Excerpt from Chapter 16:
This trip differed from the previous one of
almost a year before when, fresh from training
and full of patriotism we were eager to defend
our country as pledged in our military oath and
learn what serving on the 'field of glory'
meant. Well, I had learnt. But here I was,
sitting in this train on this second journey
into Russia with a slightly different attitude
and apprehension of what the future has in
store.
I guess I was luckier than most of those who
went with me. At least I had come back, even if
only for a short period, and it was nice to be
still in one piece but it would have been even
nicer if the war was over and I could stay at
home. There had been no option to volunteer and
I certainly wouldn't have done it now. But here
I was, on the train again, going East,
travelling to the front in the full knowledge of
what one could expect, though not knowing the
destination. Anyhow, that was the least worry.
Marching orders and the various station
commander's master plans would eventually get me
there without fail.
We changed trains in Nurnberg for Leipzig,
arriving in Dresden at night, Breslau the
following morning and Warsaw late that night.
There we boarded the troop train for Bialystock
and travelled to Baranovichy and Minsk, crossing
the Beresina river at Borisov. Was that the same
route Napoleon took to Moscow? Late in the
evening we reached Orsha, some 2500 km from
Augsburg and 500 closer to Moscow. How we got
that far in one piece, I'll never know since the
last 300 km to Orsha we travelled with rifles at
the ready, guarding both sides of the train. It
was Partisan country at its worst and all along
the line wrecked locomotives, blown up carriages
and supply material littered the embankment.
At Orsha a transport of Tiger Panzers destined
for Vitebsk was ready to pull out at dawn and
the station commander ordered us to report to
the train CO for instructions regarding Vitebsk,
which was on the main line to Leningrad.
However, we didn't get to see him as one of his
staff referred us to the Hauptfeldwebel (master
sergeant) who he thought had just the right job
for us. And what a damn right job he had - watch
duty for the rest of the night for the ride to
Vitebsk on the wind-swept flat-top cars with
rifles at the ready in case the train was
ambushed.
Two open goods wagons filled with sand were
hooked in front of the locomotive to act as mine
catchers, just in case we ran over any freshly
planted by gangs of partisans during the night.
A trainload of brand new Tiger tanks was a very
attractive target for partisans to highjack and
blow off the track. I shared guard duty with
three members from the tank unit. A bitterly
cold wind blew from the north and we nestled
under the tank chains for protection, both from
the elements and from possible sniper fire from
the woods on both sides of the track.
It was only about 60 km to Vitebsk but it took
us almost four hours to get there, thank
goodness with no interference from that army of
partisans lurking in the forests along the
track. Just as well daylight soon came as we
could have had a rough time otherwise. That area
of German occupied Russia, or Belorussia as it's
known, was absolutely ideal for those heavily
armed irregulars. They had their strongholds
everywhere in the vast impenetrable forests,
stretching from Vitebsk to Bryansk and in the
huge Pripyet Marshes to the south around Minks
and Rokitno, with the heaviest concentration in
and around Orsha. They also had their airstrips
deep in the forest, large enough to handle
American C47 transport planes.
Partisan units were truly in command of the
whole countryside. I was told that just the
previous week a train carrying troops on their
way to home leave was ambushed in the middle of
the night, blown up and the ensuing massacre
left no survivors. Some of the partisans were
young boys aged not more than twelve or
thirteen, to whom killing was more a pleasure
than necessity.
We arrived in Vitebsk in the middle of a
blizzard frozen stiff from such an unpleasant
journey. The town was in ruins wherever one
looked. We were directed to proceed to the flak
field replacement battery whose barracks were
located a few blocks away and easy to find as it
was one of the few buildings still standing amid
the rubble.
The outlook on the Moscow front was not very
encouraging. Rzhev, an important rail junction
half way from Velikiye Luki to Moscow had fallen
to the Russians at the beginning of March,
followed by Sychevka on the 8th and Vyazma on
the 12th of that month. Vyazma was only about 70
miles from Smolensk and the Russian steamroller
was gathering momentum before 'Rasputitsa'
(spring thaw) stopped its advance. Further to
the south in the Orel-Kursk area part of Army
Group Centre and General Rudolf von Kluge's
Headquarters had a narrow escape in being cut
off temporarily from the rest of the Wehrmacht.
Must have been a severe blow to his ego, He was
nicknamed 'kluger Rudi' (clever Rudi).
I was in Vitebsk for only two days when a
replacement request came from a flak Abteilung
operating around Rudnya and Smolensk for four
gunners. Names were posted on the board and mine
was among them and next afternoon a truck from
the unit arrived and took us to the Abteilung's
headquarters, somewhere between Rudnya and
Yartsevo, about 40 km north east of Smolensk.
This outfit was just about to pack up and shift
camp. In the morning we reported to the CO, a
Major, and he and a few officers stood around,
leafing through our papers and scrutinising us -
a bit like a slave market.
A First Lieutenant called my name as he flicked
through my Soldbuch (identification book). I
stood to attention and he asked me a few
questions, including where I'd received my
anti-malaria treatment and when I told him in
the Caucasus he said "How the bloody hell did
you get out of there?", without taking his eyes
off my papers. I told him how. Then he enquired
in what position had I got my training on the
2cm gun and when I said as a K.4,loading gunner,
he handed me my papers and ordered me to hop
into his Kbelwagen
(Volkswagen). His name was Oberleutnant Hahn,
and he was the commander of my new Battery.
As soon as we arrived at his headquarters he
rang one of his gun positions to send somebody
to pick up their 'replacement' but there must
have been a problem so I was told to go to the
kitchen and take a ride with the food delivery
cart. Hmm. I remembered a harrowing experience
of delivering food in the Caucasus, only this
time there were two horses and a sturdy farm
cart instead of a camel. I barely managed to hop
on the contraption before the driver used his
whip something terrible on the horses' backs,
which made them bolt like a bullet, sending me
flat on my back on top of the food containers.
Not a great start, I thought. The driver
apologised with "Tovarishch kharacho, da?"
(comrade, are you OK, yes?) and to the horses he
hurled some Russian obscenities, then I realised
he was Russian - a 'Hiwi' (Hilfswilliger) - a
former Russian prisoner, willing to serve in the
German Army. By good luck we reached my assigned
gun position safely after a few more 'kurvas'
and 'yob tvoyu mat'. Probably not the right
spelling - but who needs to spell Russian
expletives. I was only too glad to get off the
cart with just a few minor bruises and report to
the Unteroffizier who, with a diabolical smile,
enquired whether I'd had a comfortable trip with
Gregory. I replied that I had, just so long as
he didn't send me back with him.
There were two other guns close by, also
belonging to Hahn's battery and Janko, our kapo,
took me to the izba (Russian cottage) to meet
the rest of the crew. Johann, the eldest and the
only one who had the 'misfortune' to be married
as they said, came from Sigmaringen, a town in
the Black Forest. Two others were Heinrich and
Manfred and the fourth was introduced as
Wilfried, Gunner One. Since his efficiency, and
perhaps life, depended largely on the chap
feeding explosives into the barrel it was
understandable he was most interested in the
'replacement, but once they discovered I wasn't
fresh out of training and made it clear I'd seen
quite a bit of action and knew which was the
'business' end of the barrel I felt accepted.
With the exception of Janko and Johann we were
all about the same age.
After a meal of Gregory's 'well stirred lentil
soup Janko told us to get ready to shift camp.
Wilfried said they had only arrived there two
days previously, having got out of Vyazma just
before the Russians moved in. When we'd removed
the gun from the emplacement and I expected it
to be collected by a half track but they weren't
equipped with chain vehicles and instead it was
put on its trailer and hooked to a six-wheel
Krupp carrier. We moved out just before darkness
and headed in the direction of Smolensk. I asked
Wilfried what had happened to my predecessor and
learned he had been hit by artillery outside
Vyazma, shrapnel stuck in his back, so was
probably in a hospital train going home to
Germany. I said I hoped he would make it through
the partisan controlled territory, stretching
all the way to the Polish border, and told how
we rode shotgun at the ready from Minsk to
Vitebsk, and about the train that was ambushed
outside Orsha with no survivors. An unarmed
hospital train with its helpless occupants was a
'snip' for them to attack.
Actually it then occurred to me that should our
convoy be ambushed we would be in a bit of a
spot since the guns were hooked to the back of
the carriers. A well-aimed round of machine
gunfire would wipe us all out. I would have felt
a bit safer with a half-track under my feet and
the gun mounted on top, but looking at
Wilfried's face he didn't seem to be unduly
worried. I also noticed our vehicle was provided
with mounting plates and asked him if they
always pulled the gun on the back of the carrier
and he said it was too much trouble to mount it
for a short trip, that we would have to take it
down again when we got there. "Get where?" I
enquired. "Smolensk," he replied. "The Ivans
would love to get their hands on that city
before the spring thaw sets in."
We made it to Smolensk without being ambushed.
Heavily armed road convoys were reasonably safe
from partisans, who concentrated more on the
rail system which was more lucrative and less
risky for their own lives. Our objective was the
defence of the massive bridge over the river (Dniepre)
and railway gorge where the railway station lay
below and we spent the next two days digging in
on the western approaches to the bridge. The
Russians were now bearing down on Smolensk.
Durovo, 50 miles to the north-east fell on 21
March and by the 24th they had penetrated the
eastern defences of Smolensk and orders were
given to mount the guns on the vehicles and take
up defence positions on the eastern approaches
to the bridge.
The expected attack. however, never materialised.
'Rasputitsa' the spring thaw had arrived early,
turning the countryside into endless mud and
making it impossible for any vehicle to move.
The whole area from Smolensk-Vitebsk - Rokitno-
Brest and Kovel was just one large swamp forcing
a halt to the Russian advance in our sector,
though the battle in the north - Leningrad - was
still as furious as ever.
We remained in Smolensk until the beginning of
April then moved south to Roslavl, near Zhukovka
on the railway line Bryansk-Orel. The front line
veered sharply to the west from Ponyri to Sevsk
in our sector and from Belgorod to Sumy in the
south, a huge salient of some hundred miles deep
held by the Russians. This salient was to be the
scene of some of the heaviest fighting on the
eastern front and turned out to be most
disastrous for the German forces of Army Command
Centre, not only because the Americans were
supplying the Russians (Lend-Lease) with enough
material to re-equip their forces twice over,
but the German defeat at Orel-Kursk was mainly
brought about by the betrayal to Stalin (Stavka,
Russian High Command) of the entire German
attack plan.
The thaw was upon us, with mud and slime
everywhere, In a way I was glad we didn't have
half-tracks or they probably would have found a
job for us, sliding up and down the Rollbahn on
air defence duty as we'd done the year before at
Mereva and Kharkov. So we had a reasonably quiet
period but miserable as it was, there was not
much comfort. Our dugouts were like pig stys and
with every footstep one sunk deeper and deeper
into the slime. The Russian reconnaissance
planes were too high for us to engage though we
scored a few hits on some fighter bombers coming
within our range unexpectedly. Heavy artillery
from somewhere around Kirov gave us an uneasy
moment now and then with random shots. They were
heavy calibre shells, 172 mm and kicked up
enormous dirt clods and mud mushrooms as they
exploded with the all-too familiar 'whoompf'
deep in the slime.
We constructed some bunks so we could sleep
without drowning in the mud. Pure luxury! It
rained quite a lot, which was good as it meant
the other side couldn't do much either and it
kept Russian aircraft from harassing us. A rifle
unit of Finns had moved into the village to our
left and we did some visiting and generally got
on quite well, mainly because they always seemed
to have a good supply of vodka. Also, of course,
I considered myself an expert in German-Finn
relations since my encounter in Gmunden
hospital! "Who, Terboven?" They said they'd
never heard of him, but then that was
understandable, they were only interested in
vodka.
One afternoon they came over with a bag full of
bottles and I must say we had a good time
getting sloshed, some more than others, though
not the Finns who seemed pretty inured to the
stuff. Wilfried got pretty happy and poor old
Johann fell out of his bunk and nearly drowned
but to make matters worse an attack alert was
sounded right in the middle of our 'party' and
quite a few of us couldn't make it to the gun.
Luckily the Illyushins - I think that's what
they were - and so many, (probably two?) veered
off in the direction of Roslavl so we got off
lightly. Our Kapo, Wilfried and Johann had to
appear before Oberleutnant Hahn the next morning
for a good dressing down and we were lucky he
kept the incident within the battery and didn't
report it to the Abt.Commander. That would have
earned us, perhaps not a stretch in Torgau
(military prison), but some other stiff
punishment or perhaps worse.
As soon as the weather improved our battery
pulled out and moved to an airfield somewhere
between Slovgorod and Krichev, around Mogilev,
to provide security. The field was quite large
and had originally been a Russian base, judging
by the hangars, and the concrete and brick
buildings. It was partly destroyed but all
essential installations had been restored so it
must have been operated by the Luftwaffe for
some time. Actually, it was two fields separated
by a river valley, the Sozh river, I think it
was. And the fields were called 'Schatalovka
East' and 'Schatalovka West, if I remember
correctly. The field on the eastern side of the
valley was mainly taken up by Heinkel bombers
and reconnaissance squadrons and the western
side was operated by various fighter squadrons -
Messershmitts and Focke Wulf FW 190s. The FWs
were the latest in fighters and regarded by
experts as the best fighter plane of WW2 and far
superior to any of the Allied or Russian
fighters planes at that time.
The FW 190s were flown by Nowotny's pilots,
Walther Nowotny being one of our most successful
fighter pilots ont the eastern front with 250
Russian aircraft to his credit. Other top
scoring fighter pilots had downed slightly more
planes than Nowotny, like Otto Kittel with 275
kills, Gerhard Barkhorn 301 and the most
successful of the Luftwaffe was Erich Hartmann
with 352 Russian planes to his credit.
Eventually Nowotny, Kittel and Barkhorn were
shot down, whereas Erich Hartmann survived the
war and gave himself up to the Americans. He
would have done better had he shot himself
instead. He had a price put on his head from the
Russian High Command and Stavka negotiated with
the Americans to have him handed over for
punishment! And the Americans obliged. General
Eisenhower would agree to any request from his
friend 'Uncle Joe' if it meant getting rid of a
few more German 'Nazi' bastards. To Eisenhower
every German soldier regardless what rank was a
Nazi. Hartmann was sent to Siberia. He was a
year younger than me. Winner take all...