Mid December 1942: Stalingrad Pocket:
In the freezing city, cut off hundreds of miles to the east, the young Leutnant Hausser and his squad returns, having re-joined their unit on the north-west corner of the pocket facing a determined and ruthless enemy.
With the Germans and their allies inside the encircled city desperately short of food and ammunition, the Russians ensure the aromas of their own cooking are known to the isolated defenders, taunting their trapped enemy.
As the battle for the city heightens and progresses towards 1943, Leutnant Hausser and his men face the challenges of survival itself, knowing their predicament is little less than precarious. Hope may soon descend into desperation...perhaps this is where their war will end, in a frozen hell.
Temperature: Minus 20-30 Degrees Celsius: As the Panzer Tanks of the relief effort (Operation Winter Storm) struggle towards the city in severe weather and bitter temperatures, the Russian's move troops between the advancing units and the defenders in the pocket in efforts to halt any breakthrough. Erich Von Manstein, the German Field Marshal in charge of the relief effort requests the defenders in Stalingrad muster an attempted breakout towards the approaching soldiers to split the Russian defenders.
Hitler refuses this action unless the surrounded and starving Sixth Army can hold the positions on the Volga and link up with the relief effort, some thirty-five miles away, an impossible set of conditions. With only twenty to twenty five miles worth of fuel left, the Stalingrad defenders are unable to comply with the request, leaving the full force of the Russian Army to be utilised against the troops struggling to reach the surrounded army.
In the frozen encircled city, the stranded and starving defenders on the banks of the Volga River hear that their countrymen on the edge of the pocket can see the flashes from fighting in the distance. They know the approaching German forces have all the food and supplies they require...
Further to the west, to the north of the Don Bend, the Russians are preparing another offensive operation. Before the Russian armies sits the weakened Italian Eighth Army, blocking their advance south west to Rostov on Don. Capturing the city on the banks of the Sea of Azov will cut off and seal the destruction of the entire southern sector of German forces and their allies.
Across the eastern front a clock commences ticking on loud speakers...a voice blaring across the snow after each set of chimes, 'Every seven seconds, a German soldier dies in Russia.' The propaganda clock then ticks again, repeating the message shortly afterwards. It is played for days across the snow.
Bloody Kessel is the sequel to both Bloody Iced Bullet and Bloody Rattenkrieg. This is the third book in the Bloody Stalingrad series, focusing on creating a realistic and historically accurate portrayal of the war in the east during World War 2. The characters are fictional, but all units, weaponry and actions are portrayed as they were in the winter of 1942.
All books are now available in US bookstores, in electronic format and paperback from Kindle across the world.
The author aims to provide a thoroughly enjoyable and imaginative reading experience at an affordable price for the reader. All three works from the author's World War 2 Series concentrating on Stalingrad have achieved Best Seller status on Amazon in the UK and many more stories are outlined.
Imagination is personal, free and to be cherished.
I would like to thank the Bundesarchiv, the official German photo library for the invaluable assistance and use of images.
About the Author: As a boy, I used to write reports of the local football matches in my home town in northern Scotland, my favourite stories to write at the time being adventure and war and how the human condition adapts to the pressures of fate and unpredictability. Fascinated by history, I used to consume books at a frantic rate, reading personal accounts and historical works across all ages and becoming frustrated upon perusing articles that would compromise fact for common belief or to embellish a tale. My parents had always encouraged me to follow my interest, and this continued with my father occasionally enquiring if I had written anything, something I regret I had not done at the time. Although the pressures of buying property, running a business and having a career allowed me to develop plots and devise potential ideas for books, tales, twists of fate, etc. this was usually accomplished whilst sitting at traffic lights, awaking from a dream, waiting in a bar or the bane of my life, rush hour traffic. I did not realise at the time I was continually formulating stories in my mind, it was just an entertaining pastime to prevent boredom with the initial extracts of imagination then added to over time and usually when passing the same place. On long journeys, I would mentally start out with a plot and character, allowing that to grow and flourish in my mind...quite a useful diversion on say an eight hour car journey...by the time I reached the destination, a whole set of characters and actions had been formulated, sometimes even with terrain and weather. I would then write these whims down, unaware my sub-conscious seemed to be storing the colourful adventure, the key being the location I was at or even emotional state. A couple of years ago, my father unfortunately passed away and it was on the train to assist in the arrangements for the funeral that I considered what my father had encouraged me to do, the things he had been proud of that I had perhaps let slip. All the plots and stories began to pour back as I sat staring out into the French countryside, the silly twists that life throws at us, comical endings to situations and the 'itch I could never scratch', understanding fate's choices and the luck in life. I determined at that point that I would finally achieve what I had always dreamed of and write. At the end of the journey with the train pulling into Bezier...I had completed the first chapter of the first book, Bloody Iced Bullet.