The third advantage of the position became evident the next morning when I saw that a number of trenches connected with the wood, thus providing access to a place where we could safely stretch our legs. Our little wood immediately proved its usefulness and the briefing took place in a clearing, well hidden from any observation by the Russians. Lt Breding informed us of the strategic options for attack that the Russians had, and he explained the situation and weaponry of the other German task-forces in the area. We had been supplied with machine-guns, bazookas, hand-grenades and, of course, we had our own army rifles, so our targets would be ground-troops, troop-carriers and any light tanks or armoured vehicles that came within our range. Our machine-guns, of the type MG-42, were much superior to all others used in the Second World War. They were absolutely trouble-free and fired at the then incredible rate of 25 rounds per second. Despite the good quality of these weapons and of the hand-held bazookas, I did not see us making much of an impact on a determined Russian attack and I thought that even neighbouring task-forces with their heavier equipment would have been brushed aside like flies when the Russians advanced.
My new companions seemed to be an average group of soldiers. Against my expectations, none struck me as being in any way of a lesser standard than my previous mates. They all went about their work without hazarding any opinion as to what they thought of our mission or why they had been singled out for it. I thought that Lt Breding handled the situation extremely well. He struck a shrewd balance between not giving us too much free time to brood and, on the other hand, not making us engage in purposeless activities just for the sake of killing time. Good disciplinary control was exercised and I thought we had quite a lot of free time without it ever hanging heavily on our hands.
Our little wood proved to be a tremendous boon and saved us from the claustrophobic environment that members of the other task-forces had to endure. Although our situation was hopeless, it would have been very much worse if one had to wait for death like a rat in a trap. In the case of my unit all formal activities took place in our wood and, during our free time, we were at liberty to ramble in it as long as we kept well out of sight of any Russian observers. Since the wood was fairly dense, this was not a problem. Admittedly, Lt Breding was taking a small chance in allowing us this freedom, but we were never far away and a Russian offensive was highly improbable during the daytime.
Dieter Offenheim was a nature lover, just as I was, so he and I would go for walks together, chatting about our homes and families. Offenheim was twenty-four years of age and came from a town in the Hannover area. He had worked with his father in the family painting business which he had hoped to extend when he came back from the war. He found it hard to believe how I had ended up on the Russian front when my home was in Ireland. Although he knew that conscription was enforceable by law, he was convinced that I could have avoided it somehow. It seems strange to look back on the two of us, walking and chatting together in the peaceful wood, while just the occasional chirp of a bird intruded on our conversation. Was the war really so close by, with death waiting to claim us? Offenheim was actually one of the only two soldiers with whom I ever had a more personal conversation during my year in the army. The particular situation we found ourselves in was probably the reason why we overcame the barrier of reticence and spoke to each other of our homes and our hopes.
Since it had been late the previous evening when we arrived, I had immediately gone to sleep after spending two hours on sentry duty, but on this evening I was able to further appreciate the luxury of our new accommodation. The internal height of the bunker was about six feet and we had strong paraffin lights so one could read in comfort. I still had my slim volume of Lord Emsworth and Others, which I had held onto through thick and thin. Somehow I had repeatedly managed to salvage it, even though I had not always carried it on my person.
If I had had to choose between Wodehouse and a few extra slices of bread, I think I would have discarded the bread and kept the Wodehouse. A link with normality, even if this was represented by the antics of some absurd characters in a book, was an essential need of mine and I was still able to chuckle over stories I had read so many times. My mates were interested in the source of my laughter, but how could I explain Wodehouse to them? I did not even attempt it and just said that these were funny stories written by a very popular English writer. I was afterwards surprised that nobody had taken exception to my reading a book by an English author, even though Germany was at war with England.
So far, I still felt no anxiety about my short life-expectancy. Ever since I had been posted to the Russian Front I had carried the conviction in me that I would know in advance if my end was nigh. My sixth sense had sent me no signals, as yet, so I retained an optimistic “wait and see” confidence.
The second day progressed much in the same way as the first day, but then there was a development. During the afternoon briefing, Lt Breding told us that a colonel would be inspecting our position in the following morning and that we should go all-out to make a good impression on him. This announcement filled me with excitement and gave me a sudden feeling of hope for which there could have been no imaginable reason. Visits by “top brass” were made as morale boosters and had no further significance, yet I felt that there was a message behind this interruption to our routine.
Next morning we assembled in our wood in good time for the inspection. A Mercedes staff-car arrived punctually and out stepped a colonel, his adjutant and a captain. As they came nearer, I could not believe my eyes when I saw that the captain was the same officer who had chatted to me when I was in my fox-hole on manoeuvres at Alkmaar in Holland so many months ago. Now I was sure that there was a meaning behind this development. Maybe it was a signal that I was to live?
After delivering the usual pep-talk, the colonel turned to Lt Breding and said that he would like to see us carry out some machine-gun drill. I felt like bursting! All the signs were pointing directly my way. In that instant I resolved to go all-out and to follow the path that providence seemed to be showing me. My last gun-drill had sentenced me to death, maybe this gun-drill would return me to life?
Up to this point I had been inconspicuous near the end of the second of three rows of a faceless blur of blue/grey uniformed soldiers. Now I had the opportunity to stand out and be noticed, maybe even recognised by the captain. In anticipation of the order to be given, I poised myself ready to push through between two soldiers in front of me so that I would be the first to go forward and immediately draw attention to myself.
Lt Breding asked for three volunteers and the moment the order was given I catapulted forward and stood to attention. Everybody seemed stunned by this sudden eruption and nobody else moved. However, Lt Breding quickly reacted and irritably shouted, “I said three men! I want two more men, and on the double!” Two men quickly stepped forward and we picked up three machine-guns for our drill. The exercise was simple. Each man was to set up his machine-gun ready for action, then to replace the barrel by a spare and then to replace the firing-mechanism. All this suited me perfectly and I now had the opportunity to distinguish myself from the group of three men. Maybe the captain would recognise me and wonder what I was doing on this suicide mission?