Bloody Stalingrad

by Andrew McGregor

  The Sixth Army asked for permission to surrender from the German High Command…this was refused. Even having to fly the request out as all the radio channels were jammed by the Russians, the last relay station having been captured preventing communication by tele printer. The army was commanded to continue holding and fighting on the banks of the frozen Volga River. Hitler was now concerned that the 1.5 million Russian soldiers with tanks, artillery and planes surrounding the city would be turned against the southern part of the Eastern Front if Stalingrad surrendered. A defensive front that was still being stabilised after the Russian offensives.

  The Red Army waited patiently all day on the 8th of January for the Sixth Army to surrender. No one came, no communication was attempted or made. On the 9th of January, the Russians sat back and considered what to do next…their patience, and time…had run out.

  Chapter Eighty Eight: January the 10th, 1943

  Hausser rubbed his unshaven face, the bristles from his half beard irritating his skin. He felt the line of the bone of his jaw, the weight loss drawing the skin tighter across his drawn and tired features. Wearily, he leant against an empty supply crate, the cold light of the freezing morning filtering in through the tarpaulin flap across the bunker entrance.

  Oberleutnant Baumann stepped forward, the dark lines under his eyes portraying his exhaustion. Stretching out his hand, he offered a cigarette, Hausser accepting and nodding slowly. Baumann rubbed the back of his neck, his muscles aching as he spoke slowly, ‘Well we are in a mess now. The major will be back shortly for the early morning briefing…he has gone to check on the front trenches and the forward observation post.’

  Hausser nodded, lighting the cigarette and blowing smoke across the roof of the bunker, ‘What have the Russians got in store for us do you think?’

  Baumann shrugged wearily, lighting his own cigarette, ‘Leave us to starve?’ He sighed, exhaling smoke, ‘Their damn field kitchens and the aroma of food sweeping across our lines is destroying our troops mentally!’ He waved his hand in frustration, the cigarette between two fingers as he pointed at his friend, his anger rising, ‘Perhaps they will shell us into submission? They are totally in control now!’

  He sighed again, turning his head away, ‘The Luftwaffe are flying further and further to deliver supplies…god bless their pilots…never complaining, always ready to fly once more…to take the wounded out.’ He smiled weakly, ‘Some have even tried to fly at night…they are so desperate to help us…’ Tears of emotion filled his eyes, ‘Hausser, there are so many innocent soldiers here…good men who just signed up or were conscripted…what will become of them?’

  Hausser shook his head, ‘Time is now against us…with every day the food seems to get less…are there no more supplies in the city?’

  Baumann grimaced, ‘All the livestock are dead…we never said before, but the Luftwaffe has not once been able to meet our daily requirements…we were using the horses and all stocks in the pocket to supplement what they brought in…now it’s all gone. There are just too many soldiers here to feed.’ He drew on his cigarette heavily, the smoke swirling round his mouth as he spoke, ‘There are rumours of more units coming from France and other theatres to break through to us…’ He shrugged again, becoming frustrated, ‘…But how long before we all starve to death…they need to be here now!’

  Hausser’s eyes narrowed in frustration and anger, ‘So there was never enough food coming in?’ He shuffled uncomfortably, glancing across the bunker as his anger rose in his chest, ‘Never enough food, ammunition, supplies…?’ He smiled weakly in exasperation, ‘We have waited and waited…and all along they knew we would eventually starve…’

  They turned to face the entrance, Major Schenk’s distinctive voice coming from outside as he approached. The tarpaulin was thrust back, the major smiling warmly as he saw the young officer stiffen, his greatcoat now hanging off his frame as he stepped inside the dugout, two officers walking in behind him. Removing his cap and dusting the snow from his shoulders, the major placed his hands on his hips, ‘Hausser, my boy. Good to see you.’ He indicated to the two officers, ‘We have just been looking out towards the enemy.’ He shook his head, ‘Too quiet…too much mist. I don’t like it.’

  The officer behind him shook his head, ‘Shall we send a couple of men out for a look Sir?’

  Major Schenk shook his head, ‘No, I am not endangering men…they are too weak and cold.’ He hesitated, ‘Post extra sentries and spotters…that will give us more warning if something is up.’

  The officer nodded, retreating through the tarpaulin and issuing instructions outside as the major stepped towards his favourite chair. As he lowered himself into the broken armchair, he indicated to Hausser, ‘How is your section holding up?’

  The young officer stiffened again, pushing himself slowly upright, ‘My men are undernourished Sir…now unlikely to be able to perform any duties other than defensive operations.’

  Major Schenk smiled in grim acknowledgement of the officer’s mood, winking at Baumann, ‘I see the report is the same as yesterday then.’ He indicated to the radio operator as he slipped through the curtain, the soldier now carrying a rifle, ‘Ah, can we have some morning refreshment for the officers?’

  The soldier nodded despondently, shuffling past them and towards the back of the dimly lit dugout, placing his helmet and rifle next to the radio and wearily lowering himself onto the boxes before the set. Leaning to the side, he twisted the valve on the small stove, his hands shaking with cold as he attempted to light it. He slowly rose, turning to the major, ‘There is only a little fuel left Sir, but probably enough until tomorrow.’

  Major Schenk shook his head in distain, ‘Very well…we will check if there is any spare with the quartermaster later…we must at least keep some hot drinks for the men in this cold.’

  Two more officers moved through the tarpaulin, their uniforms dirty and bedraggled with scarves over their mouths. Both stiffened in front of the entrance to attention, nodding to Major Schenk as he indicated with a wave of his hand for them to stand easy.

  The major shook his head slowly, his face stern, ‘Well gentlemen, the situation is very grave. The relief effort is over and we are relying on the Luftwaffe for our supplies entirely now. The distance is too long and the enemy too powerful for them to bring all our requirements in, so we must make further savings where we can until the situation improves.’ He acknowledged the barely concealed looks of despondency around the dugout, continuing, ‘I know gentlemen, the situation improves…by which I mean a continuation of our dialogue with the Russians. This is strictly between us, but…the Sixth Army is now discussing terms of surrender with the Red Army surrounding us…a guarantee for the men’s safety and ample food provision with medical care for our wounded. Only a couple of days ago, the Red Army sent a delegation to our headquarters in the centre of Stalingrad…let us hope that leads to a speedy and satisfactory resolution of the situation.’

  The officers nodded wearily, Hausser grimly drawing on his cigarette again as the radio operator deposited the major’s distinctive chipped teapot on the table before him. As the blue-grey smoke blew across the bunker roof, Major Schenk coughed to clear his throat, then began speaking, his mood becoming reflective, ‘I know we are all committed to our men here, gentlemen. It has been a long drawn out campaign to get us to this point…so many tactical advantages thrown away, victories prized from our grasps…we just have to wait a little longer…the negotiations may save the me…’

  Major Schenk’s eyes widened, the officers around the bunker stiffening as they heard the distant rumbling across the steppe. Oberleutnant Baumann stared towards to entrance to the bunker, his eyes narrowing as he strained to listen, then his lips pursed as he shouted in horror, ‘Enemy artillery! Everyone down!’

  The officers looked instinctively at each other, their eyes widening as they ducked down with their hands rising over their heads. The radio operator slid to the floor, aghast, his hand stretching out
for his helmet as he cowered at the end of the bunker. The whoosh from outside, the tarpaulin blown inwards with the blast wave, smoke and dust billowed through the entrance.

  Major Schenk pushed himself from his chair onto the frozen floor of the bunker, the ground beginning to shake as the shells fell to earth. Vast explosions tore up and down the front line sector controlled by the 76th Infantry Division, the soldiers cowering in the trenches as the Russian artillery fired towards them and into the pocket beyond.

  Leutnant Hausser crouched next to the empty supply crates, his hands over his helmet. The screams and deafening blasts from outside the shaking tarpaulin entrance curtain. Dust and debris poured from the bunker roof, the beams above them shaking in the ferocity of the bombardment. As the officers cowered in the command post, the division’s terrified soldiers pressed their faces into the compacted snow in their trenches, deadly debris and shrapnel flying in the air above them. They held their hands over their ears, their mouths open as blast wave after blast wave swept across the positions. Trench walls collapsed, emplacements were obliterated as the shells kept falling onto the forward positions.

  The remains of the JU52 splintered and shattered as stray shells fell short, the wreckage thrown high into the air as it disintegrated. Thick smoke plumes rose across the German front line, the high explosive shells destroying anything left out in the open. The flashes and blast waves were seen for miles, the German pilots in their transport aircraft on final approach to Gumrak and Pitomnik airfields opening their throttles and pushing their aircraft upwards, unable to land during the artillery barrage. Ground crews and pilots fled for cover as shells landed on the runway and surrounding countryside.

  Major Schenk was shouting, the deafening blasts from outside drowning most of his words out. Gesturing frantically to the radio operator, the soldier’s eyes wide with fright, he barked again, ‘Get me a situation report…is it just us? Report to headquarters…’

  The operator scrambled around for the short wave radio headphones and microphone, dragging them onto the ground beside him as he reached up to the radio set. Hausser gripped his MP40 tightly, gasping at the sheer ferocity of the barrage outside. The ground shook with the numerous impacts, the snow scorched black from the detonations around the front line.

  Through the explosions, he heard the distant screeches, his stomach twisting as he realised the source of the noise. His eyes met with Baumann’s, the oberleutnant lying on the ground next to him, mouthing only one word, ‘Katyushas!’

  Further along the division’s front, Hase nervously bit his lips, tasting blood. The blasts around their bunker shaking the structure. Petru lay beside him, his hands over his head as Alessio shook in terror in the corner of the dugout, his hands wrapped tightly round his lower legs as he cowered, sobbing uncontrollably against the frozen walls. Tatu was half lying across Udet, the young German’s body twitching instinctively with each nearby explosion. Meino lay curled in the front trench, his role on sentry duty almost completed when the barrage began, his body shaking as debris flew into the entrenchment from above. Frozen earth and snow rained down into the trenches and positions, the half covered defenders cowering against the floor and below the defensive walls.

  Katyusha rockets rained down, their concentrated area of detonation tearing up the positions beneath, tossing broken bodies and shattered equipment into the air like matchsticks. Entire bunkers were demolished, the high explosive shells obliterating machine gun positions and entire trench sections. Some of the defender’s bodies simply disintegrated under the intensity of the shells, bone fragments and blood adding to the shrapnel that flew around the positions, slicing through flesh and bodies as the terrified soldiers screamed.

  In the command bunker, the radio operator was shouting frantically into the microphone, unable to hear the responses from the other few short wave radio sets across the pocket. Major Schenk was on his knees, the bunker shaking under the barrage, dust and debris falling from the ceiling, ‘What is the situation…is it just us?’

  The radio operator glared at him, shouting back into the microphone, ‘Repeat please! Heavy Russian bombardment!’ The tarpaulin swept back the blast just outside, a pitying scream coming from the forward trench. The moaning continued outside, the infantrymen shell shocked or deafened as the shells continued to fall, their bodies pressed into the floor of the remaining trenches.

  Schenk shouted to the men in the bunker, the officers cowering on the ground, ‘Get the forward spotters to report in…is there any movement?’ The blast wave swept round the bunker, dust and smoke blowing through the opening, the surrounding logs toppling inwards. The major ducked down again, ‘Scheisse! I need reports!’

  One of the officers reached up for the field telephone on the wall, his other hand still over his helmet as he attempted to keep his body low. The telephone fell from the wall as the bunker shook again, the whoosh of Katyusha artillery screaming in the distance again. Shouting into the phone, the officer looked up desperately, the line dead, ‘All the cables are broken Sir!’

  The forward observation posts were completely devastated, most of the soldiers blown apart, torn to shreds by high velocity shrapnel or left shell shocked and deafened, crawling in the remains of their positions, their weapons broken.

  The static surged on the radio, the operator swearing as he realised the Russian artillery was disrupting signals, his voice high pitched as he stared wide eyed at the dirt covered major, ‘Shelling everywhere Sir! Radio is now out!’

  The blasts continued outside the bunker’s entrance, shock waves sweeping across the line. Further back, German artillery positions were destroyed, pak guns shattering under the targeted fire. Lorries and jeeps were destroyed in the rear positions, their drivers cowering in nearby bunkers as the Russian artillery swept back and forth.

  In the frozen city, German soldiers and their allies ran for the basements and lower levels of buildings, the shells shattering across the devastated city as Russian snipers stared through scopes awaiting mistakes or shell shocked soldiers to stagger into the open. Whole buildings collapsed under the ferocity of the shelling, a grey-black mist slowly forming over the city in the frozen sky as the dust was thrown high into the air.

  Mortar shells and Katyusha rockets rained down on the front lines and rear defensive positions, the surviving soldiers half covered in debris, their terror apparent as their bodies shook instinctively on each impact. Several rose in bewildered panic, possessed by fear and attempting to flee the enormous barrage, their emotions overwhelmed by blast waves and the intense noise, their exposed bodies torn to pieces as the explosions engulfed them.

  The dugout walls shook continuously, dust and debris flying through the door, the tarpaulin torn from the opening. Udet was shaking, his body convulsing with fright as Tatu lay on top of him, the young Berliner now overcome with terror. Tatu would glance up occasionally, wondering when the shell would eventually come that landed directly on top of them. Alessio was screaming in the corner with fright, his body jerking with each explosion as he lay on the ground. Petru was shouting frantically next to him, attempting to calm him, Hase trembling to his side, his eyes wide with shock, the Romanian’s hands grasping his leg tightly for comfort.

  Meino scrambled through the opening on his hands and knees, lines of blood across his face from his perforated ears, his features almost unrecognisable with the dust and dirt smeared across his face, his voice screaming in panic, ‘They are all dead! All dead!’

  Once the main artillery barrage had eventually moved into the city, mortars and Katyushas bombarded the front lines without respite. With approximately 170 guns per kilometre ringing the outside of the encircled city, the Russian artillery fired continuously for two hours at the German defensive positions. The bombardment one of the most concentrated and ferocious to that date in World War 2.

  Chapter Eighty Nine: Silence

  The shelling suddenly stopped, the occasional explosion echoing in the distance as sparse ammunitio
n supplies erupted or meagre fuel reserves ignited. Major Schenk’s head slowly rose, cautiously looking round the smoke and dust filled bunker, his eyes fixing on Oberleutnant Baumann, ‘Friedrich!…take Hausser and check the defences, the rest of you get to your men…I want casualty reports!’

  Baumann struggled upwards, dust cascading from his uniform as he helped the Leutnant next to him to his feet. Stumbling to the entrance, their senses reeling, they pushed through the dust and smoke into the freezing air. Dust showering from their greatcoats as they stumbled forward into the trenches. Shattered frozen earth and snow filled the floors of the defensive positions, several bloodied broken bodies lay in the trenches before them, other soldiers stirring or crawling disorientated, their bedraggled uniforms almost unrecognisable. The screams and moaning filled the air, black smoke plumes billowing into the sky in the distance.

  Struggling to breathe, the two officers stumbled forward, their boots slipping on broken equipment and debris, the iced earth fragments causing them to stagger and extend their arms to the sides of the emplacements. Body parts and blood fragments were splattered across the defensive positions, soldiers staring up at the two officers in shock and disbelief as they struggled forward wide eyed.

  Shattered bodies lay on the darkened snow before the trenches, the defenders blown from the positions by the blast waves, their lungs exploding with the pressure as they tried to suck in air in their panic. Several soldiers lay with heavily bleeding wounds, the shouts for ‘Medic’ beginning to resound across the line as shattered and stunned soldiers called for assistance.

  Baumann stumbled, Hausser grasping his greatcoat as the Oberleutnant tried to keep his balance, his gloved hand sliding across splashed blood on the trench wall, the liquid already congealing in the freezing conditions. The officers’ eyes were wide in shock, the devastation before them too much to comprehend. The destroyed machine gun position, body parts lining the walls of the emplacement, the shattered gun parts scattered across the trench. Bodies lay everywhere, some sections of the trench works obliterated, the defences transformed to just a shallow hollow in the frozen ground.