Hausser’s eyes widened as he saw Petru checking the two dented and scratched pots before him, the steam from the cooking circulating the enticing aromas of the food through the building.
Petru turned, nodding to him, ‘There was not much fuel left for the stoves, but I think we should have quite a feast.’ He grinned at the young commander, pointing to a wooden box at the side of the small kitchen, ‘I didn’t touch that box, not sure if I should have?’ His eyebrows rose.
Hausser glanced across the dirty kitchen, the small space used for feeding the NKVD and their prisoners. Seeing the smudged printing on top of the nearby box, ‘Nur fur Deutsche Soldaten’ (only for German soldiers), he shook his head sighing in irritation, ‘It doesn’t matter…so what have you made?’
Petru stirred one of the cooking pots with his bayonet, ‘There were several tins of American food, so I have used some of them. American beef and some sausages from tins, with some rice I found. It’s not much, but we should be able to feed the men and the major.
Hausser nodded impressed, ‘Good work, Petru…let’s hope the major likes it.’ He turned as he heard voices downstairs, the familiar accent of the major echoing around the entrance hall. He stopped fleetingly at the door, ‘It seems our guest has arrived…I will send the men in in two’s to pick up their food. Is it ready?’
Petru shook his head, ‘Maybe another ten minutes, I will get Meino to bring the food along to your office, Hausser.’ He grinned sheepishly, ‘He is your waiter for the evening.’
Hausser smiled warmly, the thoughts of a good meal enlightening him, ‘Good, thank you.’ He slipped from the room making his way to the stairs.
As he descended the central staircase, he smiled as he saw the major with his adjutant, Hauptmann Ebner raising his hand in greeting. The major was wearing an infantry overcoat, probably to confuse any snipers and was talking to the sentries in front of the door.
The major turned as Hausser stepped onto the ground floor, his face broadening into a smile, ‘Ah, Leutnant Hausser, good to see you. Are we all ready for our little meal? It certainly smells good.’
Hausser nodded, smiling wearily, ‘Yes major. Would you like to come up to the office?’
The major grinned, ‘Yes, that would be good. I need to be near the telephone, there is news coming in from across the city tonight.’
Hausser’s eyes widened, ‘Good news?’
The major looked at him, his smile faltering slightly, ‘Some good, some bad…perhaps it will get better as the evening progresses.’ He walked towards Hausser, the men beginning to climb the stairs together, the major glancing at him as he unbuttoned his greatcoat, ‘Did you get much information from our prisoner?’
Hausser shook his head, ‘He was from a penal unit, losing his rank a couple of weeks ago. He only seemed to know we were surrounded and that they were keen to keep harassing the line, preventing us from deploying more troops out onto the steppe.’
The major sighed, ‘Yes, well they seem to be doing that a lot.’ They turned the corner in the staircase, climbing the last few steps to the first floor, ‘Regrettable business having to shoot him, but there is just no food…I trust you managed the job?’
Hausser nodded solemnly, ‘Yes sir, his body is outside in the square with the others.’
The major smiled slightly, ‘Good, one less Russian to worry about then.’ He turned at the top of the stairs walking into the office and sitting himself down on the other side of the desk, ‘So, tell me about the position here gentlemen.’ He glanced between Hauptmann Ebner and Hausser.
The captain spoke first, ‘We did not know about the tunnel, but the lines of fire from the building are good and we should be able to hold out for some time. Well, at least until the relief effort arrives.’
The major nodded, indicating for his adjutant to deposit a bottle of Vodka on the table before him, next to the flickering candle, ‘I have brought a couple of bottles for you and your men to have a last drink in the city with us.’ He glanced up to the adjutant, ‘Please give the other two bottles to the men, it will keep their spirits up.’
He leant forward, indicating for the two officers on the other side of the desk to have a seat. Looking at Hausser, he continued, ‘So, some troops will arrive in the next few hours, enough to relieve you and your men. Unfortunately, there are limited soldiers available, so I will have to keep the men I gave you to bolster our numbers.’
Hausser nodded slowly, ‘Yes sir.’
The major’s eyebrows rose, his lips becoming pursed, ‘So how many men will you be taking out to join Major Schenk?’
Hausser thought for a second, his eyes saddening, ‘I think it is about nine, major. They are all that remains of the soldiers from the river bend.
The major nodded, pulling the cork form the vodka bottle and pouring three measures into the glasses that the captain had placed before him, ‘I see, not many.’ He leaned back, swigging from one of the glasses thoughtfully, ‘Your unit has suffered a lot of casualties, Leutnant. I am sorry for your loss.’ He stared at the young commander thoughtfully.
Hausser nodded grimly, ‘Thank you sir, it has been hard. I just hope we have helped you in some way, then their loss will not be completely in vain.’
The major smiled thoughtfully, then sipped from his drink indicating for the two men to do the same, ‘Yes you have. We have had quite an adventure for your short time here.’ He reached inside his greatcoat pocket, retrieving some cigarettes and dropping them onto the table, ‘Please help yourselves gentlemen.’
Meino appeared at the door behind them, carrying three steaming mess tins, ‘Am I alright to enter?’
The major indicated to him to proceed, his face lightening, ‘Of course, please come in. Have we completed the cooking?’ He grinned across at Hauptmann Ebner, ‘The service here is impeccable…a table immediately and no waiting at all!’
The captain grinned as an aluminium mess tin was placed in front of the major, then himself, ‘Not too sure about the waiter’s uniform.’ He grinned. Meino placed the last mess tin before Hausser and handing three spoons out, winking at the young commander.
The major lifted his spoon to his lips, blowing on the food before slipping it into his mouth, his eyes widening in delight, ‘This is very good. Tell me, is this chef coming with you out to the steppe?’
Hausser nodded, smiling, ‘Yes sir, he is one of my best men.’
The major smiled back, ‘Well our loss, Major Schenk’s gain I think. Let us hope he safely survives this mess.’
The officers ate as the food was passed around the defending soldiers in the NKVD Headquarters. Upon completion of the small meal, and scraping their mess tins, the major sat back, raising his boots onto the table edge. He looked across at Hausser, the man sipping from his drink, ‘I will be sorry to lose you Leutnant, you and your men have proved to be very useful here.’
Hausser smiled weakly, ‘Thank you, sir.’
The major swigged from his drink, lighting a cigarette, and staring at the men reflectively, ‘The relief effort has apparently experienced some problems, advancing only a small distance further. It seems the Russians are throwing more men in front of them in attempts to stop General Hoth and his tanks.’ He shrugged as he saw the two men’s eyes fall, ‘I am still confident they will get here though, we will have to destroy these Russian forces sooner or later, and perhaps Hoth will do it for us?’
He leant forward stretching his glass out to the captain, the man rising to top it up. He looked up as a soldier approached the doorway limping, ‘Ah, my sniper, how did you get on?’
The Austrian winced as he leant against the doorframe, ‘The Russian sniper will not bother you again. He is dead sir.’
Major Slusser’s eyes sparkled, a broad smile spreading across his face, ‘Excellent! Well done young man.’ He indicated to his leg, the smile falling from his face, ‘Are you alright?’
The Austrian nodded grimly, ‘Yes sir, flesh wound I think.’ Seeing the two junior offi
cers before him staring at him and forcing a smile, ‘That sniper is the target tomorrow…’
Hausser rose from his seat, ‘I have a medic, Adel. He can take a look at your leg if you like.’ Seeing Meino in the corridor outside, he gestured to the Croatian, ‘Meino, can you take this man to Adel please.’
Meino nodded, approaching the soldier in the doorway, grasping the man’s arm, ‘Let’s get you some food too.’ He grimaced as he grasped the sniper’s arm, ‘You seem very cold.’
The young Austrian smiled weakly, leaning on Meino next to him, ‘Thanks, that would be welcome, I am very hungry!’
The major grinned, turning his attention back to Hausser, ‘Right, Leutnant, let’s discuss your route back to Major Schenk shall we?’
Chapter Fifty Nine: The Freezing Journey
Tatu and Petru moved slowly through the deserted streets, the darkness causing them to progress cautiously. Behind them, the seven soldiers moved forward, their greatcoat collars pushed up under their helmets. Having been moving for over one hour in the cold, the troops were beginning to regret their new posting out onto the Russian steppe.
The heavy snow clouds were obscuring the stars and moon, turning their journey through the streets to the west of the factory district into virtually complete darkness. The few flickering candles and lights from lanterns in the buildings nearby casting shadows across the pavements and roads as they progressed.
Udet kept close behind Tatu and Petru, his keenness to reach the end of the bitter and miserable journey spurring him forward. The sounds of sporadic shellfire and occasional shot in the darkness slowly became more distant behind them as they progressed through the dark streets towards the edge of the city.
Hase and Hausser moved behind the others, checking the streets to either side for signs of life. Occasionally they would see lone sentries or vehicles parked in the side streets, the cold beginning to filter through their uniforms as they progressed. With the heavy cloud cover, the temperature was not as low as expected, the soldiers having covered their faces and hands before departing the NKVD Headquarters.
Occasionally, the moon would break through small openings in the clouds, providing some additional light. Alessio moved in the middle of the group with Meino, accompanied by one Romanian soldier and a German military policeman, the only remaining survivors from the storage towers on the southern side of the city.
As the soldiers progressed, their exhaled breath condensing in the coldest hour of the night, many considered their future. The concerns about the relief effort and their future survival, the loss of comrades and countrymen at the forefront of their thoughts, suppressing their moods.
As the hours passed, and the dawn slowly filtered across the sky, the small group began to reach the outskirts of the city. The smaller damaged and destroyed dwellings of factory workers and labourers becoming more miserable and limited in their appearance as they progressed.
As the buildings became more spaced out, becoming small hamlets and groupings of single storey dwellings, they realised they were beginning to leave the city behind them. The iced snow becoming thicker as the less travelled track they ventured along heading out from the city outskirts. After a further hour, there were very few buildings, the snow stretching out for as far as the eye could see on either side, the white expanse occasionally broken by a small farm or grouping of buildings in the distance.
By mid-morning, the soldiers were becoming weary, the previous night’s vodka and lack of sleep beginning to sap their motivation…each step was forced through iced snow, the men dragging their feet along the track. The route was used infrequently, the jeeps and lorries transporting supplies using roads to and from the two airfields to the south.
To the left…south, they began to see aircraft flying low in the distance, the planes gathered in small groups. Hausser had explained that these were JU52 transport aircraft, coming into land at Gumrak airfield, the planes full of supplies and ammunition for the troops in the city. Smaller planes flew amongst them, the fighter escorts desperately trying to protect the transports from the roaming soviet fighters patrolling the skies in the land between the Sixth Army and the main German front line, over one hundred miles to the west.
As the soldiers trudged onwards, they watched the planes to their left lower in the sky as they slowly came into land. Once all the planes had landed, there would be a lull for some time whilst the aircraft unloaded their supplies, the skies then clear apart from the patrolling fighters. Then some of the critically wounded from the pocket would be loaded onto the transports, before the planes lumbered down the runway, rising slowly into the air in the distance as they carried their heavy loads. Beginning their perilous flight back to the safety of airfields nearly one hundred and fifty miles to the west, a three hundred miles round journey.
Unbeknown to the watching soldiers four kilometres to the north, the return flight was just as dangerous as the incoming journey. German fighters from the pocket would escort the lumbering JU52 transports out beyond the front lines and above the Russian positions. The slow transport aircraft would attempt to gain as much height as possible, without causing their precious, seriously wounded cargo to freeze to death. This altitude would offer them some protection from the roaming Russian fighters and Russian anti-aircraft fire from the ground, the Red army moving more and more guns into the area to furnish the corridor the planes flew along. The fighters of the Luftwaffe from outside the pocket would attempt to intercept the Russian fighters and escort the returning aircraft back to safety. Usually the German fighter pilots would try and escort planes out, then meet the previous group’s returning aircraft in one flight, thus conserving fuel.
Reaching a small rise in the track as it meandered over a hilltop, the soldiers saw a crossroads in the depression before them, some three hundred metres away. Several soldiers stood at the intersection, the sentries occupying a small hut and sandbagged defences surrounding the crossroads.
As the soldiers began to descend the slope, a Kubelwagen jeep skidded into view on the left, following the more travelled track running south to north, the jeep carrying orders for a unit on the northern outskirts of the pocket. Behind it, a couple of Opel Blitz lorries moved into view from behind another white slope, their engines revving on the incline as they carried the supplies received from the airfield in the south to the units in the north. The journey to Gumrak having deposited the critically wounded for assessment by the doctors at the airfield, a crude triage system deciding whether a wounded man gained a place on a departing flight or not. Those unfortunate soldiers deemed unfit to travel, or likely to die in the air were moved into the hangars of the airfield to await their personal fates.
Hausser moved forward to join Tatu as they approached the checkpoint, seeing a military policeman look in their direction, nudging one of his colleagues to assist him. As they approached the two soldiers, the military policeman, a man in his forties, leaned forward, placing his hands on the sandbagged wall before him.
Hausser saluted, wary the soldier would not immediately distinguish his rank from the greatcoat he was wearing. The military policeman raised his right hand in a relaxed fashion, glancing sideways as the first lorry approached the checkpoint. The military policeman’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the bedraggled soldiers before him, his voice official, ‘Rank and unit? Have you your papers soldier?’
Hausser grinned in irony at the preposterous situation, the checkpoint in the middle of nowhere and the man’s attitude, ‘Leutnant Hausser, 76th Infantry Division…these are the remains of my men.’ He indicated behind him, reaching inside his greatcoat, retrieving the orders Major Slusser had issued to him.
The man looked down at the paper, grimly, ‘You must understand, Herr Leutnant…there are many men trying to escape the city…it is our job to ensure they go back to the front. Where have you and your men been?’
Hausser raised the strap of his MP40 back onto his shoulder, the leather having slipped as he extended his arm towards t
he soldier. He smiled faintly, ‘We were supporting the 389th Infantry Division in the factory district.’ He glanced round despondently at the eight bedraggled men stood waiting behind him, ‘There were a few more of us then.’
The man extended his hand, giving Hausser back his orders, his tone nonchalant, ‘The army is in a difficult situation, Herr Leutnant. Sacrifices will ensure our overall victory.’
Hausser’s eyes narrowed, his tiredness and frustration at the man rising with his voice, ‘I think we have perhaps sacrificed quite enough to be questioned by a chain dog! Now let us past and I expect a proper salute this time!’
The military policeman’s eyes widened in surprise, his boots clicking together as he stiffened, the man next to him duplicating the act, his voice becoming more subordinate, ‘M-my apologies, Herr Leutnant, I did not mean to speak disrespectfully. Obviously…’ He pointed to the state of the soldiers before him and their uniforms, ‘Obviously your men have been through a great deal…er, I did not mean to question that in any way.’ He raised his right hand mechanically to his helmet in salute.
Hausser saluted him in return, his voice tired, ‘I understand you have your job to do soldier, but a little compassion to the men that are from the front lines may not go amiss.’ He saw the military policeman nervously swallow, ‘Now, please tell me where we are.’
The policeman nodded uniformly, ‘Yes, Herr Leutnant.’ He stretched his hand out to Hausser’s right, ‘To the north is the 60th Motorised Infantry Division, they are held in reserve to support the units on the front line.’ He paused as Hausser nodded, the Leutnant’s exhaled breath drifting past his face, ‘To the south Gumrak airfield and if you continue west following this track, you should reach the 76th Infantry Division by nightfall.’ His colleague nodded in agreement next to him, his eyes nervously darting across the men in front of him.
Hausser sighed raising his hand, ‘Thank you…just relax gentlemen.’ He watched as the second lorry skidded on the iced snow behind the military policemen, the other soldiers at the checkpoint moving forward in anticipation that the vehicle may need a push. The lorry jolted forward in the snow, its wheels gaining grip, the vehicle continuing behind the small wooden dwelling house on the crossroads. Hausser smiled warmly at the policemen, trying to calm their nerves, ‘Good, I see the road is clear now…may we continue?’
Bloody Stalingrad Page 54