The carrier slowed, climbing the final few metres of the slope towards the German soldiers, one stepping forward cautiously, the Sdkfz 221’s tyres struggling to gain grip behind as the motorcyclists wearily pushed their BMW R75 machines up the incline, their chests heaving as they swore under their breaths.
Huber stared down at the young soldier in front of them, the troopers stiffening and saluting grimly, ‘Herr Hauptmann, we have a downed Fiesler Storch on the other side of this copse of trees…tracks leading off into the woods beyond…many tracks. It seems the Russkies may have got to the airmen first, or they have set off in the wrong direction and our first patrol has followed them…the woods are not that large, Sir…’
The captain nodded, thinking for a short time, then turning to look at Hausser, ‘What do you think?’
The Leutnant’s eyes widened as he drew breath, surprised by the question as he glanced upwards at the greying sky, the snowflakes still falling, ‘W-well, Herr Hauptmann…it will be dark in a couple of hours…’ He glimpsed Tatu nodding in determination behind, ‘We cannot simply leave our soldiers…we must get them back or account for them.’ He swallowed nervously, ‘It is dangerous, but I say we push a determined patrol through the wood to discover what has happened…get our men back.’
Captain Huber smiled briefly, ‘As I thought…’ He turned to the soldier on the groups before the carrier, the snowfall seeming to thicken, ‘How many men are with you?’
The soldier stiffened once more, glancing to the side, ‘Twenty-four, Sir…our sergeant was considering whether to go in after them…he is at the plane.’
Huber spun round and slapped Hausser’s shoulder, ‘Very well…you take nine men and some of your squad here…we park the vehicles next to the plane for cover and move in at two angles or on the sides…find our men and flush any of the enemy out onto the machine guns! Leave two soldiers with the carrier, the motorcyclists and the 221 should be enough as support.’
Chapter Fourteen: Into the trees
‘Hase’ sat in the back of the Hanomag, his gloved hands grasping the Kar 98 rifle as he stared at the snowflakes drifting down from above. Noting they were settling on the metal floor of the carrier, he slowly drew the scarf up over his mouth, glancing up at Petru and whispering, ‘Do you think they will be long? I will get the stove going and boil some water…erm, snow!’
Petru grinned, his eyes staring down the length of the machine gun, ‘They will be a while…but I could do with a drink…shall we have something to eat too…I am hungry…’
‘Hase’ nodded, staring down at the small stove on the carrier floor, ‘I will get some snow in the mess tins…that should be enough…we can give some drinks to the others, they will be cold.’
Petru glanced round sharply, ‘If any of the Germans speak to you, just point them to me…’
‘Hase’ nodded, a clatter of metal mess tins as he toppled them onto the floor of the Hanomag, a grunt in frustrated response, ‘I will make for the crew of the other carrier and the motorcyclists…can you take the drinks over?’
Petru smiled to himself, ‘I will…’ He glanced out into the falling flakes, observing the disgruntled leather clad motorcycle soldiers brandishing their MP40s and crouched by the broken fuselage of the Fiesler Storch two seater aircraft, their eyes fixed on the footprints leading into the trees. Petru’s eyes slowly followed the route the pilot had taken, attempting to land between the trees when he developed engine problems, the hidden tree roots and logs cracking and bending the fixed undercarriage as he lost control and slewed across the snow. Deep groove marks stretched through the white blanket to their right, debris and small parts littering the snow, the tiny plane bouncing twice before coming to rest as its broken undercarriage ground against the obstructions and frozen dirt.
His eyes widened as the rear doors of the Hanomag creaked open, considering the pilot was probably quite experienced to accomplish and survive such a landing. The scraped and distorted fuselage of the plane lay half on its side, the fixed undercarriage buckled and broken beneath. Deep grooves lined the mottled paint along the sides where the ground and obstructions had impacted at high speed, Petru’s admiration for the pilot growing as he realised how challenging the landing would have been.
The Romanian’s eyes strained through the falling snow, staring into the darkened covered trees beyond, the wood extending about five hundred metres to either side as the edges of the trees bent away from them on both ends. The rough track turned to the north on the open ground, skirting the edge of the wood and then resuming its course to the east. Glancing upwards into the falling flakes, he sighed, his voice a reflective whisper, ‘You had better be quick…it will be getting dark soon…’
Leutnant Hausser dropped to one knee on the southern edge of the trees, the soldiers behind lowered to a half-crouch as they approached warily, their rifles raised across their padded jackets. Tatu dropped next to him, his tone strained, ‘So Hausser…what is the plan?’
Hausser grinned beneath his scarf, the Romanian’s inquisitiveness amusing him, ‘We go in at an angle to the east, move to the furthest most edge of the wood and then turn sharply back towards the carrier…anyone inside will have to face us or be pushed towards the machine guns…’ He winced as Tatu nodded, ‘There may be no one inside at all, or just our men so make sure we know who we are shooting at!’
The Romanian grunted in acknowledgement, shifting on his knee and pulling the bolt back on the PPSH in his hands, ‘If there are Russkies…they won’t be in there long!’
The commander nodded, ‘Let’s go…spread the men out behind…I will keep at the most eastern edge of our line with Udet…you at the west with the Italians?’
Tatu turned, indicating to Donatello and waving to the others, his voice a hiss, ‘Form a line between us…keep sight of the man on either side as we move through!’
The soldiers behind stiffened, their bodies advancing cautiously as Hausser rose and scrambled to the right, gesturing to Udet as he did so.
Cautiously the figures slipped between the trees, Hausser lowering the MP40’s strap from his shoulder and stepping carefully into the deepening snow, the black muzzle of the sub-machine gun pointing and edging forward. Udet raised his rifle to chest height, his boots scraping across the surface of the snow as he placed them gingerly before him, wary of snapping any roots beneath.
Heart pounding, Hausser drew breath slowly, his hand reaching to move a snow laden branch before him as he stared into the murky light. Visibility was limited to about ten metres, the fresh aroma of the trees filling their nostrils as they stepped forward, the frosted air seeming to cling to their bodies and the trees around as the gloom and silence descended.
Udet moved to the side to pass a tree, his young eyes straining into the darkness, the barrel of his rifle pointing before him. Slipping sideways, he lowered his stance to step between two trunks, the branches shaking dry powdered frozen snow onto his jacket as they stirred. His chest jumped as a bird shrieked to the right, the flutter of wings as the disturbed creature took flight, two more startled birds joining the escape from potential danger.
Hausser was controlling his breathing, feeling the tension rise within his chest as his boots slipped across the frozen snow, his eyes scanning the iced surface for distortions or footprints, his hands gripping the MP40 tightly. Moving between two wide trunks, he glanced to his left, seeing Udet’s silhouette through the gloom, the young soldier advancing cautiously. Gritting his teeth, he looked to the right, the trees still and cloaked in darkness, the frost seeming to hang in the air and distort his vision.
Udet was breathing heavily, his rifle jerking from side to side as he stared warily around, the shadow of the soldier on his left disappearing between the snow laden branches. Then he stiffened, staring ahead as he strained his ears beneath the frosted helmet, the distant crack of a branch causing him to lower himself instinctively, hissing to the right, ‘Herr Leutnant…movement!’ Hausser dropped to one knee, straining his
eyes into the gloom and raising his MP40, one eye staring along the barrel sight as he drew breath.
The muzzle flash seemed distant, the sound waves echoing through the trees as the projectile swept towards its target. Hausser and Udet ducked instinctively, the scream to the left as the bullet shattered the soldier’s ribcage cut short, the body propelled violently backwards against the tree behind before slumping forward roughly into the snow.
Another shot rang out, the German soldier dropping to his knees, his hands grasping a wound to his thigh as blood splattered across the snow. Hausser fired a burst from his MP40, snow billowing as the bullets cut through the tree branches, further cracks of rifles as the German soldiers fired, then the chatter of Tatu’s PPSH 41 muzzle lit up the snow and trees.
Udet frantically grasped for one of the hand grenades in his belt, yanking it free and fumbling with the base as the other soldiers dropped into the snow, their rifles cracking once more as bullets swept into the darkened woods. Finally unscrewing the base, he pulled the arming cord and tossed the Steilhandgranate forward, his teeth clenching as he realised the trajectory would cause it to hit the trees in front.
Hausser tossed another grenade before him, Udet’s clipping the tree and rolling forward out of sight. Bullets zipped overhead, the Russian riflemen firing desperately as they tried to retreat further into the woods. The grenades flashed as they detonated, one soldier caught between them, his body spinning as lungs and eardrums perforated due to the force, his jacket torn from the shrapnel as snow engulfed his toppling staggering frame. As he fell backwards, his hands rising as if to grasp the last tentacles of life, the white powdered snow spinning in his eyes, the light faded, his lifeless body hitting the iced surface as branches cracked underneath.
Tatu lunged forward, a curdling roar forced through his gritted teeth as the Italians’ eyes widened in shock, the Romanian’s large frame and flowing jackets smashing between the close branches in front of them, the chatter of his PPSH illuminating his silhouette as he charged through the trees. Donatello forced himself upwards, his rifle pushed before him as he scrambled after Tatu, a frustrated shriek coming from his lips.
Leutnant Hausser raised his eyes in irritation, ‘Scheisse!’ His body scrambling forward as he fired another burst of his MP40 into the gloom, his shouted gasped words almost drowned out by the resounding gunfire, ‘Forward!’ Udet rose next to him, the German soldiers surging into the trees, their rifles and machine guns firing as the pace increased. Branches cracked and shook to either side as the padded jackets forced their way through the narrow openings, powdered snow billowing around them as bullets splattered against the tree trunks and bark ahead.
The remaining four cold and shivering Russian riflemen fired frantic shots as they turned to run, panic and hunger overcoming their urge to fight hand to hand against over twice their number. Hausser and Udet ducked as bullets swept above them, the commander glimpsing a figure ahead through the gloom as he slowed and raised his machine gun, the muzzle flashing as a burst tore through the trees.
The silhouette stumbled, his back arching as the bullets cut through the back of his uniform and ribcage, hand reaching out as the rifle fell from his grasp, the thirty-year-old falling forward into the snow as the crunching of ice and heavy breathing got nearer behind, his hand clawing at the ground as the boots stumbled passed, one slowing to kick the rifle away.
Tatu was increasing his pace, gaining on the figures ahead as Donatello ran close behind him, the Romanian dropping an ammunition canister into the snow and snapping another into place, his fingers tearing at the bolt as one of the Russians spun round, the soldier’s rifle raising as he stumbled.
Tatu’s eyes widened, the bolt on his PPSH seeming jammed, the Russian’s eyes narrowing as the fear swept through him. Then his body twisted sideways, the rifle shot from behind Tatu shattering the infantryman’s shoulder. As his own weapon fired, the bullet smacked against the tree trunk next to the stunned Romanian as he dropped into the frozen snow. Tatu glanced upwards, his breathing caught in shock as the rifleman writhed in agony before him, the weapon sliding from his grasp as the Romanian ran his hand across his moustache nervously.
Donatello dropped next to him, slapping his shoulder, ‘That was close…shall I shoot him again?’
Tatu grunted his thanks, shaking his head, ‘Push his rifle out of reach…we will come back for him…if he is still alive!’
He struggled upwards, dusting his coat and nodding to Donatello as Sergeant Moretti drew next to them breathing heavily, his body and rifle butt lowered into the snow, the Italian gasping, ‘Sergeant, we need to slow the men…there may be an ambush ahead!’
Tatu’s eyes widened in horror, hearing Hausser’s shout to the right, ‘Langsam und halt! (slow and stop)’ Then the commander’s voice came again, ‘Seek cover and clear the trees in front!’
The Romanian shook his head in annoyance at his over eagerness, ‘Come on, we had better join the others…’ He indicated to Donatello, ‘Go back and see to the wounded man and check to see if the other is alive…get them back to the Hanomag…’
The young Italian glared in irritation, Moretti shoving him and speaking in Italian, ‘Go! They are hurt badly…get them back to the armoured cars!’
Donatello grimaced, his young eyes welling with emotion as the sergeants stared at him, Tatu glaring in annoyance at his hesitation, ‘Andare! (Go)’
The young Italian turned reluctantly, his rifle dragging behind him as the Russian groaned nearby, a dismissive grunt coming from the side of the young Italian’s mouth as he stepped away between the trees, ‘Merda!’
Tatu nodded knowingly to Moretti, ‘Stubborn young thing isn’t he…’
Moretti glanced grimly over his shoulder at the moaning Russian soldier, ‘Mediterranean talent! We all are…’ They turned and edged forward, glancing to catch a glimpse of the soldier to their right, Tatu pulling the bolt back on his PPSH, the mechanism seeming stiff before he dropped back, slipping at a half crouch to the east.
Hausser was staring intently into the gloom, the snow covered branches above his helmet, the muffled sounds of gunfire resounding from the opposite side of the wood. Udet raised his Kar 98 rifle next to him, his hands shaking nervously as his eye lowered along the top of the barrel, the weapon moving slowly through an arc in front of them.
The snow laden trees were quiet, a thin frozen mist gradually forming below the branches as they stared forward, the distant gunfire becoming more ferocious as the rattle of machine gun fire resounded towards them. Plane engines roared above, three Bf110 twin engine fighter bombers banking over the wood and heading east, their targets six kilometres further and to the north of Popov’s mobile armoured unit.
Tatu dropped between them as several muffled explosions resounded in the distance, Hausser glancing at the two men next to him, ‘We have to advance…take the pressure off the others. I believe they had only a couple of men on this side, the rest waiting for Hauptmann Huber...’ He nodded to the Romanian, ‘What do you think?’
Tatu nodded grimly in agreement, adjusting his scarf, ‘They probably do not know how many we are…we spread out further and advance?’
Leutnant Hausser shook his head, ‘They could pick us off one by one then…I think we advance cautiously, but quickly and straight into the centre, that should break up their line if they are facing the others…’
Tatu grimaced in thought, ‘If it is a trap, they will be waiting…’
The commander nodded again, ‘If it was a trap, they would have sprung it by now…or fired to try and draw us in…we advance and throw grenades as we go, create as much noise as we can…they will think we have deployed reinforcements…’
The Romanian grinned beneath his scarf, ‘I think that will do it…’ He grimaced as another burst of machine gun fire echoed towards them, his PPSH rising, ‘Whatever we do…we need to do it now!’
Hausser struggled upwards, his MP40 rising, a hiss from his lips, ‘Udet! First grenade
!’ His sub machine gun muzzle flashed, the burst of bullets scything between the trees as iced powdered snow billowed before him, his body moving forward at a half crouch.
The Steilhandgranate was thrown away from the commander, to the far left as Tatu scrambled back behind the line, his tone harsh, ‘Move forward slowly, keep alert…give all your grenades to me!’
Udet scrambled after Hausser as the grenade detonated, a flash between the trees ahead causing more snow to rise, the cloud blinding the two as they advanced into the white haze. The commander stumbled, his arm raised to protect his eyes as he forced his body forward, the iced snow stinging his forehead as he scrambled through the trees.
Udet glimpsed the muzzle flash ahead, the bullet zipping past them and into a tree behind, his own rifle firing towards the source as Hausser’s MP40 barked again. Another grenade detonated off to the left, the cracks of German rifles firing into the haze of flying snow as Tatu urged the soldiers forward.
Hausser dropped to one knee, bullets cracking against the tree trunks either side of him as he fired towards the flashes, the submachine gun raised in front of his face, the weapon shuddering. Udet dropped next to him, the rifle butt jerking back into his shoulder as he squeezed the trigger, another explosive flash further to the left.
Hausser fired again, a shadow in the distance through the swirling snow crumpling backwards as the bullets smacked against bark. Udet yanked the bolt back on his weapon, the Kar 98 bucking again as he fired, the distant cracks of rifle fire spreading through the woods as more muffled explosions resounded towards them through the murk.
A machine gun chattered again, Captain Huber’s men pinned down by the medium weapon as they attempted to outflank the position by moving to the sides, the rifle fire to keep the Russian gunner’s focus.
Another grenade exploded, Tatu pushing between the two soldiers on either side and charging forward, his PPSH flashing in short bursts through the billowing snowflakes, the three Russian riflemen ahead turning to run as bullets swept past them, the German soldiers firing in unison to support the Romanian. Then they charged with him, glimpsing the silhouettes run between the trees ahead, the young leaderless Russians eager to lose their pursuers in the gloom.
Rise of the Bloodied Phoenix Page 15
