Excerpt from Chapter 21:

Supply, as it was in our case, meant carrying ammunition mostly. The truck was full of boxes of those 2/ cm shells and there was me and the driver, a Hauptgefreiter (staff corporal) just one rank above mine but about twice my age. I wasn't worried too much about the ammunition, as we were used to carry some five to six hundred shells in boxes with us on the gun carrier all the time. It was the four drums of gasoline on the back of the truck that gave me that uncomfortable feeling but mostly it was the large pipe sticking out of the drivers mouth that didn't give me too much confidence either. For one thing it was filled with coarse-grained Machorka (Russian tobacco) which emitted crackling shower of sparks every time he pulled a big puff out of that contraption.

He was a quiet sort of a chap. Didn't talk much, maybe conversation wasn't exactly his strongest point. But in one way, I couldn't blame him really for not saying anything, had he opened his mouth, his pipe would have fallen out. One thing that was clearly in his favour was, he knew where he was going, obviously he must have done this trip a few times before. It wasn't long before we got on to the Rollbahn. There was already a steady traffic on it in both directions. Signposts marked with arrows and tactical signs, indicating the locations of various unit's Headquarters, were pointing in all directions.

I knew precisely when we got closer to the H.K.L. (Main front line) It was when my driver took his pipe out of his mouth, emptying the receptacle by tapping it on the sideboard outside the cabin, and in doing so sending a huge shower of sparks through the back of the truck. I braced myself for the expected imminent explosion as the badly sealed fuel drums send wafts of petrol fumes from the back of the truck right through the cabin. He then turned to me to tell me that from now on we have to keep a good lookout for approaching Russian planes and incoming artillery and get ready to jump when necessary. I told him there is nothing to worry about in that line, I let him know briefly that I will be out of the cabin well before him should the necessity arise. It was just a bit of sarcasm on my part, I thought, him being that much older... I realized then that wasn't probably the right phrase to use to cheer him up, the contemptuous look he gave me to that remark made me shut up immediately.

We had left the Rollbahn now and were heading for the village to our left. A platoon of cavalry was just coming out of the village. My mind was side tract momentarily, watching those Horses when all of a sudden four tremendously sharp detonations in quick succession could be heard immediately to our left. I was already half way out of the truck. The staff corporal was unconcerned he just kept on driving. I realized then we passed a battery of our own 105 mm field guns who just delivered a salvo of shells over our heads into the direction of Lutzk. Very slowly I put my feet back into the cabin again, I didn't want to give the driver something more to sneer about. His score being 2 to nil already.

Looking at the horses of the approaching cavalry unit, to my amazement, they didn't take a scrap of notice of the racket, created by those big guns. They are well and truly used to that and are probably all deaf anyhow. The German guns kept up their salvos and my driver stepped hard on the accelerator, obviously he was trying to increase his speed whilst heading for a wooded stretch to the left of the village. It was a desperate attempt to put some distance between his truck and the German gun position. As he guessed, rightly, the Russian artillery will answer back any moment now. He wasn't far wrong either.

The driver's reckless struggle with his foot pedal didn't have much effect to the speed of the vehicle. We had barely reached the wood line when the first enormous mushrooms of the incoming Russian shells shot out from the ground behind us, followed by the mighty explosions. They were 152 mm, heavy stuff indeed. I grabbed my rifle and jumped. My friend, the driver, wasn't handicapped by indecision or impediment age wise either. He was already running ahead of me and disappeared head first into the nearest trench with me falling on top of him. A few more of those heavies came howling in, mainly in the vicinity of the German gun positions who had stopped firing back by now, the German crews probably sticking it out in their foxholes.

The trench, we had jumped into was part of the communication system, connecting the ammunition depot in the woods with the Headquarter in the village. I parted company with the driver as he was very keen to have his truck unloaded and get back to Kovel as quick as possible. The S.S. guard in the trench gave me directions how to get to Major Geissler's Battalion Command post. I had no trouble in finding it. I reported in with my best regulation military salute, outstretched fingers of my right hand to the edge of my steel helmet, which none of them took any notice off.. They all looked the same in their white snow coats, but I knew immediately which of them Major Geissler was. He was the one wearing the Ritterkreuz (Knights cross) and deeply engrossed in some tactical conversation. When I got permission to speak, I inquired of the whereabouts of Wachtmeister Wehrt's group and was told that they are operating with two of Geissler's squadrons in the area around Torchin, on the road from Vladimir Volynsky to Lutzk, generally having a bad time, hard pressed and outnumbered by General Vatutins Russian cavalry.

Torchin was somewhere to the right of us on the main road to Vladimir. Lutzk, some twenty km in front and was already in Vatutins hands. About ten km to our left is the old railway line to Kovel, completely destroyed by now from Rovno right up to Rosich and from there to Kovel it is only used by the armoured train and demolition squads, with Major Geissler's cavalry holding the villages and hamlets in between, constantly on the move, clashing with Russian rider units on hit and destroy missions. Rovno was taken by the Russians on February,5 the same day when they took Lutzk.

I was told to join the driver of the ammo supply vehicle. He was just getting ready to move out to the Squadron's field positions, the ones Wehrt and his group was attached to. His vehicle was already stationed outside the Headquarter and ready to go. We called in at the ammo depot first to load enough boxes and petrol to keep our guns in operation for a few more days.

It was late afternoon and a fair bit of battle noise was coming our way. Some of the guns can't be too far away. Just over the little hill in front of us one could hear their firing sequence in between the bursts of machine gun fire and the cracks of rifle shots mixed with the sharp explosions of the incoming mortars. The driver suggested we drive past the Headquarter's kitchen for some hot coffee as he wasn't quite game enough to cut across the field whilst some daylight was still with us.

The vehicle was a half-track and the driver, no doubt, would know his way to the forward positions blindfolded. Listening to the infernal racket over the hill, I was glad the driver wasn't in such a terrible hurry to get himself killed and neither was I, besides I wasn't averse to have something hot whatever it was. Major Geissler who had left his Quarter on horseback a short while ago, will be right in the middle of that commotion, the other side of that hill by now.

We were on our way by nightfall. The sky was lit up in front of us, part of the village over there must be ablaze. The driver put the revs up on his motor to get across the field fast and into the village. We got in at the western end. One of our guns was positioned there. A couple of houses were on fire down at the eastern side. I reported to the Unteroffizier in charge of the gun. He directed me to Wehrt's Command post.

There was some sporadic firing going on the eastern end of the village. I made my way cautiously through the shadows of the houses up the road. I passed three dead horses on the side of the street by the burning log houses. An S.S. trooper was laying on his back next to them. He must have been in charge of the horses when the mortar exploded in their midst. Wehrt's Command post was half way up the village street just past the burning izbas, couldn't miss it. Shadowy figures darting in and out of it. It was also the temporary H.Q. of the Rider Squadron. Two stretcher cases were on the side of the road, one more was just being dragged in on a makeshift sledge. They were all badly wounded, judging by their moans, Aggravated by the frost hitting the raw open flesh. They were waiting to be taken to Vladimir-Volynsky field/hospital presumably, if it is still there. Wehrt just came up the road, must have been with the gun at the eastern end. I recognized his ugly face, sticking out from underneath his steel/helmet, immediately. He was also surprised to see me back. I stood to attention, and with the military salute " Melde mich zur Stelle Herr Wachtmeister", I had reported back to my unit.

I asked Wehrt about Wilfried and my old crew. He told me that Unteroffizier Janko and Holder and their guns are operating with another one of Major Geissler's squadron somewhere to the east of us, and until we can catch up with them I would just have to stay with this outfit. He suggested that I make myself useful by joining Unteroffizier Bokorny's crew in the meantime.

Bokorny's gun was the one who did all the shooting earlier on. Bokorny recognized me as belonging to Holder's crew. I quickly explained to him that until I can join my own crew, I was ordered by Wachtmeister Wehrt to stay with his gun. That was all right with him as our gun crews were habitually understaffed and he was just in the process of pulling the gun out of the embankment and since that always had to be done in a hurry, besides two of his men were manning the machine gun in case the Ivan decided on another quick attack, I had no problem to find myself something to do.

Major Geissler came round briefly to let Bokorny know that he is ready to move out sometime after midnight, he intended to go after the Russians before the first light in the morning. The ammo truck came round with fresh boxes and petrol cans to top up the tank of the carrier. With the vehicle serviced, the gun securely fastened on it's top and all magazines filled, with a helping of goulash from the headquarter's kitchen, we were ready to move out at any moment. Bokorny detailed the watch for the rest of the night with me being the newly arrived member of the crew, getting the twelve to one/thirty, generally regarded the worst time to stand as one gets very little sleep before and practically none after. I curled up on the floor of the Izba and managed to fall asleep soon after.

I was rudely woken up by a kick from a boot that told me its time for my turn out there in the cold. Yawning and shivering as the cold midnight air hit me in the face when I stepped out of the warm Izba, I took my place behind the machine gun in the hole, so that everybody else can sleep safely. I envied the chap, I had just relieved from his post, he can go back to sleep again whilst I have to stay awake in the miserable cold. Its amazing how readily one thrusts his life into the wakefulness of the sentry. Wouldn't be the first time I fell asleep on watch duty and it wont be grass seeds this time that will wake me. Most likely it will be a nasty Russian cavalry sword that will be slicing through my throat... No fear, or perhaps it's too much fear, I won't fall asleep!!

The air was still full of the smell of stale smoke although the fires had burned themselves out. it was dark again and it was snowing heavily. With no set front line out there and me being new on the job and completely disoriented, an attack could come any time and from any direction and the snow would be on the attackers side. I was only hoping that there are a few more sentries standing watch somewhere to my left and right who know what they are looking for.

There are flashes and rumblings all round on the horizon. That could be Lutzk, Kovel or Vladimir, who knows? I had lost all sense of direction. Part of the Soviet 56th cavalry division is out there somewhere lurking and waiting and they are all experts in the saddle. The woods around us are full of them and just waiting to get us. I managed to get through my one and half hour, staring through snowflakes into nothing beyond. To me it seemed endless. I woke my relief watch with some sadistic relish. He wasn't exactly overjoyed about it. Ungratefully he called me an Arschloch!!! (bastard).

I couldn't care less what he called me. He sure is entitled to his own opinion. I handed him over my watch and couldn't have given a damn if he falls asleep again. I got back into my old corner in the warm Izba and fell asleep almost immediately.

Short lived it was. I bolted upright, wide awake. it was caused by a boot that hit into my back, that boot belonged to Kapo Bokorny, it was his friendly way of making sure you don't go back to sleep again. A faint glimmer of the new day was creeping up far in the east. The S.S. squadron was in the process of moving out. Wehrt came up with the gun carrier from the other end of the village. He told Bokorny to move, keeping to the right whilst he with the other gun was taking the left flank. The squadron was moving in a long drawn out column, trying to reach the woodland in front of us and the relative safety of the village beyond to our left. This village was occupied by the squadron, Holder and Janko's gun were attached to. One could hear the clobber of the horses hoofs, muffled by the newly fallen snow. Every now and then one could hear the faint metallic clatter of rifle butts touching gasmask containers or other objects strapped to the horses saddles. Horses were snorting here and there. The loudest noise really was coming from our motor.

Our driver was having difficulties moving the vehicle on the uneven, snow covered ground. Bokorny ordered everybody, except gunner one and four, off the carrier to walk along the side and guide it along. We were moving slowly away from the column and towards the wood line, it was snowing again. A sudden burst of gunfire erupted in front of us. I threw myself into the snow. The bullets zinging over my head hitting the ground line behind me. Bokorny, who was walking ahead of me, fell onto his knees hit by a bullet. He jelled out for us to move back and take cover. His warning came too late, they were all around us. Russian cavalry, shadows of fast moving horses with their riders emptying their machine pistols from the crouching positions in their saddle and quickly disappearing again into the blizzard. Another short round of bullets thudded into the snow in front of me. Each bullet lifting up a puff of snow on impact.

Bokorny was trying to get up he fell back on his knees again. He raised his hands above his head to indicate to the Russian horseman that he is ready to give himself up, only to fall backwards like being hit by a swinging plank square in his face, with his hands still stretched above his head. A well aimed pistol shot had smashed through his head. That was outright murder, those Mongols don't belief in taking prisoners. I emptied the magazine of my rifle into where the Russian rider faded away into the snow drift I was sorry the rifle wasn't automatic. I slowly crawled back to the gun carrier which was already reversing back to a more protected position to await directions from Wehrt, But the blizzard only added to the confusion.

Suddenly our second gun started firing, slightly in front to the left of us. The gun itself still hidden by the blizzard. The mongols must have ridden head on into their fire. A horse came galloping back, a Mongol hanging at its side, his entire head was missing a shell from Wehrts gun must have struck his face. I was hoping this was the bastard who finished off Bokorny in such heroic fashion.

The blizzard stopped we could make out Wehrts gun it was also reversing back. He gestured for us to follow. Mortar fire was probing out from the woods, coming closer with every impact. We drove back to the road to the point where two of the squadrons machine guns had hastily taken up defence position to allow the bulk of the squadron to reach the village in order to join up with the rest of the battalion.

It was completely daylight by now and it was only thanks to the fire support of the two machine guns hastily placed into position back at the fieldtrack that we made it to the road in one piece. We met up with our second gun. Wachtmeister Wehrt was sorry to hear about Bokorny's untimely end and was toying with the idea to get his body out. Useless undertaking, that would have been, he realized so himself, would only cause more casualties in doing so as the Russians are already firmly entrenched where Bokorny had fallen. They would be in a position to wipe out anything that comes close to them. And it wouldn't do much for Bokorny either. Besides orders were to retreat to the village immediately. I wasn't sorry about that as the Russian mortar fire was getting uncomfortably close and more accurate with every impact.

A rearguard unit of the squadron, dug in further up the road, got hit by a mortar round and suffered some casualties. Two of them badly wounded. Wehrt ordered us to put them on our vehicle and take them to the first aid station in the village whilst he and the other gun will stay with the platoon for fire support. We made them as comfortable as it was possible with ammo boxes as pillows, our overcoats for blankets to keep the cold morning frost out of their wounds. One of them had his chest cut open and the blood was still oozing through the makeshift bandage, the other had his belly ripped open by a piece of shrapnel. his chances to make it back to Germany were very slim indeed. He didn't even make it to the village. He was dead before we got there.

I made inquiries at the squadrons Headquarter about Holder and my old gun. They were there all right. I found them at the northern end of the main street. A lot of things had changed since I left them for my home leave back home to Krumbach. From the old crew there was only Wilfried and the driver and Holder the Kapo. The rest was made up from other crews. So I wasn't surprised that Wilfried was mighty glad to see me back again. I even got my old job as ammo gunner back which the chap, who stood in for me, was quite happy to relinquish.

Holder, who had gone to headquarter for instructions, came back with the news that the whole of the battalion is moving back into Kovel garrison. He was slightly surprised to see me back on his gun again. He figured it must have taken me an extra long time to find them! I told him that I left Kovel only yesterday on board the supply truck and that I nearly got my head blown off by a Russian rider attack only this morning and I told him about Bokorny, just to put his mind at rest in case he thinks I was lingering around somewhere on a quiet spot at the rear. Actually Holder was not a bad chap he was quite all right despite that nobody had ever seen him with a smile on his face.

As soon as Wehrt's gun and the rearguard platoon rejoined the squadron we moved out of the village into the direction of Kovel, some forty odd km to the north. Keeping well inside the dense forest to prevent detection from possible low flying aircraft, we reached a village by late afternoon on the banks of a small river, presumably a tributary of the Pripayat river. The village was pretty close to the abandoned railway line from Kovel to Rovno and was still used by the patrolling Panzerzug that was operating from out of Kovel.

The village was practically deserted just a few old people and a few dogs. We placed our gun on the western end of the main street, put the machine gun into position and organized our watch sequence for the night. Half way between the village and the railway stood a windmill, its huge vanes stood still when we reached the village. Suddenly they were slowly turning round now. There must be somebody there at the mill. Somebody had released the vane brakes. Major Geissler decided to send a platoon to check on the mill and find out what caused it's sudden movement.

Daylight was gradually fading away and we were short of water, so Wilfried and I grabbed a water can each and made for the well in the centre of the village to have them filled. Getting water from the well wasn't the easiest thing, practically the whole of the squadron was lined up there with just about as many horses as men and their demand of water was enormous. The Horses had to be fed and watered. It was Major Geissler's first rule, Horses had to be looked after first before the troopers can look after their own needs.

Wilfried and I got our water eventually and made our way back to the gun and hopefully to a nicely warmed up izba. We were half way there when it all started. Rifle and machine gun fire erupted at the mill. Looks like our patrol must have run into some resistance there and, by the sound of the shooting, they must have run into another German patrol as all one could hear was the sound of German M.g. 34's on both sides. Unless those on the other side were Partisans, operating with captured German arms, something had gone wrong there. Wilfried and I hit the ground when phosphor tracers came hissing in, sweeping from left to right through the village, exploding at anything they hit. The horse which was standing close to me, reared up and collapsed almost on top of me and delivering a few desperate kicks on to the frozen ground before stiffening out.

At least the dead horse gave me some protection, should the guns come in for a return sweep. Wilfried, who was laying a few metres away from me, didn't look too comfortable with the watering can in front of his head, for protection, presumably. I don't think he was aware that a shrapnel had found its way through the can and it was leaking profusely. I am sure, Wilfried didn't see the funny side of it. Lucky for us, hastily discharged identification flares stopped the guns from sweeping back. The barrage came from the armoured train's four barreled 2cm guns.

The whole thing was a due to a complete mess up of events. It was pure coincidence that the Panzerzug, on its patrol run from out of Kovel, stationed itself in the vicinity of the windmill. its Commander also decided to detach a patrol to check on the mill. They got there prior to Geissler's group and they must have been responsible for getting the vanes moving. Both patrols clashed at the mill, both assumed the others to be Russians or Partisans. They all look the same in camouflage dress in early darkness.

Although the guns swept through the village only once, the damage was quite considerable. Apart from the dead horse, I was using for cover, two more had to be destroyed to put them out of their misery. Two houses were set on fire by the incendiary grenades and one trooper was severely wounded. The fires were quickly put out as Major Geissler didn't want the village to be lit up all night. It would only be an invitation for some Russian units to pay us an unwanted visit. No doubt some questions will have to be answered, somebody has to stand straight for tonight's mistake and it sure won't be Major Geissler. Actually it wouldn't have made too much difference to him. A few weeks later, Major Geissler, in leading an attack was fatally wounded by a full round of a Russian machine gun and died one and a half hour later still in full Command to his last breath. Yes there were some brave men even in the German Army!

 

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