Rise of the Bloodied Phoenix

by Andrew McGregor

  The explosions ceased abruptly, the carrier racing forwards as the ducked soldiers in the rear stared warily upwards. To the north, the Stuka engines screamed as the two manned planes rose up into the sky, the rear machine gunners firing down blindly into the billowing smoke. Sporadic tracer fire and flak following them skywards as black smoke and flames shot upwards from the artillery positions, the stocks of ammunition detonating as surviving gunners fled from their crippled and obliterated guns.

  The carrier jolted to a halt, Leutnant Hausser indicating to Tatu grimly, ‘Keep the MG trained on the buildings until we know they are clear…’ He turned and took the orders from Udet, the radio burbling with static behind as the messages from forward units swept across the airwaves.

  Tatu nodded grimly, rising slowly to glance across the low stone and thatched buildings some thirty metres away. Armoured carriers lumbered past on either side as he glanced round, their mottled grey and white camouflage failing to conceal the dark crosses as he spat over the side, adjusting his padded collar against the cold breeze. His gloved hands reached for the MG34, checking the ammunition canister was firmly attached to the top of the weapon as he pulled the bolt back.

  There were five buildings in all, a small dwelling house with several outbuildings formed in a rough square, the exterior stone weathered and snow covered. Broken fences surrounded the structures, a barn and a low rectangular grain house burning fiercely, the smoke and embers billowing around the other dwellings in the breeze. Several dead animals lay between the low structures, their bodies hit by shrapnel and the explosions that created the fires. A cow and two horses trudging along the outer left edge of the fence, the beasts’ natural instincts a motivation to keep a safe distance from the flames.

  Tatu grimaced as he saw the contorted bodies and abandoned machine gun behind a makeshift snow wall, the Russian soldiers having been cut down as they attempted to resist the advancing German forward units. The rumble of artillery fire swept across the landscape, the Romanian quartermaster glancing across to the east, the distant black thin smoke plumes indicating a heavy battle was in progress.

  Hausser studied the brief orders, nodding grimly as he read the signature at the foot of the three hastily typed pages, then glancing at the expectant expressions around him, ‘We are to move up and down the front lines, providing support when needed…inform of progress, enemy troop concentrations and to confirm or investigate air reconnaissance reports.’ Handing a slip of paper to Udet, he nodded, ‘Here is the radio frequencies we should use…’ He glanced back at the first page, there are known strong Russkie tank units to the east that crossed the Donets River some days ago…that is where we start…they are or were driving south when these orders were written.’ The officer looked up, ‘It seems the situation may be grave…this counter offensive is to stop the Russkies reaching the coast of the Sea of Azov to the south…if they do, the entire southern wing of the front may be lost!’

  They spun round as Tatu grasped the machine gun swiftly, moving it to the right, his eye dropping to stare along the barrel. The Romanian grunted, ‘Movement between the buildings…difficult to see in the smoke, Hausser…maybe the inhabitants.’ He stiffened, the long barrel spanning slowly to the left as Tatu warily scrutinised the buildings, ‘Shall we clear it…or leave for the rear units?’

  Leutnant Hausser sighed, glancing up at the Romanian, a shell exploding nearby as the others ducked. Slowly the young commander nodded reluctantly, glancing briefly at the orders and grasping the strap of his MP40, ‘We are here…they are not yet. Let us make sure there are no surprises for them in the buildings.’

  The metal armour plated rear doors to the Hanomag swung open, the hinges creaking and cracking under the frosted strain. Petru moved to the left at a half-crouch with Donatello and Sergeant Moretti, Hausser and Udet to the right, the frosted snow crunching under their boots. ‘Hase’ slumped next to Tatu, his Kar 98 rifle raised and lined alongside the protective upper plate surrounding the machine gun as it traversed back and forth across its arc.

  The figures ran forward several paces then dropped into the snow, their rifles and machine guns raised as the soldiers held their breath. Tatu stared at the buildings along the barrel of the machine gun, his right hand rising and indicating to advance once the Romanian was satisfied there was no threat. Hausser nodded, slapping Udet’s shoulder, the two men rising from the snow and darting forward as Petru raised his rifle and scrambled upwards.

  Reaching the weathered and broken fence, Hausser and Udet dropped to their knees, weapons raised and jerking from side to side nervously. As Petru and the Italians dropped next to the limited obstruction, ‘Hase’ glanced briefly round, a couple of halftracks passing to the far sides. In the distance to the rear, several groups of reserve infantry emerged from below the rise behind and began trudging across the snow towards them.

  Leutnant Hausser looked across at Petru, the Romanian and Italians glancing round cautiously as their rifles moved across the buildings, the smoke billowing around their frames. The young officer gestured to the nearest structure, his lips pursed as Petru nodded in acknowledgement, the soldiers lunging upwards and forwards as Hausser and Udet scrambled towards the opposite end of the building. Their boots crunching in the snow, the young officer raised the MP40 to shoulder height, ducking out to glance round the sides of the structure, his body stiffening as he heard the shuffling and frantic whispers within.

  Udet lowered to one knee near the barn door, silently pulling the bolt back on his rifle, a cloud of stifled exhaled air around him. His eyes widened as he took in the trampled snow beneath him, the crimson blood smears and droplets converging from several angles. On the opposite end of the long low building, Petru advanced cautiously towards the other entrance, the thick wooden doors a protection against the bitter cold for the animals.

  Hausser leaned from side to side in a futile attempt to glimpse inside, the narrow cracks in the vertical wood having been covered by further horizontal planks nailed to the inside. Biting his lip in frustration, he indicated to Udet, his voice a hushed whisper, ‘We kick the door open and stay to the sides…avoid being silhouetted against the snow.’ The young German nodded solemnly, his heart pounding and mouth dry with rising nervousness.

  The commander lunged back, his raised boot cracking against the double doors as they fell inwards, the splintering and creaking of wood echoing through the structure. Swinging back, his body crashed against the cold stone exterior walls, the MP40’s barrel rising in front of his face, his hands gripping the machine gun tightly.

  At the opposite end of the structure, the process was repeated, the Italians’ boots crashing against the wooden doors as they swung inwards, cold air surging through the low barn. The aroma of animals and unwashed bodies slipped through the openings, several pitiful low murmurs and groans coming from within, the barn in deep darkness.

  A low strained pleading voice emanated from the gloom, ‘We are wounded comrade…we will give you no trouble…we surrender, please help us…’

  Hausser pursed his lips, his voice rising as he ducked to glimpse inside, Udet opposite him across the opening, ‘Where are your weapons? Throw them onto the floor…’

  The voice came again, this time seeming to wince in pain as it gasped, ‘Our rifles are stacked against the wall…we will not fight you…we surrender…’

  The commander nodded to Udet, then spun into the opening, dropping to a crouch, his MP40 lowering and jerking from side to side nervously. The inside of the barn had worn and cracked floorboards at the opening, most of the wood old and blood-soaked. Several low wooden stalls extended along the left wall, the stench of animal excrement and open wounds infiltrating his nostrils. Before him, against the first low wall, two soldiers lay dying, one’s stomach torn open from a bullet wound, the other gasping painfully as blood dribbled from his mouth, his brown overcoat soaked red.

  Hausser stared across the others to his right, one man lying lifelessly still in the darkness
of the corner, his boots extending across the straw. Another sat sobbing next to him, his young head covered in dirty makeshift bandages torn from a uniform, his face covered in blood as he shivered.

  More wounded lined the right wall as Leutnant Hausser stepped into the darkness, his eyes slowly becoming accustomed to the gloom and beginning to see further. Several troops stared fearfully at him, glancing across his uniform, a couple attempting to shuffle away painfully. More seriously wounded men lay in the stalls, their bodies torn from shellfire with several stumps of limbs bleeding profusely. The commander’s eyes widened as he saw women amongst the men, a couple still and silent, one staring at him in defiant hatred. He realised nearly all of the Russians were under twenty years of age, the youngest perhaps only sixteen.

  He nodded to the blonde Russian woman as he glimpsed Petru at the other end of the barn, the Romanian’s head shaking as he took in the extreme wounds and dying soldiers. Udet gasped behind him, his eyes welling with emotion as one of the young soldier’s heads slumped forward, the life passing from his body as bloodied saliva dribbled onto his chest.

  The low voice came again, Hausser stepping closer to the wounded sergeant lying next to two hastily bandaged women, their chests heaving in fear. The Russian was older than the other soldiers, perhaps the same age as ‘Hase’ as Hausser bent down, the wounded man shaking as he gasped in pain, his leg torn open from the groin to the knee, ‘Can you help us please? They are only young…they do not deserve to die here…’

  The commander nodded, ‘I will try and get some medics…’ He indicated to Udet and Petru, raising his voice, ‘Take all the weapons outside…see if there are any units around, we will get them some medical attention…’ The young German nodded obediently, his eyes staring down at the casualties as he trudged despondently from the barn.

  Hausser slipped his canteen from his belt, offering the metal vessel forward to the Russian sergeant, the older man nodding his thanks as he sipped from the rim. The Italians bent down, offering their own canteens to the severely wounded, several accepting the water canisters willingly.

  The young commander glanced down as he heard voices outside, Tatu and ‘Hase’ slipping through the doors wide eyed, their bodies lowering to tend to some of the broken bodies, Petru returning with some basic medical supplies and bandages from the carrier.

  Udet’s voice echoed from near the carrier, ‘Herr Leutnant…there is a jeep and lorry coming! I will ask for medics…’ The muffled drone of engines revving, then silence, voices from outside near the Hanomag as Udet conversed with the arriving unit.

  Hausser cautiously rose to his feet, indicating for the Russian sergeant to pass the canteen around, ‘I will go and see if we can get a medical unit…bring some more water…’ The Russian nodded gratefully, wincing as he handed the canteen to the brown haired woman next to him, her stare not leaving Hausser as he backed away, the officer turning abruptly to stride out into the daylight.

  Striding towards Udet, he stiffened as he realised a captain was stood before him, the younger German stood to attention. A white camouflaged Kubelwagen jeep sat before the Hanomag, its engine ticking over, and behind an Opel Blitz lorry, several soldiers stood talking or smoking before the vehicles. The more senior officer turned, his eyes studying Hausser as he approached and stood to attention, saluting briefly.

  The captain returned the salute informally, smiling, ‘Leutnant Hausser?’ He continued as the junior officer nodded, ‘Your young private here was telling me that there are enemy wounded in the barn…that you require some of our medics?’ The captain was probably in his mid-thirties, a padded jacket and white smeared helmet complimenting his padded trousers. Unshaven with an MP40 strapped round his neck and battered binoculars, he rested his gloved hands on the top of the weapon, breathing deeply as he stared at the subordinate.

  Hausser stiffened, ‘Jawohl Herr Hauptmann…they are severely wounded, very young…we have given them some water and bandages, but our orders require us to move to the north east and report on progress there…we are assigned to GrossDeutschland Division…’

  The captain nodded in understanding, seeming briefly impressed, ‘Very well Leutnant, gather your men and head north east…we are attached to 15th Infantry Division and will care for these wounded…we are heading for Pavlograd in the north west. There are enemy mobile forces to the south west…we presume heading towards Zaporozhye, but they are being engaged now by our aircraft and Panzers…’ The captain grinned widely, ‘Some of our Russkie enemy have apparently run out of fuel and they are being cut off…we will watch them run in panic!’ He glanced back across the snow covered fields to the south, his expression becoming more sombre, ‘Anyway…our medic unit should be here soon…we will tend for them until then.’

  Hausser smiled warmly, ‘Thank you Sir…I will take some supplies from our carrier and then depart…’

  The captain nodded nonchalantly, indicating to two of his men near the lorry, ‘Bring some water over…’

  Leutnant Hausser strode to the Hanomag, slipping between the two open rear doors and grasping a supply box of bread…hesitating briefly, he twisted the volume on the radio down. Turning round, he jumped…Udet extending his arms behind him, his rifle over his shoulder, the startled officer grinning as he handed the small box to him, ‘Give it to the sergeant in there…it’s probably all we can spare…’

  Udet smiled in return, ‘Different from Stalingrad…they did not give us any food then!’ His smile widened to a grin, ‘Perhaps this is different…’

  Hausser’s eyes widened in surprise at the retort as the young soldier turned away and trudged back towards the barn, several of the newly arrived soldiers lining up along the broken fence. Looking round and grasping another water canister, he slipped back outside, striding back towards the buildings and nodding a greeting to the new soldiers in their padded jackets.

  Arriving back at the Russian sergeant, he crouched as the man stared up at him, his eyes contorted in pain, ‘We thank you comrade for your help…’

  Hausser nodded as he handed him the new canteen, ‘We will have to leave now…there is a new unit here and they will care for you. Their medics are coming soon and they have water and some food…’

  The sergeant forced a pained smile, the girl next to him handing Hausser his empty canteen back, her lips still pursed and eyes seeming confused with hatred. Slowly the young commander rose, a couple of soldiers from the newly arrived unit kneeling next to the wounded.

  Turning, he indicated to Petru and the others, raising his voice, ‘We need to leave now…the 15th Infantry Division will care for the prisoners…collect your canteens and refill them…get back into the Hanomag!’

  The six soldiers filed outside, clambering wearily back into the armoured carrier. Hausser stiffened before the captain, saluting once more, ‘Thank you for your assistance Sir…we will head to the east now.’

  The captain smiled in return, his hand rising to his forehead, ‘Be careful young Leutnant…there are many Russkies still behind our forward units…’ He stepped back, indicating to the barn, ‘I wish you men well…you have given them hope…’

  Hausser nodded, a grim smile forming on his face, ‘Not all will live, but they are only young…’ He spun round, striding towards the Hanomag as the engine roared into life. Stepping into the back, Udet closed the doors behind him, the young officer slumping onto one of the benches and glancing round the men staring at him, ‘We are not savages…those soldiers offered no resistance and deserved mercy…for that we did well.’ He smiled faintly as Petru and Tatu nodded grimly, Udet smiling in return as Donatello and Sergeant Moretti swigged from their water bottles.

  Raising his voice, he shouted towards the driver’s compartment, ‘Head north east…we need to make contact with the advance by nightfall.’ The carrier jolted, then gained traction, the tracks spinning as the heavy armoured vehicle lumbered off, following the line of the broken fence and through the billowing smoke from the two burning buil
dings, ‘Hase’ staring through the viewing slit into the snow ahead. Hausser indicated to Udet, ‘Keep one ear on the radio headphones…’

  Behind them, the captain watched them go, seeing the upper silhouette of a figure rise to grasp the front machine gun in the carrier. As the Hanomag rumbled into the distance, the captain shook his head whispering to himself, ‘Damn Russkie sympathisers…’ He turned to the lined men before him, grimacing as his voice rose menacingly, ‘Take the water and supplies from the barn…get two petrol cans from the lorry!’

  Two soldiers nodded and moved forward towards the Opel Blitz, their black collar badges now visible as they opened their padded jackets. Behind them, the captain’s voice echoed determinedly in their ears as other soldiers stepped into the low structure, ‘Burn it…shoot anyone who tries to escape! Search the other remaining buildings and kill anyone inside…’

  Chapter Eight: To the North East

  The Hanomag Sdkfz 251 bounced across the fields, Tatu leaning against the front armoured plate protecting the machine gun, his eyes bloodshot from the cold air as distant gunfire echoed around the carrier. Discarded equipment and weapons lined their route with the bodies, a number of smouldering, damaged or destroyed vehicles from both sides sitting in the fields to either side. Passing a Russian mortar position, Tatu leaned forward to stare down into the destroyed emplacement, the metal canisters crushed and shattered under tank tracks, several bloodied bodies lining the shallow circular pit.

  Several sorties of Luftwaffe aircraft swept overhead, the Me109 and FW190 fighters scouring the countryside for potential prey or victims. Above them, a Fiesler Storch spotter aircraft circled in the distance, the pilot checking the snow blanketed terrain below to report back on the progress of the advance.