Chapter 937: The Great River

By the side of the Stalingrad tank factory, long since destroyed by artillery, a Soviet soldier leaned against a wall, loading bullets into his rifle. Around him, a group of Soviet tank production technicians, who had once been mere workers, were now resupplying a T-34 tank they had just barely managed to assemble.

The man who had once been the workshop foreman was now a tank commander, facing death at any moment. The combat mission for this T-34 was to help the Soviet soldiers here hold the defensive positions near the factory.

They had just repulsed a German attack. Now, the exhausted forces of both sides were licking their wounds. It was estimated that after just a few short hours of rest, the Germans and Soviets would once again be at each other’s throats here, paving the short distance between their positions with corpses.

The defensive lines of the two sides were very close, in some places only a few dozen meters apart. The slightest movement could trigger a large-scale firefight, which would then spread throughout the entire area. Subsequently, all the nearby forces of both sides would be drawn into the slaughter, and the losing side would eventually cede the ground beneath their feet and find another suitable place to kill each other.

As early as 25 days ago, the Germans, under the cover of several tanks, had occupied the city center of Stalingrad. Küchler had then shifted the focus of his attack to the heavy industrial district in the north of the city. The German army had soon begun to attack these factories, and the Soviet army, under orders, had fought to the death to defend their positions.

On April 29th, the German and Soviet armies began to fight for a defensive position in the city codenamed “Mamayev.” First, the Germans, under the cover of a barrage from the “Building Destroyer,” had captured this high ground. Immediately after, the Soviets had thrown in heavy forces on the same day and had retaken it.

Then, on the next day, April 30th, the Germans had reoccupied Mamayev Kurgan, but four hours later, it was retaken by the Red Army. Upon receiving this news, Küchler was furious and ordered the main force of the German army to launch a fierce attack. The subsequent battles were even more intense. The two armies repeatedly took and retook this high ground, until it had been turned into a mountain of piled-up corpses, and the Germans had only barely managed to gain a firm foothold on May 7th.

The northern industrial district of Stalingrad was built in a hilly area, with the buildings made of reinforced concrete or stone. This unique geographical environment, combined with the materials and construction habits of the buildings (Soviet buildings generally had thick walls, a characteristic of their architecture), made the anti-destruction capability here quite strong.

Therefore, even with the deployment of Friedrich rocket launchers, 240mm and even 270mm heavy artillery, plus the cover of dozens of assault guns and self-propelled anti-aircraft guns, the German advance was still a struggle. The speed of the German army’s advance every hour was not measured in kilometers, but in meters.

A Ukrainian division commander in N Army Group had complained in a battle report to Küchler: “The Soviets are simply mad. They are fighting us frantically for every house, every workshop, every water tower, every railway embankment. Sometimes the battle will last for a whole day. We have run out of ammunition, and there are Soviet corpses everywhere.”

And another German officer had complained to his comrades in the armored forces about his tragic experience of fighting in the city of Stalingrad: “These Soviets even launch an attack for a single wall. The bullets rain down around the cover we are hiding in… We return fire with our weapons without a moment’s rest, and in the end, we drive them back to where they started. Then it’s our turn to attack, and they learn from us and drive us back.”

The commanders of both sides were under immense pressure. The German commander, Küchler, had developed the anxious habit of pacing around his office. He had several times wanted to go to the front with a rifle himself, but had been stopped by his subordinates in the end. Of course, Rokossovsky’s days were even more difficult. He did not get much rest in his sunless underground command post and, in the end, due to malnutrition and exhaustion, had developed a condition of intermittent fainting.

The struggle for the central railway station had been repeated as many as 20 times. At least several thousand men had died in battle near this station. So, a few days ago, the platform there had already been stained red with blood. The railway sleepers were soaked with human blood, and in the end, they had turned a dark red, a frightening sight.

In a huge, emptied grain warehouse near a train station, the soldiers of the two armies had fought a very bizarre battle. The two units were advancing, separated by a wall, and then, almost at the same time, they had heard each other’s footsteps. And so these soldiers had begun to fire fiercely through the wall, trying to take out the other. The result was that the two units, one German and one Soviet, had suffered equally heavy casualties and had both given the order to retreat at the same time.

In another part of the city, a 70-man Soviet detachment under the command of Colonel Yanky Zaikov had occupied an apartment building in the city center and was resisting stubbornly. The soldiers had laid a large number of mines around the building and had set up machine guns in the windows. They had successfully repulsed three German attacks—on the fourth, the Germans had brought up two “Building Destroyers.” After one salvo, the heroic Soviet colonel and his remaining 30 soldiers were destroyed along with this stubborn building. The ruins of this building were called “Yanky’s Building” by the Soviet defenders, to commemorate the warriors who had died in battle there.

Even though the Germans had launched several carpet-bombing raids on this city with their DO-217s, and despite the Germans having subjected this place to a fierce bombardment with all kinds of cannons, the Soviet defensive forces in the city were still using the ruins to fight. Because more than 70% of the buildings in the city had been destroyed, and most of the streets and squares were covered with piles of rubble and abandoned buildings several meters high, the Soviet snipers had very successfully used the ruins as cover and had achieved an astonishing combat record.

The most successful sniper, Jikan Lebur, had killed 124 Ukrainian and German soldiers in these ruins. Until he was surrounded and killed by a German sniper unit, he was a lingering nightmare for many of the frontline German soldiers. And another Soviet sniper had created the second-place record of killing 109 people. What was even more incredible was that this person had ultimately died of illness at the front, not in battle.

Just as these Soviet soldiers were preparing to face their battle once again, Stalin’s speech in Moscow was once again broadcast over the loudspeakers, echoing through the Soviet-controlled areas of Stalingrad: “All comrades who are fighting a hard battle in Stalingrad! You must not be afraid of difficulties and must persist in the fight! We must not let this great city fall into the hands of the German aggressors! Every house… hiss hiss… as long as there is a Soviet soldier, even if there is only one… hiss… it must become a fortress that the enemy cannot break.”

The Maxim machine gun beside him was already roaring. At a time like this, no one would pay any attention to the meaning of the voice from the distant loudspeaker. The German offensive had already begun, and another battle that would cost many, many lives had begun. This was a hell filled with a pool of blood, a corner that even God would not redeem.

“Front! A German assault gun! Armor-piercing, load!” This Soviet T-34, half-buried under the ruins with only its turret exposed, slowly adjusted its position, aiming its 76mm cannon at its target.

BOOM! This tank fired a fatal shot, but the shell grazed the side of the German tank and struck a low wall behind this Panther assault gun. For a moment, rubble and debris were thrown everywhere by the huge force, and the dust and dirt obscured the view in the distance.

This unfortunate T-34 had just been assembled not long ago, and besides not being painted, the most fatal thing was that it had not been installed with the out-of-stock gunsight. So the aiming of this Soviet tank could only be done by feel. Whether it could hit the other side could only be relied on faith.

Clearly, this tank’s faith was not strong enough, so this surprise shot had not hit its intended target—the German assault gun opposite. And so this German assault gun slammed on its brakes and stopped, beginning to aim its cannon at the T-34 not far away.

“Quick! Quick, quick!” In their flurry, these Soviet workers, who had never been through the test of fire, were clearly no match for the battle-hardened German assault gun crew. Their second shell took too long to load, so long that it gave the Germans a chance to fire first.

BOOM! The German crew quickly fired their first shell. The long-barreled 75mm cannon of the Panther assault gun easily pierced this neutered version of the T-34. The penetrating shell ricocheted inside the tank, turning all the Soviets inside into a bloody mess.

Because it didn’t have much fuel, this T-34 did not explode in the end, but just stopped all its movements as if it had lost its soul. Under the cover of the Panther assault gun, the German grenadiers began a fierce attack on the Soviet positions. The Soviets, who had just been loading their rifles, were also soon hit by the machine gun that was covering the German attack and lay beside the already-finished tank.

A German grenadier leaned against a dust-covered pile of rubble, then, after taking a deep breath, threw the hand grenade he was holding into the Soviet defenders’ trench. After a loud boom, the Soviet resistance became even weaker, and some even began to commit suicide in despair.

This was the first time the German army had encountered this situation since the siege of Stalingrad. While everyone was puzzled, a German platoon leader, leaning against a shelter, saw a wide river in the distance through a gap in the half-collapsed wall of a factory building.

He clutched the hole in his chest, spat out a mouthful of blood, and, with a smile, shouted his last words: “The Volga!”

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