Excerpt from Chapter 17
Our Battery was positioned on the eastern side
of the airfield, overlooking the river valley
and the western airfield beyond. We got busy
digging ourselves in, constructing solid
underground quarters with the gun emplacement on
top. The ground sloped down to the river, which
was swift flowing but very narrow and a fallen
tree trunk enabled one to cross to the other
side. Halfway up the slope on the western
embankment was a searchlight battery and beyond
that a battery of 37mm anti-aircraft guns. It
looked like the whole of our Flak Abteilung was
concentrated around these two fields so they
were well protected.
For extra protection, every time an air alarm
sounded all available fighter planes took to the
air. This made it difficult for the Flak to get
into action as there was always the possibility
of hitting one of our own aircraft, so to
overcome this a defence plan was issued
specifying precisely which hour of the day or
night would be allocated to fighter planes,
night fighters or flak. That became complicated
at night when the fighter's operational grid was
changed from hour to hour and the identification
signals changed every six hours.
The IDs were flares shot from the friendly
aircraft in the form of stars of different
colour codes relating to the six-hour period,
e.g. one red star changing into, say, five white
stars, or vice versa, with variations of the
changing white or reds. Poor Janko had to work
out all this and be dead right though he wasn't
always successful. Once in a while the Russians
got wise to the colour sequence and were able to
make a sneak attack, or maybe a German plane,
who for some reason was not informed in time of
the colour change, found himself singled out as
the target. The probing fingers of the
searchlights were pretty quick on the mark and
once they had a plane in their crossbeams they
usually kept him long enough for the flak to
home in. The night fighters had their own
tracking station to guide them on to their
targets. The tracking installations were called
'Wurzburg' and 'Freya'. Freya was a mobile piece
of equipment which could determine distance up
to 90 miles but was not able to read height so
was used as early warning radar. The Wurzburg
used an ultra shortwave length of 53cm and could
read the location, course and altitude of an
aircraft with great accuracy.
They were installed in two railway carriages
some distance down the track and their antennas
and tracking disk probed the night sky for any
movement. Inside the carriage on a large table
was a glass grid panel showing the night fighter
as a blue dot moving inside his allocated grid
and any plane entering that particular grid was
hostile and showed up as a red dot. The operator
then directed the blue dot on to the red one, to
about 300 metres. At that distance the night
fighter pilot could pick up his quarry with his
Lichtenstein radar, a four-pronged antenna build
into his plane's nose cone. This enabled him to
see the hostile dot on his miniature screen so
he could creep up on the unsuspecting victim and
shoot him down. Watching for tell-tale exhaust
lights creeping closer to each other and waiting
for the firing stabs from the German night
fighter, followed a fraction later by the sound
of bullet bursts, often ending with the Russian
aircraft bursting into flames on its dive,
became an interesting diversion for us.
The beginning of May 1943, going into spring,
was still reasonably quiet on the Central Front.
It seemed like neither side had any intention to
carry on with the war. I thought about how it
had been the previous year, the heat, death and
destruction all around us, but that was 2000 km
to the south, and maybe things were different
here. Probably just waiting for the onset of
summer to launch an offensive. Once that
happened the airfields could expect bombing
attacks, and they would be heavy, as the
Russians had built up their air force into a
formidable offensive service. Would it come
tonight, or tomorrow? In a week's time - or
maybe a month? Who could tell. The airfields
once belonged to them so they would know their
locations and should have little trouble bombing
them out of existence.
I stood watch early one morning in the gun
escarpment and whenever we were on single watch
we always had the gun in readiness with a
magazine in the breach and the action lever on
tension and the barrel at the horizontal so that
if need be one gunner could operate the cannon
without help. Daylight was just coming up when I
casually looked across the river to the western
field and saw an aircraft approaching from the
northern end, flying low along the river valley.
One glance at the rudder and I knew it was an
Illyushin Il 2 - a lost lone straggler on his
way home, or was he on an early morning
reconnaissance mission? The way he sneaked along
the river course at only a few metres altitude
suggested he certainly knew where he was.
I didn't have time to pull the alarm string to
alert the crew, but hopped into the seat and had
the aircraft in the electronic sight, with very
little adjustment to the elevation of the barrel
since he was flying a few degrees below
horizontal, relative to our gun position. I
threw the safety switch to 'on,' put my foot on
the rapid fire pedal and managed to give it a
burst of about 10 shells, after which it had
gone from my sight. But I knew I had hit him as
I saw some of the tracers home in on the cabin
side with at least two or three smashing into
the rudder assembly.
It all happened in a matter of seconds and by
the time Wilfried and the rest of the crew came
on the scene the plane had disappeared into the
windings of the valley. Janko wasn't too pleased
with me. He was responsible for the operation of
his gun and its crew and had to report the
unauthorised shooting to the CO. He said, "Are
you sure it wasn't one of our aircraft?" I told
him I was quite sure it was an Illyushin and
tried to convince him by sarcastically pointing
out that our aircraft weren't in the habit of
flying around with the red Soviet star on their
bellies. The sentry at our neighbouring gun
which was positioned further back from the edge
of the slope, was not able to see the plane but
he confirmed the sound as unmistakably coming
from an IL 2.
Later that day one of Nowotny's pilots reported
the wreckage of an IL 2 about 10 km eastward of
the field. We got no recognition for the downing
of that plane, no extra ring on the barrel as
there was no witness who could confirm I was the
one responsible. Nor did I get a pat on the
back; after all I was only a Lance Corporal.
Night bombing attacks increased, causing severe
damage and interruption to the airfield traffic.
It was therefore decided to establish a dummy
airfield some 10 km south as a decoy. Work
started immediately. Boundary lights were
installed and hay bales spread around
strategically and electrically wired so they
could be set alight at random, and a gun from
our battery was placed at each corner of the
field, Janko and crew being among those
selected.
Our job was to draw the bombers to the fake
field by lighting up the sky with phosphor
tracers in such a sequence that one gun was
always firing, with the next one taking over
from corner to corner until it was the first
gun's turn again. We hadn't much chance of
hitting an aircraft at 2,500 metres as our
shells were set to self explode at 2,000 metres.
We weren't there to shoot them down but merely
for a touch of realism, and what a good show it
turned out to be.
The deception worked perfectly. During the day
the field looked just like any farm field, with
hay bales spread around for drying, our guns
being invisible under camouflaged netting.
Naturally all movement was kept to a minimum so
as not to give too much away to prying eyes.
Partisan informers proved to be speedy
messengers.
The days passed quietly, uncommonly quietly
really. It was the first time we could actually
sit down and watch the occasional dog fight
overhead between Nowotny's FWs and some
intruding Russian MiGs without training our guns
on them. It was also a good time for playing
cards and having a bet on which plane would be
shot down first. All that changed with the onset
of darkness, however, when the camouflage was
removed and the guns made ready for action. The
Wurzburg tracking station directed all night
fighters to operate above the real airfield and
informed us of the location of the incoming
bombers they could see on their grid and tell us
roughly how many planes there were in each
formation.
As we heard them approaching the target area the
boundary lights of the dummy field were switched
on and off at short intervals making it look as
if some of our planes were expected to land. For
the decoy to work as intended it was important
that the approaching planes saw those lights
without becoming suspicious. It was equally
important that the real airfield 10 km away
remained in absolute darkness. The decoy worked
as planned and it wasn't long before a
pathfinder dropped his 'christmas tree'
parachute flares on all four corners of the
field for his bombers. This was our moment to
open fire to keep the tracers within that area -
one full round of 20s with the next gun joining
in before our magazine was empty. Then the bombs
came screaming down and whoever had the chance
dived into the splinter trenches, though some of
us had to keep the gun working, usually Wilfried
and I with our Kapo making sure we kept up the
firing sequences exactly after the fifteenth
grenade from No. 3 gun on the opposite corner of
the field. The gun rampart gave us reasonably
good protection from shrapnel but some of the
bombs fell uncomfortably close fraying our
nerves, especially if the gun had to take over
the firing sequence at the moment of impact.
The self-setting fuses worked very well,
igniting bale after bale until smoke lay densely
over the entire field. As soon as the last
bombers disappeared eastward, the field crews
got into action assessing roughly the number of
bombs dropped and the supposed damage which was
then relayed to the real field so they could lay
out netting marked as bomb craters and destroyed
aircraft. Meanwhile all the craters in our field
were filled in with straw and hay to restore it
to an ordinary looking farm field and it all had
to be done before daybreak, before the Russian
reconnaissance planes appeared and, not being
aware of the deception, headed for the genuine
field.
That was another occasion when we could listen
to enemy planes overhead without getting
apprehensive knots in the stomach. It was
important that the early morning spy planes were
left alone by flak or fighters to take home the
fake destruction pictures. We often wondered
what those pictures looked like but they must
have been convincing enough as the bombers
continued with the nightly raids.
Towards the end of Spring there was still no
indication of any major offensive on the Central
Front though we suspected something was cooking.
On 2 June (43) all available aircraft took off,
the heavily loaded Heinkel bombers disappearing
in the direction of Kursk, followed by
practically all fighters on escort duty. They
must have done a good job wherever they went as
we and our decoy field ultimately suffered for
it. The Russians delivered one of their heaviest
attacks but the deception was still working and
not one bomber strayed over the real field. We
went through our clockwork routine, firing
non-stop circle rounds.
The second wave of bombers had just completed
their drops when there was a terrifying 'whoosh'
over our heads and an enormous shadow cut across
our position, a super-sized wheel barely missing
the gun barrel. It was like an express train
passing over our heads and the whole thing hit
the ground behind us, slicing through the field
as it came to rest. We braced ourselves for a
terrific explosion of the plane and its bomb
load - but it never came!
When we inspected the plane in the morning it
turned out to be a huge four engine Petlyakov Pe
8 Maxim Gorky heavy bomber which we called
Kohlen Trimmer (coal scoops). It carried about
4400 lb of bombs, had a speed of 274 mph and
could fly a range of 2920 miles. It carried a
crew of eleven though this one carried none and
had come to rest on its belly, still in one
piece. The side doors were open revealing a
spacious fuselage and empty bomb bay. Up front
were two pilot seats, flanked by two large fuel
tanks. The wings were big enough to walk inside
right to the gun turrets and to the rear of its
inbuilt motors. Altogether there were five gun
turrets, two in the wings, and one in the
fuselage, nose and tail.
The tanks were completely empty and we figured
it had either run out of fuel or some bright
spark in the ground crew had forgotten his job.
This would explain why it hadn't exploded on
impact. The crew must have jumped after dropping
their load as there were no parachutes left but
all guns and armaments were there, loaded and in
firing condition. Maybe the crew had been picked
up by partisans and were already having
breakfast with them deep in the forest and
discussing how to get back to their base. On 9
June we had another heavy raid. It was barely
dark when the first wave came in and had it been
half an hour earlier they would have spotted the
real air field. It looked like it was going to
be an awfully long night before the horror left
and we couldn't help pondering on our vulnerable
situation stuck in a decoy field when the real
target was close by. Just past midnight another
wave dropped their load and turned south towards
Kursk. Some probably wouldn't make it to their
home base as our night fighters would be after
them pretty pronto.
As the next wave was approaching from the east
we noticed No. 3 gun, the one we took our firing
sequence from, wasn't shooting anymore so Janko
sent Heinrich over to find out what had
happened. Heinrich never made it; he ran
straight into an exploding bomb and some of the
shrapnel ripped open his back. Janko and Manfred
ran out to get him and carried him down to the
Wurzburg station for first aid. He was pretty
well cut up but apparently still alive. In the
early morning a Fiseler Storch ambulance plane
arrived to take him to the base hospital. Number
3 gun crew, apart from being shaken when a bomb
fragment sliced through the gun's recoil
cylinder, hadn't suffered any casualties. Janko,
when he returned said, "I think Heiny will be
all right; his heart was still beating when I
watched it". Johann asked him if he had felt his
pulse and Janko replied, "I saw his heart
through the hole in his back, and it was still
pumping."
Operation "Zitadelle", the code name for the
battle of Kursk was launched on 5 July, the day
before my 21st birthday and it turned out to be
the most disastrous battle for our Army Group
Centre. Stalin knew the whole of the German
attack plan down to the smallest detail,
courtesy of 'Lucy',Rudolf R"ssler, and his gang
the 'Red Trio' together with 'Werther', his
little team of informers inside the German O. K.
W. (A spy nest in the German High Command).
R"ssler was transmitting via three clandestine
transmitting station from Lausanne and Geneva
(the 'Three Musicians') in Switzerland details
of the entire German attack directly to Stalin's
headquarters. The operation had the sanction of
the Swiss authority - and the world was always
told how scrupulously neutral Switzerland was...
The Kursk battle had been scheduled to start on
15 June but there were delays for some obscure
reasons and this gave the Russians ample time to
organise their defences precisely according to
the German plan. All Marshal Rokossovsky had to
do was sit back and wait for the German army to
fall into the trap, and fall in they did. German
losses were high, something like 30,000
casualties including 3,330 dead in the first
three days with the loss of a substantial number
of tanks and equipment. But the Russians didn't
have it all their own way. During the battle
they lost about 432 planes on the first day
alone, plus half their entire tank force They
lost about 17,000 dead and 34,000 prisoners.By
July 17 Manstein's southern front between
Belgorod and Sumy inflicted Colonel-Generals
Konev and Vatutin's Armies heavy losses
including taking 18,000 prisoners and
deestroying 700 tanks and 200 heavy guns.
In the Orel sector a huge Russian
counter-offensive began on 12 July with
Sokolovsky attacking from Kirov in the north and
Rokossovsky from Ponyri in the south, and by 15
July they had broken through all German defence
lines. The Russian High Command then ordered the
partisan movement in the Bryansk- Gomel-Orsha-Belorussia
triangle to wage all-out war on the German rear,
the main objective being the destruction of the
railway network. And a good job they did too.
Between the end of July and the end of September
no fewer than 17,000 rail units were blown up,
and over a period of two years Belorussian
partisans had managed to kill half a million
German troops, including 47 generals. And to
make it worthwhile, Wilhelm Kube, Hitler's
High-Commissioner as well.
By 4 August Orel fell to Rokossovsky's armoured
might and the German forces retreated to the
Hagen line, a pre-constructed fortified defence
line stretching from Kirov to Bryansk and Sevsk
in the south. Our fake airfield did not work any
more either. The Russians discovered our
deception, or most probably had been tipped off
by the partisans. We moved back to the proper
airfield which, by now, was fully exposed to
attacks, mostly night bombing and most of the
time their formations were too high for our guns
to do any damage, and we had no heavy 8.8s to
come to our aid. Shortly before we left the
dummy field our night fighters' guidance system
had been blown up by partisans so they were out
of action and our Heinkel bombers had been
greatly reduced in numbers, as were also
Nowotney's fighter squadrons. The Kursk and Orel
battles had taken their toll.
At the end of August I received promotion from
Gefreiter (Lance Corporal) to Obergefreiter
(full Corporal) which meant double 'V' chevrons
on the sleeve and three wings on the lapels. But
unfortunately nothing else to celebrate that
event.
Karachev, south east of Bryansk fell on August
15 and Kharkov in the south was wrested from
Field Marshal von Manstein's grip on August 22.
Moscow celebrated with fireworks and bells
pealing all over the city and 20 salvos were
fired from 224 guns. A year previously the
German Armies were advancing and now (43) we
were slowly retreating. Retreating through
Partisan country whose numbers by now had
swollen to an estimated one and a half million,
based and operating out of the huge forests
around Smolensk and Bryansk, and from the
impenetrable Pripyet and Rokitno swamps.
They had an abundant supply of weapons -
mortars, anti-tank guns, even artillery, and
high ranking Russian officers were on hand to
train them and often led them into battle.
Russian demolition experts and equipment were
flown into their hiding places to tutor them in
the art of destruction. We could trust no one,
neither women nor children. They would smile and
throw a hand grenade at you the moment you
turned your face. Quite a few worked for the
Germans during the day and cut their throats at
night.
Partisans were certainly a formidable force,
able to wipe out whole garrisons in the rear and
caused utter and complete chaos to the our
communication systems. They gained absolute
control of the towns and villages in German
occupied territory. They were ruthless and
brutal and indiscriminate in their killing and
should one be unfortunate enough to be captured
alive they delighted in cutting off the penises.
They specialised in that. The history books
don't mention that, they would if the Germans
had done it to the Russians.
By mid September we were back in Smolensk which
again was under pressure from Rokossovsky's 5th
Army. We took up positions on the eastern side
of the now-familiar bridge over the Dnieper. I
would have preferred the western approaches for
a quicker getaway as the whole bridge was being
prepared for total demolition by placing huge
1000 pound Stuka bombs all along the top of it.
Looking down to the river and the railway yard
on the southern side one could see rail
transport after transport all under steam but
well and truly trapped since both lines - to the
south to Roslavl and to the north to Vitebsk -
were cut by Russian forces. Yartsevo, some 50 km
to the east fell and Yelizh in the north was
taken on 20 September. It looked like they were
going to encircle Smolensk and take the city at
their leisure.
Air activity increased and artillery fire crept
closer and we could see the yellow/red streaks
from the Katyushas stabbing the sky a short
distance to the east. A well-placed hit on the
bridge and we would all go to heaven, though
that was very unlikely. As Langhans had once
said, that place was reserved for the British
because they prayed more than we did. Anyhow, I
still wished we were on the western side, though
looking across and seeing the enormous
explosives I realised once the bridge blew it
really wouldn't make much difference from which
side of it one was blasted to hell.
Roslavl fell and heavy street fighting was going
on in the eastern parts of Smolensk. We received
the order to pull out and wasted no time doing
so. It seemed a long slow drive across the
bridge amid the stream of retreating troops and
vehicles and past those 500 kg monster bombs but
we made it safely and drove through the western
suburbs of Smolensk to a large church or
cathedral where Wachtmeister Wehrt and two of
his guns were waiting for us, the rest of the
battery having already moved on. Janko reported
our arrival and with one last look at the bridge
and the fleeing traffic we proceeded in the
direction of Orsha. Wilfried had quite
accurately assessed the situation and after a
heavy draw on his 'Juno' cigarette came to the
conclusion that our position on the bridge had
been 'dicey'. It seemed he'd shared my
apprehension. Had there been a hit it would have
been curtains for all. We caught up with the
rest of the battery and continued towards Orsha.
With its six converging railway lines serving
north to Vitebsk and Leningrad, Minsk to the
west, Mogilev and Mozyr to the south and
Smolensk to the east, Orsha was a prime target
for the Belorussian partisans. It was partisan
country at its worst with huge forests and
swamps on either side of the railway line, with
the odd village here and there between, ideal
hiding places for murdering marauders who came
out at night, blew up the rails and wiped out
the German outposts in a sadistic way, rarely
leaving survivors.
We joined an infantry unit engaged in battling
the partisans and incorporated in that unit was
also a company of HIWIS, General Vlasov's
volunteers.