This short story is for all of you who are fellow fans of Sven Hassel. It is my attempt to emulate his style. I hope you like it.
Marlene's
Maybach engine roared into life and we held on as she surged forward.
We were Germania and our platoon formed part of Combat Group
Dieckman,
with orders to take part in operation Maus. We were to break through
the Russian lines and re-take the city of Rostov.
We'd held the line
all winter against repeated attacks by the Reds but July finally
heralded summer and the offensive that would see us destroy the
Bolsheviks completely once and for all.
It seemed a long
time since the days of our training in Heuberg and Wiking had proven
itself time after time in the bloody fighting of Barbarossa. The ten
of us in the back of Marlene were one of the few squads that was
still intact from those early days. But now it was our turn to grab
some of the glory and earn our place in Valhalla.
We were part of the
group's reconnaissance unit, there was a sdkf 232 armoured car and
our three Hanomag 251 half-tracks, carrying thirty grenadiers between
them. Our job was to scout ahead of the main column and locate any
Russian positions so that they could be taken care of.
The sun was shining
and we could see scudding clouds and the occasional tree through the
open top of our troop compartment as we sped along the road at around
fifty kilometres an hour.
We had just passed
through Vodianoie, when there was a deafening explosion and Madelene
was rocked by the blast's concussion wave. Small arms fire
immediately began screaming off our armour plating and Erik, our
driver, pulled off the road as Jurgen manned our new mg42 and began
returning the enemy's fire.
We bumped over rough
ground for a moment before coming to a halt, then we were through the
rear doors and fanning out to either side of our half-track. I
scanned the terrain ahead from my prone position and could see that
the incoming fire had come from a hedge line about a hundred metres
ahead of us. It looked like there was a crossroads there, an obvious
place for an ambush.
Try as I might
though, I couldn't see any targets and our MG42 had fallen silent.
Cautiously, the squad got up and advanced towards the hedge. When we
got there, it was to find the bodies of an NKVD unit. The 7.92 mm
machine gun bullets had thrown them into all the usual macabre poses
that violent death has to offer. By the corner where the roads met,
was a discarded bazooka that had obviously been responsible for the
destruction of our armoured car.
Udo, our
unterscharführer, began
searching the bodies to see if he could find any useful information,
while the rest of us waited for Madelene to arrive. I watched as the
other two Hanomags drove back onto the road behind her, then all
three of them drove up to the junction in a line.
I
hadn't had time before to pay any attention to the fact that four of
our comrades were gone. But even as I looked at the ruined armoured
car, I was simply left numb to their passing. Death was our constant
companion and his imagination was inexhaustible when it came to
creating new ways to take us.
Thick smoke from the
still burning wreckage of the 232 obscured the road behind us as we
set off towards our next target. I fervently hoped it wasn't an omen
of things to come, as I took my place on the left hand bench seat.
We stopped again
just outside the town of Stojakov, although hamlet would be a better
description for it. The place consisted mostly of ramshackle houses,
with what looked like a group of farm buildings scattered amongst
them for good measure. Further south, there was a cluster of what
looked like virtually derelict outhouses that petered out into
fields.
It was decided that
the grenadiers would advance in three groups, while the half-tracks
offered covering fire in case Ivan was hiding in the town. Sepp took
his squad to the north, Gustav led his along the road into the centre
of the town, while Udo took us to check out the buildings to the
south.
The hairs on the
back of my neck stood on end and the palms of my hands were sweating,
as we marched across the open fields, sure signs that something
wasn't right. My soldier's intuition never let me down and I
constantly scanned the sheds for any sign of trouble. Even
Madelene's growling behind me did little to reassure me and I was
ready for anything when we finally reached the first building.
We split into pairs
to make searching faster and Gregor and I set off for the furthest of
the sheds. I gripped my MP40 as if my life depended on it, which in
many cases, it had. Gregor moved to open the door of the first
building we reached but just as he touched the handle, we heard a
muffled sound from inside.
Our eyes met and we
nodded as one. Gregor threw the door back and I jumped through with
my gun at the ready. The shed's interior stank of animal shit and
was dark enough that it took my eyes a few moments to adjust after
the sunlight outside.
I
searched the shadows for the source of the noise I'd heard, as Gregor
moved up beside me. I felt him tense, just as he nudged me with his
elbow. I followed his stare and there on the floor, were the naked
bodies of three women. Two of them were lying still but the third
one began moaning incoherently as we moved towards her.
We said what we
thought were words of reassurance but she kept on moaning and I was
surprised that she hadn't tried to escape. Then I saw why. All
three women were spread eagled, their hands and ankles had been
nailed to the filthy floor and it was clear from their condition and
the stains on the floorboards what had happened to them.
Gregor tried to pull
the nails out for the woman that was still conscious but it was
useless. All his efforts achieved was to make her scream. So I left
him with her while I went to get the medical kit and some tools from
Madelene.
By the time I
returned, Udo and Hans had joined Gregor, drawn by the screaming.
Udo took the hacksaw I'd brought and began cutting the heads off the
nails that were holding the woman who had fainted while I was gone.
Fortunately, she didn't revive until he had moved onto the next woman
and I was already bandaging her wounds.
I
gave her some water from my flask and she began talking to me in
Russian. Forunately, Udo understood some of what she was saying.
The women were all Ukranians and an NKVD unit had done this to them
after accusing them of spying for us. Suddenly I wished that the
bastards at the crossroads hadn't died so quickly. What kind of men
could do this to innocent women?
Our Hanomag pulled
up outside the barn and Gregor rushed out to ask Jurgen to radio back
for a medic. The rest of our squad joined us when they had finished
their search. Kurt brought some blankets in for the women, while
Horst began cooking them some soup from our rations. We were
Hitler's elite, yet we stood around like embarrassed schoolboys while
Udo tended to the women and Horst's soup began to simmer in his mess
tin.
A
runner arrived from Gustav's squad to advise us that the town was
clear. Udo appraised him of our situation and said that we would
take up position in the barns to guard the southern approach to the
town.
Nils and Otto got
the first watch, the rest of us gathering around Udo and the women
while we ate our rations. The other two women had regained
consciousness but all three were understandably in a lot of pain.
Udo gave them some morphine to help but there was little else that we
could do and it was obvious that they were all still feeling
uncomfortable.
The sun was
beginning to set when we heard the familiar sound of Maybach engines
and a 251 pulled up outside our barn. A medic and an orderly came in
with a stretcher and after a cursory examination of the women, we
helped to carry them out to the waiting half-track while Udo radioed
ahead to Obersturmführer Eichman that the women might be able to
provide some useful intelligence about Russian troop movements in the
area.
We were already on
the move when the sun rose again the following day. Not far from
Stojakov, we came under sporadic small arms fire from some hills to
the south of the road but were ordered to ignore the Reds and push on
towards Sultan-Saly. We could just see a distant spire that our map
said belonged to an Armenian church on the edge of the town, when we
came under heavy fire from a hill to our north.
Erik had just thrown
Madelene into reverse, when there was a massive explosion behind us.
He checked his rear view mirrors, cursing as he swung off the road in
a u-turn to race back the way we'd come.
Shells were
exploding all around us, chasing us on our way, until we finally
managed to get out of range. We stopped in the shade of a tree and
Udo asked what had happened. Erik informed us that Gustav's 251 had
taken a direct hit. He said a shell must have landed in the open
back, because the vehicle had simply vanished, there was no chance
that anyone could have survived.
Jurgen had reached
command on the radio, so Udo reported our situation and exactly where
the enemy were. Sepp's squad pulled up beside us while Udo was
talking and we stood around in glum silence waiting for whatever
would happen next.
The combat group
joined us early in the afternoon, our Obersturmführer instructing us
to wait in reserve during the assault on Sultan-Saly. The rest of
the regiment deployed ready for the attack and at 17.00 our artillery
opened fire as a squadron of Stukas screamed down on the enemy
positions.
I
nearly felt sorry for the Bolshies as Germania's tanks and grenadiers
swarmed forward in the wake of the bombardment. Thick smoke, flames
and distant gunfire marked where the fighting raged briefly, before
the Reds fled or were taken prisoner. It was dark by the time
Sultan-Saly was secured and our picket was established to the south
of the town.
Udo was called to a
staff briefing, returning nearly an hour later to tell us that we
would be getting a new armoured car and a replacement squad from the
rearguard unit in the morning. He paused dramatically in his speech
and I couldn't help smiling as his chest visibly swelled with pride.
“Sturmbannführer
Dieckman himself praised us for the work we have done so far and has
granted us the honour of being the vanguard again in our push on
Rostov tomorrow.” We gave a resounding cheer. There would be Iron
Crosses all round by the end of this.
Once again, we were
already moving as the sun rose on the morning of the 23rd.
It turned out to be another beautifully sunny day as we raced
through Russia. Our new 232 was out in front with the three
half-tracks in line about a hundred metres behind it.
We passed through
Leninawa without incident and halted well short of the Russian
positions that were drawn up about eight kilometres from Rostov.
Even from a safe distance, it was easy to see that the Red's defences
were extensive and stretched as far as we could see to the north.
But a Fieseler
Storch had flown over the lines earlier in the morning and reported
that there was an undefended bridge to the south of us. Our orders
came through that we were to proceed with caution towards the bridge
and ascertain if it was still open. The rest of the combat group
would engage the Reds to keep them too occupied to bother us.
We turned back west
until we were out of sight of unwanted watchers, then changed
direction so that we were heading roughly south east over open
ground. The 232 was still on point but our Hanomags were now fanned
out in an open line abreast behind it.
All of us were on
edge. There were an estimated ten to fifteen thousand of Uncle Joe's
rabble out there, with nothing better to do than try to kill us.
That's enough to get anybody's adrenaline flowing!
Even though we were
being cautious, it only took us twenty minutes to reach our
objective. We dismounted in the cover of some trees, then advanced
to the bridge, using whatever cover we could find.
All the time I was
expecting the enemy to open fire on us. How could they be stupid
enough to leave this bridge open? It gave us a clear route around
their positions and a direct line to Rostov to the east. Yet we
reached the bridge without a shot being fired. The 232 and the new
squad took up position on the far side, while the rest of us dug in
and Udo radioed command to send us reinforcements and some engineers
to get rid of the explosives the Reds had set on the bridge.
We could soon here
shellfire from our artillery to the north of us and within an hour, a
grenadier company, reinforced with panzer 3's arrived. They hardly
paused to redeploy before they threw themselves north against the
Bolshies. At 14.00 we had a radio message to tell us the position
was in German hands and we were to proceed on towards Sapadni.
We hurtled down the
road until, from the brow of a low hill, we had a clear view of the
suburbs of Rostov with Sapadni slightly to the south east of us. In
the far distance, we could even see the sun reflecting off the waters
of the river Don.
We maintained
constant radio contact with the rest of the combat group, sending
them as much information as we could as to the disposition of the
enemy. In return, we were told to hold our position until an
artillery observer caught up with us. We were then to move so that
we could exploit any breakthrough the group made in it's assault on
Sapadni, with express orders to reach point 80.
Point 80 was another
hill and we were to hold it so that the spotter could radio range and
target information to our artillery batteries. The position was
about two kilometres from the railway and offered a perfect view over
the whole of Rostov and its surroundings, even as far as the marshes
to the south and the towns of Koisug and Bataisk.
Our observer arrived
on a Zűndapp motorbike
and sidecar outfit and we set off cautiously to take up a new
position about a kilometre outside the city. No sooner had we
arrived, than shells began to fall in the buildings in front of us.
They sounded like someone was ripping the sky apart as they passed
over our heads and buildings and defences alike began to disappear,
to be replaced by some kind of lunar landscape.
The barrage didn't
let up as our grenadiers and tanks advanced, it simply shifted to
target areas further inside the city once the guns of the tanks were
able to come to bear on the enemy positions.
From where we were,
we could see increasing numbers of Russian soldiers fleeing towards
the river and Udo ordered us to advance as fast as possible towards
our goal. We roared into the streets of Rostov, the noise of our
engines deafening as it reverberated back and forth between the
buildings.
Jurgen was manning
the radio, so Udo had instructed me to take over the machine gun. I
held on to the weapon for grim death as we bounced over rubble from
the shelling at over forty kilometres per hour.
We turned a corner
and bullets began to kick up dust in the street around us. I swung
the gun around, squeezing the trigger as it lined up with my targets.
It was easy to see why the gun was called Hitler's saw. Gaping
holes appeared along the walls of the houses as the rounds punched
through brick, wood and bodies alike.
It was surreal. The
noise of the engine and the roar of the machine gun meant that I
couldn't hear anything else, yet I could see these holes appearing as
if out of nowhere, bits of brick,glass and wood flying in all
directions as the bullets tore into the enemy positions.
A
man's face appeared momentarily at a window before his head exploded
as one of my bullets took him squarely between the eyes. All that
remained of him an instant later was some blood and bits of brain
splattered over the window frame where he had been. Not the best
memorial to mark his passing.
Time has a strange
habit of working differently during combat. It's as if it's in slow
motion, yet simultaneously everything is speeded up as well. In slow
motion, a huge Russian stepped out into the street before us. He was
readying a bazooka and I watched horrified as he raised the weapon to
take aim. I clearly saw his finger tighten on the trigger and knew
that I was going to die. But nothing happened.
He looked surprised
but then time speeded up again and Madelene slammed into him. She
didn't even jerk as she carried on over his body, her eight tonnes
simply crushing his corpse into the tarmac. Time slowed down again
as one of his arms sailed over us to land on the floor of the troop
compartment behind me. Then we were through. The street ahead of us
was clear and I could see position 80 less than half a kilometre
away.
Udo came running
down the hill and leaped into Madelene. The group's artillery was
already changing target to fire on the bridges that crossed the Don,
as he shouted at Erik to move off. Not ten minutes later, we entered
a large square, the far end of which was jammed full of Reds that
were trying to escape our army's advance. There was only one road
that led away from the square towards the Don but there were too many
of them to fit into it and in their panic, they were fighting with
each other, which simply made matters worse.
Sepp's half-track
pulled up besides us in the middle of the square near a statue of
Stalin. I've got to admit I was more than a little nervous as we
were only about a hundred metres from what looked like half the
Russian army. I was told to remain on the machine gun but Udo led
the rest of both squads to form a line in front of the vehicles.
The rear ranks of
the crowd, the ones nearest us, turned to face us but rather than the
attack as I had half expected, I could see them physically give up.
Their shoulders hunched and their heads drooped as a strange silence
gradually spread over them. Our engines were ticking over, and
shells were still bursting in the direction of the river, yet the
square was almost silent, as if everyone was frozen in place.
I
was starting to feel uncomfortable, when a small group of men pushed
their way through the crowd and advanced towards us. There were six
of them, the one in the lead carrying a raised rifle with a white
shirt tied to it. Udo walked forward to meet them and they had just
begun to talk when the Bolshies pointed at his uniform and backed
away a step, looking nervously at our small group.
They had obviously
seen Udo's SS insignia and our reputation must have proceeded us.
But Udo calmly walked up to them again, making placating gestures
with his hands. They continued to talk for perhaps another five
minutes before Udo returned to Madelene and instructed Jurgen to tell
HQ that we had captured a large number of prisoners and needed
reinforcements to take care of them.
And that was the end
of our battle. Germania's spearhead met up with Wehrmacht troops at
the bridges and the Russian resistance collapsed. By nightfall we
were billeted in a house in the suburbs near where we had broken into
the city, waiting for the rest of the division to catch up with us.
After tending to our
duties the next day, our platoon was given permission to explore the
city. There wasn't any more resistance and it was yet another of
those weird moments that happen sometimes, I found myself walking
down a street in an enemy city, being welcomed by the inhabitants as
a liberating hero.
Gregor and I had
just reached the edge of a small park, when two girls ran up to us
clutching a half empty bottle of vodka. They spoke to us excitedly
as they offered us the bottle but neither of us could understand what
they were saying. In the end, they grabbed our arms and dragged us
towards a small terraced house on the far side of the park.
We paired up,
Gregor's girl leading him upstairs, while mine showed me into the
front room. We the afternoon drinking vodka and making love until
finally we simply lay in each others arms for what seemed like a long
time. But when Gregor's boots thudded back down the stairs, it became
all too brief an interlude from the world of death that awaited me in
the world outside our oasis of peace.
We cleaned ourselves
up, then Gregor and I walked to a bar with the girls on our arms as
if we were back in peace time Germany. We sat at a table on the
pavement, basking in the sun as we smoked Sobraine cigarettes and
drank vodka together.
Gregor and I finally
left the girls there as evening drew in and made our rather unsteady
way back to our billet. You can never really escape from war.
Within six
weeks of Germania crossing their start positions, Rostov and the
whole of the Don region was in German hands and Wiking was already
taking their lightning war into the heart of the Caucasus.
Germania
lost three men killed and twelve wounded in the assault on Rostov, but
it is estimated that at least ten thousand Russians were taken
prisoner by the German army.
The main
events of this story are based on the actual assault of combat group
Dieckman on Rostov. However, the details have been changed for my
story and all of the names are fictitious.
If you like this story, it is one of three that are included with the Overkill rules set that is available from www.1poundrules.website All of my rules cost £1 each and if you buy all five at the same time, you get my Death Race rules free.
