Sometimes I tried to stand on one foot to get a bit of relief, but that only made conditions worse for the other foot by increasing the pressure on its boot. Another thing I tried was curling my toes under my feet in order to raise the soles of my feet off the inside of the boots. That was quite effective, but it made things worse for the toes, especially the big toe, which had to be pressed down hard only to quickly feel an answering icy jab from below. There was no solution to the problem, so I just kept on doing different things with my feet, and constantly moving my toes, while fighting off feelings of despair and angry frustration.
On 7 December, the Division 1 of the Army-Corps Göring, to which my battery was attached, was withdrawn from its forward position. Together with other elite divisions it was held in reserve between the towns of Gumbinnen and Insterburg. In the knowledge that the Russians would soon launch a major offensive with an overwhelming superiority in manpower and firepower, it was essential to have well-equipped, fast strike forces in readiness to be flung into action at trouble spots at the shortest notice. Our Division 2 was kept at its position in the forward lines.
I now found myself in even better accommodation, as gun crews were now housed in the outbuildings of a deserted farm. The guns still had to be dug in and this was a difficult task since the frozen layer of soil extended to well below ground level. Before any digging could be started, this layer had first to be broken up with pickaxes; a job which sent sparks flying up whenever a pick struck a stone frozen into the ground.
Over the next weeks the only action of the Russians that affected us was frequent, if not very intensive, air-raids on the town of Gumbinnen, an important junction point of main roads and railway lines. Our position lay too far south-east of the town for us to become regularly involved, but we still had to be ready for any Russian planes coming our way. Sometimes we had to remain on our guns and at other times we were allowed to jump off and stay beside them. This hanging around, while the cold made its inexorable passage through my boots and invaded my feet, remains one of my worst memories of the war.
A lesser, but nevertheless unpleasant, ordeal I had to suffer was when I had to wake somebody to relieve me for guard duty at night-time. As long as we had been in our one-man shelters it was just a case of my kneeling down and tugging a man’s foot till he sat up and I knew he was fully awake. It was different in the communal shelters, where I had to use a torch to step across the sleeping bodies and look at their faces to make sure I woke the right man. Even the quickest, most cursory, glance at a man’s face was enough to give me the creeps. The men invariably looked as if they were heavily drugged and would never wake up, but often their faces wore an expression of frightening grotesqueness that literally sent shivers down my spine. I suppose that past physical tolls and lack of rest gave them a sleep of exhaustion, but whether the contorted faces reflected nightmares or suppressed tension, I can only guess at. However, I can still picture some of their expressions and well remember my feelings of queasiness whenever the boredom of guard-duty ended with this eerie task.
As Christmas approached, much was done to provide us with small treats. There were special rations of cigarettes, alcohol and sweets. Working night and day the division’s bakery produced 45,000 large “Christmas Stollen,” a German-type Christmas cake, so that everybody was well provided for. Since East-Prussia was a county well covered with beautiful forests, we had no difficulty finding a small fir-tree which we set up in our quarters on Christmas Eve and decorated with candles. During the day we also put up some greenery and decorations which we had made ourselves and by evening the place began to look quite festive. The army mail service must also have made a special effort since everybody seemed to have Christmas post.
I had letters from Erika, the Soukals and my Aunt Hella. Erika wrote that my parents were well, but her words were couched in very general terms and nothing she said gave any clue that they did not live in Germany. It may not have mattered to be more frank, but she was wise not to take any unnecessary risk.
As we settled down to enjoy the evening, I was struck by another contrasting image. Our quarters looked cheerful and festive in the flickering light of the candles and, though our uniforms were by no means drab, it was the sameness of us all that spoilt the picture and lent it a forbidding aspect. However, everybody was in good cheer; our CO made a short speech and we enjoyed several helpings of a punch that our field-kitchen had brewed up for the occasion. The occasional sound of Russian planes in the night failed to disturb us as we sang popular evergreen songs and played cards. Nobody was tipsy and everyone was in good humour. For a few hours we had been able to banish all thoughts of war from the forefront of our consciousness.
On 29 December, General-Oberst Guderian was still imploring Hitler to allow troops to be transferred back to the Russian Front, but his entreaties fell on deaf ears. Hitler’s over-simplified solution to the problem was that soldiers in the German armies should dig in where they stood and not give any ground.
The serious depletion of German armies in the east can be gauged from the following figures: On 1 June, 1944, these armies still had 2,62 million men, but on 1 November they were down to 1,84 million men. 112,800 soldiers were dead, 524.400 were missing and 538.800 were wounded. A net figure of about 700,000, including 12 per cent of the wounded, were considered to be irrecallable.
In his book, Panzerleader, Guderian estimated Russian superiority to be 11 to 1 in infantry, 7 to 1 in tanks and 20 to 1 in guns. As an overall evaluation, he put Russian superiority on the ground to be 15 to 1 and 20 to 1 in the air. Another important factor was that Russian armies were far better off for fuel and in their ability to replace soldiers and armour lost in battle. With 78 per cent of conscripts from Germany’s last desperate attempt at recruitment going to the Western Front, only an inconsequential trickle was available to the Russian Front.
On New Year’s Eve we had no celebrations. I thought that for the first time my mates, though not despondent, were more quiet than usual. Everybody must have been thinking that the coming year would bring the defeat of Germany; perhaps some of us were recalling the saying that “terrible as the war was, peace would be even worse.” Maybe some of my comrades thought they would be killed in the crushing advance of the Russians or be taken prisoner and spend the rest of their lives in a Siberian death camp.
I did not expect the war to last another year. Ever since I had seen large numbers of refugees on the road and realised how they often had to make their way unprotected, I was sure that the German army could not hold out for long. The possibility that I would be killed or taken prisoner had become greater, but my confidence remained strong and I rejected any such thoughts.
And so 1945 started. The New Year was ushered in with heavy falls of snow which made the plight of refugees even worse than it had been. None of us knew anything of what was going on in the outside world. We also did not have the slightest concept of the enormously superior strength of Russian forces soon to be unleashed upon the depleted German lines, and maybe it was just as well.
Though the New Year had started, there was still no sign of the Russians launching their offensive. It is thought by military historians that they overestimated the strength of the German army and wanted to conserve their forces and not have to negotiate with the Western Allies from a position of military weakness when the war was over.