Heinrich Gerlach - Breakout at Stalingrad

He tumbles down a slope. A pair of fists grab hold of him. ‘What’s up, then?’ asks a calm voice. ‘Looks like someone’s gone crackers!’ And in the grip of these strong hands, Harras loses consciousness. Blackness swims before his eyes.

The pale red traffic light of the sun, which pushed itself up out of the grey layer of mist, brought with it a cold, clear winter’s day. The atmosphere was fraught with tension. The sound of fighting drifted over from the west. On the road leading from Novo Alexeyevka to Dubininsky, which was normally almost empty, motorbikes and lorries were speeding back and forth, and squads of marching soldiers and small columns of trucks were heading east. In the city of bunkers, things were humming and buzzing like a beehive.

First Lieutenant Breuer was profoundly shocked at what had happened over the past two days. His thoughts were plagued by dark doubts and bitter questions. Yet the pace of events, which came thick and fast, left him no time for reflection. He was buffeted by the whirlwind like a ship that had lost both its mast and rudder. He telephoned the Corps early this morning. The orderly officer picked up the phone. The man was clearly in a foul temper and gave monosyllabic answers to Breuer’s questions: Yes, the Russians were attacking… Nobody knew for certain, no clear general picture had emerged yet… No, he didn’t have any more information at present. Breuer lost his temper and demanded to speak to the captain in person.

‘Who, Count Willms?’ came the response. ‘He’s not here any more!’

‘How come?! What do you mean?’

‘Flew out a few days ago. He’s an army messenger now!’

Breuer hung up. That told him all he needed to know. So that was how things stood!

Around midday, a call came through from the chief of staff: ‘Get yourself over here right away!’ Lieutenant Colonel Unold had finally been able to occupy his new bunker. When Breuer arrived, Unold, Engelhard and old Endrigkeit were already assembled in the panelled room with wide map tables, while in the corner there stood a small figure in a greatcoat that was far too large for him and was torn and caked with mud. The balaclava he was wearing framed a grey face covered with several days’ growth of stubble. Breuer gave a start. It was his driver, Lakosch.

‘So, we’ve caught the little bastard!’ said Unold, giving the first lieutenant’s outstretched hand a perfunctory shake. ‘What did I tell you? The bloke deserted, tried to go over to the enemy. Clear-cut case. He’s confessed to everything.’

Breuer stared at the lieutenant colonel.

‘But that’s just not possible!’ he stammered.

Unold’s pale face was a mask of mocking scorn.

‘Go ahead, ask him yourself!’

Breuer turned his gaze on Lakosch. How utterly worn out the poor lad looked! He couldn’t have eaten anything for days.

‘Is that true, Lakosch? Were you planning to desert and go over to the enemy?’

The little driver’s eyes shot Breuer a sad but unabashed look. ‘Yes, Lieutenant, sir,’ he replied calmly.

‘You’re saying you wanted to save your own skin by betraying us all here? I can’t believe it!’

Lakosch couldn’t meet the lieutenant’s gaze. He said nothing.

‘No, Lieutenant Colonel, sir.’ Breuer swung round, agitated, and faced Unold again. ‘It simply isn’t possible! The man’s clearly taken leave of his senses. I know him! You know yourself, sir, what a good soldier he was. He’s just had a nervous breakdown. It happens… After, all, we’re all…’

Suddenly, words failed him. Unold narrowed his eyes slightly and, stroking the corners of his mouth, gave Breuer a searching look. Then he turned to Endrigkeit, who had been sucking silently on his pipe the whole time.

‘Put him in the old bunker,’ he said. ‘And keep him in the dark there. Lock the place securely and post a sentry outside. And no one is to speak to him! Make sure that all metal objects are removed from the room. A bloke like him is capable of anything.’

Straight after supper, a drumhead court martial was convened. It consisted of Lieutenant Colonel Unold, Captain Engelhard, and Unold’s batman as a representative of the other ranks. Lakosch refused to explain to the court why he had acted as he did, but the fact that he clearly reiterated his intention to defect to the enemy made the verdict a foregone conclusion: death by firing squad. Unold confirmed the verdict in his capacity as acting divisional commander and immediately after passing sentence summoned Captain Endrigkeit once more. ‘I want to draw a line under this business as quickly as possible and with the minimum of fuss,’ he told him. ‘God knows, we’ve got plenty of other things to worry about right now. So I’m ordering that the judgement should be executed at first light tomorrow. The firing squad will be made up of military police. I’m putting you in charge of carrying out the execution!’

Up to now, the captain hadn’t uttered a word about the whole affair. Now he broke his silence.

‘You want me to shoot the lad?’ His broad East Prussian accent rose from the depths of his beard as if it were coming out of a dense forest. ‘No, Lieutenant Colonel, sir, I can’t. I just can’t do it.’

For a moment, Unold was speechless. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. Had everyone here gone mad? He pulled himself together and decided to overlook this act of insubordination. After all, the old captain was only a reservist, and he wasn’t from high up the social ladder either. There was no point taking such people very seriously.

‘What kind of nonsense is that, Endrigkeit?’ he said with forced joviality. ‘There’s no one else I can entrust this task to, see. You’ve got experience in these matters! I mean, this won’t be the first time you’ve executed someone.’

‘No, it’s just not on,’ the captain replied. ‘I can’t do it.’

Unold’s frayed nerves finally snapped.

‘For Christ’s sake!’ he shouted. ‘Have you gone completely crazy, or what? I’m giving you a direct order, and that’s an end of it! Tomorrow morning at nine sharp you’ll come and report to me that the sentence has been carried out. And you haven’t heard the last of this, either!’

Captain Endrigkeit walked out across the open steppe. He felt the need to clear his head and straighten things out in his own mind. The lacework patterns of the frost-encrusted snow crunched beneath his feet. The rolling attack by the Russians had even forced its way into the silence of this desolate winter landscape. The air was humming with the drone and howl of aircraft engines. Up above, agile fighters pulled breathtaking turns. Over to the west, at low altitude, ground-attack aircraft skimmed over the Rossoshka Valley, unleashing fiery-tailed rockets from beneath their wings with an evil hissing sound onto unseen enemy forces below. High up in the sky, reflecting in the afterglow of the sun, which had already sunk below the horizon, were the tiny fuselages of a squadron of bombers. Black mushroom clouds erupting on the ground marked their progress.

The captain, though, took no notice of any of this. His gaze was turned inwards. They were expecting him to shoot Lakosch, the very lad who had saved him from a real fix that time by the skin of his teeth? Endrigkeit was a tough nut. He’d had to carry out many an execution and hadn’t been greatly concerned about the whys and wherefores. But this business was beyond a joke. To go and do such a thing to a bloody rascal just because of an act of sheer stupidity! If only he’d been a thug, or a real criminal…

Suddenly making up his mind, he turned around and trudged over to the bunker. The sergeant standing guard there opened the door and lit a candle for him. Lakosch sat huddled in the corner of the unheated room. When the captain entered, he got to his feet. Endrigkeit was irritated at the feeling of pity he felt welling up inside him.