The others ate wearily, the lack of ample sleep the previous night beginning to show in their tired faces. Udet stumbled upwards and extended a hand towards Tatu, ‘I can take the gun, sergeant…you have something to eat…’
Tatu nodded, grunting his thanks and slipping past the German soldier, his cold hands slapping the younger man’s shoulders in comfort, ‘Keep alert…it will soon be getting dark…’ He pointed ahead, Udet following his outstretched hand and seeing the forest ahead, ‘I hope we will clear the trees before darkness…’
The armoured vehicle slowed as it negotiated a downward slope, ‘Hase’ attempting to drive diagonally into the decline so avoid skidding, the rear tracks struggling to grip as the engine roared. Turning the angled front of the carrier swiftly as it began to slide, the Hanomag slipped down towards the track at the foot of the slope, the loud cracking of wooden logs startling the sleepy passengers as the carrier bounced onto the rutted track.
Leutnant Hausser rose from his place on one of the wooden benches, grasping the sides of the carrier tightly to steady himself as it lurched sideways. Staring into the snow laden trees on the right, he stepped forward, making his way towards the driver’s compartment as ‘Hase’ gunned the engine once more, the carrier surging forward.
Ducking and slipping past Udet, he moved between the front seats, lowering himself slowly into the passenger side, ‘Do you want to change ‘Hase’? I can drive for a while…’
The young Russian shook his head, his lips gritted in determination, ‘No Sir, I am learning this vehicle…it is fun to drive…and very powerful.’ He nodded towards the viewing slit as a marching line of figures came into sight in the distance, ‘More infantry moving up...we are heading north now I think Hausser…’
The officer nodded, slapping his shoulder and examining the map intently, his finger jabbing towards the waxed paper, ‘I think we are here…next to this forest. There should be a track to the right soon…let’s hope we can clear the trees before nightfall.’
Tatu grinned towards the sleeping Donatello, the young Italian’s head nodding with exhaustion as the Romanian whispered to Sergeant Moretti, ‘So how did you two survive the Russian offensive on the Don?’
Moretti’s eyes rose to stare at the Fiesler Storch spotter aircraft in the distance, ‘The Russkies attacked us for days and we drove them back…then they attacked the Hungarians and Romanians on our flanks and broke through. We were cut off and many were killed…’ He grinned as Donatello coughed, his head swinging upwards as he awoke with a start, ‘We tried to break out…hundreds were killed…but the Russian army was disorganised, trying to break through the scattered German units to the south west. We were lucky…many were not!’
Donatello stared at the moustached Romanian, his brown eyes darkly lined from lack of sleep, ‘Sergeant Moretti saved my life in the escape…my brother fell several days before. We stayed in our trenches though…the Italian Eighth Army did its duty!’
Moretti grinned widely, ‘His spirit is strong…as was his brothers. We were at a collection point when the word went out for language speakers to assist the front line units…in the chaos we thought this would be better than rear ‘security’ duties…or searching for partisans. The rumour was that the German allies have or will be moved to rear positions now…’ The sergeant’s eyes moved to stare at Tatu grimly, ‘You Romanians have paid a heavy price in Russia my friend…more than we Italians I think…’
Tatu’s eyes widened, his lips curling as Petru stared at his friend, both becoming more solemn as the quartermaster whispered, ‘Yes…we have come a long way for it seemingly to end in a few short months. In November 1942, we Romanians stood at the banks of the Volga with our German allies…now there are few units left…thousands of our countrymen lie dead to the east in the cold.’ He shrugged despondently, ‘All in four months!’
Petru patted the back of Tatu’s shoulder, his eyes staring at his friend as the man rubbed his bushy moustache nervously. The Romanian spoke slowly to his sergeant, his eyes flickering with emotion as the light faded, ‘But we are still alive my friend…that is down to you and the Leutnant. We have survived Stalingrad and are now advancing again…one day it will all end!’
Tatu grunted, a devious smile forming on his face, ‘We are cooks…I always thought everybody needs cooks…they are meant to like us!’ He shook his head in frustration, ‘The food is not fit for pigs in Russia…they no longer need us cooks with food not fit for animals!’ The Romanian quartermaster grinned as he nodded towards the two Italians, ‘At least your country sent decent food…I could cook that! These Germans eat rye bread with Jam…tinned meat that is disgusting! Let us find some real meat and vegetables and I will prepare us a Romanian stew!’ He turned to glare at Petru, ‘…Without any spice!’
They glanced round as the armoured carrier began to slow, ‘Hase’ lowering the speed through the gears as Udet waved to the marching infantrymen on either side, his voice raising to shout at them with curiosity, ‘Which unit?’
A muffled voice replied, the thirty soldiers stepping to one side and onto the edge of the track as the Hanomag passed, ‘198th Infantry Division…and you?’
Udet grinned proudly, ‘The Seventy Sixth Infantry Division from Stalingrad!’ Several of the waiting soldiers grinned, some taking the opportunity to light cigarettes, the smoke swirling as the carrier lumbered past. Udet shouted further, his voice almost drowned out by the growling engine, ‘Ich bin ein Berliner!’
Tatu rose swiftly, a wide grin sweeping across his face as the line of German troops burst out laughing, his hand slapping Udet’s back in jest, ‘Ich bin ein Berliner! Du bist ein Dummkopf!’ He pushed the young German playfully as Udet flushed with embarrassment, ‘Go play with the Italians…I will take over the machine gun now.’
Petru grinned warmly, ‘Come sit by an old Romanian, Private Udet…let us talk of the recipes we can think of to fatten you and the Italians up!’ He giggled, glaring up at Tatu, ‘I will cook…’
Tatu grunted and shuffled round, reaching for his folded grimy overcoat as forcing his padded jacket through the arms, ‘Damn cheek…I cooked for them all, now they make fun of my recipes!’
Udet grinned widely as the long overcoat stretched over the padded winter jacket, his elbow nudging Petru playfully as he whispered, ‘Is this a new Romanian camouflage? Tatu wants to look like a snowman?’
Petru giggled, gesturing towards his friend, ‘He won prizes for looking silly in the Romanian 20th Division…’ The Italians grinned, staring up at the portly figure, his hand waving them away dismissively.
Tatu grunted again, ‘I would rather look silly than feel the cold…’ He stared out over the armoured protective plate as the Hanomag gathered speed once more, a BMW motorcycle and sidecar parked to the side, a machine gun positioned on top of the car, the passenger waving as they lumbered past, the Romanian quartermaster nodding in return.
As Tatu turned to face the front plate again, he stiffened, seeing the figures in the distance, his eyes narrowing in displeasure as he ducked to speak into the driver’s compartment, ‘Hausser…Kettenhunde (chain dogs) ahead!’ He lifted his body upwards again, leaning his elbow on the top of the carrier as the engine slowed once more, the figures in the distance stepping out onto the track.
Hausser pushed himself upwards from the seat, grimacing as he saw the three military policemen through the passenger viewing slit, the drifting air becoming colder as the light began to fade. Pushing back between the seats, he hissed softly at ‘Hase’, ‘Stop just short of them…make them walk to us!’ ‘Hase’ nodded as the young officer struggled into the rear compartment, then hesitated to look back smiling, ‘No saluting this time!’ He smiled, pushing Tatu and grinning as the Romanian’s body barred his route, indicating to his jacket, ‘Are we going to a fancy dress party?’
Tatu growled, rubbing his moustache as he heard Udet laugh behind, ‘Thank you Herr Leutnant…I will man the machine gun from now on…and keep warm!’
Stepping into the snow, he felt the crunch beneath his boots, a frost beginning to grip the forest and surrounding landscape. Pushing the MP40 strap over his shoulder, his boots slid in the snow, his hand reaching for the vehicle door to steady his stance. Stepping gingerly around the vehicle’s sides, he walked forward, the snow becoming more compact on either side of the Hanomag.
The first Feldgendarmie soldier approached, saluting cautiously as he recognised Hausser’s rank, the officer returning the gesture, ‘Good evening Sir…where are you going?’
The young officer’s eyes widened, ‘We are heading north east…we need to join with German units advancing there and report on progress. We are attached to GrossDeutschland Division.’ Hausser extended his orders, coughing slightly as the cold caught in his throat, a cloud of exhaled air passing between them.
The military policeman was middle aged, his grey eyes straining as he read the document before looking up, the gorget around his neck shining in the fading light, ’I see Sir…we are guarding the crossroads ahead, but have instructions to move from the trees at night…there are believed to be partisans inside and survivors from our advance. Tomorrow some security units will sweep the forest…’ He glanced back over his shoulder, nodding to his two companions, the military policemen stood before a Kubelwagen jeep, ‘If you wish to proceed east, you had better get a move on…or wait until morning…’ He glanced upwards and grimaced, seeming to consider their situation, ‘The light is fading, but you may get to the other side in an hour or two if you keep driving. If you go further north, there is another way east, but I think Russian forces still control some of that road…’ He stared back at the Hanomag, seeing Udet and Donatello emptying fuel cans into the tank, ‘There is a supply base to the north east too…you can get more fuel there…when you leave the trees, stay to the north of the railway…there is heavy fighting before Krasnoarmeisk…’ He handed the papers back to the officer, ‘You are welcome to billet with us in a nearby farm if you wish…set off at first light? We don’t have many rations, but we can share with you and your men…’
Leutnant Hausser nodded, a faint surprised smile spreading across his face, ‘Thank you…’ He shook his head, ‘I think we need to keep going with our orders…it will be a cold night, the sky is clearing…let us hope our Russian friends want to stay warm instead of fighting…’
The military policeman nodded, ‘Very well Sir…keep moving in the forest, do not stop…and use your machine guns if you feel threatened. We think there are not many in there, but would not like to go in at night!’ He grinned ironically, ‘Perhaps the Wehrmacht is braver than the Feldgendarmie…we may only know at first light!’ He stepped back, saluting formally as Hausser stiffened, his gloved hand rising to his helmet in return, ‘Good luck, Herr Leutnant…’
The German officer nodded, turning on his heels and striding back carefully through the snow to the halftrack, adjusting the weapon strap to move his MP40 across his back. Reaching the back of the carrier, he grinned in surprise as his boots slipped in the snow once more, the warmth of a small army stove spreading across the back interior of the Hanomag, the soldiers glancing upwards as he swung the doors closed. Breathing heavily, he glanced across the five men, seeing ‘Hase’ stare back from the driver’s compartment as he spoke, ‘We have maybe one hour of light left…the forest has apparently some Russians inside, but we are already late for our orders and should have been past here by now…’ He swallowed once more, the cold catching in his throat as Petru extended a tin cup, steam rising from the contents, ‘I think we should keep moving…drive hard through the trees? The other options will delay us too much…’
Tatu grinned, feeling the adrenalin and excitement twinge through his frame, ‘Herr Leutnant…we have an armoured carrier and heavy machine gun…the Russkies will probably have only rifles…it would be madness to attack us…if they even knew we were coming!’
Udet grimaced with Petru, both glancing upwards at Tatu for reassurance, the moustached quartermaster sensing their doubts, ‘If we move fast, they will not have time to react…’
Donatello stood up abruptly, his chest swelling, ‘I am happy to go, Herr Leutnant…is we make good speed, the Russkies will not be able to do anything…’ He nudged Sergeant Moretti, ‘My countryman agrees too…we have ample grenades and smoke to cover us…’
‘Hase’ raised his voice, struggling to understand the spoken German, ‘Shall I drive off now Hausser? I cannot wait here…I am getting cold!’
Petru shook his head, slapping Udet’s knee, ‘We are outvoted…get the rations heated, we will eat as we progress! I will keep this German rubbish chicory coffee warm…’
The engine roared, Petru hastily grasping the small stove to steady it as the Hanomag lurched forwards, ‘Hase’s’ eyes narrowing as the military policemen waved them to the right, the tracks squealing across the roots and loosely chopped logs that lay scattered on the corner of the trees, the armoured car turning into the forest.
The carrier picked up speed, roots cracking and splintering to either side as the tracks ground through them, the trees close as snow showered onto the occupants, Petru swearing under his breath as Tatu laughed, ‘I don’t look so silly now…much warmer!’ He turned back to face the front, ducking instinctively beneath an outstretched branch as he was showered in snow. The crisp and fresh aroma of pine and the smells of the forest swept over the troops, the air seeming clean and refreshing as the carrier weaved slightly.
Leutnant Hausser sipped from the strong hot liquid, his breath forming in clouds as the temperature between the trees dropped. He indicated for Petru to go and sit with ‘Hase’, ‘Keep him company…and make sure we don’t crash!’ He turned to the others, Donatello taking over the stove, ‘Keep your heads down and rifles ready if there is shooting…throw grenades out, fire on my command and duck back!’
The soldiers nodded nervously, Tatu lowering his body beneath the front armoured cover to stare down the barrel of the machine gun, Hausser reaching forward to switch the radio off, the static irritating him.
The engine roared once more, the carrier bouncing and lunging from side to side as it hit obstructions beneath the snow, the cracking of wood and branches seeming shrill in the darkening frosted air.
Donatello passed round some food, the occupants eating cautiously as the vehicle shook, Tatu and Hausser refusing with the commander moving forward next to the Romanian quartermaster, his voice a whisper, ‘How long before we have to switch the lights on?’
Tatu shrugged in response, ‘Twenty minutes perhaps, Herr Leutnant…’ His gloved finger rose slowly towards the trigger, seeing a stag run across the track in front, a deep sigh coming from his lips as he nodded forward, ‘Now that would have made a fine feast for us all!’
Leutnant Hausser glanced round the protective plate, grinning as he saw the beast leap away through the snow to the left side, ‘You are already wearing his relative!’ He ducked down, glancing through the viewing slits in the darkened driver’s compartment, branches squealing along the metal plated sides, ‘Try and stay in the middle of the track…put the lights on only when necessary…’
Petru swung round in irritation, ‘Herr Leutnant…we are the middle of the track…it is too narrow!’
Hausser nodded in agreement, ‘They did not tell me this…still…shall we move forward as fast as we can or risk reversing?’
Petru smiled in resigned defeat, ‘I think forward suits me now!’
‘Hase’ jerked at the controls, the carrier bouncing once more, Hausser gritting his teeth as hi
s helmet hit the armoured plate above, the Russian hissing, ‘Let us hope we do not break a track…’ He dropped the speed, the tracks whining as they slewed for grip, the front wheels slipping sideways as ‘Hase’ fought the controls, his breath drawn as the cold seeped through the front compartment.
Petru indicated forward, his voice a hiss, ‘Keep the speed young ‘Hase’…I would rather a broken track than a bullet!’
The engine roared once more, Tatu’s alarmed voice coming from above, ‘Stay to the right, there is a ditch or stream merging to the left…it looks like quite a drop…switch the lights on!’
Petru leant forward, the front lights of the carrier flickering on as the vehicle advanced, the tracks squealing over further obstructions beneath the snow. ‘Hase’ peered forward, his eyes now close to the viewing slit as he jolted the controls, the carrier sweeping round a right corner as the side of the track fell away to the left. The Russian grimaced and shook his head in frustration, ‘It’s not very bright!’
Leutnant Hausser grasped the upper armoured plate tightly, his tone rising as the front wheels skidded in the snow, ‘The front lights have protective steel covers…they only let out a thin beam…’
Snow billowed into the rear compartment, branches and bushes squealing against the right metal armoured plate as ‘Hase’ drove near the rise to avoid the steep drop on the left. Donatello grinned as iced snow engulfed them, the trees above shaking with the friction and impact, Udet spitting dirt and snow from his mouth as they all frantically pulled their scarves up around their mouths.
Tatu was swearing as the extended branches cracked against the forward protective plate, his shoulders moving the machine gun gradually from side to side, ‘Who was last through here? Mice? The upper branches have not been disturbed!’
Udet started giggling uncontrollably as the iced snow engulfed them again, seeing Sergeant Moretti toss the liquid from his mug over the side in irritation, the metal container full of leaves and dirt. Donatello pushed Udet with glee, shouting, ‘They came through in jeeps…we are taller!’
Rise of the Bloodied Phoenix Page 9
