The 2nd Squadron, less one troop, was located in Gorgast, the 3rd Squadron in Golzow, while the 1st Squadron blocked the highway at the Tucheband level. I and my staff were located with the 3rd Squadron at Golzow. My command post, there being not much of a choice, was located in a cellar that was spacious, but unfortunately very high-ceilinged. The tank crews were also sheltering in cellars when not required to be in their tanks, as the Russians were using harassing fire and heavy bombardments at irregular intervals on the villages, which had been almost completely cleared of civilians.
We believed the danger of being detached from the division was over, but the very next day the new regimental commander, Major Marquand, visited us with his staff to see our positions and be briefed, as he would be taking over command the day after. There was nothing we could do but accept orders and await our fate.
So we came to 22 March, the day of our intended relief. We were all in our improvised lager – it must have been about 0600 hours – when the morning quiet was torn apart by a chain of powerful explosions that caused us to leap up in shock and take cover in the corners of the room, as the house rocked down to its foundations. The next moment the windows blew in and a whole flood of plaster and stones swept into the cellar, followed by a thick cloud of dust that darkened everything around us. Our lovely, high-ceilinged cellar threatened to be our undoing. The explosions and splintering continued, hit following hit. With an effort, we were able to hang some rugs over the windows. Now we crouched in the dark while the shells crashed down around our house. Whenever the house sustained a direct hit, everything shook around us. It was simply impossible to leave the cellar and climb into our tanks. The telephone lines were already shot through. We sat close together and waited for what was to come. How long this lasted, I cannot say, all sense of time having left us.
Quite suddenly a feeling of unease came over me. This unease I knew of old. Its meaning was quite clear; we had to get out of here and into our tanks. It was high time. The shells were still hailing down on our house, which unfortunately lay in the middle of the village. One by one we leapt out of the cellar into our tanks. It was a wonder that no one was hit, and even more a wonder that all the tanks except one, which had only minor damage, were still fully serviceable. All the company’s crews were aboard when we formed up on the street with our tanks and made our way to the village exit in the shortest possible time.
We had not quite reached the exit when, suddenly, the crashing and exploding stopped, and a silence descended that seemed even more sinister. Once the smoke and dust had settled down a little, we saw the Russians had covered the whole village with smoke. We pushed through the smoke and saw a whole number of enemy tanks opposite coming toward us several hundred metres away. This was a proper mass attack by the Russians, but we had moved at the right moment. With the routine drill of an experienced tank man, Second Lieutenant Strauss, who happened to be driving next to me, assessed the situation and shot the first two enemy tanks into flames with his Panther. The others became unsettled and drove excitedly into one another. We used their confusion to push further forward, shooting up several more of them. Within a short while we had cleared the situation in this sector and beaten off the attack. A bit further away, in front of our right wing, several Stalin tanks raised their turrets threateningly, but remained at a reasonable distance from us, leaving their burning comrades to serve as sufficient warning. But neither did we wish to challenge their superior 125mm guns.
Then to our left, on the other side of a stream lined with alder bushes, we could see our infantry coming back, apparently in a rush, and soon we heard their shouts: ‘Tanks, tanks, enemy tanks in front!’
I turned round immediately with several tanks from the left wing and crossed a bridge and advanced left of the ditch. Close behind our fleeing infantry, who, despite the outstanding Panzerfaust, had not lost their fear of tanks, we saw a whole herd of Russian tanks coming toward us. We were in collision within a few seconds. The commander of my Tiger squadron, who had been following me in his tank, overtook me and drove in the middle between the Russians, shooting up tank after tank right in front of my nose. Once the first tank had caught fire or blown up, the Russians became confused here too and drove excitedly all over the place, and then in fast flight to the rear, seeking to gain distance, leaving a whole number of them behind.
At this point I recognised, or thought that I recognised, that we could now use the Russians’ confusion to launch a counterattack and strike a wonderful blow. It was important for me to re-establish contact with my 2nd Squadron in Gorgast, which the Russians had already thrust past, although I already had a good understanding with the commander of this squadron. I had just given Division my proposal, when I received orders to hold on to our present position and not advance any further. So we took up a suitable defensive position right and left of the stream, having to use all the tanks, including the command vehicles. The adjutant, with his tank, secured one corner, facing east, of a lone farmhouse that had an orchard, while I secured the other corner facing north. The commander of the 3rd Squadron was also with us.
Once we were more or less in order, the Russians brought us under heavy artillery and mortar fire. From the very beginning, their favourite target was apparently our farm, with its orchard, which they kept under constant fire from heavy calibre weapons. However, it was absolutely essential that we remained in this position, as from this farm the bridge was barely 100 metres away, and whoever held the farm had the bridge in hand.
Toward evening we were again attacked in our position by tanks. The adjutant told me that some seven to ten enemy tanks were advancing toward him. As I was myself fully engaged, I had him passed the reply that he should shoot his attackers, because ten tanks attacking over open ground posed no big problem for a well-sited Panther. Then I heard the adjutant open fire and the problem seemed resolved. Only after dark did I discover, to my dismay, that his turret had been jammed and so things could have gone very badly for us.
It was late evening before I could sum up the day’s events. The Russians had attacked along the whole front with equal force, the main thrust in the morning having been south of Gorgast, where the 2nd Squadron with its self-propelled guns and one troop of Mark IV tanks was located. Lieutenant Ziehmann, the commander of the 2nd Squadron, had his tank outside the defensive position pointing directly south, where he was able to shoot us a considerable number of enemy tanks. With his very short, in comparison to those of the Panthers’, 75mm gun, he was even able to shoot into flames several Stalin tanks from the flank.