At this stage my senses and brain were becoming ever more like what would nowadays be called a computer. I found my ability to take in and process a huge amount of detail through my eyes and ears to be quite phenomenal. It seemed to become effortless and basic that I was able to differentiate between the sounds of different guns, planes, tanks and trucks and make good estimates of numbers involved and their distance away from me. I also discovered that sounds enabled me to gauge the speed and direction of tanks, trucks and other vehicles and the direction in which guns were being fired. At the same time I automatically took into account the strength and direction of any prevailing winds which could affect the sounds.
While all this was going on, my “computer-mind” was processing visual impressions of movement, topographical details of the terrain, light and shade effects, the position of the sun and many other factors. Although much of this information is not needed all of the time, every detail is stored in a sub-conscious way. I found that if anything became important, it would immediately surface in my brain and prompt an instant reaction from me.
I discovered that the situations where this had the greatest importance were when I was on my own behind the Russian lines or in “no-man’s land.” Whenever I was on foot in such a situation, and heavily dependent on my “computer,” I had the feeling I was being guided by remote control. I was able to move swiftly and safely across the terrain, every now and then automatically adjusting my rate of progress and direction of movement. I saw myself like an animal in the jungle that makes its way stealthily, with all senses tuned to receive the faintest signals. Although I clearly remember the unusual sensation I experienced, it is something I find difficult to describe adequately in words.
I got on well with my new comrades on the 37-millimetre guns even though we had, once again, the usual neutral sort of a relationship but there was good all-round co-operation, which was the main thing. In fact, throughout my service in the army I never knew anybody to shirk his duty. There may have been grumbles, but if a job had to be done everybody co-operated fully.
Towards the end of October, temperatures dropped noticeably. I began to wonder what it would be like living in the open in the depths of winter. Since the catastrophic loss of life in Stalingrad, when thousands of German troops had frozen to death, supplies of winter clothing had been well-organised and I therefore did not expect any undue hardship over the coming months.
I had an unpleasant scare when on guard duty in the early hours of one morning, as it was just getting light. There was a fairly heavy fog around, so I had kept within twenty yards of the gun nearest to me. Suddenly a light breeze sprang up and enveloped the whole area in a blanket of impenetrable fog. Being caught unawares, I lost my sense of direction and no longer had the remotest idea where the battery was, even though I knew it must be right beside me.
Since I was in a field with no salient features, there was nothing I could use as a guide. I could hardly shout to my mates or stand there for hours like a fool waiting for the fog to lift. I took the logical action of walking twenty-five yards in one direction and retracing my steps when I had not found the battery. After repeating the exercise at right angles in three other directions I had still drawn a blank and started to get worried. In the dense fog I could not even see the mark I had scratched into the ground with my boots before I initially started my search. Hoping that I had not veered off too far from my original starting point I set off again choosing different angles. At the third attempt I breathed a sigh of relief when I made a familiar contact. I was saved extreme embarrassment, and probably a rebuke, if I had had to be rescued. My experience gave me a warning about fog and orientation that I never forgot.
By 31 October Russian forces virtually abandoned their attempts to gain a greater foothold along our Front. Ten weakened German divisions, two of which were Göring divisions, had defeated forty fully-equipped Russian divisions and many armoured units. Over the preceding twelve days Russian forces had lost 1,225 tanks, 330 heavy guns and 312 planes and suffered a major defeat, and were therefore forced to abandon any plans for a further incursion into East-Prussia. Along the northern front the 3rd Panzer Army had managed to stabilise the lines of defence after conceding some small territorial losses. For the time being, the front in East-Prussia was secure.
Near the end of October, I managed to knock out a Russian tank single-handed. Early one morning the Russians had unsuccessfully launched an attack and tried to break through our lines to give assistance to groups of their own troops who had been cut off. Our guns were in a well-camouflaged position to the south-east of a small wood in a terrain providing plenty of cover in the form of trees and bushes. I could hear Russian tanks and soon made out the silhouettes of five T-34 tanks passing us in an easterly direction on the far side of the wood. Suddenly they stopped when they were about a few hundred meters away. Lt Grossenheim decided that our self-propelled guns should stay in their position and that a very good opportunity had presented itself for an attack on the tanks by bazookas, the hand-held rocket-launchers.
A Gefreiter and I were instructed to pick up a bazooka each and to attempt to creep up near enough to get in a shot. Slinging our rifles over our shoulders, and carrying our bazookas, we set off making fast progress thanks to the generous ground cover. The rumble of the stationary tanks gave us a clear sign of the direction we had to take. As we got closer, we stayed together since it was essential that we got in our shots simultaneously rather than have one of us giving the Russians an early warning.
Moving through the wood we got within 100 yards of the nearest tank. Having primed our bazookas and erected the sights we moved on, keeping behind a small mound ahead of us. We skirted it on one side, but found ourselves out of luck. The nearest Russian tank was still too far away and the tank commander was standing up in the turret; he would have seen us if we tried to get any closer. To dodge round the other side of the mound was a much better idea, so we made our way there hurriedly in case the tanks started to move on again. This time we were able to get much closer.
Between taking crouching steps and crawling, we got within forty yards of the nearest two tanks. They presented a side-on view giving us a large target area and we now also had the advantage that they were blocking a direct line of sight between the other tanks and us. Dropping down on one knee and pressing the bazooka hard into my side I took aim. My mate counted to three after which we each pressed our release button. There was a huge explosion as the tank my mate had selected burst into flames while my own shot hit the other tank lower down. As we jumped up to run for safety in the wood, I heard the tank engines rev up. I saw the tank I had hit begin to move forward and then slew round as its right propulsion track burst where my exploding rocket had damaged it.
It was some moments before the surviving tanks were able to drive past the two tanks that we had knocked out and spray the wood with machine-gun fire, but by that time we were well away and safe from their bullets. Soon we arrived at our battery and made our report. Lt Grossenheim was obviously delighted by our successful venture and gave us his congratulations. Meanwhile the surviving T-34s had moved off and I could hear the rumble of their engines as they receded into the distance. Nobody in the burning tank was likely to have survived and the crew of the other tank had probably been taken on board the surviving tanks.