Bloody Stalingrad
Page 61
Chapter Sixty Seven: The Crossroads
The group slowly descended the slope at an angle towards the crossroads, the sentries noticing them as they emerged over the brow of the hill, their darkened bodies against the deep white snow. As they slipped and struggled against the decline, two sentries walked to the edge of the low building to meet them, smirking as they approached.
Udet pushed forward and nodded a greeting to the nearest soldier, noticing the military policeman’s (Feldgendarm) gorget round his neck glinting in the morning light. The policeman glanced at the sledge behind him, his eyes widening as he saw their dishevelled uniforms, ‘Awaiting the transports of the 60th Motorised Division from the north?’
Udet nodded, ‘Yes Sir.’ His relief at completing pulling the sledge evident as he breathed heavily in the cold air.
Hausser approached behind him, stepping along the side of the sledge and smiling grimly at the pilot below. His eyes moved to the policemen, noticing there were only three on the crossroads, his eyes narrowing, ‘Where are the rest of your men?’
The military policeman stiffened and saluted, recognising the officer from the previous day, ‘Gone to the hamlet to the south, Herr Leutnant.’ He grimaced, ‘One of the trucks broke down last night and two boxes of supplies went missing…three of our policemen have gone to investigate.’
Hausser nodded, saluting in return, ‘Very well, when do we expect the lorries from the units to the north?’
The policeman glanced up the snow covered track, ‘They should not be too long Sir…they are a little overdue.’ He indicated to the three sledges in concern, ‘Are they severely wounded?’
Hausser nodded, ‘Yes, we need to get them to Gumrak and out on the next flights.’ He glanced past the soldier, gazing at the black dots in the distance, further transport aircraft coming into land. Three Messerschmitt fighters were now circling the airfield in the distance, covering the transport aircraft as they entered the pocket. He indicated to the planes in the distance, ‘Has the Russian air force made an appearance yet?’
The military policeman shook his head grimly, ‘Not as yet, Herr Leutnant. They will be awaiting the return flight before trying to intercept today I think. The transports came in early…they change the times every day, trying to catch the Russkies by surprise.’
Hausser smiled thoughtfully, glancing across the other two sentries as they stood by the hut stamping their feet and blowing into their gloves in vain attempts to ward off the cold.
They turned as an engine revving could be heard coming over the rise to the north. Slowly the top of a lorry became visible as its tyres slipped on the ice and snow of the slope. Emerging over the brow of the hill, the vehicle began to gradually descend the slope from right to left as the driver fought with the steering wheel. Five other lorries appeared behind the first, the second, third and following drivers struggling to keep the wheels in the same tracks as the vehicles before them.
The Opel Blitz lorries skidded and slewed across the ice, their progress slow in the deep snow. As they approached the checkpoint on the crossroads, their drivers dropped into neutral, allowing the heavy vehicles to gradually come to a halt, their engines idling against the cold.
The military policeman stepped carefully through the snow towards the first driver, nodding a greeting as his boots slipped across the ice, steadying himself by placing a gloved hand on the front wing of the lead lorry.
Hausser turned to the soldiers around him, ‘Move the wounded carefully from the sledges and load them onto the transports. We will leave the sledges here and collect them on our return.’
Udet nodded, lifting the straps from his shoulders wearily. Tatu and Meino bent down towards the pilot, adjusting the blankets around him and releasing the straps holding him to the sledge. Petru and the Hungarian released the two other wounded, the military policeman turning and shouting across to them, ‘There is only room in the last truck.’ He turned waving the grey trucks forward as the drivers engaged gear, the vehicle tyres slipping in the snow before gaining grip.
Pulling forward, the black crosses on the front wings of the lorries passing as they moved, they came to a halt as the rear vehicle drew abreast of the sledges. Hausser pushed his boots through the deep snow to step onto the track, grasping the tailgate catches as a wounded soldier from within the rear of the truck raised the tarpaulin flap above. His face bandaged heavily, he nodded down to the officer, raising his hand weakly in salute.
Hausser saluted formally back at the wounded man, his hands dropping to release the tailgate as he took in the soldiers worn black uniform, realising he was from a tank crew, ‘What unit are you from?’
The crewman winced as the bloodied bandages across his mouth moved painfully, ‘16th Panzer Division, Herr Leutnant…heavy fighting to the north. The Russkies attacked with T34s…the rest of my crew were killed.’
Hausser nodded grimly, looking up at the soldier as the tailgate dropped, ‘Did they take much ground?’
The Panzer crewman shook his head painfully, ‘That’s just it, Herr Leutnant. They retreated after our artillery opened fire…we did not understand why. We were hit as we defended the infantry positions, my Panzer III taking a shell below the turret ring.’ He shrugged, ‘I was lucky…the only one to get out before it blew up!’
Hausser shook his head in frustration, glancing round as Tatu lifted the pilot gently from his sledge, ‘Is there room for four more inside?’
The black dressed crewman nodded, ‘It will be tight…but body warmth will help against the cold.’
Hausser smiled weakly as Tatu approached, Meino assisting him, ‘Let’s hope you get a flight out today, I think things will perhaps get worse before they get better…’
The Panzer crewman nodded solemnly, shuffling painfully to the side to assist Tatu and Meino as they raised the moaning pilot and placed him into the back of the Opel Blitz lorry. Behind them Udet and Petru lifted the next wounded soldier, his face contorted in pain at the movement. Hase and the Hungarian soldier were helping the final injured soldier to his feet, the man leaning on both their shoulders as he limped forward, his thigh heavily bandaged.
As Udet fastened the tailgate of the Opel Blitz back into position, Hausser indicated for the men remaining in the snow to adopt positions on the back of the lorries, sitting atop the closed tailgates. As the engines revved, the drivers preparing to drive on, Hausser, Udet and Meino slipped up onto the back of the rear lorry with Petru, Tatu and Hase on the next vehicle. The Hungarian and German military policeman clambering onto the back of one of the middle transports.
The lorries slowly lumbered forward, the tyres slipping and spinning in the deep iced snow again until they found grip, the military policemen assisting by pushing the heavy vehicles along, the engines straining as they fought against the elements. The exposed soldiers on the rear of the vehicles pulled the scarves up over their mouths and ears as they felt the low temperature begin to bite, their helmets then pushed down as they hunched against the cold at the back of the transports.
As the checkpoint on the crossroads began to recede into the distance behind them, the soldiers glanced around the darkened rear compartments of the lorries. The wounded groaning or moaning pitifully each time the vehicles lurched or bumped into hidden ruts in the snow. Hausser’s and Udet’s expressions became darker as they saw the injuries in the back of the Opel Blitz…the soldier with the bloodied bandaged face, another without an arm, several with parts of their lower legs missing. The soldiers with bullet wounds lay in the front and middle lorries, their stomach, chest and limb wounds seeping blood as they winced in pain, the dirty bandages unable to stem the loss of vital bodily fluid.
Passing over the next rise, the small convoy began to descend another gradual decline, a small hamlet at the base of the slope. Amongst the twenty or so decrepit single storey buildings, smoke was rising from only one structure, the inhabitants having gathered together in one household for warmth against the bitter elements.
They tensed as a shot rang out, the lorry braking hard and coming to a stop as the wheels locked. Hausser jumped from the back of the Opel Blitz, lowering his MP40 from his shoulder. Udet and Meino followed and dropped into the snow next to the cumbersome vehicle, their weapons raised. Hausser struggled along the side of the lorry to the cab, his boots slipping on the snow, seeing Tatu, Petru and Hase adopt similar defensive positions near the back of their lorry.
The driver glanced down at him fearfully, the soldier in the passenger seat grasping his rifle tightly, ‘Shall we all dismount, Herr Leutnant?’
Hausser shook his head grimly, dismissing the idea, ‘No…we need to get the wounded to Gumrak. You go on ahead, I will take my squad and investigate. We don’t want any surprises later on the way back.’
The driver nodded as Hausser glanced round cautiously, his submachine gun raised at waist height, ‘We will keep going then, the airfield is about ten kilometres further…we will drive slowly.’
The officer swung back to look at him, ‘Keep going…get the wounded to Gumrak. We will make our way on foot.’ He glanced up at the sky, ‘It looks as though we will miss a heavy snowfall and perhaps be there by nightfall…wait for us there! I will leave you two men for support.’
The driver grimaced, engaging gear, ‘Very well, Herr Leutnant.’ The lorry jolted forward as the wheels gained traction on the ice, Hausser waving for the Hungarian and German military policeman to get back on the middle lorry.
He jumped as another shot rang out, echoing around the buildings and across the snow towards them, the source coming from the opposite end of the hamlet. Hausser indicated to Udet and Meino, the soldiers struggling to their feet and scrambling through the snow towards the first buildings on the left. Turning to duplicate his actions to Tatu and Petru, a brief smile crossed his lips as he realised they were already moving alongside the outer building, Hase behind them. He lunged forward, heading for Meino and Udet’s position, his boots crunching across the ice.
Chapter Sixty Eight: The Don Bend
The Italians cowered deep in their trenches and bunkers, the artillery barrage sweeping across their positions. Frozen earth and debris rained down, the high explosive shells shattering positions and discarded equipment as the large calibre detonations tore up the earth and snow either side of the front line. The shock waves swept across the area, the soldiers opening their mouths and protecting their ears from the immense blasts. All along the Italian Army’s front resounded from the incoming shells, the fire and dirt tossed into the air as the ground erupted around them.
Soldiers screamed as the deafening noise escalated, the shelling intensifying as the Russians frantically tried to dislodge the defenders, obliterating firing points and command posts as the artillery fell to earth. The whooshes and screeching of Katyusha rockets filled the air as the artillery slowly died down, the Russian commander determined to demoralise and destroy as many of the defences as possible.
As the German commanders to the rear desperately attempted to understand what was going on, their lines cut and radios jammed, they feared the worst. The realisation there were virtually no reserves to back up the Italian positions becoming apparent, nearly all available forces being utilised further south to reinforce the relief effort towards the trapped city.
In virtual panic, scattered German and their allied forces, weakened and shattered from the months of battle received broken and disrupted radio messages to prepare to face any potential Russian breakthrough behind the front lines. Their commanders’ exasperation becoming apparent to their men as the few shouted short-wave radio orders called for ‘Holding positions’ and ‘Defensive blocking actions’, rear echelon troops being instructed to keep their weapons to hand.
Russian fighter bombers swept from the clouds, black dots dropping from the underbellies of the aircraft, falling to earth as the planes swooped back upwards. Puffs of black smoke erupted across the sky as rear area anti-aircraft guns blazed at the attacking planes, the two man aircraft banking round to strafe the Italian positions. The German Luftwaffe were unable to respond, all available aircraft assigned to the supply and defence of the Stalingrad pocket and transport planes.
Sergeant Moretti raised his head, the artillery and high pitched whining of shells slowly subsiding. As he pushed his body upwards in the trench, the dirt and debris fell from his dishevelled uniform. He glanced around, his ears ringing, seeing plumes of smoke rising from the defensive positions, the screams and moaning of the wounded mixed with desperate cries for Medics. The snow was scorched black and grey from the barrage, the overwhelming stench of cordite and burnt earth filling his nostrils.
Before him, Donatello scrambled to his feet, his face covered in dust and dirt, his eyes wide with shock. Turning slowly, he stared at the sergeant, the soldiers rising around them in the eerie silence, broken only by the cries of the wounded. Several shook their heads, the thin blood trails from perforated eardrums slowly running down their dirt encrusted cheeks.
The sergeant glanced round desperately, knowing this was only the beginning. He strained his ears as the revving of diesel engines in the distance broke the silence, the Russian tanks churning across the frozen underwater bridges on the Don River. Staring out to the north, the puffs of smoke swept across the broken landscape, the clouds billowing around the mortar shells as they detonated. He reached down into the trench, picking up his submachine gun, his mouth opening as he began shouting to his men, the German officer assigned to their unit screaming similar commands further along the trench.
Shouting loudly, he struggled along the deep defensive line, stepping determinedly over bodies, broken equipment and debris, ‘Defensive fire! Drive them back again!’ The Italian soldiers throwing themselves against the sides of the trench, their rifles raised. Startled faces turned to glance at him as he progressed, the infantrymen checking their weapons as the diesel engines got louder in the distance.
The whine of tank tracks grew as the Italians stared into the smoke, their collective fear rising as they tried to determine the route of the metal monsters. Sergeant Moretti turned, his face grim as the sounds enveloped him, the diesel engines now revving as they climbed the frozen banks from the river. Swallowing hard, he shouted his last few words of encouragement, his own fear creeping through his body, ‘Make every shot count! Our artillery will be firing shortly…shoot at anything that moves!’ He smiled grimly as he reached Donatello, assuming a position next to the young soldier.
The smoke billowed in the distance, more mortar shells detonating as the clouds got thicker, the diesel engines whining behind the shroud. The defenders tensed as they heard the low voices spread across the line towards them, the next Russian infantry wave rising from the banks of the river, the collective shouts of ‘Hurrah’ sweeping across the terrain.
Then rifle shots cracked to either side, the shadows in the smoke beginning to transform into silhouettes. Donatello’s eyes widened as the angular shadows formed across the smoke, the T34 tanks’ engines revving as they gathered speed. Sweeping forward through the smoke, the young Italian gasped as he saw the sheer number of metal monsters before them, the flashing from the forward machine guns filling his vision. Infantry shadows emerged behind the tanks, the Russian soldiers beginning to run to keep up as the T34’s accelerated towards the trenches.
The rifles cracked along the line, the noise escalating as more and more defenders opened fire. Sergeant Moretti pulled the trigger on his submachine gun, the bullets spraying towards the advancing tanks as they tore up the ground before them. Shells whipped overhead as the Russian gunners fired, their tanks lurching across the cratered terrain. Donatello staring in awe as a shell exploded against one of
the advancing vehicles, dark smoke billowing from the impact as the track broke, the tank grinding to a halt.
The surviving anti-tank crews behind the Italian positions fired desperately at the advancing tanks. Sergeant Moretti grabbed Donatello’s shoulder, forcing the young Italian back down into the trench as the first T34 swept towards them. More Infantryman ducked down, forcing themselves into the floor of the trench as the tanks closed on the positions. Moretti shouted through the gunfire and engines, ‘Down! Let them pass, then take on the infantry!’
Crumps of artillery from the rear could just be heard through the squealing of tank tracks and machine gun fire, German heavy guns far to the rear firing onto their allies’ positions in a desperate attempt to stop the Russian attack.
As the light was extinguished, the terrifying whining of engines above, the earth and snow falling into the trenches as the tanks drove over them, Donatello screamed, his terror overcoming his emotions as the sounds became deafening. Moretti pushed his arm across his back, preventing the young man from rising to certain death as the metal tank tracks churned the frozen earth above them, their engine noise filling the enclosed space below.
The metal monsters passed over the trenches, the darkness descending, the ground shaking, dirt and debris falling onto the cowering defenders below. Moretti struggled upwards, spitting dirt from his mouth, knowing time was desperately short, ‘Defensive fire! Bring down their infantry!’ Grenades bounced across and into the trenches, the remaining machine guns beginning to chatter on either side of them. The incoming explosions shattered across the defences, the exposed Russian infantry’s front line decimated by the high explosive shells. Torn and broken bodies and body parts were thrown high into the air as the German shells fell to earth, tearing the advancing line to pieces in places.