The soldiers looked up at the building from their vehicle, the signs of war now smearing the outside walls, windows shattered from artillery and bullet pock marks having damaged the scorched crème exterior, dulling the pre-war spectacle. Now streaked with dark black and grey battle damage, the first floor balcony housed two machine gun positions, several shattered windows with sniper and sentry posts. Soldiers stood chatting at the ground floor entrance, gathered round smouldering oil drums for warmth. Distant gunfire and rifle cracks echoed across the square, the fighting near the river to the east having flared up again.
The wide Red square was lined with five and six storey blocks and derelict shops, the centre snow covered undulating parkland having numerous sandbagged positions and emplacements. Broken and bent lampposts seemed to fight against the elements, their black warped iron and steel frames standing in defiance against the ongoing war in the city surrounding them.
Across the park they could see a large crashed plane through the low frozen mist, the jagged broken edges of the aircraft rising upwards from the snow covered terrain. Two 8.8cm Flak guns sat in their sandbagged positions at the near end of the park, their grey Opel Blitz supply lorries parked nearby. A number of 2cm Flak 30 guns were placed in the square’s corners, also surrounded by snow tipped sandbags. In all the gun positions, crews sat despondently, their great coats pulled up around their ears.
Along the sides of the buildings, several kubelwagens, Sdkfz 221 and Sdkfz 251 armoured cars were parked. Two Panzer III and a Panzer IV tanks sat some distance opposite the department store, their black combat dressed crews chatting with other soldiers from a nearby unit.
Petru slowly opened the rear door of the carrier, stepping out as two soldiers trudged past, their expressions blank as they glanced at him. As they gathered on the road behind the vehicle, the major slipped out from the rear doors, rising between them and straightening his uniform, brushing the shoulders of his grey leather great coat.
He smiled warmly, looking across their faces, ‘Thank you gentlemen for an interesting escort into the city…not quite what I expected, but good to see that our soldiers still have some humour left in them.’
Leutnant Hausser stiffened, saluting, the other four men following suit. The major grinned, ‘returning the salute, ‘I think you may have a long walk back…you can wait for me if you like and I will drop you off at Stalingradski flight school.’ His eyes widened expectantly, staring at Hausser.
The young Leutnant nodded, ‘Yes Sir…that would be appreciated. We will await your return…’
The driver from the kubelwagen approached, blowing on his hands as he neared them, ‘Major Eismann, Sir…General Von Paulus is expecting you.’ He extended his arm towards the department store across the snow covered street, ‘Would you like to come with me please Sir?’
The major nodded, clutching his despatch case tightly, ‘Yes of course.’ He nodded to Hausser, ‘Until later then, gentlemen…’ He turned and strode briskly across the snow towards the store entrance, stopping after five metres and turning, ‘See if you can get some food or a hot drink, use my name as authority…there must be a mess kitchen around here somewhere.’ He raised his hand and spun round, the sentries at the entrance stiffening as he crossed the wide street following the driver.
The young commander watched the salutes as the major entered the darkened entrance, then turned slowly to look at the four men before him, ‘We will wait here…have a walk around and see if we can get anything to eat or drink…but stay close to the carrier, we don’t know when he will return.’ The four men nodded, glancing round across the square. Hausser continued, Hase…you stay with me and Petru, Udet and Tatu have a look down the other side of the square. I will tell the driver what we are doing.’
Hausser crouched to step back inside the carrier, the driver now stretched out on one of the inside benches, his helmet over his face. Tatu indicated to Udet, ‘We will take the right side…’ He pointed towards the three tanks at the opposite corner, ‘Start there and walk down a bit…see if we can scrounge some food, there must be a mess kitchen around here as the major said.’ He grinned at the young Berliner as they walked away, ‘Just keep sniffing the air…’
Petru trudged alongside the high buildings on the left side of the square, wary of tripping or stumbling against some of the broken debris that had fallen from the stories above. Behind him, Hausser and Hase walked whispering to each other. Several sullen soldiers stood in doorways as they passed, stamping their boots against the cold or blowing into their hands as they chatted. His stomach was twisting with hunger, their small meal of watery soup and a thin slice of bread that morning now seeming a distant memory.
Petru tried to imagine the scenes prior to the war, the couples walking hand in hand across the wide square, people sitting reading and having picnics as children played nearby. Pedestrians staring into the many colourful shop windows as they strolled along the wide pavements, a few cars passing on a brightly sunlit afternoon. The square would have been one of the city’s focal points, the residents travelling from the outskirts to eat in the many cafes and restaurants, to buy gifts for friends and loved ones or to shop for daily essentials.
A loud thump from behind caused him to spin round, surprised. A cloud of smoke rose from the barrel of one of the 8.8cm guns, the artillery piece firing towards the river. He watched as the crew of the other piece stood back, their hands over their ears as the officer dropped his hand, the gunner pulling back and the artillery piece shuddering as it fired into the distance. A smoke plume rose into the dull sky, the crews moving hastily forward to reload.
Hausser and Hase drew alongside the Romanian, glancing back towards the guns. The young officer grimaced, ‘It seems as though something is going on…perhaps a Russian attack…’ They were startled as several soldiers walked from a doorway some thirty metres ahead, their rifles strung over their shoulders. Purposefully striding towards them, a leutnant jogged to catch up on the outside, glancing across the park as he pulled his collar up against the cold, an MP40 in his left hand.
Seeing Hausser, the leutnant jogged ahead, slowing as he approached them. His hand rising in salute as his gaze fixed on the flash of a black cross at the other officer’s neck, ‘How many men do you have?’
Hausser returned the salute, indicating to Hase and Petru, ‘Two here and two on the other side of the square…we are looking for something to eat.’
The leutnant grinned, raising the strap of his weapon onto his great coated shoulder, ‘So are we all! Which unit are you from?’
Hausser smiled weakly, ‘76th Infantry Division…you?’
The officer glanced at Hase and Petru, ‘79th Infantry Division…you are a long way from your unit.’
Leutnant Hausser nodded, ‘We were escorting a high ranking officer from Gumrak…
The leutnant sighed, a plume of condensed air escaping through his scarf, ‘It seems your luck may not be good today…’ His eyes narrowed, expression darkening, ‘The Russkies have broken through near the river, cutting off some of our troops and taking a couple of buildings next to the Carica. They are now well placed on one of the streets to shoot at our troops and attack other positions. We are mustering soldiers to drive them back…to retake the buildings...’ Wiping his gloved hand across his scarf, ‘…I have been ordered to gather some men for the attack.’ He glanced round, the soldiers behind him having come to a halt. Staring into Hausser’s eyes, he nodded, ‘We need officers to lead the assault Herr Leutnant…I think you will have to come with us.’
Tatu and Udet eased their way through the group of soldiers of several differing units, searching for Hausser and the others. The group were assembled in front of a six storey building on the western edge of the square, sentries posted at the door with some movement inside.
Tatu scoured the men for signs of the others, his uneasiness beginning to rise. Finally seeing them at the front of the crowd, they stepped towards the young officer. Tatu tugged at Hausser’s ar
m, discretely placing a slice of bread into his hand, his voice a whisper near the leutnant’s ear, ‘We found the mess kitchen just before they told us to come here…there is a slice each.’
Hausser grinned beneath his scarf, ‘You are such a rogue…how did you get the food?’
Tatu shrugged, an innocent expression forming on his tired face, ‘I just asked nicely…the German quartermaster was reluctant at first until I told him what I used to do…then he became more helpful!’
The young officer smiled, seeing Udet pass the bread to Hase and Petru, ‘Good, well done. The secret society of quartermasters seems to have served us well once more!’ He slapped Tatu’s shoulder, noting the Romanian look away in embarrassment.
The middle aged general walked out of the building in front of them, his demeanour grave as he looked at the assembled dishevelled troops. His leather grey greatcoat was furnished with a thick fur collar for protection against the cold, earmuffs settled on either side of his head below his officer’s cap. The soldiers stared incredulously at his almost immaculate uniform, his black boots almost gleaming with polish, his figure reasonably well fed.
Coughing, he cleared his throat, raising his voice in the crisp air, ‘The Russians have attacked this morning near the Carica waterway, taking a couple of buildings. This has cut off some of our troops and made our position vulnerable if they decide to attack further.’ He glanced around the grim infantrymen, realising some were from supply units, ‘We will counter-attack using tanks and armoured cars to drive them out. This group and a unit from the 100th Jager Division are forming up for the counterattack in one hour.’
He indicated to the officers in the front row, two soldiers walking out from the building behind him with heavy ammunition cases, ‘Divide the men up between you and collect additional ammunition for all. There will be some additional food…two slices of bread for each man before you progress. March to the assembly point…’ He raised his hand to point behind them, several looking round as a Panzer IV tank crew responded to his gesture, revving the engine to warm it, a plume of exhaust rising behind. The tank tracks clattered across the snowed cobblestones as the Panzer swept forward, turning to face the east in readiness for the journey to the assembly point.
The general continued, ‘Follow our panzer crew, they will lead you to the attack points. There will be a limited artillery barrage in one hour from now aimed at the Russian positions behind the buildings, to reduce their reinforcements and discourage the enemy from bringing up more troops. You attack as soon as the barrage ends.’ He stepped forward uneasily, ‘It is important we drive them back or they may spread out and even get into the sewers…that will cost us dear.’
The general saluted stiffly, observing the return gestures and turning smartly on his heels to stride back into the gloomy building behind.
Chapter Seventy Four: Moving Up
Leutnant Hausser strode alongside the group of thirty men, the soldiers marching three abreast, their boots synchronised as they tramped forward, the dull clumps echoing off the broken walls and buildings on either side of the street. Two similar groups marched before them, the grey short barrelled Panzer IV lumbering slowly forward in the distance, the tracks squealing as the black uniformed commander stared into the distance above his turret.
The darkened street was narrow, high four storey masonry buildings on either side, the apartment blocks near the narrow river leading to the Volga housing some of the administrative and office staff of the central district. Rubble and shattered cement lined the sides of the single lane thoroughfare, the debris from shelling that had hit the damaged roofs and upper stories. Broken glass lay scattered across the iced cobblestones and snow, glinting in the dim light.
The differing uniforms of the soldiers beneath their ragged and worn greatcoats indicated a number of shattered units or reserve soldiers, their weapons a mixture of rifles and submachine guns slung over their shoulders. The officers had been assigned approximately thirty men each, nearly every soldier issued with one hand grenade and a couple of clips of ammunition in addition to what they already possessed.
A freezing breeze swirled in the narrow street, the soldiers’ collars raised in vain attempts to protect from the chill. Dust and flakes billowed around them as they marched forward, their condensed exhaled breath swirling with the dust. Broken glass cracked beneath their boots nearing the end of the thoroughfare, the afternoon light brighter ahead as they approached the main road.
Marching for almost thirty minutes, Hausser was aware that they must be approaching the area to commence the assault. Glancing to the side, he nodded to Tatu and Udet, the two men still chewing the last of the bread they had been issued. Behind them, Petru and Hase marched in silence, their food greedily consumed as they left the main square.
The Panzer IV jolted to a halt, the commander in the turret clambering out slowly and dropping to the side of the tank onto the snow. The soldiers behind all stopped abruptly, slamming their boots onto the ice, the cracks resounding around them.
The tanker approached the corner, the Panzer engine burbling as he checked the street before them before hurriedly returning to the back of the tank and indicating for the lead officer to come to him. Hausser strained his eyes inquisitively through the gloom and billowing dust, the two officers talking briefly before the tanker raised himself up over the back of the Panzer and slipped back into the turret, the hatch closing behind him with a dull clunk.
The officer turned, his scratched helmet catching the light as he beckoned the other commanders forward. Hausser jogged towards him, hearing the boots of the man behind him as he ran, the officer in front walking swiftly. As they reached the captain, he shifted his MP40 to his front, the strap round his neck, condensed air escaping from his mouth as he exhaled.
The sporadic gunfire ahead was getting much louder, the front line now only some two hundred metres away beyond the buildings. The captain in his late thirties nodded as they came to a halt before him, a deep healed scar across his cheek above his scarf. He leant on his submachine gun, his eyes tired, ‘We are near the launch point and will await here for the artillery so the Russkies are unaware of the forthcoming attack.’ He shifted his stance, an old injury irritating him, ‘We will move from here and out to the right, about thirty metres away there is a wide street leading towards the river.’ He sighed, adjusting the dirty scarf across his mouth, ‘The tanks and armoured car will move up first…we fall in behind them. The Russkies have machine guns and are well equipped, so tell your men to keep their heads down.’
A sniper rifle cracked above them, Hausser wincing, ‘Is there no way other than down the street, Herr Hauptmann?’
The captain shook his head, ‘It will take too much time.’ He glanced down, then looked up into their eyes, ‘The large apartment house at the end on the other side of the square is still held by our soldiers, the ones either side and in front by the enemy. If they keep them they will be able to fire the length of the street, reducing our operational ability and forcing us to deploy additional troops…troops we don’t have to spare…our soldiers in the apartment house will never escape. If we drive them out, the small park beyond will become a killing zone for their soldiers…it borders the last buildings on the river bank.’ He shook his head, ‘If they keep it, they will get into the sewers in this area and wreak havoc behind our lines…our soldiers are guarding the sewers nearer the river, so they too will be cut off.’
The officer next to Hausser grimaced, his breath short, ‘Which buildings do we target?’
The captain smiled beneath his scarf, ‘You take the ones on the right with the Jagers.’ He indicated to Hausser and the other officer, ‘You two take the ones on the left…they back onto the Carica waterway…that’s how we think the Russkies got in!’ He hesitated, ‘We think they used the sewer section and basements beneath the road to get between the buildings, so clearing that is important. They may also bring up additional troops along the iced waterway, so make sure you defend
against that!’
The officers nodded grimly, beginning to become lost in their own individual thoughts and concerns. Another rifle crack from above, one officer looked up towards the darkened buildings, his eyes blinking against the cold air. The captain coughing as he grinned, realising he had forgotten to tell them something, ‘Oh yes…I will head for the building held by our men, they will be weakened now…we need to stop the Russkies overwhelming them if we want to drive them out!’ He nodded in satisfaction, ‘We all understand?’
Hausser drew his soldiers around him, realising time was short, ‘We advance in a couple of minutes…stay behind the armoured vehicles and keep your heads down! We attack the buildings on the left before the square. Once inside, we drive the Russians out then head into the next building.’ He indicated to Tatu and tall broad corporal, ‘These are your squad leaders…follow their instructions.’
The soldiers nodded grimly, clouds of exhaled air rising between them, their fear of the battle to come obvious on their faces. Gunfire echoed in the distance as Tatu glanced round, his expression of frustration obvious, ‘We do not hesitate, the enemy will not…shoot to kill! Do not be afraid of these Russians…they have killed many of your and my countrymen and are overconfident…this is where we take revenge. We show them we can still fight!’
The dull thumps from further west announced the single salvo of artillery heading for just beyond the square, the Panzer engine revving as the tank commander appeared briefly, waving the soldier forward, the hatch closing as he slipped back inside the turret. The tank tracks squealed, then clattered forward, the Panzer IV emerging into the brighter street and turning on its tracks to the right.
Explosions to the east spurred them forward, the soldiers marching towards the brighter light, their boots crunching on the broken glass and plaster fragments lying on the iced cobblestones. Hausser watched as the two groups before them trudged forward, swinging right into the light, the dull sunlight catching against their slender figures as they increased their pace. Snowflakes drifted to earth, the boots resounding across the broken walls as Hausser’s group reached the corner.
Bloody Stalingrad Page 65