Hausser leant tiredly forward, placing his head in his hands, closing his eyes briefly, his voice distant and tired, ‘What difference will that make to the men we lost?’
The major turned sharply, raising his voice in frustration, ‘It will mean they did not die in vain. The Russians were prevented from moving behind us in the sewers. Our engineers have demolished some of the tunnels they would have used this morning, I have placed men on the others. We also control the reservoir that caused the flooding, so can do it again if needed, that should stop them, or at least deter them in future.’ He stood back defiantly, raising the glass to his lips as he glared at the officer seated opposite him.
Hausser lowered his hands, looking up slowly at the major, his eyes bloodshot, ‘Very well, what are my orders?’
The major leant forward again, placing his hands on the table, his right hand leaning on the glass, ‘Get some sleep and rest your men, I need you to move up and hold an office block on the southern edge of the factory district, it used to be the local communist party headquarters. That will free up some men to move back to the tractor factory.’ The major raised his glass again, draining the contents, ‘There are no reserves left for me to use at present, but your building is fortified and very robust. I don’t expect you will have much trouble.’
Hausser nodded wearily, ‘When do you want us to take up position?’
Major Slusser smiled briefly, then looked back down at the map, ‘By first light tomorrow.’ He reached across for the bottle on the corner of the table, splashing the clear liquid into his glass.
Hausser rose to his feet slowly, saluting wearily, ‘Yes sir, we will be there by first light.’
The major nodded, swigging from his glass, ‘Good, I will get my adjutant to locate and bring some drink across for you and your men.’ He frowned, ‘It’s not much, but should ensure you get a restful sleep.’ He paused, seeming to think, then looked directly at Hausser, his eyes sparkling, ‘Thank you for your efforts Leutnant. I know it has been hard for you and your men, but it has made a difference.’
Hausser’s eyes widened slightly, his voice seeming unsure, ‘Thank you sir. I will tell the men.’
Major Slusser looked back down at the map on the table, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand nervously. As he heard Hausser close the door behind him, he swigged greedily from his glass again, lowering himself into his chair. Looking around the bare walls of the small office, he sighed loudly, his mind conflicted. Moving the map of the factory district aside on his desk, he stared at the small map beneath it, the red line he had drawn earlier indicating where he considered General Hoth’s tanks to be.
He slowly leant back in his chair, his face flushed, swigging from his glass again. Looking at the dirty ceiling in the small room, he spoke softly to himself as he lit a cigarette, ‘It seems your tanks may be our best hope now Herr General, in four or five days there may be little food or fuel left in this damned city.’
Hausser stumbled across the yard, slipping on the frozen snow. Following the route he had taken some days earlier, he slowly made his way back to the damaged warehouse he and his men were resting in. Behind him, the major’s adjutant watched him uneasily, the man was carrying a box containing five bottles of vodka, the robust glass containers ‘clinking’ each time he took a step.
As Hausser trudged through the mid-morning light, his breath condensed before him, he thought of what had happened in the sewer, the confusion that had led to the loss of his men, the Russian civilians cowering in fear from them and then their own countrymen. His mind confused due to the exhaustion, he had smiled when he thought of the bravery of his men…their loyalty in defending the reservoir and fighting against superior numbers. The young Romanian, Nicu, and his efforts in the darkness, helping in comforting the Russian civilians and drying out the soldiers’ uniforms, the nineteen year old soldier’s innocence and youthful loyalty contributing significantly to their survival.
Hausser bit his lip, tasting blood as he thought of the conversation Tatu and he had completed after leaving the sewer. They had been standing next to the Hanomag armoured car discussing the next possible moves of the remaining unit and awaiting Meino to re-join them. Having sent men back into the darkness to round up the stragglers and soldiers they had positioned in defence, the remaining group of soldiers waited, most smoking in their exhaustion. In the distance, a couple of muffled underground explosions had indicated limited success in collapsing a number of the tunnels, but both Hausser and Tatu knew it was not nearly enough to stop the Red Army, their efforts having ultimately failed.
Glimpsing Petru begin to look for Nicu amongst the surviving soldiers, they had initially smiled warmly between them considering his fatherly attitude towards the youth. The protective instinct that Petru always showed to the young soldier, particularly after the initial assault three weeks previously. Then their eyes had become concerned, realising the Petru could not find the young soldier, his actions becoming more desperate as he ran between the remaining men. Looking at each other thoughtfully, they both then realised simultaneously what had happened, their eyes widening in shock.
Tatu had lunged towards Petru, pulling him to them as they saw him becoming even more desperate to find the young man. Realising Nicu was not with the surviving troops, both Hausser and Tatu had concluded what had happened in the final seconds of the escape from the reservoir. That the young Romanian had been one of the soldiers that fell from the metal rungs into the freezing water, his body dragged into the darkness beneath the surface, his back perforated by submachine gun fire as they themselves escaped.
Tatu had held the shaking Petru in a tight hug at the front of the Hanomag as he broke the news to the loving Romanian, the man shaking as the tears fell from his eyes. Hausser had spoken softly to Petru as he described what had happened, the determination and bravery of the young Romanian to help defend their escape. Nicu’s insistence another soldier went in front of him on the ladder, the soldier surviving and the young Romanian being killed, the outcome of a simple ladder placing, the young soldier giving the ultimate sacrifice.
Petru had cried uncontrollably at first, advising that he looked upon the young soldier as a member of his extended family, that his survival of the initial assault by the Russians had been a sign to him that the youngster should be protected. Tatu had held his countryman to his chest for some time as his friend sobbed, his shoulders shaking with grief for some considerable time, his legs sagging in grief. Hausser had eventually given up trying to console Petru and had taken the rest of the troops to report to Major Slusser leaving the two Romanians to their despair and to organise any returning soldiers.
His concern at embarrassing the fatherly Romanian in front of the troops becoming paramount as he saw some of the Hungarians beginning to whisper furtive concerns to each other. Tatu and Petru had followed some time later with the remaining soldiers from the sewers, the grief stricken Romanian isolating himself from the others as he found a place to sit alone in the warehouse, away from the other men.
A shell burst in the distance as Hausser crossed the yard towards the damaged warehouse, the distant sounds of gunfire becoming louder as he reached the entrance, the small side door opening with a creak as Hausser pulled the handle, the cold air biting at his body. Stepping aside, he held the door for the major’s adjutant, the man nodding his thanks as he stepped through the opening.
As the door closed behind them, Hausser saw the surviving soldiers sitting around the wide expanse of the storage area, despondency on their faces. He realised a couple of the men were new additions to the group, their uniforms dirty and torn. Some of the troops were lying asleep, their heads on their helmets on the floor, some having dragged any material from the storage racks to form makeshift beds. In the centre, smoke slowly rose from a small fire burning in an open top oil drum, Hase, Alessio and Udet raising hands in greetings from warming themselves around it, their faces grim.
Looking right, Hausser saw Tatu talki
ng to Meino in the small side office, the men sitting on the damaged chairs inside. As he walked over to them, Tatu raised his hand in greeting, the broken glass crunching beneath Hausser’s boots. Standing in the doorway, he leant against the frame, the tiredness in his eyes causing him to rub them with his hands, ‘We have some Russian vodka for the men.’
Meino smiled weakly, ‘Good, something to dull their senses and thoughts.’
Tatu shook his head, his face stern, ‘We will need more than that! This unit is shattered Hausser, what are we to do now?’
Hausser rubbed his torn gloves across the stubble on his face, ‘We move up to the line in the early hours.’
Tatu slammed his fist on the table, ‘This is madness! We have only eighteen men with the two extra stragglers the Major has provided! What possible difference will we make?’ He stood up abruptly, glaring angrily at the younger commander.
Hausser slowly reached up and removed his helmet, dropping it to the floor, ‘This time we go to a block at the outskirts of the factory district, apparently it is very sturdy and easily defended.’
Tatu blinked hard in disbelief, his voice rising in anger, ‘What about food? The rations are now ridiculous, about one thousand calories a day as far as I can work out, what the hell is going on? We will starve to death here soon! Are the German troops getting more?’
Hausser’s frustration rose dramatically at the outburst as he glanced round, seeing the seated men behind him in the warehouse beginning to look across. His anger seeming to concentrate and sweep through his chest as he stood there, staring at the Romanian quartermaster, his shout erupting, ‘Shut up! I am in command here and we will follow orders! I want no more defeatism from you, understand?’ He continued, his fists clenching, ‘The rations are the same for all across the city. The orders are to move up, so we will…with or without you, do you understand what I mean?’
Tatu’s eyes widened in horror, realising his outburst had undermined Hausser’s rank in front of the soldiers. Meino jumped up, his MP40 clattering to the floor of the office, his arms outstretched between the men, ‘I am sure Tatu was mistaken and did not mean what he said, Herr Leutnant!’
Hausser stared determinedly at Tatu, his eyes narrowed, unshaven face flushed red with anger, ‘Well?’
Tatu’s eyes dropped, sorrow spreading across his features, ‘I am sorry, Herr Leutnant.’ His voice fell to a whisper, seeming thoughtful, ‘You have only done good things for us, getting us back from the south, but to this? It was not your fault. Nicu and the other men being killed, well that was not you either.’ A brief smile spread across his face before fading, ‘At least we will be indoors….well if the building has a roof, which I notice is becoming rare in this city, a new fashion perhaps?’ He looked back up at Hausser, a twinkle in his eye.
Hausser stared at him incredulously, then a grin swept across his features, ‘Fool!’
Meino smiled in relief, ‘Good…let’s get a drink.’ He slapped Tatu’s shoulder, ‘We also need to look after Petru, he is in a bad way…broken.’
Tatu nodded solemnly, staring at Hausser, ‘Yes Herr Leutnant, we need to keep someone with him now, he is really depressed.’ He indicated to Meino to leave the office with a jerk of his head. The Croatian stepping past the commander into the warehouse in response.
Tatu sat back down wearily as Meino returned with a bottle of Vodka, depositing on the table and turning to leave, the Croatian nodding to Hausser, ‘I will go and sit with Petru for a while.’
Tatu grasped the bottle, ‘Come sit with me, my friend, let’s have a drink.’
Hausser glanced at the soldiers outside the office, their concentration now on the vodka bottles being passed around, sighing, ‘Oh…very well.’ He slumped into the wooden chair vacated by Meino, the seat creaking with his weight. Tatu clenched the cork of the bottle between his teeth, spitting it onto the floor of the office and taking a swig from the fiery liquid, wincing as it entered his throat. Throwing a packet of American cigarettes on the table, he indicated for Hausser to help himself to one, handing him the bottle.
The major’s adjutant approached the doorway, leaning on the frame, ‘I have arranged for some spare greatcoats to be delivered to you later today. It’s all we have.’
Tatu nodded at the smaller man, his uniform immaculate, ‘Please take our thanks back to the Major, that will be of immense assistance.’ Hausser turned his head, smiling grimly at the officer and nodding.
The adjutant nodded in return, ‘Enjoy the vodka gentlemen! I will see if there is any more for later, but supplies are now very short.’ He turned on his heels and walked briskly from the warehouse, the door creaking behind him as he exited.
The Romanian quartermaster leant back in the chair, his uniform stained from the night in the sewer, his boots scratched and worn. Pushing his head back, he lit a cigarette and blew the smoke into the air, ‘So where is the relief effort, did the red faced major tell you?’
Hausser gave a brief smile, ‘Yes.’ He swigged from the bottle, straining his eyes as the liquid hit his throat. Glancing out of the broken office window he saw Meino lower himself next to Petru further down the warehouse, away from the other soldiers, the Croatian offering the lonely Romanian a drink.
Tatu leant forward, staring curiously at Hausser, ‘So? Where are they?’
Hausser grinned at the man’s urgency to know, raising a cigarette to his lips, ‘They have crossed the Alksay River, forty miles south west of Stalingrad.’
Tatu smiled, his eyes brightening, ‘Good, they are well on their way. Let’s hope they are bringing food, and by food, I mean not shitty horse meat!’ He grinned widely, ‘I have had enough of that now!’ He clutched the bottle Hausser held towards him, raising it in a toast, ‘To your Herr General Hoth’s success! The success of German Panzers driving to the Volga!’
Chapter Fifty One: New Defensive Positions
Moving along the side of the street cautiously, Hausser grasped his MP40 before him, his stance slightly crouched. Behind him, seventeen soldiers moved silently through the night, their boots placed carefully on the iced snow to prevent noise. Hugging the walls, they felt the cold breeze envelope them, the frozen air sweeping in from across the Volga river five hundred metres to their left.
Moving south along the streets, they could hear the cracks of rifle shots across to their left, the front line some three to four hundred metres away. The streets were deserted, the piercing cold from the clear dark sky keeping most sentries and soldiers in their dugouts or makeshift positions, the night breeze gripped their greatcoats and exposed flesh, seeming to bite at their skin. The cold air began to gradually form on their coats as condensation, the molecules of water freezing in the low temperature, their overcoats beginning to be covered in a thin white layer of frost.
Their exhaled breath hung in the air, the temperature now well below freezing, their scarves and gloves providing limited comfort against the bitter breeze. The frozen city around them seemed to exude death, the occasional exposed corpse discoloured in the moonlight, each body prevented from decaying in the bitter temperature, the skin gradually greying over the days it was left unattended.
Hausser stopped at a junction, squinting into the distance, a thin mist seeming to hang in the street as the frost grasped it, the illusion of the cloud simply the moon reflecting on the crystalized tarmac, the breeze carrying frozen moisture across the thoroughfare. Unable to make out the end of the street, he hesitated, blinking and wiping the gathering frost from his eyebrows. Seeing a number of soldiers had moved to the right side of the street, he lunged forward. Darting across the side street that was exposed, the lane leading towards the river. The extreme cold seemed to embrace him as he stepped forward beyond the shelter of the building wall, almost taking his breath away.
Reaching the safety of the wall opposite, he turned, looking at the waiting soldiers…most were crouched, glancing around cautiously, the scarves and other material across their mouths with their white ice covered g
reatcoats creating a surreal picture of an advancing unit, their helmets sparkling with frost. He smiled briefly beneath his scarf, thinking of his earlier experiences and visions of advancing troops in urban areas, the current spectacle completely remote from what he had seen previously.
Ducking out to look along the street he had just passed, he saw it was empty. Raising his gloved hand, he indicated for the lead soldiers to cross, the men responding by running low across the tarmac, the space between each man approximately 5 metres. Each individual holding his breath as he completed the short exposed distance, the fear of a hostile rifle shot or the burst of machine gun fire running through their minds.
As the troops all completed the exposed run, Hausser retrieved the roughly drawn map from inside his greatcoat, staring down at the paper in the gloom, his eyes gradually becoming accustomed to reading the paper in the moonlight. Looking around briefly, he recognised the area they were in from the adjutant’s description, the southern lower parts of the factory district.
Glancing back down at the makeshift map, he turned as the soldier next to him tried to look across the paper, his face rising to look over his shoulder. Udet blinked several times as Hausser looked at him, the temperature misting his vision. The young commander looked back around, then thrust the map into Udet’s chest, the young German grasping it with his spare gloved hand. ‘Keep close, we are nearly there,’ Hausser hissed.
Bloody Stalingrad Page 48