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!
Next morning, 14 April 1945, we were awoken by loud sounds of combat. Heavy fire was falling on our forward positions. Could this be the beginning of a new major offensive? The ‘Hurrah!’ cries of the Ivans were smothered everywhere one after the other by the concentrated defensive fire of our troops. What we could not have expected was that the so-called fortress garrison, a Waffen-SS unit, should have broken out of the Kustrin Fortress. This was in contradiction to the current Fuhrer-Order and greatly astonished us. There was considerable confusion in our forward positions, not knowing whether it was our people or Ivan coming towards them. It could not have been worse, for both were mixed up together, making a truly unfortunate scene for us.
Once things had quietened down a little, came the sober assessment. How were we to interpret the Russian attack? Had the confusion been caused through our Kustrin garrison blowing their encirclement and breaking out, or had it been a ‘reconnaissance in strength’ to discover the locations of our main concentrations and the weaknesses in our positions? The latter seemed the most likely and was later confirmed by Marshal Zhukov. Coupled to this event certain decisions about personnel were made, leading to some changes.
The new battle commander of Seelow was a Captain von Wartenberg, who relieved Major Wandmaker, and I had to take over the company detachment of Sergeant Major Eiskamp and thus became a company commander. I was only 21 years old, with considerable Eastern Front experience, and at least half my men were four to five years older, experienced sailors but, as already mentioned, totally inexperienced in fighting on land. In order to establish good relations with these men I appointed the senior petty officer Company Sergeant Major in order to keep him close beside me. On 14 April 1945 our company combatant strength was 136 divided into three rifle platoons and a mortar platoon.
The morale of the company was quite good. We were fully aware of our uncompromising situation. The company sector extended from the northern exit of Seelow, where the road forked to Gusow and Werbig, in a wide semi-circle to the east over Reichsstrasse 1 (200 metres in front of us was the main railway line from Frankfurt/Oder to Stettin with Seelow railway station) and then on another 500 metres past a windmill to a farmstead, enclosing a bow-shaped stretch of land about 1500 metres outside the houses on the eastern edge.
Then we had an inner defensive ring of connecting trenches between the houses over a distance of about 700 metres, and here in the middle I established my command post. We were on an elevation and about 200 metres east of us the land dropped steeply eastwards towards the Oder. The railway line and station lay beneath us in a cutting running across our front. Kustriner Strasse, as Reichsstrasse 1 here was called, led in a straight line away from the bridge over the railway and past a waterworks across the Oder marshes to Kustrin.
My task was to prepare both these objects, the bridge and the waterworks, for demolition, and to blow them should there be a threat of a breakthrough by Russian tanks. Set back a bit in the entrance to the town, we built an anti-tank barrier and placed two anti-tank guns behind it.
I divided the mortar platoon into two sections and deployed them to cover the eastern and northeastern exit roads. On the slopes along and in front of the railway cutting in our sector were six or eight 88 mm anti-aircraft guns dug in in the anti-tank role. The anti-aircraft gunners gave us an impression of great confidence.
The Luftwaffe were very active on 15 April. No doubt as an adjunct to reconnaissance for the SS unit that had broken out, they flew continuous attacks with so-called ‘pick-a-back’ units, i.e. a fighter aircraft mounted over the airframe of a worn-out Junkers 88 packed with explosives, and releasing it over the target in the enemy lines.[25] Each time there was a tremendous explosion and a gigantic fireball. Each hit was a source of great satisfaction to us.
That these were only drops in the ocean, we could not have believed at that time. Our time was filled with preparatory measures for defence, expecting a major Russian attack at any moment.
At 0300 hours on the morning of 16 April 1945, forty thousand guns opened fire simultaneously. It seemed as if the dawn was suddenly upon us, then vanished again. The whole Oder valley bed shook. In the bridgehead it was as light as day. The hurricane of fire reached out to the Seelow Heights. It seemed as if the earth was reaching up into the sky like a dense wall. Everything around us started dancing, rattling about. Whatever was not securely fastened down fell from the shelves and cupboards. Pictures fell off the walls and crashed to the floor. Glass splinters jumped out of window frames. We were soon covered in sand, dirt and glass splinters. None of us had experienced anything like it before, and would not have believed it possible. There was no escape. The greatest concentration of artillery fire in history was directed immediately in front of us. We had the impression that every square yard of earth would be ploughed up. After two or three hours the fire was suddenly lifted. Cautiously we risked a peep over the Heights down into the Oderbruch, and what we saw made the blood run cold. As far as we could see in the grey light of dawn came a single wave of heavy tanks. The air was filled with the noise of tank engines and the rattling of tank tracks. As the first row came closer we saw behind them another, and then hordes of running infantry.
The first shells had already been hurtling past over our heads for several minutes. With their barrels fully depressed the anti-aircraft guns dug in on the ridge along the chain of hills directed their murderous fire on the Soviets. Tank after tank went up in flames, the infantry sitting on them being swept off. The survivors charged on with piercing cries. The Luftwaffe gun crews were firing into the packs of Red soldiers and the attack began to collapse in front of our eyes. Several T-34s had broken through and were now being knocked out by our troops as they tried to roll up the slope of Reichsstrasse 1 into Seelow. As it became full light, the attack was beaten back with heavy losses for the Soviets.
Now we were in a hurry to prepare for the next Russian attack. Our foremost positions were evacuated and the survivors of our regiment withdrew as quickly as possible to the top of the hill. This had to be done without the enemy seeing in order to surprise him in the next assault. This was successful. Under my direction the waterworks and the road bridge over the railway were blown up, both demolitions going smoothly.
During the course of the morning the Russians increased their artillery support of the land battle with heavy bombers and ground-attack aircraft. They were feeling out our positions on the Heights. All day long we formed a catchment line for stragglers from our forward lines.
About midday a sudden, heavy artillery barrage fell on our positions on the Heights, lasting about thirty minutes and hitting us hard. It was indescribable. Immediately after the bombardment came a Russian attack, this time directly on my company’s positions. A bigger breakthrough could only be prevented by considerable sacrifice on our side. The situation was catastrophic for me. Every fifth man in my company was either killed, missing or wounded, including Staff Sergeant Kuhlkamp with 18 men.
About 1800 hours contact with my No.1 Platoon on the south side of Kustriner Strasse was lost. With dusk the Ivans secured the cottages on either side of the street up to our anti-tank barrier.
Then there was another incident on the left-hand side of our sector opposite the railway station. Here I came across a Waffen-SS staff sergeant with some other stragglers that had originally belonged to the Kustrin garrison and were now already in their fourth day of combat since the break-out. They were coming out of the defile that led toward us from the railway station from the northeast and reported that the station was swarming with Russians. This was only 120 metres directly in front of us.
The Waffen-SS men looked completely exhausted, both physically and mentally, and I had to force them at gunpoint to make a stand and accept my orders. I put them on my left flank, and was delighted to be able to make up my losses with these combat-experienced soldiers. Unfortunately, in the haste and excitement of the moment, I did not take down their names and so could not be surprised next morning when I found that they were no longer there. It was if the earth had swallowed them up, leaving a gap in positions that was to prove fateful next day.
