The sullen soldier slowly and silently pointed towards the other end of the field, the snow beginning to fall again as the gunfire suddenly escalated to the west. More transport aircraft flew overhead, their three Junker engines now loud and distinct as the heavily laden aircraft took off with their wounded cargo.
Hausser led the soldiers slowly along the side of the field, following the route they had taken only three weeks previously. The buildings bordering the field had now sustained further damage, several with shell holes or damaged rooves, the insides now exposed to the elements. Several damaged and abandoned aircraft sat along the edges of the snowed strip, their frames stripped for parts to keep as many aircraft airborne as possible. A number of ME109 hulls sat without engines or canopies, their guns removed. Some distance away, a burnt out JU52 sat by the side of the runway having crash landed on initial approach. Snow covered the abandoned aircraft shells, the small number of Luftwaffe fighters now based at the field comprising of parts from several aircraft, their normal camouflage patterns broken by repairs.
Moaning from the damaged buildings filled the air, the structures now overwhelmed with wounded soldiers from the city and outer defences. As the soldiers neared the end of the field, the moaning and murmurs became louder, the men initially believing the sounds to come from the damaged large hangar ahead until Hausser raised his hand for them to stop, his eyes narrowing in uncertainty. Turning and nodding to Tatu, the two men moved forward cautiously, skirting the side of the hangar and slowly approaching the back of the building as the snowflakes began to fall more heavily.
Reaching the end of the high wall, Hausser’s eyes widened in horror, Tatu gasping behind him. Before them in the snow lay hundreds of men, their pitiful moaning and weeping becoming louder as they edged closer. The soldiers’ wounds were severe, some with bleeding bandages across their chests or abdomens. Several were amputees, their bloodied stumps dripping onto the freezing white blanket of snow beneath them. Hausser and Tatu gingerly stepped forward, several of the sounded staring up at them through weakened eyes, their bodies shivering in the cold as the snow began to settle on their prone figures.
Several of the figures lying in the snow were lifeless, their hearts having finally stopped or their lifeblood having drained away. Some half-covered in snow, the blood already freezing in their veins as Tatu and Hausser slowly walked past, their eyes wide in shock and despair. The bodies stretched out for metres, the young officer estimating there were over four hundred men stretched out in the freezing conditions, the sight appalling them.
Ahead, Hausser glimpsed two medics stepping between the wounded, his pace quickening as he stepped over outstretched limbs towards them. The two medics saluted formally as he approached, recognising his faded rank on his worn greatcoat, the young Berlin officer’s eyes glaring at them ‘What is going on here? Why are these soldiers in the freezing cold? They have fought hard!’
One of the medics, an older man in his fifties indicated for Hausser to walk with him, stepping over the legs of a corpse, his voice a whisper, ‘These are soldiers that are not expected to survive the flight…or the next couple of days Herr Leutnant…we place them out here so as not to prolong their suffering.’
Hausser shook his head in disbelief, ‘This is insanity…who is in command here? These men deserve medical care!’
The medic simply stared at him incredulously, ‘What medical care…we have not enough supplies or equipment left…’ He indicated around with his hand, whispering softly, ‘These men will all be dead in hours…it is the best we can do for them now…the cold will reduce their pain and they will drift away.’ He sighed, his eyes sad above his scarf, ‘There are hundreds more at the back of other buildings…we have too few medically trained staff to look after them. Some also have self-inflicted wounds, cowards attempting to ‘jump’ the queue for a place on an aircraft…they are shot or placed here too!’
Leutant Hausser drew breath, slowly turning as he surveyed the miserable picture, the pride of the Sixth Army now being left to die in the snow…metres from an aircraft that may take them to safety. They had marched so far to die so close to a flight home. Tears filled his eyes as he saw the feeble outstretched hands towards Tatu and himself, seeing Hase and Petru emerge from the side of the hangar, the Romanian dropping to his knees in despair and covering his eyes.
The medic leant forward, his tone concerned, ‘Herr Leutnant…you had better report to the airfield defence commander quickly…there are chain dogs patrolling and they will court martial on the spot if they think fit soldiers are avoiding the fighting!’
Hausser glanced at him, his eyes distant as he spoke slowly, ‘We have lost this war now…we are now nothing less than barbaric!’ He turned and strode towards Tatu, the Romanian on his knees next to a dying soldier, ‘Get the men…we need to report in! I cannot stay here anymore!’
Tatu looked up as he approached, tears of pity in his eyes as the young German’s arm slipped from his grasp, his life gone. The Romanian’s voice was filled with frustration, ‘This is the reward for fighting hard!’ He rose, glaring with almost hatred at the officer, ‘We have gone to the ends of the earth for you Germans and this is what you do to your own wounded!’
Leutnant Hausser stopped before him, staring back defiantly into the Romanians eyes, Hase and Petru looking on as the officer leant forward his lips pursed in disgust, ‘Pick up your weapon and follow me! We are going back to fight!’
Tatu gritted his teeth, his fists clenching as he glared at the officer, their faces now inches apart. Then he blinked slightly, Petru’s voice calling out to him pleadingly, ‘Please Tatu!’
The Romanian quartermaster blinked again, his eyes softening and hands dropping to his sides as a desperate defeat overcame him. He swallowed, his eyes blinking with emotion, ‘Yes…Herr Leutnant.’ He turned, his head bowed as he trudged back towards Petru, his countryman briefly resting a hand on his shoulder as he walked past.
The soldiers trudged behind the officer and his Romanian friends, glancing at each other nervously having seen the appalled faces of the men as they retreated from the back of the hangar. Slowly they edged round the field, the JU52 transports being unloaded by now weakened and feeble ground crews, several men falling into the snow with the weight of the ammunition and food boxes.
Turning to walk down the far side, a JU52 transport taxiing to the departure area ahead for the wounded, snow billowing in the wake of its propellers and swirling round the airplane. Several armed guards stood at the end of a small passageway between two buildings. As the large airplane approached, the sentries moved forward with determination, raising their rifles before them as the guards at the end of the alley began to be pushed back. The throng of wounded men that burst forth from the alley was pitiful, their emaciated bodies desperately struggling with the armed guards as they tried to get to the aircraft. Shouting erupted, several rifle shots ringing into the air as the infantrymen nearest the JU52 fired skywards.
Leutnant Hausser stopped some twenty metres before the struggling group, several of the weaker men falling into the snow as guards knocked them brutally to the sides. As they stared at the spectacle before them, several officers emerged from a building to their left, walking swiftly towards the aircraft as it taxied to a halt. The side door opened as the lead officer awaited the steps of the plane to be dropped, the heart wrenching cries of the wounded soldiers almost too much to bear as the well-dressed general climbed the steps into the plane, his ear muffs and thick padded jacket virtually immaculate in comparison to the torn and rotten uniforms of the shouting wounded.
Several of the injured soldiers simply slumped to the ground, their spirits broken as they realised they may not gain access to the aircraft before them, their shoulders shaking in despair as they clutched at their wounds. The numerous officers climbed onto the transport, the pilot’s head extending from the fuselage as the last commander sat inside, ‘There is room for only eight more!’
Hausser spun rou
nd, hearing Tatu swear behind him, his eyes fixing on the Romanian’s weapon as Tatu clenched his hands around it, the young commander’s stare unflinching, ‘Not now! Shoulder it!’
Tatu glanced at him, hatred in his eyes as he hissed, ‘This is wrong!’
Hausser nodded slowly in agreement, ‘Not now Tatu…we will report…then find Udet. That is all we can do!’
The guards seemed to select eight wounded men at random, their arm and leg injuries ensuring they did not take up much room on the aircraft. Grabbing their greatcoats forcibly and pulling them from the struggling group, then pushing them forward towards the JU52’s open door, the wounded men clearly relieved, one armed soldier hissing, ‘Sit quietly…do not talk to the officers!’ Two of the wounded men nodded obediently, struggling through the thickening snowfall towards the open doorway. A moan of frustration rose from the struggling group behind, several dropping to their knees and begging towards the armed soldiers to be allowed through the cordon. They were ignored.
As the JU52 pulled forward, its engines beginning to roar as snow swept across the wounded, Hausser indicated for his men to move forward, stopping by one of the guards, ‘Where is the commander here?’
The soldier looked the officer up and down, seemingly with contempt, ‘The next building along…move quickly, we need more men at the front.’
Tatu stepped forward, almost livid with rage, ‘This is our commander, where is your salute?’
The soldier shrugged as Petru stepped in behind his countryman, the guard’s eyes narrowing, his voice becoming stern, ‘Move along the lot of you…the next transport is moving up…cause trouble and we will call the chaindogs…you will be court martialled on the spot!’
Hausser stared at the soldier, speaking aside to Tatu, ‘Keep the men moving…forget him…we need to find Udet!’
Tatu swore under his breath, sighing in frustration, ‘Yes…Herr Leutnant!’ He turned, looking at the soldiers behind, ‘Keep up…follow me!’ Stepping forward, he glared at the armed guard, ‘You will rot in hell before this war is over!’
The soldier lunged forward, hatred in his eyes, Leutnant Hausser stepping between the two men quickly, his voice rising, ‘Back! That’s an order!’
The guard stared into his eyes, then backed away, his voice low as he turned, ‘Romanian Schwein!’
Hausser spun round, ready to confront Tatu, the Romanian tilting his head and lowering his scarf as he blew the guard a kiss. The German officer grinned, pushing the Romanian, whispering as Petru and Hase laughed, ‘Why did you join the war…you could start a fight in an empty room!’
Tatu grinned, indicating to the armed guard, ‘German superiority? Only when he has a rifle and facing unarmed wounded men! There are scum everywhere!’
They approached the next block, Hausser resting his hand on Hase’s shoulder and shaking his head in amusement. Reaching the doorway, the building above damaged, he indicated to Petru, ‘Just you and I inside I think…’ He indicated to Tatu, ‘I don’t want a fight when we are trying to get food…’
Petru grinned and nodded, ‘We bring young Hase…I am not leaving him out here with these dogs around!’
Hausser hesitated then nodded, stepping to the doorway, his body jerking as a volley of shots rang out behind the building. Glancing round in surprise, the soldiers looking pensive, he pushed the wooden door open and stepped inside.
The room was relatively dark, a few crates of supplies lining the walls, two soldiers standing at an opposite door. Turning, they stared at the three soldiers entering, their eyes widening as they saw the bedraggled uniforms and coats. Slowly one leaned forward, then back, nudging his countryman, the two man stiffening and saluting, ‘The officer will return shortly, Herr Leutnant!’
Hausser returned the salute, ‘What was the shooting?’
The soldier grimaced, ‘Self-inflicted wounds and deserters…it happens twice a day now.’ He shook his head, ‘There is nothing else to do with them now Sir.’
The officer wiped his hand across his eyes, ‘This is getting worse…’ His voice trailed off as an officer emerged from the rear door, dusting snow from his shoulders.
Looking up, the man nodded a greeting realising Hausser was the same rank, ‘Unit please?’
Leutnant Hausser stepped forward extending his hand, ‘76th Infantry…several of my wounded were transported here earlier…I need to find one of the men with a fever, make sure he is alright.’
The officer nodded, shaking his hand, ‘If he has no physical wounds he will have been sent west, to bolster the line…’ Noticing Hausser’s eyes widen in shock, he softened his tone, ‘The 44th Infantry are defending west…the Russians are beginning to throw everything at them to get here…follow the track outside the field and he will be in the assembly area.’ He nodded sympathetically, ‘The fevers and weaker soldiers are used in rear defence…he should be there with any more of your men.’
Hausser nodded, ‘Is there any food available before we depart?’
The officer nodded, ‘Perhaps a bit…you will probably have more luck at the assembly area though…they give the soldiers some bread before they move up to the line.’ His eyes darkened, ‘You had better be quick though…I think the Russians will be coming very soon.’
Chapter Ninety Five: Das Ende
Udet half lay in the shallow foxhole, his body shivering uncontrollably and a developing fever sweeping across his brow. The tarpaulin wrapped around him had two layers, Hase having offered his own covering for support. In the swirling snow to the west, sporadic shellfire echoed with the rifles and machine gun shots, the 44th Infantry Division fighting desperately against the oncoming Russian infantry and tanks.
Around him, several other feverish and lightly wounded men sat in similar shallow defences, the positions hacked into the deep snow as far as the frozen earth. The soldiers lay on their stomachs or backs, attempting to reduce their exposure to the frozen wind, several smoking, their collars pulled up and frosted helmets hunched down to reduce their exposure to the temperature.
Udet had sat there most of the afternoon, pushing the snow away after the officer had assigned him his position. Several men had fallen whilst attempting to dig their positions, the strenuous work too stressful for their weakened bodies. Struggling to rise, the soldiers had finally grouped together to dig collectively, sheltering each other from the cold wind sweeping across the steppe.
Rolling over in the snow, he pulled the tarpaulin sheets around him, his body shaking continually as he began to sob, his emotions drained. Drifting into a fitful sleep, his mind swept from reality, the distant sounds of shellfire dimming as his eyes closed, his body beginning to glow with warmth as he drifted into unconsciousness.
He awoke shivering, his body shaking like it had never done before. Cold beads of sweat slipped down his face, beginning to freeze as they were absorbed into his filthy scarf. Shaking his head and trying to focus, his vision was blurred, the figures around him seeming familiar, yet distant. Arms were holding him tightly, the broken light and sky above seeming distant with shadows darting across his eyes.
He struggled to rise, his body wracked with aches and searing pains. The arms held him back, a distant voice seeming to envelope him, ‘He is awake now…’ The shadows filled his vision, the darkness descending again as he swept into unconsciousness once more, the distant rumblings and gunfire going unheard.
His eyes flickered, the darkness confusing him. He instinctively tensed, an explosion nearby, the rattle of machine gun fire. He was alone, the chilled air seeming to grasp at his chest as he sucked in air. His senses swam as he pushed his body upwards, the darkness seeming to be broken by thin shafts of light. He shook his head, his helmet seeming tight around his head as he struggled to rise further, his body aching and tired.
Pushing himself onto his hands and knees, he felt around in the darkness, his confusion complicated as he struggled to comprehend where he was. Frantic shouts from outside in the distance, he stiffened as rifle shot
s rang out, his hands sweeping across the rough snow for a weapon. He froze, his right hand grasping a cold boot as he held his breath. The dull pain across his temples seemed to throb, a thick layer of dried sweat across his body.
The boot moved, a figure grunting nearby, then a rasping cough. A voice extended in the darkness, a couple of strained words in Russian…his eyes widening in fear as he swallowed hard. Then his mind seemed to clear, shaking his head, the voice recognised as familiar…he grinned. Hase was awakening near him, tears of relief welling in his eyes as he shook the boot further. The moaning and coughing increasing as the prone body was shaken awake.
The body stirred again, more coughing as gunfire broke out again outside, his body stiffening. Then a familiar Russian voice groggily swore in the darkness, ‘Udet? Hausser?’
Udet grinned, scrambling up the body, ‘Hase?’
The coughing was getting worse, Hase leaning to the side as he struggled to breathe, pushing the weight of the body away, Udet falling roughly off to the side. Lights spilled into the darkness, both men lying in the snow and gasping for air, Hausser’s voice echoing around them as he desperately called into the small snow built shelter, kicking the thin wall down as snowflakes swirled inside, ‘We need to move…the Russians are coming!’
Udet turned, his hand rising to shield his eyes from the light, ‘W-hat day is it?’
Hausser grinned beneath his scarf, frantic shouting coming from behind him, ‘The Russians had a rest…so did you…now they are coming in force. The 44th is retreating…we are falling back towards Gumrak!’
Udet struggled through the opening, his senses reeling as Hase coughed deeply behind him, his chest rasping. Hausser grasped his arm, pulling him upwards as German soldiers ran past on either side, their frantic shouts filling the air. Tatu grasped Hase roughly, a scream coming from the west as the rumble of guns fired towards the airfield ahead. The distant roar of diesel tank engines swept across the terrain as bullets flew above them, the men stumbling forward through the deep snow.
Bloody Stalingrad Page 81