Gorenko decided to stay close to this man, for his troops still had a full supply of ammunition, especially grenades, which slowed any attack. And Kupinsky and his men were brave and experienced. They had been there since early September, always near Mamai Hill. Young Georgi Kupinsky had liked the Navy man, and they found that the defenders of Sebastopol and the defenders of Mamai Hill fought well together.
Their newly designated basement headquarters were by the Stalingrad Tractor Plant. They would soon try to take back the Hill.
"Tell me, Commander," inquired the young man, as he lit one of the foul-smelling cigarettes, "now that they have allowed us to finish a meal, do you think they will attack soon? Or do you think they are already aware of the counteroffensive?" It was November 18, and General Chuikov had planned a massive counterattack to take place simultaneously on each of the fronts around the city.
"It is hard to say, Georgi. And, please… please call me Pietr. We are friends, now." He paused to light his own cigarette. "I don't think they like the daylight any more than they have before. They like to attack at night when we can't see them as well." He stood up, motioning to the other. "Let's check with our men and see for ourselves if the Nazis seem to be curious."
As they came up onto the street, Gorenko looked for the outline of the sun through the dust and smoke that had changed it to a dull, reddish ball. It was either night and black out or a little lighter as the sun tried to penetrate the thick blanket of smoke. Few buildings existed as more than piles of masonry, an occasional wall or chimney piercing the air. Chimneys were hard to hit, so there were more of them than anything else to identify which part of town one occupied.
The rubble served as both a hindrance to movement and a boon to the foot soldiers for its excellent protection from rifle fire. The best part for the Russians was the fact that the German destruction of the city was so complete that their tanks were unable to maneuver through much of the area they wanted to capture. German soldiers had to advance without the mechanized divisions that had led them in their sweep across Russia. When they had elected to reduce the city to mortar and ashes they had not realized that they were also halting their own most effective weapon. This gave the Russians the opportunity to pound the German positions with their artillery twenty-four hours a day, firing with accuracy from the opposite bank of the Volga.
And then, Gorenko remembered, there were the katyushas, those immense mortars, one of the few items in the Russian arsenal that genuinely frightened the Germans. Since they were fired from a distance, there was no warning of the impending explosion until the first shell began its descent. The great whooshing sound then announced its imminent arrival, too Sate for the Germans to avoid the tremendous explosions. The Russians used them effectively against troop concentrations, knowing the psychological value was worth almost as much as its destructiveness. Its intention was antipersonnel and its effectiveness justified its use, once reducing an entire advancing battalion to bits and pieces. Perhaps, he thought to himself, that's what kept us going in those days — we knew they had no katys. They kept close to the remaining walls as they found their men around the next corner. Gorenko stopped to talk with one of his squad leaders for a moment, while Kupinsky moved among his own larger group.
"Georgi, has there been any movement out there?" He gestured in the general direction of the German positions.
"No, not yet. One of my scouts has just been out and has seen some ammunition carts hauling in more men. He thinks they may just be probing in the next couple of streets. They must know something's in the air."
"It's not like them to be so still during the day. Let's get ourselves a prisoner or two for Gorishnyi. He doesn't want them pulling back far enough to use aircraft." General Chuikov had ordered that his men would maintain close combat positions with the Germans, just a "grenade's-throw distance at most," so that their enemy could not utilize their air superiority. Every time the Germans moved forward they met stiff resistance, and whenever they withdrew, the 62nd Army was at their heels. Attacking was thought to be the simplest way to stay alive.
As quietly as six men could move through the remains of a pulverized building, they eased their way onto a pile of stone. Kupinsky used his binoculars to check activity behind the lines, while Gorenko and his men moved to one side to protect their post from the street. Less than thirty seconds after they had taken their positions, a German reconnaissance squad inched cautiously down the street in their direction. Gorenko communicated with his men by making hand signs for an ambush.
Looking over his shoulder, Kupinsky saw what was coming. He, too, used hand signals and his men began to move silently. But before they got there, the others opened fire. Shouts and screams, combined with the fire of automatic weapons, shattered the air. The surprised Germans had little chance to return fire. It was over almost before it began, except for the second squad of Germans following the first.
Gorenko didn't see them as he and his men jumped down from their position to locate a survivor. The second German group opened fire on them immediately, hitting one of his men. He and the other ducked behind the remains of a wall that had toppled into the street. The Germans had divided their group and, while one held down the two Russians behind the rubble, the others circled, not knowing Kupinsky was easing around behind them.
And then, from his right, Gorenko saw that the Germans had trapped them almost at the same time that they opened fire. The initial bursts killed the man beside him. He turned to fire, and found his gun jammed. The closest German came at him with his bayonet, deciding quickly that he had an opportunity to save ammunition. Gorenko rose to a squatting position, slipping as he tried to get to his feet.
Then, Kupinsky, bellowing as he ran, fired at the Germans. Two behind fell, but the one with the bayonet hesitated only for a moment when he was hit. Then he continued to chase the stumbling Gorenko. As he rushed, pointing the bayonet at Gorenko's chest, Kupinsky was there, jumping over the sprawled figure of his friend and impaling the German on his own bayonet, then firing one more round to make sure the man was dead.
"Are you hit?" Kupinsky asked, bending over the now-kneeling Navy officer.
"No, I am fine," he replied. "Only my pride is damaged, but it is better to be alive." He stood up, looking directly into the eyes of the man who had saved him. "I owe you something that is not easy to repay. I made a mistake and you saved me." He extended his hand in simple gratitude.
He never forgot the stark look on the other man's face. "No, my friend, you owe me nothing except perhaps to try to keep me alive also. I, too, want to return to my family after this is over." He smiled at Gorenko and turned away, giving instructions to his men, who had salvaged a wounded German.
They returned silently to their basement hovel, leaving their prisoner with Intelligence. They found lukewarm tea left by some officers now sleeping in another corner. Leaning against the wall, legs stretched out in the dirt and dust, Gorenko stared at his hands. They were shaking, the one that held the tea less so because it had something to grasp. He put the tea down, folding his hands to still them. Unable to calm himself, he shut his eyes and said, "I have fought both at sea and on land for almost two years and have never come so close to death, that I know of. Usually, I was behind the hand-to-hand fighting, and I never saw the people I killed or those who tried to kill me. But today, I saw that man's eyes. He wanted to kill me so badly, and I had no idea why he felt that way. Perhaps it comes with command, or the fact that the Navy does not see the people we fight at sea as human beings.