigarette again. ‘Are there any traps out there already?’
Meino shook his head, ‘Probably not many according to the previous occupants, they have always been told to keep the ground clear to attack….that has changed now.’ He glanced round, making sure the other soldiers were in position, ‘We must get beyond the wire and out into the land beyond. Then we split up and move to either side, chose your spots carefully.’ He rose slightly, glancing over the trench wall, seeing the snow was falling very heavily, turning to face the men again, he indicated with his head, ‘Right, let’s go! We meet back in the middle after placing the items, then we return to the trench, understand?’
Slowly the three men made their way along the trench, their breath beginning to freeze on their scarves. After about ten metres, they reached a small junction leading to the left in the trench, the gradual slope ascending up to ground level. Meino indicated to the soldier guarding the gap their mission was about to commence, and the man whispered along the line to hold fire. Lowering to their hands and knees, they proceeded up the slope and out into the land before the frontline trench, the snow iced beneath them.
A broken wall was on their right and reaching the end of it they lowered themselves to their stomachs and began to crawl below the first lines of wire, the sharp steel needles just above their heads. The wire obstacles had been placed to a depth of about twenty metres and was about a metre high. Iced snow hung to the wire, and they began to feel the cold seep through their uniforms and gloves. As they emerged from the shelter of the broken wall, a bitter breeze enveloped them, the cold seeming to almost take their breath away.
Luca moved slowly off to the right with Alessio in the centre and Meino to the left. They crawled forward, their hearts beating loudly in their chests, their breath held. As the snowflakes fell around them, the grooves their bodies made in the snow as they progressed began to become covered behind them, a thick veil of cold snow lying across the frozen landscape.
Meino hissed to his right, ‘Stay within five or ten metres so we can hear each other.’
Luca swallowed, the cold beginning to restrict his breathing, as he moved cautiously forward, dragging his knapsack with his left hand, his rifle in his right. He slowly began to turn to his right, away from the others, his aim for the area in front of the bend in the trench. Moving slowly between the thin poles that had been placed a couple of weeks earlier, the barbed wire wrapped around them. Occasionally the uniform on his shoulders would catch on the wires above and he would drop back slightly to free himself, before proceeding again. He could feel and hear the scraping across the top of his helmet as he pushed forward, the needles of the wire resisting his movement.
After about ten minutes he reached the edge of the wire, leading out into the empty terrain beyond. He could see the shadows of broken walls and the foundations of buildings before him, their original structures reduced from weeks of shelling, leaving only heaps of rubble and the occasional outline indicating where a building had once stood. The broken remains were now covered in a blanket of snow, the ice breaking and splitting the structures further as the temperature rose and fell dramatically.
Crawling further forward, he stopped next to a pile of rubble, leaning against the cold broken brick. Looking to his left, he thought he could just make out the shadow of Alessio crawling forward. Swallowing and exhaling, he hissed towards the shape, ‘Alessio?’
The shadow stopped, then turned slightly, ‘Luca, what is it?’
Luca breathing was heavy, ‘Just checking, I don’t want to lose you out here!’
Alessio smiled under his scarf, his fondness for his countryman strong, ‘Just think of the beaches in Sicily, Luca and get the damn grenades put up!’
Luca grinned briefly under his scarf, remembering the holiday the two of them had spent together as teenagers, travelling to the southern Italian island for a week to explore their homeland. He raised his hand slightly, and turned back, beginning to crawl forward again. His breath was becoming short and he prayed to himself that he would not have another asthma attack.
Reaching the foundations of a small building, he considered this a good place to position his first trap. As he crawled round the structure, he eventually found what used to be the doorway, the opening now only about half a metre tall. Looking through the doorway, he could just make out the remains of the walls that had once bordered the rooms, now reduced to nothing more than an outline on the ground. Piles of broken masonry and bricks lay around the structure and he struggled to reach the opening without contorting his body.
He reached forward, wrapping the twine around the grenade and attaching it to the broken doorframe. Once he had accomplished this, pulling it tightly to hold the grenade in place, he reached for his bayonet and twisted it through the twine, breaking the strand. He could feel his heart beating loudly as he moved slightly to attach the cord around the opposite frame. Tying this, he stretched the cord across the opening to the grenade, allowed some extra twine, cutting it once again with his bayonet. His hands were shaking as he slowly slipped the twine through the pin of the grenade, realising that if the pin was pulled, he would be lucky to get away in time with the metal Limonka attached to the doorframe. Steadying himself, and taking a deep breath, he tied the twine loosely and backed away from the item, mentally noting to himself ‘four grenades to go, one flare.’
Luca placed the items slowly, trying to make a mental note of the positions and working around in an arc in front of the corner of the trench. The final grenade was placed between two small walls, wedging the last Limonka in some rubble and stretching the twine across the gap between the debris. He then began to crawl back along the arc, mentally trying to check his route every two or three metres. The snow was still falling heavily as he progressed, a blanket of white covering all his previous tracks, disorientating him. Concern rose within his chest as he realised all the broken buildings seemed to look the same in the snow flurry. He passed a doorway, leaning forward in the gloom, trying to determine if this was where he had placed the first grenade, the heavy snow fall now blanketing the entire area. Shaking his head in frustration, he continued crawling forward until he reached the position he believed he had seen Alessio at previously, his visibility now reduced to two or three metres.
But Luca was alone, his heart beating hard in his chest, the fear of disorientation rising within him. The snowflakes fell all around him, his exhaled breath causing them to swirl before landing on the g
round. Had he strayed out from the position he thought he was at? He slowly moved around, turning his body and staring desperately into the darkness, seeing only the near shapes of broken walls and debris in the gloom. He decided to wait for a while, allowing his countryman and Meino time to return. After two or three minutes, he began to become increasingly concerned, wondering whether to return to the trench and wait for them. He whispered out in the darkness, ‘Alessio?’ Then crawled forward a few metres to see if his countryman was returning.
He waited, hearing nothing. Then he whispered again, his voice slightly louder, ‘Alessio? Meino?’ There was no response, then a shuffling to his right made him freeze, catching his breath. He slowly turned towards the sound, pulling his rifle silently forward with his right hand.
Breathing heavily, his chest wheezing, he felt the nausea rising within him, a fear of the unknown beginning to overcome him, his mind racing. As he raised his rifle, he determined to whisper again, ‘Alessio?’ He jumped as a burst of machine gun fire erupted in the darkness before him, some ten metres away. The bullets splattered around him in the iced snow, his back arching as they punctured his uniform and the back of his ribs, his rifle firing as his fingers clenched. As he twisted onto his back, he felt the intense pain sweep through his body, six bullets having entered his back. He lay still, his breath in short gasps, the agony spreading across his torso. His chest heaved as he began to struggle for air, his exhalations beginning to become shorter, the air condensing above him. The snowflakes drifting downwards towards and into his open terrified eyes. The pain increased, his mind becoming clear in his terror, the realisation he could not move, or feel his legs. He heard a burst of fire from beyond his boots, Meino’s MP40 firing into the darkness above his body. Rifle cracks followed from above his head, then a machine gun burst from beyond his boots again.
As the bullets zipped through the air above him, Luca’s mind slowly filled with images of home. His smiling mother, the beach, meals together with his sister and her husband, his mother and father in their home. The sun through the trees in their small garden where he used to play, then they seemed to grow distant, further away, tinged with darkness. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realised it was all to end here, a bitter twisted frozen hell, thousands of miles from his beloved Italy. Then darkness filled his vision, his breath short and sharp for a few seconds, then nothing.
Bloody Stalingrad Page 38