Not knowing whether my mates had survived the last days, I felt ashamed when I remembered my anger at having been left so long in my fox-hole without any communication. Whatever my suffering, I was alive and probably lucky to have been in my fox-hole when the assault on my battery took place. Had I returned even minutes earlier, the outcome for me could have been very different.
I was given replacements for all army issue that I had lost and was told that next day I would be assigned to a new unit. No suggestion was made of rejoining my old unit and somehow it did not seem to be my place to ask. Once again, I had come up against a situation where normal human concern or curiosity did not seem to figure. It was as if nothing mattered that was not of practical immediacy. I found that I also was being drawn into this web and asked no questions which I did not expect others to ask.
That night I slept as if I would never wake up again. In the morning I awoke refreshed, even my insides had slept well and made no complaint about the abuse they had received the day before. I now heard about my new unit. It would again be a group of 20-millimetre self-propelled guns and its commander was Lieutenant Trapp.
Having just weathered two very tight spots, I felt a sense of confidence and looked forward to the next assignment. I was not to know that my service would be soured by a personality clash and culminate in my most dangerous mission on the Russian Front.
8
BRIDGEHEAD ON THE RIVER PILICA
The next morning a van brought me to my new battery operating in the Warka area, again west of the river Vistula. The Vistula had attained a particular significance at that stage of the war and its defence became the theme of many classical books on war-strategy. One section covering a Front-length of about 95 miles was defended by Army-Group Middle, to which my Division Göring was assigned.
My boss, Lt Trapp, was about 37 years of age and five-foot seven-inches tall; a lean and wiry man with a ruddy complexion. He displayed a somewhat indifferent attitude to me when I reported for duty, but he was not unfriendly and quickly handed me over to my immediate superior.
I served in Lt Trapp’s battery for the next eight weeks, throughout September and October, and we first went into action near a town called Glowaczew. We were never in the town itself, but sometimes drove through small villages when moving from one position to another. On these occasions I often saw civilians at work in their farmyards, but they largely ignored us.
I got on well with my new mates, but again it was a sort of neutral relationship. There was only one soldier, called Schmidt, whom I did not like. He was lazy and not as particular about basic hygiene as he should have been. I often wondered how the Division Göring had accepted him as a recruit and then not licked him into better shape during training.
Soon we became involved in plenty of action when the Russians put the German forces under fire all along the lines. This seemed to be aimed at consolidating their positions and discouraging German attacks, rather than setting the scene for further advances.
In the absence of the German Luftwaffe, Russians planes dominated the air-space; their sorties increased and for us there was no respite. How sorely we missed some back-up from the air. However, Allied air-raids on fuel manufacturing plants had been carried out over past months with such devastating effectiveness that the Luftwaffe had become almost totally paralysed. It is interesting to recall that industrial output in Germany reached a peak in 1944, despite the enormous pounding it received from Allied bombers. Of course, the loss of fuel-producing plants had been the most telling.
I had many an occasion to be thankful that I had decided to join the Division Göring. At the time, I had known that I would receive the best possible training and that the division would be given the best equipment available. A further advantage now became apparent to me. With severe fuel shortages continuing, the German elite divisions were the first to be supplied, while many other motorised units had to abandon their trucks, armoured vehicles and even tanks. These sometimes had to be blown up so that they did not fall into Russian hands and the soldiers subsequently became foot-slogging infantry. In the Division Göring we seldom ran critically short of fuel and the fact that I could continue riding on self-propelled guns, while soldiers in other divisions had to walk, must have often saved me from falling into Russian hands.
In my experience, the most common representative of the Russian air-force was the Iljushin Il-2, the “Stormovik” or “Black Death,” a fighter-bomber with a crew of two. Although the Russians had many, and quite well-constructed bombers, they did not employ them on any large scale and certainly not to compare with that of the western Allies.
The Il-2 was certainly a formidable warplane. Though rough-sounding and ungainly, it was very difficult to shoot down due to its exceptionally heavy armour plating. It was much slower than the German Messerschmidt-109 or the British Spitfire, but it was highly effective against moving targets such as tanks, transport vehicles and marching troops. Armed with machine-guns and fast-firing cannons, it could also carry rockets or bombs, a veritable flying fortress.
Another outstanding plane, which I saw in action, was the German two-seater Junkers-87, the “Stuka,” or dive-bomber. It was also relatively slow and ungainly, but built very strongly to withstand the strain on its fuselage and wings when plunging straight out of the sky. An air-siren operating at a screaming pitch had a highly demoralising effect on troops being targeted. I remember some occasions when I was near Russian tanks that were being dive-bombed and got a mind-shattering taste of what it would be like to be at the receiving end.
During the second half of September 1944, our position became highly critical. Possession of the Vistula had been lost and some German forces had regrouped at the river Pilica, which flowed into the Vistula. My gun-group, together with other units had the task of covering the withdrawal of German forces across the Pilica at a point where a heavy pontoon-bridge had been constructed. The bridge had to be held at all costs until the last German forces had been brought back over the river, only then could we also withdraw.
Our guns were strategically well-placed on a flattish hillock near the bridge. It was comforting to know that we were on the west side of the river which meant there was one less obstacle to overcome when we finally withdrew. We did not dig in our self-propelled guns. There was a certain amount of natural cover from bushes and low saplings and we also wanted to be flexible when dealing with the heavy attacks we were expecting. On this occasion we also did not dig any shelters for ourselves. Instead, we were accommodated in a small abandoned farmhouse next to our position. Beside the house there was a tower, about twenty-five feet high, which we used as a look-out.
The next morning we manned our guns at sunrise when the first German troop columns were expected. I do not know why the withdrawal did not take place at night-time, and this was not explained to us. The area on the other side of the river was heavily wooded and the approach road to the bridge gave excellent cover except for the last half mile. Soon I heard the sound of engines as a long line of army vehicles came in sight.