Rise of the Bloodied Phoenix

by Andrew McGregor

  The major nodded, then turned away indicating to the two captains behind him, ‘Ensure these men receive their new jackets, trousers and adequate supplies immediately!’ He glanced back over his shoulder, seeming to study the line of men, ‘I will meet with you soldiers in a few days’ time…I will be contacting you for full reports on the progress of the advance!’

  The major strode towards an awaiting Kubelwagen jeep, the driver gunning the engine as the major shouted, ‘Let’s get to the Fiesler Storch…we have little time to get north!’

  The soldiers behind fell out and huddled round as Tatu slapped Hausser’s shoulder comfortingly, his voice low, ‘So we will continue together Kameraden…good! Let us hope this campaign is more successful than the last…’

  ‘Hase’ nudged Petru, the Romanian’s eyes bloodshot as he turned to look at the younger man, the younger Russian whispering, ‘So…what did they say?’

  Petru shrugged, his gloved hand rising to pinch the top of his nose, ‘I will tell you later, young ‘Hase’.’

  East of Kharkov:

  Binoculars gradually and carefully pushed through the snow laden bushes, the forward artillery observer staring across the white terrain ahead as a tongue ran across his lips nervously. Behind him, the young protégé gritted his teeth, slowly raising his arm and checking his watch as the awaited time slowly and painfully approached. Straining as he exhaled gradually, he stared up at the older soldier above him on the slight slope, the binoculars lowering slightly before the observer panned them across the terrain opposite once more as a final reassurance the coordinates were correct.

  In the distance, a low frozen mist filled the depression before them, rising up a gradual slope to makeshift defensive positions. As they had observed, the machine gun emplacements had oil smeared snow before them, the gunners having swept and placed loose branches across the tell-tail signs of their weapons. Iced walls, now laden with fresh fallen snow, housed a small number of anti-tank guns and higher obstacles concealed the four T34 tanks as their crews smoked near the steel clad fighting vehicles.

  Several figures moved in the slit trenches beyond, the ground too frozen to dig deep defensive positions, the dark silhouettes ducked or crouched as they ate a meagre breakfast, the replenishing supply bases and trucks now struggling through deep snow towards the forward positions. A number of small tracked carriers were parked beyond, one churning through the snow from delivering the limited hot food, a steaming field kitchen positioned nearly a kilometre behind the lines.

  The young man glanced upwards once more, his watch now extended, an excited trembling voice whispering as he pointed at the timepiece, ‘Herr Hauptmann…the time approaches…’

  The commander’s binoculars slowly lowered, his helmeted head turning to stare at the young soldier behind him, the two diagonal divisional lines visible beneath the white camouflage paint. A grin gradually formed across his lips as he whispered, a cloud of exhaled air spilling from his lips as his chest filled with pride, ‘Meine Ehre heist Treue! (My honour is loyalty-SS Das Reich, 2nd SS Panzer Division motto)’

  Two kilometres to the east from the Russian line, the artillery sergeant stared down at his wrist watch, the second hand ticking slowly towards the twelve, his heart rate rising in anticipation as his right hand slowly rose into the cold air. The second hand clicked to the top of the watch, his hand falling dramatically as he shouted hoarsely, his tone almost a screech, ‘FEUER! (Fire)!’

  Artillerymen lunged backwards, their hands rising frantically to their ears as their mouths opened instinctively, over thirty artillery pieces bouncing backwards across the snow as the shells swept forward into cold air, clouds of discharged smoke billowing into the air as the crews jumped up and ran forward with fresh shells.

  The boom of artillery swept across the snowed terrain, mortar crews glancing round, their shells held expectantly over the cylindrical openings. As they dropped the 8cm projectiles, the gunners turned swiftly away, their gloved hands covering their ears as mouths opened, the metallic thumps propelling the mortar shells towards their targets. Leaning forward, they grasped the next round from the crewman before them, the action repeated as the mortar cylinders were gradually lowered by the third crew member, each shell dropping behind the last.

  The black uniformed tank commander sat upright in his turret, his determined stare on the snow blanketed fields beyond as he clicked the microphone. Hesitating briefly, he raised his adrenalin filled voice as the artillery shells soared high over the command tank, mortar projectiles sweeping upwards from behind, ‘Fur Der Fuhrer! Fur Deutschland! Fur Stalingrad! Fur die Gefallenen (for the fallen)! Panzers Marsch!’

  Nearly one hundred tank engines roared, the plumes of warm blueish exhaust pouring upwards as the steel linked tracks squealed, the Tiger I and Panzer IV armoured beasts jolting forwards as the individual commanders slipped back into the safe confines of their turrets, the hatches closing with a clank above. Behind them, the Hanomag Sdkfz 251 armoured personnel carriers lurched after their tanks, the armoured vehicles beginning to move into formation as the tracks slipped and ground towards the Russian line.

  Grey and white mottled camouflaged Fw190 and ME109 fighter planes swept low overhead, several carrying bombs beneath their fuselages, the screaming wave of engine noise almost deafening in the confines of the open topped armoured carriers, most padded uniformed grenadiers covering their ears as they grasped their MP40 machine guns and Kar 98 rifles tightly.

  The captain raised the binoculars to his eyes once more, the muffled roar of engines behind reaching the two forward observers as shells detonated across the Russian line ahead. The young soldier scrambled up the slope, his eyes staring in wonder through the frozen branches as explosions tore through the defensive positions.

  The crumps of shells erupted through the hastily prepared positions, the muffled screams reaching the two observers as snow and dirt was tossed into the air. Machine gun positions and mortar pits simply disappeared under the weight of the explosions, the few stacked shells detonating with the shock waves as equipment shattered and was tossed upwards. Flames soared into the grey sky as the fighter planes swept overhead, the black acrid smoke swirling in the disturbed air as the wave of dense noise poured across the terrain. Crippled and smashed bodies were thrown upwards with metal fragments for machine guns and mortars as the shells rained down, several shell shocked soldiers attempting to flee as the mortar rounds fell to earth around them, fragmentation and blasts cutting through padded uniforms as the screams intensified.

  Two of the pak guns disappeared under the power of the detonations, their frames and forward protective shields cracked, then shattered under the ferocity of the blasts. A T34 jolted, its tracks spinning as the driver desperately attempted to reverse, the high explosive shell smacking against the exterior plate, the occupants shocked and stunned with ears drums perforated under the blast wave. Smoke billowed from the open hatch as the surviving crew clawed upwards, attempting to escape the steel coffin, the shells inside detonating as the turret slumped sideways, flames shooting into the cold air as the sounds of machine gun bullets cracked inside the hull, the crew incinerated.

  The two German soldiers stared as a second T34 attempted to turn, the squeal of tracks grinding against debris and broken bodies in the crews’ panic to escape the artillery salvos, the defensive snow wall collapsing under the weight. Explosions erupted around the armoured vehicle, the hull smeared with scorched burns as fires burned fiercely across the line, smoke pouring from its rear exhausts. The tank rose up, its tracks crushing a small armoured carrier as the engine screamed, the driver blinded by dense smoke both outside and swirling around him in the cabin. He screamed as bones cracked beneath the tracks, the metal monster grinding forward as it turned, further shells erupting to either side as thrown debris cracked against the outer hull.

  The tank commander above him was screaming instructions, his terror rising as the blasts rocked the turret, the vehicle jolting violently as i
ts track slipped into a trench, the officer knocked senseless as his head bounced off the inside of the hatch. As the body above him crumpled, the driver accelerated blindly, the metal grinding below as the tank weaved, muffled screams from outside as surviving soldiers desperately attempted to avoid the spinning steel tracks, a number of wounded simply crushed under the immense weight of the whitewashed T34.

  The roar of engines engulfed the two German observers, the white mottled hulls of Tiger I, Panzer IV tanks and Stug III Self Propelled Guns (SPGs) lumbering past on either side of the small rise, the forward machine guns cracking as bright tracers and bullets swept towards the slope before them. The high velocity bullets smacked into the remaining defences, several ricocheting off the smashed metal equipment and soaring skywards, a small number of figures rising to run as the tanks ground up the slope.

  Distant explosions swept across the terrain, thick black smoke plumes rising on the horizon as the fighters dropped their bombs and strafed the Russian rear areas. Banking hard, three fighters observed a supply convoy, the lorries and carriers jolting to a halt as the Russian crews jumped for cover, throwing their bodies and faces into the snow as the flight leader clicked his microphone, gesturing from the FW190 canopy towards the line of vehicles below.

  The fighters banked once more, rising into the air as sporadic ground fire and tracers followed their flight. Then they tore downwards, front machine guns blazing as the bullets sprayed across the snow in lines, explosions rocking the small convoy as one by one the vehicles ignited and erupted, acrid billowing smoke rising dramatically into the air.

  The captain grasped his MP40 tightly, spinning round as a Hanomag’s tracks squealed across the snow, the vehicle slowing, then grinding to a halt behind the rise. He slapped the younger soldier’s shoulder, ‘Time to join the forward units…let’s go!’ They lunged forward, the rear doors of the carrier springing open as more armoured infantry vehicles lumbered past through the snow, padded uniformed infantry moving cautiously behind them.

  As the rear doors of the carrier slammed behind the two men, the Tiger and Panzer IV tanks ground through the front line of defences, machine guns peppering any signs of resistance. Across the snow, the dead and wounded lay shattered and broken, the burning positions and destroyed vehicles crackling as flames licked across the scorched metal plate, the squeal of tank tracks filling the snow covered landscape.

  The 1st SS Division Liebstandarte Adolf Hitler, 2nd SS Panzer Division Das Reich and 3rd SS Panzer Division Totenkopf had cut into the western flank of the Russian 6th Army as it advanced south westwards…further north, the Wehrmacht’s GrossDeutschland Division also broke through…the Russians were caught completely by surprise.

  In the South:

  The turret hatches of Panzer III and Panzer IVs slowly lowered, the forward Wehrmacht units of the 1st and 4th Panzer Armies preparing to lumber northwards into the overextended Russian lines of the Soviet 6th Army and then 1st Guards Army. To the north east, Popov’s Russian mobile group continued to assault German positions to push south westwards.

  The Hanomag Sdkfz 251’s six-cylinder engine roared, its standard grey angular sides smeared with diluted white paint, the effect creating a camouflaged mottled finish. The two rear angled doors slammed shut, Tatu locking the mechanism from inside and turning to grin at the occupants seated on the side benches, their thick white padded jackets providing added insulated warmth over their tunics. The rumble of shellfire swept across the snow, the squad glancing apprehensively at each other as Tatu grinned, ‘We are on the right end of the shells for a change…’

  The two Italians smiled grimly, Petru slowly following as he nudged Udet, the young German glancing round nervously as the radio set next to him burbled with static. They glanced instinctively skywards through the upper opening of the armoured car, numerous ME109 fighters sweeping low overhead, the wave of engine noise almost deafening as it reverberated around the insides of the armoured steel carrier. Further above, the black dots of twenty-one Stukas in ‘V’ formation groupings of three flew northwards, the vapour trails from their angled wings drifting behind as the pilots glanced below through their canopies and across the iced terrain.

  The roar of engines filled the air, neighbouring armoured carriers and lorries readying their engines as the tanks ahead lumbered forward, the distant rattle of machine gun fire beginning to echo across the vehicles. The rumble of artillery behind signified the start of the advance, distant explosions to the north sweeping across the landscape. In front of them, lowered second line infantrymen in padded uniforms spread across the terrain, trudging northwards across the fields as they followed the Panzer III’s and IV’s, the gunfire intensifying ahead as the German tanks reached the Russian front lines.

  Tatu ducked his head upwards, seeing the billowing smoke trails rising into the sky ahead, his voice grim, ‘Make ready for advance…’ With new thicker gloves and combat trousers, each soldier had received a complimentary spray to kill or deter any resident lice and a more unwelcome two large spoonsful of thick cod liver oil from the determined and demanding German quartermaster as they collected extra rations.

  With the distasteful mixture gurgling in their stomachs, Tatu slipped past the seated squad, staring forward into the enclosed driver’s compartment at the front of the armoured carrier. A silent uncomfortable belch slipping from his lips as he stepped further, ‘Herr Leutnant…the rations are stocked and I will take first turn on the forward machine gun!’

  Hausser glanced round nodding, ‘Hase’ studying the driver’s controls to the left of him, ‘Good…we will have a look at the maps and orders once we get going…’ He indicated through the narrow armoured viewing slit in front of him, ‘We advance…move forward!’

  Chapter Seven: The advance North

  ‘Hase’ squinted his eyes, staring through the viewing slit before him into the bright exterior as the engine whined, the armoured halftrack grinding up a snow bound slope towards the fields above. Several halftracks lumbered forward on either side, snow thrown up from the rear of their steel tracks as exhaust plumes billowed into the air. Ahead, black smoke rose into the sky, the forward Panzers engaging Russian armour in the distance, the crack and chatter of rifle and machine gun fire getting louder and rising in ferocity.

  The armoured carrier bounced as it crashed through a small fence at the top of the slope, the wood splintering before being crushed under the tracks. The aroma of burning swept through the viewing slits, the carriers having reached the original front line. ‘Hase’s’ eyes narrowed as the bodies came into sight, blood splattered snow on either side as discarded equipment and smouldering positions roamed into view. A Russian T34 tank was burning brightly off to the right, its padded uniformed crew dead in the snow around their charge from the machine gun fire that had raked the metal hull after it was disabled.

  They advanced between destroyed forward machine gun positions, the Goryunov heavy weapons crushes under tank tracks, their crews having simply fled or been killed in their emplacements. Trucks and personnel carriers lay abandoned or crippled, pocked bullets holes and scorched panelling evidence of the battle that had just preceded them.

  The dark smears across the snow lay evidence to explosions, ‘Hase’ averting his eyes as several were lined in crimson, the jagged and broken body parts lying across the blanket of snow where the flesh and shattered bone had landed, scattered debris and fragments of personal weapons nearby.

  They drove on, the carrier shuddering and jolting as the wheels and tracks rolled over roots and discarded obstructions beneath the snow. They slowed to pass a Panzer III, its black uniformed crew working feverishly on a broken track, further ahead a destroyed German field gun from the Russian advances in the last few days, the prone and frozen lifeless artillerymen now covered by the fallen snow.

  The number of dead bodies increased as the land flattened, the Russian rifle squads cut down as they attempted to escape northwards towards cover, the open field offering no obstruc
tions to take shelter behind. ‘Hase’ glanced through the side slit, seeing more halftracks progressing across the snow, their engines roaring as the ground became more challenging and rutted.

  Hausser pointed to the small grouping of low buildings ahead in the distance, two of them burning fiercely, ‘Pull up behind that farm…I will check the orders and brief the men. Keep the front of the vehicle pointing at the barns…I want the MG trained on them.’ Patting ‘Hase’s’ shoulder as the commander rose from his seat, he slipped through into the open rear compartment, his gloved hands gripping the overhead plate to steady his stance as the carrier shook from side to side.

  ‘Hase’ spun the controls, the carrier turning hard as explosions rocked the field, snow pouring over the seated men behind as Tatu ducked his head, the long range Russian artillery attempting to slow the surprise German attack. A carrier nearby imploded, the shell landing amongst the infantry in the open rear, the detonation shattering the armoured sides as fire poured upwards from the vehicle, the carrier lumbering forward for a few metres before being engulfed in flames.

  Camouflaged Fokker Wolfe 190s swept low over the field, the underneath of their fuselages housing bombs as the wave of engine noise engulfed the carriers, explosions ripping across the snow as the Russian gunners fired desperately in the distance. The artillery commanders were shouting in fear, the deafening mechanical screaming above beginning to drown them out, several glancing up in terror as Stuka dive bombers swept vertically down directly towards their spotted positions.

  Tatu stared upwards, his frame ducked behind the forward machine gun position in the carrier, the drone of distant engines just audible between the explosions, his eyes straining to see the high level HE111 medium bombers through breaks in the thick cloud cover above, the seventeen planes heading northwards towards Russian troop and armour concentrations.