Bloody Stalingrad

by Andrew McGregor

  Udet’s eyes widened as the T34 rose up over the front trench, its belly exposed then bursting into flames as the high velocity shell smashed through the lower armour and exploded. The hatches flew upwards, spiralling into the air as black smoke and flames roared from the shattered steel hull, the destroyed armoured vehicle an inferno. Screams below the tank broke through the explosions, the burning Russian infantry rolling on the snow as their comrades desperately attempted to assist them. Tatu grabbed the young Berliner, pulling him backwards down the trench, his teeth clenched in anger.

  Two other Russian tanks burst into flames, their hulls breached and crews killed instantly as the high velocity shells tore through their armour plate, exploding within the tanks or pulping bodies as the sheer energy from the blasts consumed their victims.

  The pak gun roared, a T34 before the trenches jolting as the shell clipped its forward armour. Major Schenk ran, half crouched, into the emplacement, nodding concern to Baumann as the radio operator and three infantrymen threw grenades into the support trench behind them.

  Continuing past Baumann he slipped, the oberleutnant ducking down, bullets splattering against the sandbags as an explosion rocked the infantry gun. Baumann shouted after the major, seeing the soldiers carrying despatch satchels running after him, ‘We are nearly out of shells, Sir!’

  The major stopped and turned, his face grave, ‘Then it is over…take out as many tanks as you can…destroy the guns and fall back into the trenches!’ He glanced towards the Russian infantry swarming into the forward trench, the T34s behind them and SU76s in the distance, their guns flashing, his eyes darkening as he turned to face Baumann, ‘…It’s only a matter of time now Oberleutnant!’ Then the major was gone…running to the rear command bunker and the last form of communication with headquarters.

  Hausser pushed soldiers to either side frantically, his voice rising in alarm as they reached the second defensive line, ‘Hold them here!’ He gasped, flames roaring across the terrain as Russian flamethrowers approached, his adrenalin racing, ‘Target the flamers!’

  Udet pushed himself upwards, firing his rifle and ducking down again, bullets splattering across the snow above his position. As he whined in frustration, the terror rising within him, he heard the screams from the south, several soldiers incinerated from the rasping chemical flames.

  Tatu fired a burst over the trench wall, swearing under his breath as he saw the flames rising again, the pungent and sickening aroma of scorched flesh beginning to fill the air. Forcing himself along the second line, he lumbered half crouched towards the Russian engineers brandishing flame throwers. Hase slipped silently after him, the Germans in front of them firing out at the Russians dropping into the trenches some fifty metres away.

  Leutnant Hausser was shouting instructions, hearing the grinding of tank engines in front of them as the soldiers under his command ducked back, reloaded and firing again, their emaciated and cold bodies now exhausted. Moving up and down his men, his breath rasping beneath his scarf as they fired out, their hands shaking in fear, ‘We do not run, we retreat in order…if you run, they will cut you down! Stay with me and the quartermaster!’ Sullen and tired faces, caked with dirt and smoke dust glanced at him as he walked the line, several men firing into the support trench as the Russians tried to advance towards them. He gritted his teeth, ‘We hold here until the order to retreat further com…’ Ducking instinctively as the 88mm flak gun fired behind the boom filling their ears as he winced. Heavy snowflakes began to fall to earth.

  Major Schenk was shouting frantically into the field telephone, the only remaining line from the 76th Infantry Division back into the pocket, the telephone cable still intact. Shells buffeted the bunker, the dust billowing around him as soil fell from the roof. He strained his ears as the officer on the other end of the telephone bellowed back, ‘Herr Major…the units on your flanks are falling back…to your south the Russians have broken through against the 384th and to the north, the 113rd Infantry Division is fighting for its life. 60th Motorised is engaging Russian units behind your positions and are trying to move towards you, but they have insufficient fuel! Russian reconnaissance infantry are apparently on the approaches to Barbukin, the 44th Division are broken and are being pushed back towards Pitomnik airfield!’

  The major shook his head in frustration, biting his lips, ‘What should we do? My men are being slaughtered…we are nearly out of ammunition!’

  The officer at the other end of the line hesitated, looking to his commander, the senior commander shaking his head, ‘Defensive retreat towards 60th Motorised Division and hold there…we must keep the airfields, without them we are lost…’

  Explosions rocked the bunker once more, Major Schenk dropping to the floor with his radio operator for protection, their hands rising above their heads as screams came from outside. Grasping for the field telephone again, he thrust it to his ear, ‘What of my men…they will be cut to pieces in open terrain! Where is 60th Motorised?’ The line crackled, then silence…shellfire had cut their communications…for the last time.

  Major Schenk turned to his radio operator, the field telephone still in his outstretched hand, ‘Defensive withdrawal…inform Baumann…once the shells are gone…we leave. Every man comes with us…the wounded…everyone!’

  Hausser and his men were ducked below the trench walls, grenades exploding on the snow wall above them, bullets flying in the air as the heavy snowfall increased. Petru ran, half-crouched into the trench from behind, gasping for breath, Hausser’s eyes widening, ‘Where is Meino and the rest of the men?’

  The Romanian fell to his knees, his shoulder shaking as he ripped the scarf from his neck to assist breathing, his voice broken ‘I don’t know where Meino is!’ He looked up, his chest heaving as Udet and Hausser stared at him open eyed, ‘There are tanks behind us Herr Leutnant...gaps in the line. The Russians are breaking through!’

  Leutnant Hausser drew breath in annoyance, ‘What is the situation to the north and south?’

  Petru shrugged, ‘We have been destroying tanks…the division seems to be withdrawing…you will be cut off soon! I have run to get you…’

  Hausser looked up, grinning ironically beneath his scarf, the snowflakes falling around them. Then he turned to Udet, ‘Go along the line and gather the men…’ He indicated to the snowfall, ‘Once this gets heavier, we are leaving!’ Udet nodded in terror and spun round, running back along the trench.

  Tatu slipped towards a bend in the second trench, bullets whipping in the air above him. Straining his ears, he grinned as he heard the high pitched Russian voices in the emplacement beyond, the flame thrower crew excitedly discussing how to advance further…whether or not to wait for more infantry support.

  Sensing someone slip behind him, he glanced round, the snowflakes billowing around him as he exhaled slowly. Hase staring at him as he shook his head in annoyance, an explosion above tossing dirt and frozen snow on top of them. Tatu raised a finger to his lips, jerking his head towards the Russian voices beyond the turn in the trench.

  Hase nodded, glancing down at his rifle as the Romanian shifted his position, his legs beginning to ache, ‘Keep behind me…’

  The Romanian quartermaster lunged forward, raising his PPSH41 as he swept round the corner, the barrel flashing as he fired at the Russian engineers. A scream of alarm cut short, the enemy soldier twisting and shuddering as the bullets hit him. His countryman fell backwards, his throat shattered as he hit the snow, the flames shooting upwards. Two more Russians turned to run, their bodies falling into the snow as their backs arched.

  Five German bodies lay in the emplacement, their faces twisted in agony from the surging flame, their uniforms still burning and smouldering, their skin melted and lungs seared. The distant shouts of ‘Hurrah’ spread across the emplacement as Udet scrambled into the snow behind them, his voice raised in excitement, ‘It’s time to leave…’

  Smoke plumes rose from the destroyed tanks and SPGs across the snow, numerous s
till and twitching bodies lying in the snow from both defenders and attackers, the moans of the wounded filling the air. Before the advance to Stalingrad, the 76th Infantry Division had a strength of 10,000 enlisted men…now there were only 600 left.

  Chapter Ninety Two: The Retreat

  Bullets flew around their heads as the soldiers ducked beneath the trench walls. Leutnant Hausser crouched near the supply trench, his MP40 raised to his eyes in readiness for the Russian infantry to advance. Udet lay next to him, his rifle raised as he aimed towards the forward positions. The snowflakes were getting thicker, the temperature dropping as a storm rolled in from across the Volga River.

  As visibility decreased to only a few yards, the crumps of explosions from the north invoked the young commander to realise it was time to move, the detonations signalling that the remaining field guns were being destroyed. The wind began to howl across the steppe, snow swirling around the soldiers as they crouched in the second trench line.

  Hausser gritted his teeth, turning to indicate to Petru a couple of yards behind, ‘Gather the men…we are moving soon…this storm will offer the perfect cover. Engines whined to the north and south of them, the Russian T34s slowly advancing through the billowing snow with infantry to either side and behind, their tankers afraid of driving straight into the 88mm guns or German infantry with heavy grenades.

  Petru darted along the trench, whispering to the remaining infantry as they stared wide eyed to either side, their nerves taut from the closeness of the Russians. An explosion to the south made them jump, the Russian tank hitting a mine and losing a track. To the north, the tanks edged forward, their crews squinting through their viewing slits to try and glimpse the German positions.

  Hausser slowly rose, patting Udet on the shoulder, ‘Time to leave…the Russkies own this now.’

  Udet scrambled backwards, slipping behind the trench wall to rise to his feet as Hausser turned to face the men, his voice subdued as muffled fire echoed across them, ‘We are retreating now…keep alert but quiet…the Russkies are on either side now. Stay together…if you get separated, do not call out…they will come for you!’

  The soldiers nodded warily, Tatu appearing behind them with Hase as Hausser looked across the group of some twenty men. Hausser bit his lip, hearing Russian voices in the distance, seeming to be all around them, the men glancing round in fear, ‘Let’s go! Tatu…bring up the rear and keep the men together!’

  The young commander turned and ran half crouched towards the next trench, the route stretching towards the rear supply areas and the artillery positions. Muffled explosions rocked the air in front of them, the 88mm guns being destroyed by their crews after running out of ammunition.

  The snowfall was getting thicker, heavy flakes falling to earth and sweeping across the mangled defences as the increasing wind caught them. In the shelter of the trenches, the German and Romanian soldiers crept forward, their hearts pounding as distant Russian shouts on either side were broken by rifle shots and machine gun bursts. Behind them, more and more Russian infantry and tanks were advancing, the front line broken with scattered German units and groups fleeing to the east, towards Stalingrad.

  Reaching the edge of the trench system, Hausser glanced from side to side and darted forward, his boots crunching through the newly fallen snow. He could smell the burnt air as he approached the emplacement ahead, the 88mm flak gun twisted from the explosion to destroy it. Several bodies lay around the emplacement, crew members and German infantry killed by Russian tank shells.

  Skirting around the front of the emplacement, Leutnant Hausser hesitated, then waved the men forward as they ran after him through the snow storm. Waiting for Tatu to approach, Hausser dropped to one knee, indicating to the Romanian quartermaster, ‘We will head towards the village near the military police checkpoint…hopefully finding the remains of the division on the way, or another unit.’

  Tatu nodded grimly, the squealing of tank tracks behind them as they both moved forward urgently. Russian shouts through the heavy snowfall to either side, the soldiers instinctively dropping into the snow, their weapons raised. Hausser lowered to a crouch behind them, his nervousness apparent as engines roared through the billowing wind and flakes, the noise seeming to surround them. Glancing to either side, he saw a shape through the swirling snow to the south…then it was gone. Silhouettes of a couple of figures passed by, visibility now less than ten metres as his breathing increased, the cold air seeming to hang in his throat. He lunged forward, frantically indicating for the men to follow. They rose silently, shots ringing out to the north…then the south, another diesel tank engine burbling nearby as the snow fell heavily.

  They moved further, their boots now pushing through the flaking upper covering of snow to reduce noise. The bitter storm swept across the soldiers, the wind chill now reducing the temperature significantly. Frozen flakes billowed into their faces, their heads turned against the bitter gale, their eyes becoming bloodshot as they blinked continuously. More diesel engines nearby, the distinctive roar and clatter of tracks as a Russian tank commander shouted at the men around him, the enemy soldiers disorientated in the heavy falling snow.

  The snowfall became thicker, the flakes sweeping across them as slowly the sounds of the enemy dropped behind. Trudging through drifts, their backs hunched against the bitter temperatures, the soldiers grouped together for shelter. They passed several bodies, their wounded countrymen escaping the front line to finally succumb to their injuries or the weather…most without greatcoats, they had fled from bunkers or the covered rear medical point in fear. The individual men falling slowly behind the soldiers they were with until they finally collapsed from exhaustion or exposure. The passing huddled group knew it would not take long in these temperatures, the weeks of reduced rations and deprivations reducing their bodies’ resistance to the cold…a number of minutes alone perhaps.

  Leutnant Hausser urged them forward, keeping the soldiers together as they struggled through the snow, bracing themselves against the wind and storm. He was thankful they all wore greatcoats, but wary it would not take long in these conditions for the men to slowly lose body heat, his frustration rising as he considered there was little cover ahead for them.

  The tarpaulin sheets were wrapped around the thinnest, others taking it in turns to walk on the outer edges of the group. The wind buffeted them, the snowflakes seeming only millimetres apart as they swept across their faces. Scarves up around their mouths and collars raised, their greatcoats were becoming coated in ice and snow as they battled the elements, each man warily glancing round nervously for signs of enemy movement.

  Tatu slapped Hausser’s shoulder, his head lowering to shout against the wind, wiping snowflakes from his scarf, ‘We need cover Herr Leutnant…the Russkies will not advance in this…they will be too afraid! It will be dark soon, then we are really in trouble!’

  Leutnant Hausser nodded grimly, wiping the snow from his eyes as he glanced into the murky snowfall around them, his mood becoming despondent as he realised they were unlikely to find any shelter unless they walked directly into it in the heavy snowfall.

  Struggling on, Udet was beginning to shiver uncontrollably again, his teeth chattering beneath the tarpaulin as he moved it over his helmet, wrapping the waxed cloth around his shoulders and upper body tightly. Hase trudged along next to him, his gloved hand grasping the young Berliner’s arm as he forced him forward. Petru walked behind them, ensuring their pace was kept up, the need to keep moving high.

  One of the soldiers leading suddenly shouted back into the group, the wind catching his excited voice, his arm rising as he pointed into the snow flurry, ‘A lorry…in the distance!’

  Chapter Ninety Three: Shelter

  The soldiers huddled in the back of the abandoned Opel Blitz lorry. The petrol tank empty, the vehicle had been abandoned, the previous occupants setting out on foot into to snow storm for safety…the blizzard slowly disorientating and weakening them as they struggled away. First one, t
hen another had dropped from the small group into the frozen snow, the remaining men struggling on until they too were overcome by exposure as the darkness of night fell. Their bodies were gradually covered by the flakes, the temperature freezing the blood in their veins as they slipped into a last warm slumber…never to awaken.

  The high wind tore at the tarpaulin covering on the back of the lorry, forcing the tentacles of cold through any opening to tug at the soldiers’ resolve. Twenty three men sat and lay across each other in the back of the lorry, their covered faces withdrawn and pale. Outside, the snow drifted against the vehicle, almost covering the side that faced the wind. Their bodies hunched, they sat and lay in silence, attempting to gain some rest or sleep whilst the storm raged outside.

  Leutnant Hausser sat next to Tatu and Udet, his head slumped forward as he slept. Tatu stared at the back of the lorry, the tarpaulin tied to the soldiers on either side to limit any opening. Still the freezing air drifted into the rear compartment, men shifting in their sleep as the storm howled outside. Hase’s head rose next to him, a cough coming from deep in his chest as he looked at the Romanian, the sorrow in his eyes as the older man stared, his mind contemplating the possibilities of their survival.

  There were no sentries posted, the weather too bitter for a man to stand outside. The Russian army sat and ate plentifully in the abandoned German defences, the greatest prize now simply shelter against the elements. They were waiting for the storm to pass, the next opportunity to present itself in the destruction of the Sixth Army.

  Hase nudged Tatu, the Romanian turning to look at him thoughtfully as Hase whispered, ‘How will we get food?’