On the Volkhov Front - February 1942

(Source)

Efréĭtor Angelina Denisovna Sergeyeva had yet to be assigned a new spotter, she was getting used to operating on her own, but it was dangerous. One of the spotter's jobs was to keep an eye on the surrounding area. Her old spotter, Marianna Vladimirovna Makarova, had been very good at target selection and evaluation, but she had lost focus, and her life, when she failed to spot a small German patrol nearly right on top of them.

When Sergeyeva had fired, killing an experienced German sniper, their position had been revealed. A German with a submachine gun had killed Makarova and had nearly gotten Sergeyeva as well. A shortage of trained spotters and German pressure on the lines outside Leningrad meant she had to go out alone. At first it had bothered her, now she was used to it. Honestly, she preferred it, she was responsible for herself alone. She still felt a tremendous amount of guilt for Makarova's death.

Her current assignment was to seek out and kill officers. The first attempt to break the siege had been bloody, another attempt was to be made soon, the higher ups decided that to help disrupt the German defenses, they needed to kill the German leaders. After all, Soviet officers getting killed always led to a breakdown in cohesion. It should work on the Germans as well.

So the Soviet generals assumed.

Hauptmann Ferdinand Busch, von Lüttwitz's company commander, was surveying no-man's-land with his field glasses from the platoon command post. Nothing was moving, earlier there had been a wounded enemy soldier crying out in pain about 50 meters from the forward trench. He was no longer moving, he had passed out or, more likely, died of his wounds.

One of the Sanitäter had wanted to go out and bring the man in and treat his wounds. Busch had denied the request. Soviet snipers were active in this area and he would lose no man foolishly.

He turned to von Lüttwitz, "Casualties?"

"Two dead, three badly wounded, and evacuated. Five men with light wounds, treated and returned to duty. I lost Klempner, 3rd Squad's leader. The battalion surgeon said that he might live, he was bayoneted and probably would have died if one of his guys hadn't reacted quickly enough to kill the man who stabbed him."

"Who?"

"Gustav Hengsbach, he's been an indifferent soldier up until now, last night he showed us his true colors. He led the squad in repulsing the break in. I want to put him for the Iron Cross."

"I'll see to it." Busch said. "What happened to 3rd Squad's assistant squad leader?"

"Ah yes, Obergefreiter Egon Böhnisch, nobody saw him in the trench when the attack started. He didn't show up until this morning. Claims he was in the rear looking for rations."

"And?"

"He was empty handed when he got back, no one at company, battalion, or even regiment saw him back there."

"Cowardice?"

"Maybe, It could be something as simple as going back to take a shit and being caught with his trousers down when the attack started. Maybe he decided he didn't have to hurry back and risk exposing himself."

"Come on, Jürgen, what do you really think?"

"He's been a good soldier up to now, decorated with the Iron Cross in France. I think that there are times when even the bravest soldier decides to lay low when the shooting starts. None of his squad think any less of him, but ..."

"Ja, it's not something they'd tell their officers, is it?" Busch nodded, then continued, "So, do you want him leading 3rd Squad? It's your call, but ..."

"I know Herr Hauptmann, but other than being away from his position with a pretty bad reason, I hesitate to remove him. You know that the Feldgendarmerie will take an interest in such a case."

Busch nodded again, "Yes, men have been shot for less. If you want to give him another chance, that's all right. Is there anyone else in that squad, who you can trust if Böhnisch fails again?"

"Ja, Gefreiter Straube, 3rd Squad's machine gunner. Good man, he'll be the new assistant squad leader anyway."

"Gut, see to it. Anything you need?"

"Other than five replacements? No, we're set. No better or worse than the other platoons."

"All right, I might be able to scrounge some of the rear area people for a couple of bodies, but we're short handed as it is. Be on your toes, like I said, a lot of sniper activity reported in the area and we expect the Ivans to attack again. Soon."

Busch headed down the trench, back to the company CP. Von Lüttwitz now had to keep an eye on Böhnisch. Hopefully it was a one time thing, but he had managed to shirk his duties last night, who knew if he might be tempted to do so again?

Major Kurt Hassel, commanding 2nd Battalion, 344th Infantry Regiment, 223rd Infantry Division, was pinned down. His aide, Hauptmann Friedrich von Schaeffer, was lying nearby, clutching his midsection and moaning.

"Friedrich, try not to move so much, you were shot by a sniper. He's probably still out there."

Von Schaeffer groaned, then said, "I'm hit pretty bad, I think, Herr Major. Maybe I can crawl back to the aid station ..."

As he said that, he did try to roll over and start crawling. Surprisingly, no one shot at the two men.

Sergeyeva had shifted positions, she knew that to linger too long in one place was to invite Death to come calling. She had used that knowledge to eliminate a number of poorly trained German snipers. But those were getting fewer and fewer.

She was looking in the direction of where her first victim had been. She saw movement, an arm briefly appeared over a slight rise in the ground. She steadied her rifle.

She had shot an officer, she was convinced that she had killed him, or at least mortally wounded him. She had not noticed the other man, unbeknownst to her, a man senior to her target. Now she saw that there were indeed two men. So she hadn't killed her first target after all.

She assumed that the other man was a sergeant, or perhaps an even lower ranking man, sent out to shepherd the officer between positions. Then she heard a familiar cry from the German lines ...

"Sanitäter!" von Schaeffer cried out as the pain in his lower belly worsened. It was agonizing and he could see that he was losing a lot of blood.

"Friedrich, don't. The Ivans will often just wound a man, hoping to kill or wound those coming to save him."

"But Sir, ach mein Gott, the pain is overwhelming."

Von Schaeffer tried to sit up as he heard a shout, "Where are you? I'm coming to help you."

He looked towards the opening where he and the Major had come out, there, he could see one of the battalion stretcher bearers.

Hassel roared, "Stay where you are soldier! There's a sniper out there!"

"Is that you Herr Major? Are you hurt?" the man called.

"No, it's Hauptmann von Schaeffer. He'll be fine, "Hassel lied, "stay put. Go back to the command post, have them call for artillery on grid sector red-tiger. Go, now!"

The man stood up to see exactly where the Major and the Captain were.

Sergeyeva squeezed the trigger as the man came into view.

A pink mist enveloped the man's head and he dropped behind the berm like a sack of rocks. A clear kill.

"Time to move, Angelina Denisovna." she muttered to herself.

"Gottverdammt!" Hassel bellowed at the sky. "I told you not to f**king move."

He could see the stretcher bearer's legs from where he was. From the blood on the snow, and the fact that he had seen the man's feet twitch briefly, he had to assume that von Schaeffer's savior was dead.

"Shit, shit, shit." Hassel was pounding the snow in frustration.

To make matters worse, von Schaeffer was no longer moving, he seemed as still as the grave.

If only he could get to a radio.

Sergeyeva was patient, she had changed positions again. But this one wasn't as good, she couldn't see the spot where the two men she had shot were.

The Germans had sent another man to rescue the officer she'd shot first. She had killed that one. What about the third man, the man she assumed was an escort for the officer she had shot? Where was he?

She was preparing to move when she heard a high pitched whistling sound in the air, followed by an explosion not thirty meters from her. The game is up she thought. The fascists were going to blanket the area with artillery. It was time to go home.

When the stretcher bearer had not returned, the battalion had sent out a patrol, along with a radioman, to discover his whereabouts. Also, and more importantly to battalion, the battalion commander should have returned by now.

Oberfeldwebel Hermann Krausse saw the dead stretcher bearer first. He signaled a halt, it was apparent to him that the man had been killed by a sniper. He crawled forward until he was next to the body.

"Scheiße. Hold up boys, we've found Dietrich. He's had his head blown off." Then he heard another voice.

"Krausse, is that you?"

Recognizing the sound of his battalion commander's voice, Krausse answered, "Herr Major, are you hurt?"

"Nein, but I think Hauptmann von Schaeffer is badly hurt, maybe dead. Do you have a radio?"

"Jawohl, Herr Major! Do you want smoke or HE?"

"HE will do. Once the rounds start landing, I'll drag the Hauptmann to your position, klar?"

"Wie Glas¹, Herr Major!"

Within moments artillery began to fall in no-man's-land, screening the German position from observation and also forcing any sniper to move or at least keep his head down.

Krausse and another man, Vogel, were moving as the shells began to detonate. They got to von Schaeffer and took him from the Major, who Krausse shoved towards cover.

"Go, we've got the Hauptmann."

Sergeyeva reported in. "Two kills, one of them an officer. The shelling forced me back. By the time I found another position, the bodies were gone."

"Are you sure?" The Politruk was looking hard at her. She had failed once before, in his eyes.

"Short of bringing back their heads, yes, I'm quite sure, Comrade."

As the Politruk stood and moved towards her, the regimental commander came in.

"That's enough, Miron Vladimirovich. Comrade Sergeyeva is very good at what she does."

Turning to the sniper, the Colonel asked, "Are you quite all right, Angelina Denisovna?"

"Yes, Comrade Polkóvnik². I just need a short rest and I will head back out. The fascists are up to something, I can feel it."

"Go, sleep, get some food. Be at regimental headquarters at midnight, we'll have another mission for you."

"Spasibo, tovarishch polkovnik.³"

Hassel was smoking a cigar, studying a map, when the battalion surgeon came into the ruined machine shop he was using as a headquarters. He looked at the surgeon.

The surgeon shook his head. "Von Schaeffer's wound was bad, there was nothing I could do. We gave him whole blood, but he bled it out almost as fast as we put it in. If I could have operated on him out there ..."

"Moving him here killed him, it's that what you're saying Oberfeldarzt⁴ Weber?" Hassel looked ready to bite someone's head off.

"Nein, Herr Major, a Soviet sniper's bullet killed him. Moving him didn't help, but if he had stayed out there, untreated, he would have died anyway."

Hassel's shoulders slumped, he had been fond of von Schaeffer, an excellent staff officer.

Weber spoke again, softly, "You tried Kurt. But sometimes ..."

"I know, Wilhelm, I know. But ..."

"Scheiß dreck nochmal!⁵" Hassel threw the remains of his cigar down, crushed it with his boot, then stormed out.

Krausse looked at the surgeon, "He'll be alright, Sir. He just needs to stomp around. Hauptmann von Schaeffer was a really good man, very popular in the battalion. He's been with the Major since Poland."

Oberfeldarzt Weber held out his hands to demonstrate how helpless he felt. Then he turned and went out to return to the aid station, there would be more wounded, and soon. He had learned not to obsess about them, that path led to madness.

Yet he saw them from time to time in his dreams.

He tried to forget, but after all, he was human.

¹ As glass, as in "as clear as glass" in answer to the Major's question of klar, as in "is that clear?"

² Colonel - Полковник in Russian.

³ Thank you, Comrade Colonel. (Спасибо, товарищ полковник.)

⁴ Senior Field Surgeon, equivalent to a Major.

⁵ "Dirty shit, again!" i.e. really, really shitty.