The further forward we went, the heavier was the machine gun fire. Explosive bullets were going off all around us. We would get to know their horrific effect later. They were exploding with loud bangs in front, behind, near to and above us in the trees. We came to a communication trench that we had to crawl through on all fours and eventually reached the front line without casualties.
The company command post was in a dugout about two by three metres and one metre high. The company commander greeted us and divided us up among the platoons. Warrelmann and myself went to 2 Platoon. The position ran through a wood. There was no through trench system, just a foxhole every 12 to 15 metres. The Russians were about 30–40 metres in front of us. On the left of our position was a stream about eight metres wide, which was the Alte Oder, a tributary of the Oder River. A railway embankment formed our right-hand boundary. We were dug in on one side of the stream, Ivan on the other. That is where the company commander sent me first. My hair stood on end when I heard that the Russians were so close. We could only talk in whispers. Every sound from the Russians, every loud-spoken word could be heard clearly. Hand grenades were being thrown night and day, and casualties sustained here every day. Fortunately a machine gunner was needed on the left flank and I got the job. I was lucky, for several days later when the Russians attacked, no one survived on the right. I got my machine gun and moved across to the company’s left flank, where I became the link man to the neighbouring company.
However, there was not much to be seen of our wood, as nearly all the trees had been reduced to stumps by the shelling. Branches and twigs lay around on the ground and were used by us as camouflage.
The other bank of the Alte Oder on which Ivan sat was higher than ours, so the Russians could always overlook us, and we dared not leave our foxholes during the day. I was paired with an old, front line-experienced corporal, Albert Schimmel, who had been in the Russian campaign since the very beginning. He showed me all the tricks that we newcomers had to learn. He had dug himself a hole about 1.60 metres long, 80 centimetres wide and a metre deep, but there was already ground water in the hole, so we constantly had wet feet. I had been issued with a camouflage suit in Sachsendorf that was very warm and rainproof. The weather was pretty bad; it rained a lot, and several times we had snow.
My feet froze and we never had a chance to tend to them. We could not leave our hole because of the snipers, who fired often. At night I had to make contact with the right-hand man of the neighbouring company every two hours.
When I went to make contact the first time, I became so lost in the dark that I could not find my way back. I came up to the Alte Oder and the Russians heard me and opened fire. I sought cover from their machine guns in a shellhole, but this was not so comfortable when hand grenades started coming over. Fortunately Ivan soon quietened down again, but the shellhole was full of water and I had to lie in it for about five minutes, getting soaked through. My teeth chattering, I carried on, cursing, until I made contact with the neighbouring company, which was only about 30 metres away. To my delight, I found Bernhard Meieringh there with Otterstedt and Pohlmeyer lying to his left. I said I would visit them again next day.
No one was allowed to sleep at night, and there were only four hours sleep in daytime, as we had to stand eight-hour watches. Thanks to plentiful cigarettes and good rations, we did not suffer too much from fatigue during the first few days. The body still had reserves, which, however, were soon used up. There was always something going on at night, hand grenades flying here and there, rations and ammunition being issued. There was no movement at all in daylight, as the whole area behind the front line was under observation by the Russians.
I did not have to keep watch that morning and so could sleep, but I was frightfully cold in my wet uniform. Albert Schimmel had dug a small hole next to our foxhole, covered it with beams and lined it with straw, where I lay now. Albert had given me his greatcoat, but I still could not sleep. My clothes dried out slowly. Then punctually at 12 o’clock the Russians resumed their midday concert, plastering us with mortar fire as we crouched down in our dugout.
After about half an hour the firing eased off and Albert lay down to sleep, while I wrote a letter to my parents. Now and again a shot would whip past whenever one of us moved incautiously.
That evening I went back to our neighbouring company to see Meieringh. The first thing he told me was that both Hinnerk Otterstedt and Pohlmeyer were dead. Pohlmeyer had left his foxhole and been shot in the head by a sniper. Otterstedt had gone to help him and been shot too. So now after only two days we had already lost two dead, and when I spoke to Warrelmann and Bücklers later, they both said the same thing: ‘Will I be next?’
Thoroughly depressed, I returned to our foxhole and told Albert Schimmel about it. He commented that they would not be the last.
I was then supposed to go back to the company command post and pick up the rations, but as I did not know my way around in the wood, Albert volunteered to go for me. I waited half an hour, an hour, but he did not come back. The Russians were firing again with all calibres, and we were not saving our ammunition either. I was firing at their muzzle flashes with my machine gun.
As Albert still did not return, I reported to the platoon leader, who sent off the platoon runner, Heinz Warelmann, to find him. Albert had been shot through the arm. As Albert’s replacement, I got Sergeant Gillner, who had been posted into the company at the same time as myself.
There was no opportunity for us to get a wash or a shave. Gradually we became more relaxed, not ducking with every shot or explosion. You became hardened to it all, you got used to this kind of life and just faced up to whatever was coming. After a while, the effects of fatigue began to show. My face had fallen in and the fat that I had accumulated in the peaceful days of Lübeck was soon gone. But the rations were quite good. Every day we got half a loaf of bread and something to put on it, and every evening we got something from the field kitchen, although it was always cold.
The Russians shelled us regularly at noon, so that we could practically set the time by it. Werner Bücklers was wounded by one of these bombardments when he failed to reach the bunker fast enough, getting a splinter in the thigh.
By the time we had been out there three or four days, the third one of us Lübeckers, Bernhard Meieringh, had been killed and Bebensee wounded in the neighbouring company. We had not yet been a week at the front and had already lost three dead and two wounded.
Whenever the weather was favourable, the Russian fighters and ground-attack aircraft came and dropped bombs and fired their guns. However, they did not bother us much, as these attacks were mainly directed to our rear. The Russians resumed their concert punctually on 2 March, but much more heavily than before. When the bombardment had gone on for over half an hour and started intensifying, we knew that an attack would surely follow. There was a frightful noise out there. I sat in the bunker with Gillner. There was a howling and banging with splinters whistling around and striking the tree stumps, branches flying about, sand and muck flying everywhere, and a hot smell in the air. In between, one could hear the cries of the wounded. At last, after nearly two hours, the firing stopped abruptly. Then we knew: ‘They are coming now!’
The next moment the Russian rifle and machine gun fire opened up, mixed with the ‘Urrahs!’ of the Ivans. The Russians leapt over the railway embankment on our right without encountering serious resistance. Only a few of us had survived the bombardment, which had been particularly heavy in that sector, and those that could not flee were soon overwhelmed by superior numbers. I could hear the din of the advancing Russians on the right, but could see none of them because of the wood. Nor could we leave our positions, for we had to expect the Russians coming across the Alte Oder in front of us. They kept advancing and were soon behind us. They encountered little resistance from Rathstock and had soon taken the village. This made us uncomfortable, for the Russians were now in front, behind and on either side of us. They continued to advance and were only stopped just short of Sachsendorf.[4] Our neighbouring company had withdrawn and we were now cut off.[5] Heinz Warrelmann, our platoon runner, brought the order to withdraw, and we assembled at the company command post. Our platoon was now 26 men strong.
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1 In fact the German counter bombardment separated the Soviet infantry from their accompanying tanks by the time they reached Route 112 and their advance came to a halt just beyond Rathstock.
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2 I have a report on this by Herbert Tegeler, a platoon commander in the neighbouring 2 Company, commanded by Lieutenant Dr. Hoffmann, which broke through north of Rathstock to arrive back in Sachsendorf intact that same night.