Bloody Stalingrad

by Andrew McGregor

  Chapter Forty Four: In the Cold of the Night.

  Alessio’s eyes widened as he saw the flashes in the distant darkness, across the river. The young Italian had become increasingly nervous as he had seen movements in the buildings at the top of the riverbank, shadows moving across the naked flames of flickering candles. Watching through the small pair of field binoculars he had been provided with, he had observed movement within the buildings and soldiers moving down into the forward trenches in numbers. The distance in the darkness was too great for him to consider a shot with his new rifle, the figures not clear and in cover.

  As he had lowered the glasses, he had become startled by the distant flashes across the Volga on the horizon. Their sight mesmerising, he hesitated to consider the target, the flashes broken by the trees in front of the artillery position.

  Hands grabbed him roughly, the machine gunner pulling him from his position in the rafters of the factory. The German gunner shouted in his ear, pulling him towards the boxes and machinery that were stacked as a makeshift set of steps to their raised position, ‘Get down into the trench!’

  Explosions and flashes on the positions outside spurred him from his inaction, the two soldiers stumbling and slipping down the improvised steps, they landed roughly on the rubble at ground level. The gunner grabbed the back of Alessio’s padded jacket, propelling him towards the slope declining towards the trench that led under the building walls.

  Shell bursts outside showered dust and debris down upon them, the explosions on the outside wall and roof dislodging already broken masonry and tiles. As they reached the hole in the foundation wall, bricks and tiles crashed into the outside trench before them, a cloud of dust and snow flying through the opening, engulfing them. Coughing and raising their hands to protect their faces, they fell to either side of the hole, pushing themselves against the walls for cover.

  Outside, the shells fell in front of the trenches, the blasts lighting up the darkness, virtually blinding in contrast to the darkness. Debris and dirt flew into the trenches, hitting the soldiers cowering or lying with their faces in the snow for protection. The ground shook as numerous shells fell across the line all along the factory district.

  Major Slusser rose from his seat at the table as he heard the thumps in the distance, turning to look out of the sandbagged window. As the shells flashes burst all around the forward positions, he grabbed a steel helmet, placing it on his head. Turning to the radio operator, he barked, ‘Get downstairs for cover!’

  The operator needed little encouragement, having already picked up his helmet, he grabbed his rifle and made for the staircase, the major behind him collecting his MP40. As they descended the wooden staircase, their boots cracking on the cold wood, Hauptmann Gerstle turned into the staircase at the foot of the stairs, almost colliding with the descending men. His face was flushed with alcohol, his helmet at an angle, he had been drinking with some soldiers in the next door building after the briefing.

  Major Slusser glared at the captain’s uniform, the tunic unbuttoned at the collar, his subordinate’s eyes wide and glazed, ‘Gerstle, you are a disgrace!’ The major pushed him roughly in the chest, ‘Why are you not with your men?’

  Hauptmann Gerstle swayed with the push, grasping the major’s arms to steady himself, ‘B…but we are in reserve, sir…’

  The major grabbed the captain’s tunic, dragging the man’s face towards him, his eyes narrowed, lips pursed menacingly, ‘There is no reserve now, you fool! You have left your men, you coward!’ He pushed him away, the captain toppling backwards, landing roughly on the rubble covered floor. A shell hit the outside wall of the building, dust falling from the ceiling. Major Slusser stared in contempt at the Hauptmann at his feet, ‘I should have you shot for this!’ He hesitated for a second, thinking, then he raised his hand, pointing determinedly at the captain, ‘You are unfit for duty and relieved of your command!’ He moved his outstretched arm to the radio operator, ‘Stay with Gunther here, I am assuming command of your men!’ The explosions outside were getting louder, beginning to approach the building. Turning to the radio operator, the officer glaring, he raised his voice further, ‘Find a heavy MG! Get it set up upstairs when the shelling stops, the Russians are coming…and lots of them!’

  In the forward command post, flashes from the explosions outside were eerily casting shadows through the openings. The soldiers of Tatu’s squad, huddled in the basement for protection listened to the screams and explosions outside, their terror rising. Tatu stood up right next to Hausser as the shells hit the roof of the small accommodation building, the defenders from the ground level running down the stairs into the cellar, dust clouds billowing down the stairs behind them as the roof of the small block collapsed inwards in the centre.

  Tatu nervously ran his hand across his moustache, raising his voice in the dust filled cellar, ‘Stay calm, they can’t get us down here!’ He glanced at Hausser, the young commander nodding to him in support, ‘Get ready for when it stops, check your weapons…we are going out then!’

  For a few minutes, the shells rained down on and around the front line in the factory district. Any soldiers not in cover or in the trenches would be very lucky to survive such a bombardment. Broken walls collapsed, trench sides fell inwards, bunker roofs imploded onto the occupants. Firing positions disappeared under collapsing walls and as a result of direct hits, communication cables were severed. All along the sector, the German defensive positions were targeted to maximum effect. Two soldiers bringing up ammunition to the front line were blown to bits as a shell landed before them, their bodies shattered against the force of the intense blast.

  As the last few shells fell, the defenders slowly raised their heads from underneath their hands, thankful for their individual survival. The shouts for ‘medic’ and moaning of the wounded filled the air as the sound of the last explosion faded across the front. There was a brief silence, then the smiles of survival dissipated as a distant low pitched screeching was heard to the east, the soldiers ducking back down into their trenches and desperately covering their heads once more.

  Hausser turned to Tatu, his eyes widened at the sound, ‘Katyushas!’ He leant out of the opening into the trench, his shout startling some of the defenders beginning to rise for cover, ‘Get down, Katyusha Rockets incoming!’ The commander’s eyes met with a young Hungarian lying on the floor of the trench some ten metres away, his face contorted in terror. The line of sight was broken as the officer tilted his head, hearing crumps from his right, the west. German artillery was returning fire, their limited and rationed stock of ammunition being utilised to make a limited show of strength to the Russians. The young commander screamed, his voice straining in the cold, before ducking back into the command post, ‘Alles in Deckung! Artillerie!’

  Major Slusser had just left the safety of the administrative building as the shellfire had died down, heading across the iced path in the direction of the reserve trench. He looked across at the sky to the east as he heard the distant low pitched screeching, seeing the distant lights soar into the dark air on the other side of the river, the flames from the rockets seeming to slow as they levelled out and swept towards their positions. Swallowing hard to subdue the remaining vodka in his stomach, he started to run, the cold air whipping at his uncovered face. Reaching the entrance to the trench, he slipped down the slope, seeing some of the German infantry lined in front of him, glancing pensively out towards the incoming rockets.

  Multiple trucks had launched their rockets from the east bank, aimed at the factory district, the rockets soaring up over the freezing Volga River. As the propelled shells levelled out and began to slowly lose altitude, experienced troops would watch the smoke trail to predict the approximate landing area, the rockets hitting the ground in clusters due to their narrow alignment on the launch vehicle. Once determined, the experienced soldier would know he had a limited time to move, and move very quickly if he was in the line of fire.

  About fifty metres south of
the forward command post, Hase was watching the rockets as they began to lose height, realising the nearest would fall around the trench further to his right. Turning, he shouted a warning, calling the men towards him, but it was clear from their expressions that they did not understand or even hear. Udet, next to him, realised what Hase was doing and also called out, some of the infantry rising and running towards them, their bodies lowered in the trench as the rockets began to fall to earth.

  Hase forced Udet down onto the floor of the trench, falling on top of him, pushing his helmet forward to shield his face. The flames rose up to the south of them as the rockets exploded, the warm blast wave flowing along the trench engulfing them. The blast threw debris, broken bricks, rocket fragments and snow into the air, the shrapnel propelled upwards and outwards cutting through anyone who was not in cover. Three soldiers, two German and one Hungarian were hit directly as one rocket landed in the trench between them, the force of the blast killing them instantly, their bodies shattered and blown into the air. The rest of the salvo of rockets landed either side of the trench walls, the deadly shrapnel and debris zipping through air with the force of the explosion, cutting through the bodies of any soldiers that were not in cover.

  As the shrapnel and debris lost momentum and fell to earth, a quantity landed amongst the other soldiers cowering beneath the trench walls. The metals pings as shrapnel collided with their helmets, their hands over their faces. Shell fragments and debris fell on their shoulders and legs inflicting some scratches and bruises. Some soldiers near the blast in the trench suffered from perforated ear drums, the blast wave having nowhere to escape to once it had entered their ear canals. Further disorientated shouts for assistance echoed across the devastated terrain.

  Hase pushed himself upwards and backwards, unbalanced, he grasped at the trench walls to steady himself, knowing the Russian infantry would have used the salvo of rockets as cover to start the approach to their positions. Dirt and snow fell from his uniform as he straightened up, the shrapnel and frosted dirt that had fallen on top of him dropping from his body. He glanced around frantically, his senses disorientated. Seeing the other soldiers slowly rise from the snow, dusting their uniforms down, confusion on their faces, he quickly looked out over the trench wall to the east. Squinting into the darkness, the torn land before the trench seemed still, the dissipated smoke and dust clouds seeming to hang in the freezing air. Glancing back, his eyes darted around the trench, instinctively and desperately searching. The smell of scorched earth and material was almost overpowering in the close confines of the trench. He hesitated, catching a glimpse of what he had been searching for, a flare lying some five metres away on the floor of the trench.

  Udet was spitting snow from his mouth, pushing himself up with his hands. Rising to his knees, he reached for his rifle, the weapon lying nearby on the trench floor. As he rose from his position, they heard the puffs of flares up and down the line, the projectiles rising into the air before their positions. Most soldiers looked up, seeing the items twist in the night sky, the light beginning to cascade from the projectiles onto the torn terrain below.

  There was a brief chilling silence, the lights beginning to fall to earth as they reached their highest trajectory. Then a sudden rifle crack startled them, the sound coming from the factory roof. A burst of machine gun fire from the same location signalling the presence of enemy soldiers in the land before them. Hase turned back to the front of the trench raising his rifle, with Udet next to him. Thirty metres in front of them, a flare exploded, one of the last surviving trip wires being triggered.

  Hausser and Tatu were leading the men from the forward command post along the trench, dispersing them amongst the existing squad. Machine gun fire and flashes erupting from the south of their position, then further along the line, the gunners seeing moving shadows in the darkness as the flares fell to earth. To the north of them, on the other side of the forward command post, rifle shots echoed out as Meino’s squad fired out into the night.

  They heard the ‘puff’ of smoke grenades just in front of the trench, a sign the Russian infantry were preparing to attack. Udet bit his bottom lip, the tenseness almost too much to bear. As the smoke billowed and rose, flashes in the distant buildings made the soldiers duck down instinctively as the Russian Maxim machine guns opened fire all across the factory section. Bullets whizzed overhead and splattered against the broken buildings behind them, the gunners firing high initially to gain the distance.

  Tatu and Petru passed behind Hase and Udet, patting them on the shoulders, the Romanian quartermaster’s voice determined, ‘Make every shot count!’ Then he continued down the trench shouting encouragement at the other soldiers. Nicu pushed between Udet and Hase, raising his rifle above the trench, both soldiers side stepping to make room for the young Romanian. Turning to either side, the young Romanian winked at both, his features seeming almost childlike and innocent in the situation that was evolving. To the left, they heard Hausser shouting instructions, then the words were drowned out as machine guns fired on either side, the tracer bullets scything into the rising smoke.

  Bullets splattered across the ground in front of the trenches, the Russian machine guns raking the front line. Hase ducked down grasping one of the stick grenades from his belt, unscrewing the base of the cylinder, he pulled the cord and lobbed the grenade out into the smoke. He breathing heavy, watching the object rotate in the air until it disappeared into the white shroud in front of them, a distant ‘crump’ as it exploded followed immediately by screams. Nicu reached down repeating the action, then Udet shouted desperately to the soldiers either side, ‘Grenades!’ Throwing his own into the smoke.

  The noise of explosions, machine gun and rifle fire was almost deafening, the bullets zipping through the air in all directions. As the soldiers tensed in the trench, they heard the distinctive squeal of tank tracks in the distance, through the smoke, their collective adrenalin and terror rising in response.

  Grenades bounced on the ground before them, the Russian infantry throwing their explosives before launching an attack. Most grenades stopped just before the trench, the elevated frozen earth and sandbags in front of the defensive positions preventing the explosives from rolling further, stopping them from bouncing over into the trenches.

  The soldiers in the trenches ducked down, the explosions throwing dirt and sandbags into the emplacements on top of them. More smoke grenades landed before the trenches, the ‘puffs’ as the grenades detonated sending more smoke clouds across the land before the defensive positions.

  Hase glanced over the trench wall, seeing nothing but smoke. He could hear the whine of tank tracks in the distance, across the terrain, but considered it would be difficult for the tanks to get in too close to the trench due to the many obstacles. A ‘whoosh’ shot over his head, the explosion behind him, the tanks opening fire. His fear rising, he glanced up and down the trench, seeing soldiers rise from their crouched positions and raising their rifles over the trench wall.

  Hearing the machine guns firing in bursts to either side, Hase checked his weapon. A cry from the right startled him, the voice desperately calling ‘Medic’ as the soldier tried to help his comrade, hit in the face by grenade shrapnel, blood pouring across his features.

  Udet struggled to his feet next to him, raising his rifle. They froze, hearing the distant call of ‘Hurrah!’ The Russian infantry commanders urging their men forward, having now discounted the tank support. A glowing shell whipped overhead as if to emphasise one of the tank crews’ frustration, the projectile hitting the outside of the factory wall, the explosion causing a flash of light.

  The ‘Hurrahs’ grew in volume as the Russian infantry rose up from the cover and ground in the smoke in front of the trenches. The remaining German and Romanian soldiers straining their eyes into the smoke before them for movement, their weapons raised and ready.

  Hase stared into the smoke, the clouds billowing across the terrain in front of him, bullets splattering across the g
round before the defensive position. His hands were shaking as he raised his rifle to his right eye, then he saw movement, a shape in the white cloud, a man running towards him. He squeezed the trigger, the rifle jolting backwards into his shoulder, the silhouette falling backwards into the rubble.

  More shadows moved in the smoke, the rifles across the line cracking as infantrymen fired into the thick grey clouds obscuring their sight. Grenades bounced over the trench wall, the Russian infantry throwing them as they advanced. Some defenders ducked momentarily, others did not, too afraid to let the attacking infantry closer, realising they had to prevent the attacking infantry from overwhelming them.

  The grenade explosions wounded several defenders, the shrapnel flying at high speed across the defensive line, hitting soldiers in their faces and shoulders. Several grenades fell into the trenches, some being thrown back out in the seconds the defenders had to catch or pick up the primed explosive. Others exploded, killing or wounding nearby soldiers as they desperately tried to move away from the explosions.

  The shapes in the smoke increased dramatically in number, the main body of the Russian advance now approaching the trenches. Hase, Udet and Nicu fired in unison at the shadows, then the Russian infantry broke through the clouds of smoke, the grey and brown padded uniforms swarming towards the trench.

  Hase gritted his teeth and fired again, hearing the machine guns on either side now firing continuously. Bullets sprayed through the air around them, the figures before the smoke being cut down as the machine guns moved desperately from side to side. Behind him, Hase heard a deeper burst, an MG42 heavy machine gun firing from the first floor window of the administrative building.

  As the MG34’s on either side stopped, their gunners desperately pushing new ammunition canisters onto the top of their weapons, the Russian infantry were upon the trench, soldiers dropping onto the defenders. Rifle shots became more sporadic as the fighting became hand to hand in the forward positions.