down. We carried him back to Potsdamer Platz, where we handed him over to our nurses, who kept him with them rather than take him to the field hospital. ‘We will soon have him back on his feet,’ they said, ‘and he will be among familiar faces.’ And they were quite right. I took my group of stragglers back to the assigned area, and by the time I had returned he had regained consciousness. The shell had struck like lightning and he could remember nothing about it, but all he had suffered was a bruised head and some other contusions. He had been extremely lucky.
On 28 April I went across to the Reichs Chancellery again, overtly to liaise, but in fact trying to get some idea of the overall situation. As I was about to enter the gate off Hermann-Goring-Strasse, I bumped into my old company comrade, Bruno Weinke. Some years before Bruno had been promoted over me, but he was then transferred to the Fuhrer Escort where there were no promotions, so I now outranked him, and there he was standing on sentry duty like an ordinary soldier. He engaged me in discussion about the war situation, which he said he knew about first-hand, for the walls of the Fuhrerbunker were not so thick that nothing got through. Backstairs gossip, I thought, but listened, not wanting to be rude. He told me of Hitler’s plan for the decisive battle of Berlin that would bring about a major change in the war. General Busse, who was southeast of Berlin with his 9th Army, had been ordered to break through the enveloping arms of Marshal Koniev’s 1st Ukrainian Front, thus cutting through his lines of communication and causing chaos, and then push through to Berlin.
(What no one here knew was that Busse’s young, inexperienced soldiers lying quiet and still in the Halbe woods were currently being shot up like rabbits by Koniev’s tanks and that the remainder, mainly armoured units, were not breaking through to Berlin but to General Wenck’s 12th Army.)
The Fuhrer had great hopes in Wenck’s 12th Army, he said. Since it had been pulled back from the line of the Elbe, assembled and directed on Berlin, its armoured spearheads had reached Treuenbrietzen and tank gunfire had been heard in Potsdam. I said to Bruno: ‘I hear the news but I lack the faith. I got to know those divisions on the Elbe and they consist merely of emergency units. They may have proud names but I do not believe they have anything beyond that. I have met these troops and I simply do not believe that they can get us out of this mess.’
Then Bruno went on about SS-General Steiner and his IIIrd Germanic SS-Panzer Corps. I had more confidence in an SS-general. In accordance with Hitler’s orders, he was supposed to be attacking down from the north in the Oranienburg-Eberswalde area to our relief. But I no longer believed in miracles, so I left Weinke at his post and went on my way.
Gatow Airfield was lost on 27 April, despite a desperate defence. This was a bitter blow for the defence of the capital, as most of the ammunition was being flown in through there. An attempt was next made to use part of the East-West-Axis as an airstrip, but this only lasted a short while. Some of the incoming transport aircraft were shot down by enemy fighters and others crashed into shell holes.
THE BATTLE FOR THE MOLTKE BRIDGE
The main Soviet attack was directed at the Reichstag, which we could not understand as it had been in ruins since the fire of 1933. The assault was conducted by Colonel General V.I. Kutznetsov’s 3rd Shock Army’s 79th Rifle Corps, commanded by Major General S.I. Perevertkin, and led to the Moltke Bridge.
As the situation heated up, our companies deployed near the bridge called for reinforcement, for they were spread out in two-man holes fifty metres apart.
We had not fired in this area until then, but now I had to send a forward observer to direct fire. The area around the bridge was to be brought under fire upon demand. My battalion commander suggested I withdraw an observer from the Potsdamer Bridge, which I did, but I still had the big problem of having to take our stragglers forward several times a day, which was getting on my nerves. So I convinced the battalion commander that the fire direction would be so difficult there that I should do it myself, and that the NCO I had withdrawn should remain at base. My battalion commander did not like this, but I told him that I could not go on dividing my responsibilities. He should look for someone among the unemployed eaters walking around to take over the stragglers from me. Why, for instance, did we need a Duty Officer on our level? We could keep order ourselves. And my men should remain here, ready to form an instant storm troop should the Russians break through. (I did not want them used up, but kept back for the final battle.)
Whether he liked it or not, he must have taken me seriously, for there were no reserves left to deal with such a situation except ourselves. So he left and made no more objections.
I was important in this situation, because I was apparently the only one who could handle the rockets. The buck had been passed to me and my comrades. Goodness knows what had happened to the real owners.
When Kurt Abicht, the battery sergeant major, saw what I was up to, he decided to come along with me as a forward observer. We had become friends in the meantime, which happens quickly under such circumstances; one soon sees what the other is made of. He had absolutely no problems in his relationship with his battery commander, but had been feeling hemmed in and wanted to get out. He was also experienced, about the same age as myself and with the same way of speaking his mind in front of superiors.
The gunners had a radio, but it was needed by their forward observer, who had been sharing a nest close to the Potsdamer Bridge with the observer I had withdrawn. They had used the radio together, but now he would direct fire for both our resources with it, while Kurt would use my field cable.
So we set off for the Ministry of the Interior with my HQ Section NCO, two signallers and two runners during the early evening of 28 April. We were able to go part of the way underground by tunnel, but then had to make a dash across Konigsplatz in daylight while paying out the field cable.
At the Ministry of the Interior, an extensive complex like a road block in front of the Moltke Bridge, a police colonel was in charge with his command post in a bunker in the cellars. This man straight away wanted to give me orders and we had a heated argument. I told him that my only interest in his building was as a good viewpoint over the bridge. I wanted to know why he had not sent some of his men to reinforce our positions at the bridge, but he would not be moved. This question caused him to howl with rage and brought a hollow laugh from Kurt and my men.
So we left and went across to the Diplomatic Quarter that filled the bend in the Spree. The embassies should have been left in peace, but neither side had time for that.
We found ourselves inside the deserted Swiss Legation, which had been burning for days and had a bombproof cellar that had been deepened and reinforced with concrete. With the steel door closed behind us, we soon warmed up. Outside it was still relatively cold at night, but here the heat from the fires came through the thick concrete walls.
Once we had warmed ourselves up, we looked for a building with a view of the bridge and the Customs Offices behind on the left. As it was quite dark at the time, I cannot say which building it was. Once the field cable was ready, we fired the first rocket, which landed across on Washingtonplatz to the right of the bridge. I gave the corrections, which could only be done roughly, as previously explained.
Then Kurt fired his guns, taking the bridge as his target. His battery commander had gone with a liaison officer from our battalion to the Reichs Chancellery to ask for shells. As the liaison officer sent by our battalion commander confirmed that he was firing from only two hundred metres, he got what he wanted.
My Volkssturm men then carried the shells across at night. It was relatively quiet at night as our opponents had other things to do and even their snipers disappeared.
Now we fired our mortars at the bridge as well, which was easier than with rockets. If I am not mistaken, this was at their maximum range. Hardly a shot came back from the other side, which made me suspect that they were up to something. Whenever a rocket hit Washingtonplatz there was such turmoil and running about, it was as if we had disturbed a hornets’ nest. I later discovered that their artillery was fully deployed there in the open without any cover whatsoever. We heard more than we saw, because only the odd fire lit the scene.
The Spree was about fifty metres wide at this point with embankments walled with hewn stone rising about three metres above the level of the water. The bridge was also of hewn stone and had four arches spanning the Spree. Although the bridge was massively constructed it had already been badly damaged. There were barricades built at either end of the bridge, but the one on the enemy side had been bulldozed aside.
