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.
Unfortunately, there was still no report from the 1st Troop of the 2nd Company, which had been sent forward to secure the ‘corridor’ to Kustrin. 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 Kustrin.
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 Kustrin. 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-Kustrin 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
