The reception and disembarkation went quite quietly, briskly, without noise or excitement. We were quickly briefed and told to report to our Commanding Officer, Colonel Reinhold Stammerjohann, at the regimental command post on Easter Sunday morning. Father Stammerjohann was no stranger to me and I was delighted at the prospect of seeing him again. Assigned to him as a second lieutenant, of course I immediately requested a combat command. With a grin, he clapped me warmly on the shoulder and said: “Son, you have only just got here from the slaughter-house, stay here with me for a while!”
Naturally I thought this was an excellent Easter present. The staff officers greeted us young second lieutenants with vodka, as was the custom.
The next few days were full and passed quickly, although the front remained quiet. I was assigned to the regimental combat reserve, i.e. as a general dogsbody. The days were filled with inspection visits, ground familiarisation and looking at the possibilities open to us, and to infantry close combat training of the sailors in our Field Replacement Battalion. One would hardly believe it, but these men had been assigned to us because of the lack of ships for them to man, there being no other alternative for them. They were all experienced in naval warfare, many of them having had their ships sunk under them, and I should stress that these sailors generally made an outstanding impression on us. They were a very likeable lot, as were our own soldiers, who were all up to Ivan’s cunning tricks and knew how to turn them to their own advantage. In a short time, however, all of them were killed in action. I still maintain that our regiment in Seelow was undermined by the faulty assessment of these men’s ability to convert into infantry. That applies above all to the employment of two Volkssturm companies in our sector. Their losses were devastating. Certainly we could never have foreseen the stubborn doggedness of those troops facing us. We were to lose our last optimistic assumptions pretty quickly.
If I can quote from a report in ‘Stern’ magazine of April 1975 – thirty years after – the scale of the differing force strengths in this battle can be properly evaluated.
…it became clear with a visit to the socialist shrine[24] on the Seelow Heights, where the decisive battle for Berlin began on the 16th April 1945. 33,000 Red soldiers fell in the attack on the strongly fortified German positions. 10,000 alone are buried in the main Soviet cemetery. How many German soldiers fell cannot allegedly be established.
We survivors can give our own troop strength estimates. In the roughly twelve kilometres-wide sector concerned, there were certainly not more than 5,000 German soldiers lined up for the defence, of which apparently only five to ten individuals survived. So we can calculate troop strengths of twenty to one confronting each other on the Seelow Heights in April 1945.
But to return to our experiences and impressions.
On the Friday, 6 April, I was attached to the combat commander of Seelow, Helmut Wandmaker – then Major Wandmaker – i.e. allocated to the Seelow Combat Group. Out task was simple: to defend Seelow, if necessary to let it be surrounded and to tie down enemy forces as long as possible. This was a suicide mission, but Helmut and I survived it.
First I set up quarters with Second Lieutenant Günther Reimers and another comrade in the building of a grocery store right on the market place. Naturally, standing on this market place in the middle of the town, there was also a church with a tower. That this church tower would or could eventually become the aiming point for the Russian artillery we simply ignored in view of what this building offered, with all the amenities in the world. Not only enough food for us three for a whole year, but comfortable furnishings, beginning with the feather beds and the intact bath on the first floor behind on the east side. The building had been left by its inhabitants as if they had just gone off for a short holiday. Certain rooms were locked and sealed and so unavailable to us.
So we first heated the bath water and had a proper bath, one after the other. Günther Reimers willingly took over the kitchen and served us up one luxurious dish after another. For a few days we did not appear at the field kitchen. The wine and spirits supplies were inexhaustible. We became overconfident and shot pigeons off the roof with our pistols for the eventual pleasure of eating them.
One day the Russian artillery opened fire. We noticed during the course of the day that at regular intervals single shots were being aimed at the church tower in the town centre. We first realised that our building lay right in the line of fire late that afternoon, after duty, when we were all sitting in our quarters.
I had already started running my bath water and was standing naked in the bathroom doorway, Günter was busy in the kitchen over our supper, and our third comrade was sorting out his kit for the next day in his bedroom, when we became aware of the familiar noise of a gun firing. Involuntarily we froze, as we tried to determine the direction of flight. Missing the great roar and howling of its passage over us, it suddenly became crystal clear that the hit must occur in our vicinity in the next three or four seconds. The combat experienced soldier recognises this immediately – CRUNCH! We all ran to the centre of the first floor of the building as it landed under the shop. We were completely covered in brick dust, glass splinters and falling plaster. It lasted at least two minutes or longer until the dust settled and we could recognise one another again and see our tensed faces. Although none of us were wounded, we were shocked and released our tension with laughter at our appearance and funny situation. The shell had exploded at the back of the building on the windowsill of the office under the bathroom. The partition wall with the shop, with all its shelves and their contents, lay on the market place in front of the building. All our ‘luxuries’ had been brought to an end with one blow. We had to retire to the cellars, as were the instructions. Once more we had got away scot-free.
A further example of how a soldier took things easy when there was an apparently stable front, we felt fully tactically secure; for, as defenders on the Seelow Heights, we thought we could overcome any attacker through our geographical advantage, especially as they first had to break out of a bridgehead. So it was decided to hold a social evening. I cannot remember who was the host, but it certainly was an excellent party. All the officers and NCOs of the regiment who could get away for the evening were invited, including those of the Field Replacement Battalion of our 20th Panzergrenadier Division. Where exactly in Seelow we then sat down together at table, I cannot remember. Nevertheless, I recall a large banqueting room with tall Roman windows, a table laid for thirty to fifty persons with white tablecloths, place settings for many courses and the same number of glasses for various drinks, and radiant, festive electric lighting.
We felt quite at home in this officers’ club. We talked about the war, and what would happen to Germany after it had lost it. Why couldn’t somebody kill Hitler? Was it right for the oath of loyalty to be made to an individual, and did our building in Hamburg escape the last air attack? Then we discussed politics: how long would the Western Powers continue as unequal partners with the Soviet Union. Would we have to have another go to the east along with the Western Powers? How long can we hold the Russians on the Oder, etc.? Finally, we heard it from our Commanding Officer’s own lips: ‘We shall stay here if necessary until the American tanks drive up our arse! Understood?’
The conversation was cut short suddenly as we found ourselves the target of a Russian artillery salvo. The shellfire brought us back to reality. The electric lights went out. Yet nearly everyone remained seated at the table. We lit the candles that had been laid out for emergencies and the celebration continued unhurriedly, although the prettily coloured Roman windows were now without glass. Fortunately we had already finished our meal and the table had been cleared. Fresh glasses were quickly brought out and the congenial atmosphere was enhanced by the candlelight. It just shows how thick-skinned soldiers can be!
24
1 The present Seelow Museum was originally established by the Government of the German Democratic Republic as a ‘Memorial to the Liberation’.