Bloody Stalingrad

by Andrew McGregor

  Hausser raised his hand in salute, ‘We will do our best sir.’ He turned abruptly on his heels, walking to the stairs.

  Hausser blinked as he looked down at the crudely drawn map provided by the Major’s radio operator, the candlelight flickering across the rough paper it was drawn upon, ‘So, we enter here…and work our way along these two routes.’ He drew his gloved finger across the map, following the drawn lines, glancing up at Tatu, ‘What do you think?’

  Tatu drew his hand across his moustache, his eyes tired, ‘Who will lead each group?’

  Hausser sighed, ‘We have lost quite a few men, eleven dead and five wounded. That leaves us with about twenty one men in total, including us. We split into three squads, using one in reserve. I will lead one, you lead the second. Meino, you will lead the smaller third squad of three men and assist the engineers, that’s the reserve. We will leave Alessio in the front as a sniper for practice, he seems to be beginning to excel at the role now.’

  Tatu eyebrows rose, ‘Eight men in an enclosed space?’

  The young commander nodded, ‘We will leave one sentry at the junctions along each route to cover our rear and for a fall-back position if required, completing the sweep with just the squad leader and three or four men. Then use the reserves to rotate and provide some respite until the order is given to leave and block the tunnels concerned.’

  Tatu nodded, a grim smile forming on his face, ‘Yes that could work. We will need to have men nearby to reinforce if they attack, where will we position them?’

  Hausser pointed at two areas on the roughly drawn map, ‘These look sufficient to house the reserve. We can place any extra ammunition we can get there too.’

  Meino leant forward, studying the drawing, ‘Issue any submachine guns to the forward men, this is not rifle territory. Then we have a good start to drive the Russkies out.’

  Hausser nodded with Tatu, ‘That’s good enough. We don’t have a flame thrower, but must consider they do, so let’s brief the men on how to take them out. Extra grenades for all, we sweep the area and drive them back, retreat and set trip wires before our positions and hold back for them to blow the tunnels. No delay fuses on the trip wires, instant detonation in case they counterattack.’

  Tatu and Meino looked at Hausser directly, the Croatian speaking slowly, ‘Right, when do we start?’

  Hausser looked down at the map, ‘The 62nd Army has just been driven back, so their commanders will probably be looking to redeem themselves. I believe this is where they will look.’ He leaned forward pointing at several sections of the crude map, ‘Give them another thirty minutes to organise themselves, then they may come in shooting. They will probably come in here, here and here. Moving across and through these two main sections and trying to move to our rear. We do not have enough men to stop a large attack, so the Major says we can use the men down there already to bolster our numbers.’

  Tatu looked down, studying the map, ‘Are we to blow some of the tunnel sections, force them into concentrated areas?’

  Hausser nodded, ‘Yes, that’s the plan, the sooner we drive the Russians back and blow the tunnels, the sooner we are out of the sewers.’ He looked at the Croatian, ‘Meino, do you want to ask the major politely to hurry up with the engineers and explosives? He seems to like you.’

  Meino sighed, smiling, ‘Very well, strange the relationship that builds between someone that will inherit an Inn and an officer that likes to drink!’

  Tatu and Hausser laughed, the strain on their faces dissolving for a few seconds.

  Meino grinned back with determination, ‘I will go and ask him now.’

  Hausser nodded, the smile falling from his face. Looking down he pointed at an intersection on the map, ‘Bring anything you can get here, then come and find us along the routes. You and your men will be in reserve to begin with.’

  Meino’s eyes narrowed, ‘Right, I will try and get back in twenty minutes, it will be close if the Russians come when you think.’

  Hausser nodded again, his expression becoming darker, ‘If they come, we will hold them until you bring any explosives. Be quick, my friend.’

  Meino nodded, turning and walking swiftly from them towards the opening in the wall of the damaged building, some forty metres south of the administration block. He looked back as he climbed through the hole into the outside trench, raising his hand, ‘See you in the sewers, gentlemen!’

  Chapter Forty Six: Into the Darkness

  Tatu slipped into the shaft leading to the sewers, his PPSH 41 slung over his back. Slowly descending the cold metal steps, he screwed his face up as the smell of excrement and decay swept into his nostrils. Petru entered the manhole carrying a lantern, stepping carefully down the ladder above his countryman. Reaching the bottom of the ladder they stepped across from the bottom rung onto a small walkway at the side of the wide drainage channel, avoiding the putrid water.

  As his soldiers descended the ladder behind them, Tatu walked forward boldly, keen to reach the small group of German troops already positioned in the sewer system. The tunnel was relatively wide, a main shaft for the adjoining pipes and tunnels to deposit their rainwater and sewage. The brick built sewage system stretched the length of the city along the Volga River, extending from the northern factory district to the southern housing suburbs, the many tunnels seeming to mostly run parallel or at right angles to the river and the system’s exit pipes. Several separate sections for remote city areas also supplemented the larger city system.

  The Romanian quartermaster stopped at the intersection of the tunnels, some twenty metres from the ladder, the light from the oil lantern Petru was carrying having diminished too much for him to continue. His exhaled breath condensed in the cold he turned impatiently, watching as Petru waited for the group of five other soldiers to descend the ladder. Nicu was the last to gingerly step onto the slimy walkway to the side of the half frozen polluted water of the drainage channel.

  They walked slowly towards Tatu at the end, taking their weapons from their shoulders, their faces pensive. Tatu indicated for them to increase their pace with his hand, his impatience evident, the sounds of their boots echoing off the walls of the tunnel. Petru glimpsed the grim look on Tatu’s face and increased his walking speed. As he drew level with his countryman, Tatu turned and walked to the left, his large jacket rising as he swung round. Lifting his submachine gun from his shoulder, he saw a dim light emanating from a narrower tunnel to the right and crouched to enter it, his boots cracking through the thin ice on the surface of the slurry in the passageway.

  Tatu swore under his breath as he felt the cold seep through the stitches in his boots, the chilling change on his feet almost causing him to draw breath as his body temperature reacted to the freezing cold water. As he reached the end of the small narrow tunnel he glanced back, seeing the shadows in the tunnel behind him, Petru following the soldiers with the lantern. Glancing round the corner to the right, into a wider tunnel, he saw the source of the light, a candle flickering on the next corner with murmured voices beyond it.

  As the nearest soldier stopped behind him, Tatu indicated for him to wait, his finger raised to his lips for silence. Slipping round the corner, the quartermaster approached the light cautiously, his ears straining to listen. Hearing German voices, he grinned at his caution and glanced round the corner where the candle stood, seeing the two German infantrymen at the end of this narrow tunnel. He turned, indicating for the soldiers behind him to approach.

  Leaning out into the tunnel, Tatu called softly to the Germans, ‘Freund!’ The soldiers stopped talking abruptly and spun round, the candle next to them flickering with the movement. Seeing Tatu in the tunnel a grin passed across one of their faces, the prospect of leaving the enclosed dark space clearly elating him. The quartermaster emerged into the side tunnel and advanced half crouched towards them.

  Gunfire echoed around the walls, Tatu seeing the Germans at the end tense and duck down, their rifles raising towards the direction of the so
und. Then he heard more shots, the rattle of a submachine gun mixed with the cracks of rifle shots. A scream in the distance, the noise echoing off the slime covered bricks.

  As the quartermaster reached the two infantrymen he looked to his right, the sporadic gunfire continuing along with the screaming. ‘Where are they?’ He hissed at the two Germans. Seeing the infantrymen were crouched behind a small wall of sandbags, placed up to the edge of the drainage channel.

  The soldier pointed, the fear on his face, ‘Along in the next tunnel, that’s the forward position, it’s beyond the front line above.’

  Tatu nodded, ‘Good, stay here, cover any retreat.’ He glanced round, seeing that Nicu was behind him with four Hungarians and Petru, ‘Get ready men.’

  Tatu ran forward, rounding the sandbags, the foul water splashing around him. Further gunfire echoed across the tunnels, the screams becoming more desperate. As he reached the turning in the tunnel he glanced round the corner quickly, seeing gun flashes at the end of the narrow passageway, some thirty metres away.

  Turning he indicated to Petru for them to separate, to continue further down the wide tunnel, his thought to move in on the fighting from two directions. As the soldiers passed him, he grasped Nicu’s arm, beckoning him to follow. Pushing himself into the narrow side tunnel, he lunged forward, the poisoned water splashing around him. He advanced slowly, half crouched along the tunnel, raising his PPSH 41 before him. The gunfire got louder as he approached the end, becoming almost deafening in the enclosed narrow space.

  The screams intensified as he began moving to the left side of the passageway, realising the gunfire was coming from the right. Reaching the intersection, he heard closer and louder fire and ducked his head out quickly to look, a pined low moaning causing his to swallow. Before him to the left was another small sandbagged section, some five metres away, a German infantryman firing a burst of his MP40 above it. Lying next to him was another infantryman writhing in the slurry of the drainage channel, his hands clutching his stomach. Blood flowed down the channel, the dirty water propelling it along the slight decline in the wide passageway towards the steps at the end, some twenty five metres away.

  Tatu looked down the tunnel as it sloped away from them into the darkness. Seeing some movement in the darkness at the end he realised the Russian infantry were preparing to attack, probably waiting for the defending soldier to reload. The quartermaster ducked back in, clenching his grip on his weapon, the screaming filling his ears. He glanced at Nicu, then grasped the grenade in his jacket. The firing stopped abruptly and Tatu pushed himself from the wall, tossing the grenade forward as he lunged from the passageway, the small round metal sphere bouncing off the surface of the round tunnel roof before landing and rolling down the slope towards the steps.

  The German infantryman spun round in shock, his eyes wide with fright as Tatu crashed to his knees next to him. Frantic shouts in Russian echoed across the walls, then the grenade exploded at the top of the steps, showering dust and polluted water across the width of the tunnel. Having seen the grenade, the Russian troops had ducked back into cover, their opportunity to attack passing as the German soldier used the opportunity to replenish his weapon.

  Tatu leant forward and roughly grasped the heavily wounded infantryman’s shoulder, heaving him back behind the sandbags, the injured man pushing with his feet. The quartermaster pulled him behind them, resting his helmeted head next to the sewer wall, the man bleeding heavily from his stomach wound, his eyes closed in pain.

  Tatu nodded to Nicu across the tunnel, then fired a burst of his PPSH over the sandbagged wall. Nicu lowered himself to the floor of the tunnel, gritting his teeth as his body came into contact with the frozen slime on the bricks. He crawled forward, the gut wrenching moans of the wounded man echoing across the walls around him. Reaching the edge of the wider tunnel, he cautiously pushed his rifle out to point towards the steps.

  As he lined his eye up on the sights of the weapon, he saw a helmet move across the darkness below the steps, the rifle kicking back into his shoulder as he squeezed the trigger. The shot echoed through the tunnels, hitting the sloped wall behind the Russians dislodging grime and frozen excrement, the bullet missing its target.

  Tatu turned to the infantryman next to him, hissing, ‘Where are the other soldiers…the forward position?’

  The soldier shrugged grimly, ‘They caught us by surprise, and there was no firing from the next position.’ He glanced round at his moaning countryman, indicating with a jerk of his head, ‘Kurt was running up the steps when he got hit, I covered him until he crawled back here.’ The man turned and started to comfort his wounded countryman, checking his open stomach wound, ‘We need to get him out of here.’

  Tatu glanced at the wounded man, the blood dripping onto the iced bricks of the tunnel, his voice low, ‘We will hold here, drag him out when I start firing.’

  The soldier nodded grimly, the man moaning loudly as he lifted him to push his arms through the man’s arm pits, ready to drag the man out of the line of fire.

  Tatu looked round as Nicu fired again, responding to movement in the darkness at the foot of the steps. Firing bursts from other areas in the sewers echoed across the bricked walls as firefights broke out throughout the tunnel system.

  The quartermaster leant forward, hissing, ‘Now!’ He lifted his submachine gun above the sandbags, firing a burst down the tunnel. Hearing the man groan behind him as the soldier dragged him across the iced bricks and into the narrow side passage, the blood leaving a trail across the tunnel floor as they struggled past Nicu.

  Further gunfire exploded across the tunnel walls as the Russians at the foot of the steps returned fire, their bullets whipping along the wide tunnel, dust and grime falling from the ceiling, the Russians ducking into cover again.

  More distant gunfire continued, a muffled explosion broke the gunfire as an unfortunate soldier ran through a tripwire somewhere along the tunnels, the screams and shouts of wounded and desperate men filling the sewage system. All along the dark underground sewers the Russian 62nd Army probed the makeshift defensive positions, the soldiers sometimes fighting hand to hand in freezing stagnant and polluted water.

  Petru was breathing heavily, the sounds of sporadic gunfire echoing around him. He had initially thought he could move around the Russians Tatu had engaged, attacking them from a different direction, but the tunnels were not joined. He had advanced cautiously along the first wide tunnel, turning into smaller tunnels that he thought would lead towards Tatu, but this had proved futile and he had become disorientated, losing his way. Now he could see the uneasiness beginning to form in the eyes of the Hungarian soldiers with him, the grip on their weapons tight, their breathing laboured. They were lost.

  As he slowly advanced along the narrow tunnel they were in he could hear them whispering to each other behind him, some voices excited, others more firm. He stepped into deeper frozen liquid as they approached the end of the tunnel, the sounds of running water getting louder. Glancing out into the next passageway, he could hear distant firing to the left, but realised the water was running from that direction, the depth now over his boots. To the right, the tunnel seemed to open into an underground area and he considered moving towards it, the noise of the water louder there. Turning, he sighed as he realised he now only had two men with him, the others having left the group, deserting them. The soldier behind him shrugged and looked at him apologetically, the light from the lantern flickering across his face.

  Petru indicated for them to turn around, unsure of how deep the flowing water was, the freezing liquid around his feet persuading him to try and find his way back towards Tatu. The soldier before him nodded, slowly shuffling his boots in the slime on the floor of the tunnel. Gunfire and flashes burst across the tunnel, the man in front of him being propelled backwards onto him. Petru fell backwards into the slurry as the man’s weight toppled him, his hands instinctively reaching out for the side walls, the soldier in front of him jerking several
times from the burst of a submachine gun at the end of the passageway. Petru went under the freezing water, then broke the surface spluttering, the water in his nose. Then he held his breath in terror, bracing for another burst of submachine gun fire.

  He lay there for a second, the man above him thrashing around briefly, then the soldier slowly became still. The weight of two men on top of his lower legs, Petru was pinned to the floor of the tunnel, the putrid freezing water lapping around his head, his face pushed just out of the liquid next to the head of the man above him to breathe. He could feel the strain on his neck muscles, the pain intense as he stretched upwards for the foul oxygen. The freezing water now covered his body, the pain of the intense cold forcing him to blank his mind, fearful of the panic rising within him. He could hear talking in Russian at the far end of the narrow tunnel, the enemy initially considering checking the bodies, but fearful of what may be in the darkness and water, the lamp having been extinguished.

  Petru cleared his mind. Forcing away the urgency, almost panic to push the body above him away, realising this would result in a further burst of gunfire. With the loud running water beyond his head, he slowly began to wriggle himself free from the two bodies above him, his arms and legs screaming in pain from the weight and freezing water. Pushing himself against the body, his head began to emerge from the side tunnel into the rushing water, the strong current rising over his mouth and eyes. He held his breath again, pushing harder to free himself, his boots sliding against the sides of the narrow passageway in a desperate attempt to break away. With the foul water rushing around him, he thought he could hear gunfire, then just the rush of water. He pushed harder, feeling his arms and legs gradually becoming numb in the freezing cold water. A realisation his oxygen level was lowering as his mind began to scream at him to breathe, but he could not open his mouth, the turbulent water cascading over his face.