Excerpt from Chapter 29:

Warsaw was going up in flames. It was 1 August 1944 and General Bor Komorovski, Commander of the Polish Home Army had ordered the Warsaw Underground Movement to rise and they had started their attack on the German garrison at 17.30 that afternoon. We thanked our lucky stars that we'd managed to slip through the city, and none too soon. It had really been due to our two kapos' persistence in securing our exit from the 'Death Head' barracks, otherwise we would never have made it, fighting street for street.

About midnight Oberleutnant Hahn and one of his staff officers visited our position and ordered that Unteroffizier Holder and the rest of the crew be woken. He appeared quite pleased to see our gun still on top of the carrier as it would save us the work and time removing it from the rampart. Hahn instructed Holder to get ready to move out immediately and proceed to Modlin railway station. There a Panzerzug (armoured train) was standing by to move into Warsaw, to the Praga district, and assist in the evacuation of a hospital in the area of the Kierbedz bridge. The hospital was surrounded and under siege from Polish insurgents and the train commander had sent an urgent request for extra firepower.

Since we were the only guns not yet dug in we were the obvious choice. "Why us?" Michail wasn't too happy and didn't want to go, but neither did any of us. Holder replied "Because your battery commander says so and that's an order." Michail had his reason for feeling displeased and we all knew it. We collected more ammunition and made our way across the bridge, past the rows of Stuka bombs and rolled on to the Modlin rail station and were met by a Feldwebel and some crew member from the Panzerzug who directed us to the rail siding and their train.

The train was under steam and ready to go. The Commander came along to spread round a few orders and urged us to get our gun aboard as quickly as possible as he wanted to leave at daybreak. The carriage we were assigned was the first flat top wagon immediately behind the 'mine catcher', an open goods wagon filled with sand in case the train ran over a mine. We'd already started to dismantle on the journey to Modlin so soon had the gun on the flat top. Aboard were Wilfried, Michail the Croat, Kapo Holder and myself; the rest of the crew returned with the carrier to the battery.

The flat top was an ordinary German Reichsbahn wagon the same as the mine catcher, with tail and side borders about two feet high, low enough to allow us to dip our barrel slightly below the horizontal but also give us plenty of exposure to anybody wanting to take a shot at us. Immediately behind was an armour plated transporter, carrying two heavy calibre field guns on swivel turrets. Next came the engine, followed by two utility trucks carrying all sorts of repair gear and stacks of spare rail tracks. The rear of the train consisted of two more armoured carriages, one equipped with the train's own anti aircraft protection, a four-barreled 2 cm gun assembly. The whole outfit was manned by what seemed to be a full company of infantry.

At dawn we pulled out of the siding and rolled slowly through the main station where a Feldwebel, a crew member of the Panzerzug, climbed aboard our carrier. He advised us to keep a good look out for any signs of mines so that he could stop the train in time. Holder asked him what would happen if we did hit one. "Not to worry, the sand wagon will go up first" he said, pointing to it, "if we are lucky" he added after a short reflection.

The Feldwebel told us how important it was to spot the mine because some of them were fitted with a delay action device which didn't explode until the following car was over it. I must say we didn't feel too comfortable after that. Just our luck if we didn't see the damn thing soon enough! And what happens if it WAS fitted with a delayed action?. Our trusty comrade seemed to know what was required in such a situation, indicating he'd been attached to the armour-plated monster for quite some time.

The Feldwebel knew exactly what he was looking for and something must have caught his attention as suddenly he dropped his field glasses, bent over the side and frantically gestured to the engine crew who quickly responded. Rather too quickly we discovered when our gun slid forward almost half a metre. Army engineers came running to see what was happening as the sergeant pointed to a slight disturbance in the blue metal base of the track, about two car lengths in front of the sand wagon. The only tell-tale sign was a slight discoloration of the sleeper base where the gravel had been disturbed when the mine was laid which could never have been seen at night or on a rainy day.

The engineers began cautiously digging and once they had cleared the blue metal they knew exactly the type of mine they were dealing with which was wedged tightly under the sleeper. We nervously watched as they checked for booby traps before deactivating the explosive device, knowing just a slight pressure could blow us and the sand wagon sky high. I noticed Wilfried had lit up his customary `Juno', and I couldn't help thinking of the consequences had the watchful eye of the Feldwebel missed that disturbance in the rail base and had the engine driver not quickly applied the brakes.

We got under way again and passed a village on our right and a few kilometres ahead was a rail station both of which seemed to be deserted. Again our sergeant motioned the driver to stop while he trained his glasses on the station building for quite some time. He wasn't quite sure but thought he had noticed a movement behind one of the windows. Then he signalled for the train to move on slowly and at the same time told Holder to have our gun trained on the building and be ready to put a round of explosives into it when he gave the order.

We slowly rolled into the station and the train stopped with our gun car just level with the station master's office. The sergeant put a short burst from his pistol through the window and a figure burst through the door with his hands above his head. It looked like he was the only occupant and a quick search found the station to be deserted. He'd probably been too slow when the rest of them slipped out the back door. He was taken prisoner and put aboard for questioning. He maintained his innocence, he knew nothing, he said he was not a member of the Polish Underground Movement but was merely waiting for a train to take him to Warsaw. Fancy waiting for a train when he knew there hadn't been one for days, we thought. He could have been locked aboard the train for the journey then sent to a prison camp but the train commander had a better idea. He figured that if the fellow belonged to the gang who planted the mine then he would also know the location of the other mines along the track so he was ordered to climb up front on the 'mine catcher' wagon right on top of the sand heap so he would be able to tell us where the next mine was.

It seemed to work perfectly and our engineers dug out three more of those powerful things, thanks to the fellow up front who had no particular inclination to go to heaven prematurely. We probably would never have spotted some of them but he knew the exact location of all without straining his eyesight unduly. Not bad for somebody who knew nothing and claimed to have no connection with the Underground but was just waiting for a train to Warsaw!

It was slow travelling though. We passed through a few more villages then came to an abrupt halt, and this time it wasn't a mine on the track, but the track itself. The bloody thing was missing! Two lengths, some twenty or thirty metres were completely gone. They must have unbolted the lot from the sleepers and taken them away. Perhaps a less messy way of stopping a train though requiring more manpower - but very effective.

It looked literally like the end of the line for us except we were carrying a goodly supply of spare track and thanks to the know-how and hard work of our engineers the task of replacement became just a matter of time. But the danger was being stationary while the work was carried out. We were sitting ducks, particularly for the Russian air force. Should they have been alerted to attack us they could have blasted us off the line with little difficulty. We kept a good lookout for any aircraft and the train's anti- aircraft crews likewise though we weren't able to see them from our position. Fortunately the air force didn't show up. In fact the only aircraft we saw were a formation of Heinkels and Messerschmitt escorts on their way to Warsaw. That was a bit odd as during the last couple of days the aircraft we'd seen were predominantly Russian.

It took the engineers well over two hours to fix the line then very slowly we rolled over the newly laid stretch without derailing or further disaster. But we still had a hard way ahead which would get more precarious the closer we got to the build up areas. The most worrying factor was time. It was already the middle of the afternoon and at the rate we were travelling we would never make it anywhere near to the Kierbedz bridge, not to mention back to Modlin, before dark. Once that came we would be easy prey for the Polish insurgents who would be all around us trying to immobilize the train and capture our armour. An armoured train would be a huge morale booster for their cause and we had no doubt they were trailing us. The mine detector's `knowledge' ran out so he was removed to the command carriage and locked up. No doubt he was relieved not to continue his journey on the sand heap.

On our right was a housing settlement though the inhabitants must have moved or been evacuated as it was deserted and in front of us the rail disappeared into a cutting with the exit obscured by a curve in the line. Our sergeant and Kapo scanned the scene and didn't like what they saw, or more accurately, what they didn't see. Holder ordered Wilfried and I to prepare for a round or two as we approached though the Feldwebel was apprehensive and felt we probably wouldn't make it through the cutting. "They are there all right," he said, "they are just waiting for the train to get into the cutting and then they will jump us." "And the damn line will be mined from here through to the other side" added Holder. He was most likely right too. The Feldwebel motioned the engineer to stop the train and very timely it was as two mushroom puffs rose to our left. Still too far away to do any damage to the train, but it showed our opponents were equipped with more than rifles. The puffs indicated mortars, probably from some captured German outfit during the fighting for control of the city. Then suddenly there was a flash and an ear-splitting crack from behind and a supersonic `swish' rushed over our heads causing us to us duck behind the low side boards and a fraction later a dirty grey mushroom rose up from the other end of the rail cutting. One of the train's heavy guns had opened up in reply to their mortars.

The Poles continued sending their projectiles, each one coming a bit closer. Our train was now stationary and presented an almost perfect target for the mortar crews. Unskilled they may have been but they could take their time homing in on us.

Another thing worrying us was our engine, behind us and wedged between two armour plated carriages. The engine had quite adequate armour protection at the front and along both sides but had very little over the top. Its stubby chimney stack happily belched smoke and steam which would surely invite a salvo. I didn't think our Feldwebel was quite right when he said we would never make it through the ravine; it looked like we'd never make it back to Modlin either! Wilfried's Juno was glowing well as the two guns behind came to life with another round of heavy shells.

Then the very thing we hoped would never happen, did! The insurgents behind the cutting were spot on with a mortar grenade on the engine, neatly between the side armour plating and the boiler structure, the ensuing explosion sending steam and boiler debris high into the air. The mortar crews must have been elated and would certainly be celebrating while their leaders worked out a way to capture the train and cut our throats, maybe other bits of the anatomy as well, in true partisan fashion, and perhaps with less 'surgical' skill than their Russian counterparts....

We lobbed the occasional round into the cutting to remind them it would be unhealthy to attack and were backed up by our mates from the Vierling Flak behind us. Just as well, as our ammunition was limited and their four- barreled firepower was much more effective and they probably would be carrying a good supply in the belly of their carrier.

Later our sergeant, who had left our wagon when the engine expired, climbed aboard with the good news that they'd radioed back to Modlin for a replacement and it was on its way and would reach us in about two hours - if they were lucky he hastened to add. We sure hoped they would be lucky and reach us before the Poles had time to sneak on to the line between us and the replacement engine and lay new mines. He said he would keep us informed and returned to the armoured car and began organizing a couple of platoons from the infantry and placed them into defence positions around the train.

There was still some daylight left and we scanned the sky for any Russian planes. In our predicament all we needed was a squadron of MiGs in a low level attack and we would be wiped off the line. Shortly after dark the Feldwebel came along and told us the welcome news that the replacement engine had arrived at the last station and would be with us shortly. "Keep shooting so they keep their noses down and don't discover we're getting a spare engine," he said and was gone again. We and our mates with the heavier guns continued firing, hoping our shells were sufficient to keep would-be saboteurs from sneaking up to the train.

It was an enormous relief for all of us up front when at last we felt the slight jolt of the new engine making contact. Around the old one there was quite a bit of activity with much hammering and banging and hissing of pneumatic lifting gear as the engineers frantically worked to ease the seized up wheel assembly. Finally, with a fair bit of clanking and rattling we started to move backwards, and not a moment too soon as we were down to our last two boxes of ammunition which Holder intended keeping for our return run to Modlin, `just in case'. At first we crawled along, allowing the infantry platoons who'd been guarding the embankments to move with us and gradually jump aboard. We were slowly putting some distance between us and the insurgents who by now would be aware we'd given them the slip, but it seemed an awfully long time before we reached the station where we had picked up our mine spotter early in the morning. There we halted and were joined with a second replacement engine waiting for us, it being a back-up in case the first came to grief as well. We thought that was good thinking from the people who organized our rescue mission.

It was pretty late by the time we rolled into Modlin's goods yard where the rest of our crew were waiting with the carrier. The train commander was disappointed our mission to Praga had failed but thanked us for our part in defending the train from what could have been a disastrous loss. Well after midnight we reached our still unfinished gun rampart and spent the rest of the night digging and positioning ready for the inevitable dawn attack on the bridge in front of us. More ammunition was collected and Oberleutnant Hahn visited us just before sunrise to stress how important it was to defend the bridge at all cost as it was one of the main supply links for Army Group Centre.

But the expected attack did not come, which was puzzling. We saw Heinkels and their fighter escorts and from the black smoke hanging over the city Warsaw was burning from end to end yet not a single Russian plane showed up. Russian heavy armour and their infantry should have had plenty of opportunity with little resistance to reach the Vistula and take possession of the entire eastern bank but for some inexplicable reasons the early morning revealed no trace of them having arrived opposite us. The bridge still stood silhouetted in the early sunrise and the only battle noise was that of the Polish Home Army doing a mighty good job in helping to destroy their Capital.

The expected Russian attack never did materialize. The artillery barrages from their batteries around Wolomin went silent though down south in the direction of Magnuszew and Pulawy battles continued to rage. It looked like the Russian push to take Warsaw in a hurry had fizzled out. One would have thought that since the Poles were fiercely fighting the German occupation it would have been that much easier for the Russians to have taken the initiative and routed the German forces. Or was it perhaps that `Uncle Joe' preferred to stand on the side and watch his two opponents decimate eachother? It was known that he had no liking for General Bor-Komorowski's Home Army.

According to `The Great Patriotic War', which states: " the forces of the 1st Belorussian Front arrived exhausted on the banks of the Vistula and were halted in their advance"... but what really happened was, the Russians occupied the Praga suburb but by order of the Kremlin didn't go any further. 'they wished to have the non-communist Poles destroyed to the full, but also to keep alive the idea that they were going to their rescue'... Rokossovsky's army did ran out of steam and much needed supplies supplies and were forced to halt. This lost them momentum and they were pushed back some 100 km on the whole of the central front by freshly reinforced German infantry and Panzer forces. The Soviet 2nd Tank Army at Wolomin suffered a heavy defeat 'which cost them 3,000 killed and 6,000 prisoners and heavy loss of material '.

Fighting at the bridgeheads at Sandomierz, Pulawy and Magnuszew continued as ferocious as ever and it was some time before that area was back in German hands. Bor Komorowski had been left to battle with no help from the Russians. The resistance lasted until 4 October when he and the remainder of his army, originally 40,000 strong, surrendered to General Erich von dem Bach-Zalewski. His casualties were estimated to be 22,000 killed ,

The overall German losses since the start of the Russian summer offensive according to a Moscow communique issued on July 25 stood at 60 divisions, 380,000 killed and 150,000 prisoners. Between June 1 and August 30 Germany's land forces lost on the Eastern front alone 916,860 in killed, wounded, and prisoners

With the Russians pushed back some 100 km to regroup and replace their losses, we settled down to a reasonably quiet time below the bridge on the banks of the Vistula. Enemy aircraft didn't bother us too much; they kept their activity to the bare minimum, with just the occasional MiG or two. The weeks passed and one by one our vehicles were sent to Modlin for a complete overhaul. Wachtmeister Wehrt, who had been doing duties with Oberleutnant Hahn's staff, was back in charge of our four gun group. He made it his duty to put us through a fair bit of exercise "to keep you from rusting and unnecessary thinking" as he put it. That was always a feature in our army; as soon as the sounds of battle died away they immediately tormented us with foot drill and all other sorts of needless exercises. Rest was something a German soldier had no right to indulge in, they never stopped telling us.

One could have got the impression the Russian army had gone on summer vacation since we were allowed such a peaceful break. The only ones fighting were still some isolated pockets of the Polish Underground in Warsaw whose hopes of a quick victory had been dashed by the temporary defeat of Rokossovsky's Belorussian Army.

Relaxing and enjoying the quiet was greatly appreciated except by our Croat mate Michail who'd been unhappy and pretty frustrated for some time. We all knew he was engaged and had sought home leave, unsuccessfully, and when we tried to sympathize he though we were only having fun with him, and maybe we were. No matter how hard he tried, his leave was not forthcoming so after confiding and getting advice from Oberleutnant Hahn, he decided he would get married by `remote control'! Since front line troops were rarely granted leave anymore such marriages were becoming quite common.

The ceremony was quite simple. A certain day and specific time was fixed both at the front and at the place of the bride so that both parties had their `event' simultaneously. In Michail's case it was 10 o'clock on a nice sunny Sunday morning when no doubt his invisible bride was already in her village church in Croatia with the priest staring at his watch, presumably synchronized with our Commanding officer's.

Meanwhile, Michail stood before a makeshift altar - a trestle table with a candle at each end - with the Bible placed in between. Oberleutnant Hahn and a few of his staff stood behind the table facing the `groom' and Unteroffizier Holder, who was acting as witness. Two crew members from each gun lined up as guard of honor, our driver and myself representing ours. At a quarter to ten we were all anxiously awaiting the arrival of the Padre, and Michail was looking uneasy. Holder did his best to assure him everything would be all right. "Maybe the Padre has gone home on leave," some joker suggested which didn't go down too well with Michail, while we all laughed and even Hahn tried hard not to lose his serious countenance.

But Michail needn't have worried, the Padre did arrive with still a few minutes to spare. He must have come from somewhere beyond Modlin as he wore the uniform of the Gross Deutchland Division, and as the guard of honor, we were ordered to stand to attention and present arms. We then stood at ease and our Oberleutnant made a short speech on the purpose of the event. Everyone was keeping an eye on the time, that is, everyone who owned a watch, most of us didn't.

The candles were lit and the Padre opened the service with the Vater Unser (the Lord's Prayer), then went through the marriage ceremony after which Michail and his invisible bride were duly pronounced Herr und Frau, though luckily omitting the part about kissing her! Then there came the formality of the signing of a few forms by the Padre, Michael and the witnesses, and it was all over. The best part was when Oberleutnant Hahn ordered his store keeper to issue a bottle of brandy to each gun crew, so that we could all join in and commiserate with Michail. Our crew scored a bonus as Michail, the `groom' was issued with a whole bottle but said he hated the stuff so we felt we couldn't allow it to be wasted! It looked like Michail still wasn't happy that day. His idea of being married was going home to his bride and staying in bed for the rest of the war. We all agreed that was reasonable thinking but it didn't do Michail any good. He had the fixed idea that he would never get home again and I've no way of knowing whether he did or not.

We talked about the Americans landing in Italy and their rapid advance through France. They had reached Paris and would be crossing the Rhein soon. All that talk had little to do with the events of the day and it took us all the rest of the brandy to cheer Michail up and somehow we didn't think we had much success.

As for the American army crossing the Rhein, Holder said that was rubbish, they would never get through the Westwall and I wholeheartedly agreed. "Of course it's rubbish" I said and mentioned my brother had helped build those fortifications when he was in the Arbeitsdienst. "All the same, I wouldn't want to be there when they reach it," I added. Wilfried wasn't too concerned about defending the Westwall, he reckoned we would all be slaughtered by Ivan before then. Probably right too. So ended Michail's wedding day...

 

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