Defence Preparations
Küstrin was declared a fortress on 25 January 1945. At that time the garrison consisted of depot, training and convalescent infantry, plus engineer and artillery units with a few anti-tank weapons but no air defences. The newly named fortress commandant was 50-year-old Major-General Adolf Raegener, holder of the Knights’ Cross and a soldier since the First World War. He began by incorporating the local Volkssturm and police resources into his garrison, having nothing else to fall back on. Above all, General Raegener needed heavy weapons. Flak guns had been assigned to him from the Berlin area, but would they arrive in time?
Under the circumstances, the most useful role for the fortress, which Clausewitz once described propitiously as a ‘place of refuge for a weak or unfortunate corps’, was to provide secure river crossings for those army elements still east of the Oder and not withdrawing upon Frankfurt. Raegener’s men would have only a few days in which to prepare if the Soviet advance was not delayed by the old border fortifications 70 kilometres east of the town. This was in any case a very vague hope, as all the troops that had been sent there were of equally limited fighting ability, such as the Volkssturm companies of the first levy from Küstrin, Neudamm and Königsberg/Neumark that were being transported by rail that day to Trebisch, 15 kilometres south-east of Landsberg.
Preparations for any sort of defence of the town appeared almost impossible with the existing materiel and personnel available, especially for the Neustadt. In contrast to the Altstadt, it was unhindered by walls and ditches and within a few decades it had developed into a significantly important part of the town, extending over a kilometre beyond the 75-year-old Neues Werke, the small fort that had been built to protect the railway station. Housing and industrial buildings had long since extended along the river as far out as the boundaries of the Drewitz and Warnick villages. A town bus service had connected the districts until the fuel supply began to run out, and then the buses were fitted to run on town gas supplied from tanks fitted on the coach roofs.
This extension of the Neustadt, with its new infantry barracks, a country pub and its sports stadium erected in the late 1920s, came up against dense woodland in the north-east. Here the land began to climb steeply and the Zorndorfer Berg, the horror of all cyclists, led over 2 kilometres to a high plateau above the Oder-Warthe valley bottom. This plateau exceeded the town in height by about 50 metres and offered, together with a fort in the centre on the road to Zorndorf, an outer defensive ring if only it could be adequately manned. But the garrison was not in a position to do this from its own resources. It was indeed doubtful if the Neustadt bridgehead would be able to hold up to the first energetic attack, however wide or short the front line stretched. Military necessity therefore required that it be held only as long as the railway station and Warthe bridges were needed for the withdrawal. Beyond that there were no reasonable grounds for keeping a considerable proportion of the troops in an unsuitable position. A sufficiently strong Altstadt garrison to bar the river crossings to the enemy would suffice with less risk. But decisions of this nature were no longer to be made according to tactical and strategic considerations.[1]
Back in Küstrin there was concern over the state of the ice on the Oder and Warthe rivers, which showed little sign of movement. During the first winter of the war the ice had formed metre-high barriers and in the subsequent thaw giant lumps of ice released from the flooded Warthe meadows had crushed the pontoons of the bathing stations. Damage to the bridges had only been avoided by some risky explosions with concentrated charges. Now attempts in several places to dislodge the ice with explosives proved ineffective, as the ice floes quickly froze back together in night temperatures as low as minus 20 degrees.
The cold and snow also made digging difficult. Firing positions and anti-tank ditches were prepared on the roads leading into the town from the east and south, from where the first attacks were expected; mines were laid and barbed wire obstacles erected. On the Landsberger Chaussee 14- and 15-year-olds tackled the deeply frozen earth, having to bring their own tools from home, under the direction of a few grumpy soldiers. Even the few picks passed from hand to hand were inadequate. Only when fires were lit over lines marked in the snow to warm the ground a little were they able to make small holes in the frozen earth and then laboriously extend them, but this took hours. Then someone forbade the lighting of fires for fear of attracting aircraft, although locomotives at the nearby goods station were sending thick smoke up to the low-hanging clouds.
When the work was abandoned at dusk, only a few shallow depressions showed the run of the planned position. The boys marched back to town frozen through and hungry, and were dismissed with orders to return to the position next morning. Even the prospect of further days without school failed to raise their spirits. Those born in 1928 and not already conscripted as Flak or naval auxiliaries had stopped attending regular classes since the last summer holidays. Until September they had worked on defences near Kalau, between Meseritz and Schwiebus, then had to assist with the root harvest near the town. This task was considerably pleasanter as they could sleep in the barns, were given good food with supplementary ration cards, and did not have to train or mount guard after work. They might even earn a few pennies. By this time, the schools had been concentrated into just a few schoolrooms, partly because the buildings were needed as hospitals or to house refugees. A few hours of tuition were given in shifts well into the afternoon, to which the teachers and pupils reacted only half-heartedly. And now this too was coming to an end.[2]
Panzergrenadier Johannes Diebe, who had only been a soldier since 15 January as a member of Panzergrenadier Replacement Battalion 50 in Küstrin, reported being employed on a similar task:
About six days before the end of the month our basic training was interrupted and we were sent to various locations to build defences. Our platoon had to go to Schlageterstrasse, beyond the entrance to Zeppelinstrasse, to dig foxholes near the GEWOBA buildings, one section to the left and one section to the right of the street. The distance between foxholes was about 2 metres.
Along the road from Alt Drewitz to Küstrin came an endless stream of refugees, civilians with horse-drawn wagons, hand carts, prams and packed bicycles. Among them were wounded soldiers, often with bloody bandages. Civilians, soldiers, officers, all had one aim, to cross the Warthe and the Oder and reach the west bank.
The people going past constantly asked us to go along with them. Fighting was useless in view of the Soviet superiority. Within us the sense of honour competed with the temptation to clear off. Flight seemed a possibility in this confusion, but one’s sense of honour was stronger.
While we were digging, a squad of Feldgendarmerie [military police] appeared from the town and established a control point in Schlageterstrasse. They began to ruthlessly comb the soldiers out of the stream of refugees, registering them and lining them up and sending them marching off to other destinations. Those who refused were either shot or hanged. Those hanged were given a labeclass="underline" ‘I am a coward’.
These events depressed us. The view of the four hanging soldiers along the street was unbearable. We therefore asked our superiors and the Feldgendarmerie to cut down the bodies of the comrades. The answer from the Feldgendarmerie was: ‘You lads can practise your shooting and shoot through the ropes, but your aim had better be good, or you can watch yourselves being hanged.’
We begged our section leader to agree to this proposal and the sergeant agreed. So we shot our dead comrades down from the trees. It was awful, but much better than having this view in front of our eyes. For the civilians, above all the children, this must have been a terrible sight.