Unfortunately, there was still no report from the 1st Troop of the 2nd Company, which had been sent forward to secure the ‘corridor’ to Küstrin. Not even the squadron had heard from them but, according to statements from returning infantry, the troop had in fact been commandeered by the commandant of Küstrin.
Despite all the strength and the heaviest artillery support used in the Russian attack, which I later discovered had the aim of breaking through our front and at least occupying the heights around Seelow, it had been wrecked by our tanks up front. The enemy’s only achievement had been in severing the land connection to Küstrin. Excluding the fate of the 1st Troop, 2nd Squadron, we had sustained only minimal material damage and had two men wounded that day, and had shot into flames 59 enemy tanks, not counting others rendered immobile.
On the other hand, our infantry had been decimated. Major Steuber had been severely wounded in the first hours of the battle. That evening a battalion commander and his adjutant reported to me that he had lost his whole battalion. I later saw him in our position manning a machine gun like an ordinary soldier. Of my officers, only Lieutenant Ziehmann had been wounded.
I sent my report back to Division by Second Lieutenant Henatsch, who returned with the Division’s congratulations to my battalion. Unfortunately, I could not talk to Division myself, as I could only leave my command post with the express permission of my immediate superior, which the situation here did not warrant.
It was gone midnight before everything had quietened down and we could take some rest beside our tanks.
Then that same night the 25th Panzergrenadier Division, which we had relieved to go into reserve, conducted a counterattack along the Seelow-Küstrin highway, but became stuck in the Russian minefields. The commander of their tank battalion later told me in jest that they had not encountered any enemy tanks, we having apparently destroyed them all, but had seen numerous wrecks littering the ground. Unfortunately, we were not to have the same feeling about the day that was to follow.
We resumed our positions of the previous day around the lone farm at dawn. During the night the returning infantry, some of whom had stopped by our supply column, had been reorganised and sent forward again. Of these 200 soldiers were allocated to me for the defence of our small bridgehead.
It was to prove a very, very hard day indeed. The previous day, although not lacking in drama and tense moments, had above all brought visible success. This day, however, was different, far more tense, and demanding extensive effort from all of us. Throughout the whole war I never had such a long and exhausting experience as on this day, 23 March 1945. What success the previous day had brought through luck and perhaps also routine drills and experience, had come relatively easily, but this day I had to earn it the hard way.
We were about 100–150 metres from the stream and bridge, with completely flat and open country in front of us. We had four tanks in the orchard of about 75 square metres. There was a massive single-storey building on the north side of the orchard with several outhouses. We were supposed to, and had to, hold this farm, for once the Russians crossed the bridge, the divisional front could easily be rolled up from that flank. The fruit trees were very young and had no leaves at this time of year, so we had no cover from view at all.
This little plot of land became the Russians’ goal for their artillery, mortars, anti-tank and tank fire. At first we pressed our tanks close to the buildings, but these were soon shot to pieces. The hits were so accurate and so dense that we were constantly having to change position. In the end we moved from one corner to another, hour after hour. Between the loud explosions of the heavy and extra-heavy calibre artillery came the lighter sounds of mortars and the sharper crack of tank and anti-tank shells. And all the time, as the shells were landing so densely that we kept thinking the next one must be a hit, we kept changing location again and again, back and forth, here and there. So it went on the whole day long, and a day can be dreadfully long.
The infantry too were suffering under this heavy fire. Instead of digging in about 50 metres from the orchard, they bunched around the tanks like grapes, and consequently were hit more often, but they could not see this. Even before midday the 200 men of that morning had been reduced to a second lieutenant and six men. On the other hand, our few tanks were still in full fighting order, although we had had to switch off our radios to preserve our batteries. Only if a direct tank attack against our position was identified would our radios be switched back on.
That afternoon our situation did not improve one iota. Again and again I asked myself whether this spot of ground was really worth it. Several times I was close to giving the order to clear the orchard, but then convinced myself once more that there was no other possibility of preventing the Russians from occupying this ground with their tanks by surprise, and that would mean the loss of the bridge. So I was actually pleased that I had this inner conflict about the orders given by Division to hold on to this present position to the last man. Orders of this kind were not unusual at this time.
With these orders – perhaps it was meant as a small sop – I was also permitted to hand out the awards given for the day before. (Experience had shown that awards should be handed out as soon as possible after the event concerned because, firstly, it gave pleasure and had a greater educational effect; and secondly, because decorations had unfortunately often arrived too late. A posthumously awarded decoration can no longer be regarded as a reward, only as a nice gesture.) So I called the tank commanders concerned to come to the rear of my tank and climbed out myself. Even this slight movement must have been spotted by the Russians, for I had yet to pin the Iron Crosses on the commanders when two shells exploded right and left in front of my tank, so close that the blast threw us to the ground. It could have been a disaster, but fortunately no one was hurt.
At dusk the Russians attacked with tanks again, but it was not difficult to repel their attack. Then it was dark at last, and we were just thinking that we had made it, when such a ferocious barrage from weapons of all calibres clattered down on top of us that it was simply impossible to take. As the shells burst with showers of sparks and flashes of light all around us, everyone sought to reach open ground with their tanks as quickly as possible. The crews had held out bravely the whole day long, but what came now was more than they could bear. Had it only been an artillery or mortar bombardment, we might perhaps have held on, but the rockets and the flat-trajectory tank and anti-tank shells forced us to flee from the orchard. We had clearly identified that the Russians, under cover of this terrible bombardment and the darkness that had meantime overcome us, were aiming to take over our positions with their tanks. But even if we had lost the orchard, I wanted at least to prevent the bridge falling into Russian hands. I therefore formed up my tanks immediately around the bridge. The shells continued to shower down on the orchard, then it quietened down again. Before it became completely dark, I formed a semi-circular defensive belt behind the orchard and looked forward to a quiet night, although this position would be untenable next day.
We would have to throw Ivan out of the orchard again. About midnight I obtained two sections of infantry under a staff sergeant from the infantry commander to carry out a reconnaissance in force. Beforehand I had brought my tanks close up to the orchard to provide covering fire for the infantry should they come into contact with the enemy, When everything was ready, the infantry set off. We stared intently into the darkness, the gun layers having their eyes pressed to the optics, ready to cover the infantry with fire at any moment. This intense concentration lasted a quarter of an hour, and then another quarter of an hour, without anything being seen. Then suddenly shadows appeared right in front of us that immediately identified themselves as our scouts, and to our great surprise, the staff sergeant reported the orchard free of the enemy. It would seem that the enemy found the situation too critical for them in the dark and had withdrawn back to their start-point. Nothing could have pleased me more. We immediately reoccupied the orchard, and then had peace for the remainder of the night. Even the following morning passed without incident. The Russians had apparently decided that further attacks on that position were pointless.