Bloody Stalingrad

by Andrew McGregor

  They walked down the slope slowly, seeing silhouettes of the variety of anti-aircraft guns around the field, their positions bordered with sandbags and snow walls. Several buildings skirted the field, some damaged, their roofs broken and contents exposed to the elements above. Hangars and other buildings lined the far edge of the runway, the lorries and half-tracks sat beside one, their crews hastily loading supplies to be transported to their individual units.

  As they began to approach the guarded entrance to the field ahead, two fighters swept into the sky, their distinctive engines echoing across the terrain as the transport lumbered along the runway behind them, the JU52 gathering speed to take off.

  The first sentry nodded to Hausser as he approached through the snow, stamping his feet against the cold, a scarf across his mouth with his collar tucked underneath his helmet. Another soldier approached him from the sandbagged position behind him, glancing across the great-coated soldiers walking towards them, saluting informally, ‘Unit?’

  Hausser stopped before him, saluting formally in return, ‘76th Infantry Division. We are here to join the trucks of the 60th Motorised Division…we were left behind at a village north of here to investigate an incident.’ He extended his hand, offering his folded orders.

  The sentry nodded knowingly, looking down at the paperwork as he unfolded the page, ‘I see, one of the drivers advised us you would arrive late.’ He indicated to the soldier next to him, ‘We were expecting you earlier.’ He raised his gloved hand, pointing, ‘Walk round the outskirts of the field…do not cross it. The hangar you want is on the other side of the runway…I think your trucks are loading there.’

  Hausser nodded, indicating to the soldiers behind him as he retrieved the paper before him, ‘Let’s go…’ He looked up at the darkening sky, ‘I think we will be staying here the night…heading back tomorrow morning.’

  The sentry nodded, ‘There will be some food available from one of the hangars…’ He grinned ironically beneath his scarf, ‘Don’t expect too much though…the rationing is in force for all apart from the loading crews…they get a little more!’

  They walked along the edge of the field slowly, passing several Messerschmitt 109 fighters lining the side of the runway, the ground crews placing blankets and material over the engines to protect against the night temperatures. Passing low single or two storey buildings on their left, several housing the ground units assigned to protecting Gumrak airfield.

  Reaching the end of the field, the main large hangar rising up above them, they could hear the deep moaning from within the darkened building, the large outer doors closed. Hundreds of wounded lined the insides of the large building, the broken bodies filling the area that had previously housed several large aircraft. The military doctors and orderlies were checking on their patients at regular intervals. To the wounded soldiers and personnel, this was encouraging attention, unaware, the men looking after them were continually assessing if they were fit enough to survive the flight out. Those unfortunate to be deemed ‘suspect’ or ‘unlikely’ to survive would be them moved to an adjoining building to await their fate…it was very rare that these wounded men were returned into the large building.

  Reaching the far side of the field, they stopped next to another smaller hangar at the corner of the field. The aromas of cooking coming from within. Hausser indicated for the soldiers with him to wait outside, beckoning Udet with him as he approached the small wooden side door.

  As Hausser knocked on the door, Udet grinned cheekily behind him, ‘Where is the doorman? Do you think they know we are coming?’

  Hausser grinned, his head turning, ‘It’s hardly the Hotel Adlon on Unter der Linden!’

  Udet grinned further, lowering his scarf from his mouth, ‘I suppose there will also be a limited menu…after all…it is wartime!’

  The door creaked open, a middle aged soldier glanced out, the aromas of cooking spilling through the opening. He looked them up and down, seeing the four soldiers behind them, his voice dismissive, ‘Just arrived?’

  Hausser nodded expectantly, ‘Yes…we wanted some rations…we have not eaten since this morning.’

  The soldier nodded in disinterest, his greying eyebrows visible with the light from within, his voice firm, ‘You must first report to the command post…one of the quartermasters there will determine whether you are entitled to food or not!’

  Hausser grimaced, his stomach now rumbling, ‘Where is that?’

  The soldier started to close the door, his attention drifting as he dismissed them from his thoughts, ‘Next building…they will also assign you quarters for the night if you are staying. Then report round the back.’ The door closed abruptly, the soldier oblivious of Hausser raising his hand to speak further.

  The young officer turned shrugging, Udet attempting to hide his smirk as the others grinned behind. Tatu leaned forward, smiling widely, ‘Not quite the reception we expected Herr Leutnant…perhaps we should try the ‘Inn’ next door?’

  Hausser shook his head, his face flushing, ‘Damn impertinence!’ He glared in jest at Tatu, ‘I hope their cooking is better than yours…too much spice!’

  Tatu’s eyes widened, Petru grinning widely next to him, the quartermaster’s voice shaking in shock, ‘But…you never said! Why did no one tell me?’

  Udet burst out laughing, pointing at the older moustached Romanian, ‘We thought all Romanian cooking was like that until Petru told us!’

  Petru pushed his countryman, his grin wide as Meino slapped his back, the Croatian’s deep voice reassuring him, ‘I think we will miss the spice tonight…I have a feeling the menu will be very poor!’

  Hausser shook his head, smiling as he strode before them through the snow, ‘Go and find the transport lorries for our journey back…I will see if I can get us some food.’ He headed towards the other side of the next building, indicating for Hase to join them. Glancing upwards, he could see the structure was an old administration block before the new German residents had arrived from across the steppe. Pushing the door open, he heard Udet and Hase stumble after him, both still grinning.

  Inside the small front office, a captain was at a table facing them, his eyes drifting upwards from the papers on the desktop before him. He smiled fleetingly, glancing down, before looking up at the two great-coated soldiers again, the cold air slipping into the room. He dropped the papers to the desk, his eyes narrowing as he rose from his seat, offering an informal salute.

  The young cold officer in front of him saluted back formally, offering him his papers, the written authorisation from Major Schenk, his voice weak, ‘Leutnant Hausser reporting Sir. I have five men with me from the 76th Infantry Division. We wanted some food Sir, before gathering our supplies and heading out with the trucks from the 60th Motorised Division tomorrow morning.’

  The captain nodded knowingly, looking them over again, ‘Very well Leutnant. Quarter your soldiers in the buildings further along this side of the runway. We can give you standard ration food only…some bread and soup if you are lucky.’ He hesitated, looking Hausser in the eye, ‘The supplies are mostly flown in from Tatsinskaya airfield over one hundred miles away…take care of them when under your charge…every box must be accounted for and reach the units that require it. Pilots have risked their lives to deliver the supplies.’

  Hausser nodded solemnly, the two soldiers’ expressions behind him becoming grim, ‘We understand Sir. We rescued one of the crashed pilots yesterday and he was brought here…is Tatsinskaya the main airfield supplying us?’

  The captain nodded, ‘It’s the nearest and largest airfield available to us outside the pocket. Almost all of our planes come from there and nearly all the supplies.’ He indicated to the door, ‘Find a place for you and your men to sleep tonight Leutnant…I will advise the kitchens that you can receive one meal each.’

  Hausser saluted, turning to leave as Hase opened the door behind him. As they stepped out into the chilled darkened night air, another JU52 swept along the runwa
y beside them, the drone of the engines heightening as the plane’s wheels lifted from the snow covered runway below, the motors straining against the heavy load of freezing and wounded soldiers packed together in the rear cargo compartment.

  Chapter Seventy One: Escort

  As the grey dawn broke over the encircled city of Stalingrad, the six Opel Blitz lorries of the 60th Motorised Division set off from Gumrak airfield on the winding iced track north.

  One hundred miles to the west, the engines of over fifty further Russian T34 tanks roared into life, the offensive continuing against the defensive positions of the beleaguered Italian Eighth Army.

  The artillery shells rained down once more, an intensive barrage enveloping the front lines as tank engines revved, the metal monsters climbing the slopes from the Don River and fanning out across the lines before the defensive trenches. Thousands of brown clad Russian infantry swarmed towards the desperate defenders as they fired back frantically.

  The Italians of the Cosseria 5th Infantry Division cowered in their trenches again, the exhaustion clear on their dirt covered faces as the shells exploded around their positions. Russian fighter bombers swept overhead, dropping their bombs and strafing any defensive strongpoints with their machine guns.

  The Russian tanks swept forward smashing into and overwhelming the defences. Overrunning the defensive positions of the Romanians on the right of the Italians and then the Hungarians on the left.

  The Soviet 1st Guards Army then swept forward against the centre of the line, determined to completely destroy their Mediterranean enemy, their massive assault repulsed by the battered Italian defensive units with the support from some scattered German units.

  With the Romanians and Hungarian units shattered and pushed aside, the Russian tanks and infantry swept past the defending Italians in their centre, the poorly equipped Mediterranean soldiers standing firm against overwhelming odds of 9:1. Within hours they were surrounded and cut off from the rear defensive forces.

  Behind the offensive, over one hundred more Russian Tanks gunned their engines, their commander, Major General Badanov, ordering his machines forward as his wristwatch approached noon. The unit had five days of rations and fuel. They drove in behind the initial offensive formations, speeding through the gap punched to one side of the Italian defences and swept onwards.

  Hausser nodded knowingly to Tatu, the Romanian quartermaster sniffing in disgust in the back of the Sdkfz 251 half-track as it jolted along the snow covered track. The young officer winked at Hase and Udet, Petru smiling broadly as he turned from the forward machine gun position, his head sheltered from the cold by the frontal armoured protective shield. Tatu cleared his throat, ‘So it’s back into the city for us then Herr Leutnant?’ He shook his head in despondency, ‘We were only away just over a day!’

  Hausser nodded, his face grim and dirty, ‘Well, those were our orders.’ He smiled reassuringly at the major sitting before him, recalling the Luftwaffe officer gathering them round earlier that morning. The officer had instructed him to select some of his men to escort a senior officer and despatches to Sixth Army Headquarters, the major landing at short notice into Gumrak. Having sent the military policeman, Hungarian and Meino back with the unit’s supplies and a message for Major Schenk, he had gathered the remainder of his squad for the journey into the frozen city.

  They had waited in the early morning cold, stamping their feet against the creeping frost as they watched the Messerschmitt Bf110 circling to land, the fighter bomber having flown in from the south of the pocket. Carrying a staff officer from Erich Von Manstein’s headquarters, the twin engine aircraft had touched down into the snow on Gumrak’s airfield before the morning lumbering transports had arrived from the west. The three escorting Focke-Wulf 190 fighters circling one final time above the airfield before coming into land behind their valuable charge.

  The Messerschmitt ME109 fighters based on either side of the airfield roared into life, the distinctive sound of their V12 engines droning across the field and echoing round the buildings. The snow swirled around their wheels as their propellers whirred, their pilots readying to meet the first transports heading for the city and to commence morning patrols. The recently landed Bf 110 taxied to the edge of the field, coming to a stop near the waiting transports, a kubelwagen jeep and armoured personnel carrier.

  The intelligence officer, in his late thirties, had pulled the collar of his grey leather overcoat up around his neck as he climbed gingerly from the rear of the two seated fighter bomber, smirking and shaking his head as the ground crew had offered to help him down from the wing. Jumping down and landing roughly, a hand rising to steady his officer’s cap as he grinned in embarrassment, the red stripes on his trousers seeming bright against the surrounding white expanse.

  The two ground crew had stumbled forward, grasping the officer’s free arm as he slipped in the snow and steadying him, a leather despatch case held tightly in the other. Straightening up, the intelligence officer nodded his appreciation to the three men, dusting his grey leather overcoat and straightening his cap as a Luftwaffe officer stepped forward. The pilot waved to a couple of ground crew from the cockpit, indicating they should prepare to unload some supply boxes, having filled every available space on the two seater aircraft just before departure.

  Saluting officially, the blue uniformed young Luftwaffe officer smiled welcomingly as he addressed Field Marshall Von Manstein’s chief intelligence officer, ‘Good Morning Major Eismann, I trust your flight was without mishap.’

  The major nodded, returning the salute, ‘Yes, thank you. It was interesting to view the Russian positions below us. They seem to be strengthening their positions and moving artillery units up.’ His expression darkened, ‘We have landed here as Stalingradski’s field is currently not cleared of snow. I will get my pilot to pick me up from there later…can we see he receives a warm drink and some hospitality please?’ His eyebrows rising in expectation of a response.

  The Luftwaffe officer smiled, indicating for them to walk towards the transports, ‘Of course, Major Eismann. Supplies are limited, but we will provide your pilots with some drinks until they are ready to fly onwards. Do they require refuelling?’

  The Major shook his head as they stepped through the snow, ‘No, we ensured they had adequate fuel for the return trip…all your stocks need to be preserved for your own needs.’ He slipped slightly in the deep snow, adjusting his footing and straightening up once more, ‘As I am at Gumrak, shall we briefly review the facilities here?’

  The officer nodded again willingly, ‘Yes…of course Major, I will walk you round the process we have set up here.’ He indicated to the young German officer who stood waiting by the personnel carrier to follow them as they began walking alongside one of the airfield administration blocks, now accommodating field crews. Hausser stiffened, saluting as they passed, his MP40 strap slung round his neck. The four soldiers behind him followed suit, then stepped after the officers, lifting their rifles onto their shoulders.

  The Luftwaffe officer indicating to the group of five soldiers following them, ‘We had little notice of your arrival Major…so I have arranged a small detachment of men to accompany you into the city.’

  The major glanced over his shoulder, smiling and nodding a greeting at the bedraggled great coated soldiers behind him, ‘Well it looks like I may have an interesting and informative chat on the journey, the state of their uniforms certainly indicates they have seen some action.’ He glanced back at Tatu smiling, observing his dirty uniform and helmet, ‘Romanian’s too, excellent. Von Manstein and I are very fond of our allies after the Crimean campaign…the Romanians fought with extreme courage when we took Sevastopol and drove the Russkies from the peninsula.’

  The Luftwaffe officer nodded, glancing round at the soldiers behind them then indicated to the two storey wide building ahead, ‘We use that block for meals and storing food supplies, this ensures there is no wastage and the rations are distributed effectively.’ />
  Major Eismann smiled briefly, ‘Good. I realise the rations are not enough for the soldiers, but let’s hope our offensive breaks through soon…that should resolve this problem.’ He indicated to the large hanger at the end, ‘And that?’

  The officer nodded, ‘We are using that building to shelter the wounded before flying out with the returning transports.’ He turned to look at the major, his eyes narrowing beneath his cap, ‘We have flown out over five thousand wounded so far, with the doctors working to ease the soldier’s conditions before the flight.’

  The Major smiled briefly, stopping to glance across the white covered field, a Messerschmitt fighter accelerating down the runway and slowly rising into the air, the snow billowing behind it. He sniffed, ‘What of the soldiers that are not fit to make the flight…what happens to them?’

  The officer nodded, ‘Then we move them to the back of the hangar or into one of the adjoining buildings. Once they recover enough, we will fly them out then…or return them to the military hospitals in the city. If they unfortunately pass away, we will ensure they are buried in the surrounding area. We have commandeered several fields to utilise as military cemeteries here.’

  The major glanced across the airfield, noting the buildings lining the other side, ‘Those buildings, what are they used for?’

  The Luftwaffe officer smiled, another fighter sweeping down the runway before them, the clouds of flaked snow swirling in its wake as it rose into the air, ‘We have garrisoned the defending troops there and the buildings can be utilised should the wounded situation increase. Some are used for storage purposes for goods that are not immediately required at the front.’ He glanced to the west, pointing as the small puffs of black smoke appeared in the distance, ‘It seems our first transports of the morning are nearly here Major, you will be able to watch the ground crews heading out to await unloading.’