Bloody Stalingrad

by Andrew McGregor

  Hase had retrieved the dead soldier’s ammunition, swallowing hard as he had taken the bullet clips from the corpse, the blood from the man slowly extending across the floor of the passageway. Stuffing the clips into his damp tunic pockets, he crawled past the corpse, making his way gingerly forward towards the sandbags and cowering soldiers.

  One of the Hungarians turned to face him, indicating with his right hand for Hase to stay low. Udet crawled behind him, reaching into his tunic to check for the twine he had been given earlier. As he grasped the thin cord, he smiled to himself briefly, seeing three circular grenades lying before to the sandbags ahead, the light from a dwindling candle glowing on their smooth surfaces.

  As Hase reached the frightened Hungarians there was a lull in the gunfire, Udet shouting from behind him and nudging Hase’s buttocks, ‘Hey Russkie!’

  There was a pause, then a muffled voice echoed through the tunnel, the Russian infantryman hiding behind the next corner, some thirty metres away down a decline in the passageway, ‘What Fritz?’ The Russian smiling briefly at his broken German, his PPSH 41 held tightly in his hands, the submachine gun barrel warm from the firing.

  Hase coughed, clearing his throat, emphasising his Ukrainian accent, he shouted, ‘We have civilians from the city! We do not want to harm them, but we need to flood the lower tunnels to save them, the water is rising too fast.’ He rubbed the back of his neck nervously under his helmet with his hand, considering the lie was necessary to convince the Russians in front of him.

  The Russian’s eyes widened in astonishment as he heard his native language, the Ukrainian accent startling him. The six infantrymen behind him in the tunnel looking at each other in confused surprise.

  Hase shouted again, ‘Did you hear me?’

  There was a pause, then the Russian infantryman replied, his tone suspicious, ‘Yes…I hear you…why should we believe you Fascists?’

  Hase hesitated, then shouted again, his tone firm, ‘You have ten minutes to move your men and civilians to safety…then we flood the lower tunnels, understand?’

  The Russian infantryman hesitated for a second, then turned to the soldier next to him, whispering, ‘Go and tell the captain. Get him to clear the tunnels quickly.’ He turned back to face the corner, raising his voice, ‘Very well Fascist, but this will not save you. There is no mercy for your army in this city now! We will give you ten minutes, then we will come and get you!’

  Hase turned to Udet, indicating with his hand that the Russians had understood. Udet nodded and leant forward, picking up one of the grenades and carefully attaching one end of the twine to the pin. Retrieving one of the sandbags, he wrapped the rough string around the bag, then leant out, dropping the bag at the other side of the passageway, moving back into cover quickly behind the makeshift obstruction.

  Indicating for the Hungarians to retreat to the corner, he bit through the twine, attaching the end to another grenade. Hesitating as the Hungarians crawled back behind them, he then wedged the grenades into the sandbagged wall, ensuring the twine was stretched across the passageway. Indicating to Hase, they both crawled backwards from the barrier, their hearts beating loudly in their chests.

  The Russian soldier glanced round the corner, seeing the isolated sandbags beyond a body in the tunnel, he smiled knowingly. Hearing distant shouting in the tunnels towards the river, he realised the soldiers were moving civilians out of the lower tunnels, his smile broadening. He considered his captain to be somewhat of an idiot, but at least not that stupid, to ignore such a warning.

  Reaching the corner in the tunnel, Hase waved at the Hungarian soldiers, pushing them back to the last sandbagged barrier. The Hungarians smiling as they moved further from the Russians, the two of them moving briskly away from the corner.

  Hase then turned to Udet, indicating for him to leave, the young German initially shaking his head, then reluctantly turning and walking back towards the reservoir. The firing was now distant in the tunnel system, the battle continuing further along the line. Hase knelt next to the corner, hearing the sound of Udet’s boots recede in the passageway, then they stopped as the young German turned the next corner, heading back to the reservoir to update Hausser.

  As he knelt there, listening to the sounds of dripping water and distant gunfire, Hase thought of the elderly lady and their brief conversation. Guilt overcoming him, he considered if his parents or even grandparents would be as understanding or non-judgemental as the old lady in the reservoir. It was one thing to condemn the communists in front of him when he was a young boy, but would they understand him or his reasoning for fighting against his fellow Russians?

  Thinking back, he realised the decision he had made in the Crimea to help Hausser had brought him to this point. A decision made in seconds that had decided his fate of months of loyalty and fighting for the invading Germans and their allies, had changed the direction of his life dramatically. Could he change what he was now? He realised he could not, the Russians, his countrymen, would now shoot him on the spot if he surrendered, perhaps even torture him first if the commissars got hold of him.

  Pushing the thoughts from his mind, his resolve and determination to continue heightened, the loyalty to one man overriding his country and background. The conclusion to his thoughts…he would have died back in the Crimea had he not made the decision, and so would many innocent others. In some confused way, the betrayal of his country and his actions since were justified for the survival of his men and the inhabitants of the village.

  He glanced round the corner as he heard movement, the shuffling beyond the sandbagged barrier, realising the Russian infantry were beginning to consider the makeshift position before them may be unmanned. Gripping the rifle tightly, he raised it to his shoulder, squeezing the trigger, the shot loud in the passageway as it hit the roof of the tunnel above the sandbags, the Russian infantry ducking back behind the corners for cover at the base of the ramp.

  Distant footsteps in the tunnel behind him made him turn, seeing the Hungarians glancing at him cautiously from behind the next sandbagged barrier. Behind them, to the left, Udet’s face appeared from the side passageway, gesturing frantically with his hand for Hase to come to him.

  Hase backed slowly from the corner, then turned, walking with renewed determination towards Udet. As he reached the sandbags, he indicated for the Hungarians to retreat further, back into the reservoir. Udet shook his head in frustration at him, then crouched next to him at the barrier, his voice a whisper, ‘Alright Hase, we will be the last to leave…again.’ The young German beginning to grin as he prepared another grenade, slipping some twine around the top of the explosive pin.

  Hase shrugged next to him, not understanding the words, but grasping the meaning. Then he slapped Udet’s shoulder with the back of his hand, a smile forming on his face. Udet leant forward using a sandbag as he had done before, wrapping the twine around it and stretching the string across the passageway. Hase watched over his friend, his rifle leant across the top of the sandbagged barrier.

  Back in the reservoir, Hausser glanced up at the Russian civilians on the gantries above him as he buttoned his damp tunic, the dishevelled and dirt smeared faces glancing back and forth between the soldiers cautiously. Considering the time to leave was approaching, he began to make his way across the walkways and platforms to the controls for the flood gates. Slowly the elderly man followed him, smiling grimly at the other Russians as he passed them in an attempt to ease their rising concerns.

  As Hausser reached the walkway that led to the control platform, he hesitated, awaiting the elderly Russian to catch him up. Hearing footsteps in the passageway below him, he glanced down as a soldier entered the reservoir. Grinning as he recognised Tatu, he stamped on the walkway to get his attention. Tatu looked up startled, a grim smile forming on his face, ‘The men are ready Hausser…the Russkies seem to be moving people out of the lower tunnels.’

  Hausser nodded, ‘Good, can you come up and give me a hand?’

 
Tatu raised his gloved hand in acknowledgement, proceeding to the staircase to his left. Climbing the metal steps, he emerged onto the platform behind Hausser, turning to proceed towards the commander. Hausser waited for the Romanian, the elderly Russian next to him, the young commander speaking as he turned towards the controls, ‘How is Petru?’

  Tatu looked at him, smiling, ‘Shivering…it’s a good job the Russians in here picked him out of the water, or he would have frostbite or drowned.’

  Hausser nodded grimly, ‘Let’s hope he doesn’t.’ Turning to the Russian, he smiled to alleviate the elderly man’s concerns, ‘Show me which control opens the flood gates please.’

  The Russian nodded, moving past him and stopping next to a metal handle, ‘Winding this will open the gates, then you have to open the hatch over on the other side of the reservoir.’ He pointed across the wide expanse of freezing water, ‘It’s just there, next to the ladder. Open that, climb down and you are in the maintenance tunnel.’

  Hausser looked across the dimly lit room, seeing the metal ladder set into the wall as it descended into the water. He nodded, staring the man in the eyes, ‘Thank you.’

  The elderly Russian smiled grimly, a melancholy look in his moistening pupils, ‘I wish you well commander and thank you for sparing us.’

  Hausser smiled briefly, ‘It’s the least we could do…you have helped us survive and for that you have my thanks.’

  Tatu stopped next to Hausser, slightly out of breath from the climb, ‘Shall we open it now?’ An impatient look spreading across his face.

  Hausser looked round at the room, the Russian civilians all watching him, sighing at their misery, he nodded, ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  Tatu stepped forward, grasping the metal handle, his arms tensing. Pulling on the lever, the handle would not move, the mechanism half frozen. Hausser slipped the strap of his MP40 over his shoulder and grasped the lever next to Tatu, heaving the cold metal with him. At first the handle wouldn’t move, then a grating sound from the gears slowly released the frozen cogs and the lever moved gradually clockwise.

  The grinding and squealing of the gears echoed across the chamber as they slowly turned the lever, Hausser glancing down at the freezing water, through the metal mesh platform. Seeing a couple of bubbles rising to the surface of the dark liquid, he applied more pressure to the lever, his arm muscles straining, a hiss at Tatu, ‘Pull harder!’

  The Romanian quartermaster grunted as he tensed his muscles, the lever beginning to move more freely. Further bubbles rose to the surface of the water next to the front wall, the metal doorway from the reservoir beginning to rise. Both men applied more pressure, their arm muscles straining to move the handle quicker.

  Hausser looked down again, seeing larger bubbles on the frothing water’s surface, then a large explosion of air on the water’s surface next to the wall as the metal doorway began to open, a larger air bubble escaping from the drainage tunnel. Further large bubbles broke the water’s surface violently as the handle moved further, then the sound of rushing water filled the wide room, the water beginning to flow freely through the open metal hatch into the declining flood tunnel, gathering speed.

  Turning the lever several more times, Hausser and Tatu could see the water surface bubbling furiously as it was sucked through the open metal doorway underneath, the drainage tunnels beyond filling with freezing liquid as the wall of water increased speed on the declining narrow passageways towards the river.

  Tatu removed one hand from the lever, grasping the rope that hung from the wall next to it and wrapping it round the handle, the extra makeshift brake effective. Slowly removing their hands from the lever, both men smiled in satisfaction as they saw the metal did not move, the cogs locking the gate open with additional support from the taut rope.

  Looking down, Tatu saw that the water level was slowly dropping, the slime covered walls above the surface of the liquid wet from where the water had been, the gate fully open allowing the foul liquid to escape. A smile spread across his face, ‘That’s the first challenge…now let’s get to this maintenance hatch.’

  Hausser turned next to him, heading for the stairs to the platform, the elderly Russian stepping back, ‘There is no need to rush…the water will take some time to lower enough.’

  Hausser stopped, spinning round, his eyes wide, his voice rising in exasperation, ‘Some time? How long?’

  The elderly man backed away, seeing the young commander’s frustrated anger, his body beginning to shake, ‘May-Maybe ten minutes, perhaps longer.’

  Hausser’s eyes narrowed, realising he was scaring the man he lowered his raised voice, ‘I understand, that may be too long for us though.’ He spun round towards Tatu, ‘Get the men to stay in the tunnels and tell them to hold their positions…we are not out of here yet.’ He turned back to the elderly Russian, ‘Please move your people to the higher walkways, it may make them safer from gunfire.

  Tatu nodded in agreement, glaring at the elderly Russian, ‘Ten minutes only, or you will be swimming to the Volga!’ He ran to the steps, hearing muffled rifle shots from the side tunnels.

  Hausser looked at the elderly Russian, shrugging ironically, ‘Let’s hope the water drops then.’ He started descending the steps to the next platform, making his way round to the lever for the maintenance hatch, the elderly Russian gesturing for the civilians on the lower levels to move higher.

  As Tatu advanced down the tunnel he had used previously, high in the reservoir, he heard the shooting ahead. Cautiously, he approached the next corner, hearing the rifle cracks loud in the next passageway. Ducking into the passage to check the way ahead, he saw Petru and a German soldier at the next corner, firing towards the left.

  Crouching to approach them, Tatu took his PPSH 41 from his shoulder. As he reached his countryman, Petru glanced round smiling a greeting, ‘How long before we move?’

  Tatu shook his head, ‘Another few minutes, can we hold?’

  Petru nodded briefly, then glanced back down the dark passageway, ‘The Russians are getting ready to attack…perhaps we can hold a while longer.’ He raised his rifle, firing into the darkness, the shot cracking across the tunnel walls. Leaning back behind the corner, he turned again to Tatu, ‘I don’t feel too good, I think I may have swallowed too much water.’

  Tatu grinned fondly at his friend, ‘There is still plenty back in the reservoir if you want some more.’

  Petru’s eyes widened, a smile forming on his face, ‘Perhaps on the way out!’

  The German soldier next to them held his hand up for them to be quiet, ‘Listen!’

  Straining their ears, Tatu’s eyes opened wide as he heard the clicking at the end of the passageway, ‘Flame thrower! Fall back!’

  They backed away from the corner as a ‘whoosh’ surged down the tunnel, the jet of flame billowing past before them into the tunnel on the right.

  Tatu shouted desperately, ‘Back to the next corner!’ Raising his submachine gun in one hand, he reached for a grenade in his overcoat pocket. Grasping the last remaining Romanian grenade, he pulled it out of his large leather jacket, gripping it in his left hand.

  Another jet of flame surged past the junction they had just left as they reached the corner behind them. As they backed round the corner, he offered the grenade to Petru, his countryman pulling the fuse and tossing the circular canister along the passageway. Tatu watched as it bounced on the brick floor of the tunnel, coming to a rest at the corner of the junction. Ducking back, the blast wave seemed to shake the tunnel, fragments of dirt and debris falling from the brick ceiling.

  As Tatu leant back out, the smell of the explosion strong in his nostrils, the acrid smoke from the blast hanging in the tunnel. He squinted to try and see into the darkness, then ducked back as a wall of flame shot towards him down the right hand side of the tunnel, closing his mouth as he pushed Petru to the floor of the passageway.

  As the flame receded, the stench of chemicals caught in his throat. Pushing himself upwa
rds, he fired blindly into the tunnel, only extending his right arm to the corner. Turning to the other two, he screamed, spittle hitting their faces, ‘Back to the next corner, I will hold here!’

  The German soldier turned and ran down the passageway, dropping to his knees and turning at the next corner. As Petru backed away, Tatu glanced at him, their eyes meeting, the fear passing between them. Then his countryman turned and ran back to the kneeling German infantryman, his rifle raised towards Tatu as he dropped to his knees.

  The Romanian quartermaster fired again into the tunnel, then ducked out quickly to see, glimpsing a Russian soldier writhing at the junction clutching his stomach. He pulled back, running half crouched towards Petru, submachine gun bullets splattering across the walls of the passage walls he had just left, the Russian infantry firing blind into the tunnel. The moaning of the wounded Russian soldier as his countrymen pulled him to safety echoing off the walls.

  Feeling his adrenalin rise further, Tatu skidded to his knees before Petru, indicating to the German soldier, ‘Get back to the reservoir and tell Hausser we can’t hold them!’

  The German nodded, wide eyed beneath his scratched helmet. He spun round and ran into the darkness, slipping on the frost of the tunnel floor as he turned the last corner before the reservoir, falling on one knee and glancing fearfully back at them, then lunged forward, disappearing out of sight.

  A grenade dropped into the passageway at the end, both Tatu and Petru ducking back into the next passageway as it exploded, the dust and dirt flying past just in front of them. Tatu leant out, firing a burst of his submachine gun, the flashes from the muzzle of the weapon illuminating their faces.

  Another grenade bounced off the right wall of the tunnel as they ducked back in, the flash and blast throwing more debris past them as they crouched in the side passageway. Tatu leant out, firing again, the burst from his weapon splattering against the wall at the end of the tunnel. Then he glimpsed the flash of light on the wall as the flamethrower advanced towards the corner. ‘Back!’ He shouted in almost panic as flames shot along the right wall towards them, the chemical smell pouring through the passageways.