Here a Bavarian comrade was severely wounded and Albert Gessner from Bremerhaven was sent to hospital with hypothermia. The company had shrunk considerably during the past weeks and was barely 60 strong. On 15 March the regiment was relieved. We had noticed during the preceding days that the Russians were bringing forward reinforcements and were clearly planning an attack and in fact a few days later they attacked and took Sachsendorf.[8]
Once our relief, a newly established and equipped regiment, had been briefed by us, we marched to Sachsendorf, where carts were waiting to take us to Dolgelin. There we had a few hours free to sleep and, above all, to have a wash, which had been impossible in the positions we had come from.
SOLIKANTE
That afternoon we were taken by trucks to Neu Trebbin, where we stayed until the next morning. At lunchtime some comrades and I acquired two chickens, and the comrade that had shared a foxhole with me cooked them to make a tasty meal. It was just like peacetime for us.
Neu Trebbin lay about ten kilometres behind the front line and had not yet been cleared of its inhabitants, but there was considerable nervousness among them and we were often asked: ‘Can you stop them?’ Although they did not have much themselves, the inhabitants gave us some good things to eat.
In the evening we took a stroll. I even cleaned my boots and brushed my uniform for the event, but my eyes closed on me with the first glass of beer and I went back to our quarters, which were in a barn. I was very tired. I had not had a whole night’s sleep for weeks, at most a few hours during the day. I slept in the hay as if in a feather bed, and no shelling or rifle fire disturbed me.
Next morning the trucks took us on to near Letschin, from where we marched to Solikante, about 15 kilometres north of Küstrin. Our regiment was relieving another one that had suffered heavy casualties here. At first our company was left in peace. We moved into quarters in the Solikante manor farm. The manor itself was burnt out, but the stalls, farm labourers’ cottages and barns were still standing. We made ourselves at home in the cellar of one of the barns, where we could look after ourselves properly for the first time. We received our rations on time and hot. We could also see to our weapons and equipment properly. Finally, we could get some more sleep.
How good it felt, sitting out in the open air in that lovely spring weather, or sheltering in our quarters when it rained. We also found various kinds of food, potatoes, peas, beans and corn, which we cooked and fried all day long.
It was then that I first noticed that my feet had been frozen. Often I could not sleep for the pain, and every step was agony. We had no duties during the daytime except weapon and equipment cleaning, but at night we had to dig trenches in the front line. The Russian air force was very active in this sector, but directed its attention to our rear and did not bother us much.
We were always very happy to get front line parcels with their contents of biscuits, sweets, chocolate, glucose, etc. Unfortunately, this was not very often.
After a week here, we had to take our turn in the front line, which ran between the villages of Solikante, which was in our hands, and Amt Kienitz, which was occupied by the Russians. There were about 400 metres of meadowland between the villages, with the lines running in between. The positions had already been prepared by the previous regiment.
The Russians were about 120 metres away. Our company command post was on the edge of Solikante in a farm that was partially burnt out. From there a trench ran forward to the front line and back to the battalion command post in Solikante. To the right of our company was a unit of Infantry Regiment ‘Grossdeutschland’.[9]
The Russians had driven a sap forward opposite our communications trench to within 70 metres of our trenches, which had a barbed wire fence in front, and had laid mines in front of their positions. Our trenches were only weakly manned with two men every 80 to 100 metres, the distance to the enemy trenches being about the same. The Russians knew this and emerged at night to try and snatch people, so we always had to be very alert.
It was forbidden to sleep at night, and we hardly got any during the day. After dusk in the evening the food carriers would deliver our rations, bringing ammunition and mail with them, but the food was cold. We got three quarters of a litre of soup and half a loaf every day, but hardly any butter or fat to go with it.
I had received my last mail in Lübeck at the beginning of February, and now at last, at the end of March I had some more news, eight letters arriving at once. I had no writing paper left, and although we had asked the company quartermaster sergeant often, we still did not got any. In the end I took some empty pages from books to write on, or searched the abandoned houses for writing paper when I went back during the day.
I was appointed machine gunner. As my number two I had Ivo Pfarrhofer from Vienna, who had been with me since Delmenhorst. At first we were deployed to the right of the communication trench.
Here too the Russians gave us lunchtime concerts in the form of mortars and anti-tank guns. The Russians were firing directly at the trenches, and we had many casualties as a result. As the Russians already knew our positions, we built alternative positions to fire from, and I constructed several firing positions right and left of the communication trench. Often I would fire my machine gun from 30 metres to the right, then run quickly to 50 metres to the left and fire again.
There was a lot of firing at night. The Russians could see our muzzle flashes and fire at them, and we would do the same to them. So it went on endlessly. Whenever I fired, I would promptly duck my head, and sometimes the bullets would whistle only a hair’s breadth over me.
By day, when the artillery and mortars were not firing, it would be comparatively quiet. Now and again a shot would ring out when someone moved incautiously and his head broke cover.
Gradually the supply of ammunition became shorter and, unfortunately, it was not much good. We got lacquered cartridges, which were always getting stuck in the breech. In case of attack, I always kept back a belt of 1200 rounds for my machine gun of which 300 were of brass.[10]
One of us was always on trench orderly duty, usually a section leader. I was always happy to get trench orderly duty, as the time passed quickly. By the time I had gone through the company’s section, my watch was nearly up, but I stayed to chat with everyone, for there was always something to talk about. Often, it took me five hours to make the rounds.
My hole was not just a foxhole like at the previous location, but properly constructed and I had made myself comfortable in it. I had a proper machine gun mounting supported with planks, and we had nailed together a bench. Right next to the machine gun mounting I had a dugout in which we sat under heavy artillery fire so as to be close to our machine gun. The dugout in which we slept when we had a chance, was supported by thick beams. We had found some mattresses and feather duvets in a destroyed house and made a comfortable home that was the envy of our comrades sleeping on straw.
When the days became warmer, we dug a place to lie down in 30 cm deep, lined it with straw and sunned ourselves in it. We had planned it well, but Ivan, unfortunately, still had to be taken into account.
One day I had just finished trench orderly duty and wanted to sleep. It was just before noon and the Russians opened their concert, a short one but unusually heavy. When it was over the cry came: ‘Alarm!’. I immediately ran to my machine gun and peered cautiously through the loophole, but there was no sign of any Russians. Some idiot must have been seeing ghosts, I thought. Two men, Dense and Brunkdorf, started screaming horribly. What had happened? One of them had mistaken a molehill for a Russian lying on the ground and shouted the alarm. Dense and Brunkdorf had run along the trench and were wounded by a shot that went through Dense’s cheek and knocked out some of his teeth, then hit Brunkdorf in the chest and lodged there. Neither wound was serious.
The Russians had placed snipers in the roofs of Amt Kienitz that we could not see. They often sat in the attics from where they could easily see us. If you were not really careful in keeping your
head down, you would be seen by them.
One day Sergeant Holst relieved me of trench orderly duty. Hardly any of us had cigarette lighters or matches left, so if you wanted a smoke you often had to go a hundred metres to get a light. I asked Sergeant Holst to bring me one on his way back. A long time past and I became impatient, as I wanted to have a smoke and then sleep. In the end I went to look for a light myself. About 30 metres from my dugout was a spot that was very damp, as a result of which it was only 60 centimetres deep, and it was there that I found Sergeant Holst. He had been shot in the head and was dead. A few days later Sergeant Behrensen, a nice chap, fell at practically the same place, also shot through the head. Both had been careless and had let their heads appear above cover, were seen and shot.
I was nearly killed myself one day as I was going back through the communication trench to the company command post. The communication trench was also very damp in parts and had duckboards in these places. There was a puddle about two metres long between these duckboards and all those wanting to cross it would make a run up and jump across, but it doing so they naturally had to stand up straight and could be seen by the Russians. The Russians had noticed this and fired at this spot. When I came up to it, I slipped on the wet grating and landed about 20 centimetres short of the next one. At the same moment an explosive bullet whistled past a hair’s breadth from my head and exploded right in front of me. If I had not slipped, it would have hit me.
One night when all kinds of things were happening, Ivo Pfarrhofer was standing at the loophole. I had already fired a burst and was down in the dugout fetching another belt of ammunition, when suddenly I heard someone moaning and calling my name. I called Ivo but got no answer. I found him at the firing point. He had been wounded in the throat and paralysed. He was taken back to the company command post straight away.
Each section had a man watching the Russian lines through a trench periscope. Once when I was doing this the periscope disintegrated around my ears. It had been spotted by the Russians and a bullet had gone right through it.
One night when Sergeant Singer brought up the rations, he heard an unusual sound as if someone was cutting the wire. He went on as if he had not noticed anything and put the food container down, then went back and saw three Russians cutting through our wire by the light of a Verey cartridge. Unfortunately his sub-machine gun jammed and the Russians got away.
As a replacement for Ivo Pfarrhofer, I got Josef Wieser, a 35 year-old Bavarian. He was a decent chap, but unfortunately we did not get on well. He spoke in a dialect that I simply could not understand.
Although the situation was serious and our casualties too, we did not let it get us down. Every morning as soon as it was light, I would make my way to the company command post to report my ammunition state, singing loudly and strongly enough for Ivan to hear.
With our supply section was a crazy guy, whose name I have forgotten, who went around wearing a frock coat and top hat as a symbol of his individuality. He had the German Cross in Gold and was one of our most successful snipers, having shot over 130 Russians. He used to sit in a barn about 300 metres behind the lines and a man from the company would observe for him. Whenever he saw a Russian, the sniper would shoot him. One day I reported as the observer and was scanning the Russian lines through binoculars when I saw a dog running around about 600 metres away. I told him and he hit it with his first shot.
We had to suffer a lot from the Russian anti-tank guns firing at our positions. One day a direct hit killed Corporal Pestel in his dugout and wounded two others. The Russian heavy artillery fired mainly at our rear, thus sparing us. Even their air force, which was very active in this area, left us alone. There were always Russian fighters, bombers and ground-attack aircraft in the air attacking the rear. Once a German Focker-Wulf fighter appeared and manoeuvred behind a Russian aircraft flying back and shot it down. The Russian baled out.
On the other hand we often had to endure Russian ‘bombers’ at night. They would glide over our trenches about 100 metres up and drop hand grenades and bombs on us. We could see these antiquated biplanes quite clearly. I often fired my machine gun at the ‘Sewing-Machines’, as we called them, but they were indestructible.[11]
At night a reserve section was employed digging trenches behind the front line as a fall-back position should the Russians break through. One evening as the reserve section was coming from the company command post into the farmyard, they received a direct hit from a mortar bomb and all eight were injured, some seriously.
It was now the beginning of April and often proper spring weather. Once I was detailed off for potato-peeling to the company cookhouse located in a farm about two kilometres behind the lines. One day on the food-carrying detail I met Schammy Thode from Wesermünde, who had been with me in Lübeck, coming out of the company command post. We were now the only two left in action from our course there. Six were dead, five wounded, and one was in hospital with hypothermia.
We did not see or hear much of our artillery and air force, but rocket launchers fired often to the south of us, near Küstrin. Occasionally our artillery would fire a few shells at the Russians opposite, who would retaliate by giving us an incessant plastering.
By the end of March our reconnaissance aircraft had already confirmed that the Russians were reinforcing their troops and bringing forward more materiel. By the beginning of April we could hear this activity for ourselves. We could constantly hear tanks, trucks and singing. The Russians must have concentrated vast numbers of troops, and it was obvious that they were about to make a big strike toward Berlin.
We were getting ever more casualties, were not being relieved for weeks on end, and were exhausted. The Russian fire got stronger every day, while our own artillery was firing ever more sparingly, which meant that they were short of ammunition. Consequently the Russians were able to make their preparations for attack undisturbed.
The first attack came on 14 April. At 5 a.m. we heard the Russian mortars firing and seconds later the bombs fell on us. There was a howling and a banging, splinters whirled though the air, wounded screamed, and in between came the ratch-boom of anti-tank guns, the howling of anti-aircraft guns and hammering of machine guns. It was as if all hell had been let loose. After a few seconds we could not see five metres with the smoke and swathes of powder blowing in our faces. I sat in my dugout with my face pressed to the wall, waiting for the firing to stop. It only lasted ten minutes, but what had happened to our trenches in this time was beyond description. You could only wonder that you were still alive. What had been a properly constructed trench system was now a shallow scoop in the ground. The shells had completely shattered the trenches.
But then came the second instalment. The enemy rifle and machine gun fire started up and increased in volume. Pressed close to the ground, we waited for the enemy. That he would be coming now was certain. Suddenly the infantry fire eased up and a brown mass welled out of the Russian trenches. At the same time our own fire opened up, but even as many Russians fell, more came out of their trenches. Soon the first of them reached the trenches to our right with their cries of ‘Urrah!’ and broke into the communication trench. They then began rolling up our trenches. About 50 of them burst into the communication trench and more we coming all the time. We had to move ourselves. However, the way to the company command post was cut off, so we first went left and then back by another communication trench. But this trench was almost completely destroyed, offering us hardly any cover when the Russians opened fire on us, and my number two, Josef Wieser, was killed.
There was still a reserve section at the company command post, which now offered resistance to the Russians and checked their advance, enabling us to get away. But the reserve section was unable to hold the Russians and the company command post was lost. We occupied Solikante village, gradually amounting to about 40 men, supported by a machine gun section. Completely out of breath, I took up my position in a roadside ditch. Staff Sergeant Buchal lay in the ditch opposite. He ca
lled across: ‘Tillery, have you got a cigarette?’
However, I only had tobacco and paper, so I slung my tobacco pouch across to him, but he too was out of breath and simply not ready to roll a cigarette, so I carefully rolled one for him and threw it across.
Meanwhile the Russians were busy sacking our company command post. We worked our way back toward it slowly and Second Lieutenant Reiffenscheidt gave the orders for a counterattack. I was wondering how we could throw back the ten times more numerous Russians. Would they mow every last one of us down? But orders are orders. We reached the communication trench exit about 200 metres from the command post and could see the Russians moving about. Then we charged. On the command, we ran forward loudly shouting ‘Hurrah!’ Once we got going, there was no stopping us. We charged full of enthusiasm, firing as we went, and it did not matter when my machine gun jammed. I tugged at the cocking handle, but to no avail. What could I do? Lie down and clear the jam? No, I could not do that either. So I charged on, not firing, but shouting all the louder. I was a bit to the left. Some of us went round the farm on the right, some straight into the farmyard and several, including myself, round to the left. The Russians sought safety in flight.
We thought that they had all left the farm. I turned and ran toward a liquid manure cart that stood in the corner of the garden. Suddenly there was a revolting smell from the manure cart as several bullets went through it right next to me. Twelve Russians were standing not more than ten metres from me in an extension to the communication trench, where previously a mortar had stood. One of them pointed at me and shouted something. At that same moment some comrades came out of the farm and threw hand grenades. Instinctively I pulled the trigger and the machine gun fired, all 50 rounds going off without jamming, as I aimed at the centre of the group. Some fled, but six lay there and two others only made it a short distance. I put in a fresh belt, but the gun refused to fire again.
With Our Backs to Berlin Page 5