we could not wait to get out there. None of us would have believed that the war would be over and lost in the next three months and that soon, many of us would no longer be alive.
We were loaded into goods wagons and set off at last at dawn. We had been discussing whether we would be going east or west. Now at last we knew; we were going east. By midday we had reached Hagenow in Mecklenburg. Next day we reached Berlin and then Potsdam that same evening. Here we detrained and went to a barracks. Next morning we were inspected and issued with rations for the journey, weapons and ammunition. In the afternoon we could walk out. I went with Warrelmann and Gessner to the Garrison Church and then to the Palace. A few days later there was a heavy bombing raid in which much of the town was destroyed.
From Potsdam our journey took us to Werbig. The nearer we got to the front, the more heartily we were greeted by the inhabitants, who all hoped that we would be able to stop the Russians at the Oder and throw them back.
From Werbig we marched via Friedersdorf to Dolgelin, where the command post of the Division ‘Berlin’ to which we now belonged was located. We were assigned to the Officer-Cadet Regiments ‘Dresden’ and ‘Potsdam’. Together with 15 comrades from Lubeck, I went to Regiment 1234 ‘Potsdam’, where the others were from various training courses and officer cadet schools.
We marched to Sachsendorf, where our battalion commander, Captain Albrecht, greeted us. Sachsendorf lay in the Oderbruch, a completely flat landscape. We looked for something to eat in Sachsendorf, as our travel rations were long gone. At a bakery we each got half a loaf fresh from the oven, then sausage from a butcher’s, and tobacco from a pub.
I sat down apart from my comrades in a roadside ditch, ate my bread, smoked my pipe and wrote a short letter home to my parents. It was my birthday. I was 19 years old.
The front line was still about four kilometres away. Several Russian fighters and ground-attack aircraft appeared in the cloudless sky, but soon fled when our own fighters appeared. Our divisional commander gave a speech: ‘It is the Fuhrer’s wish that the Lebus bridgehead be eliminated as soon as possible. Not without reason, our best regiments are here, and you can be proud to belong to these regiments.’
That evening we had to go to Rathstock, immediately behind the front line, to dig trenches. We left our packs with the company quartermaster-sergeant, taking only the absolutely necessary items, such as weapon, haversack and rations. We did not even take our washing and shaving kit, believing that we would be coming back.
That night a long convoy of carts removed potatoes and grain from Rathstock, which had been completely evacuated of its inhabitants. The Russians heard the noise and started laying down fire on the road, but long after the convoy had gone. We were marching silently forward in our ranks when several explosions bringing vile smoke suddenly struck quite close to us, and we vanished into the roadside ditches like lightning. As the explosions gradually got closer, our enthusiasm disappeared. Eventually Ivan quietened down and we could continue on our way. We had survived our baptism of fire well.
In Rathstock, which had been badly damaged by the shelling, we reported to the battalion command post. However, it was now two a.m., so we were no longer required to dig trenches. Instead we could take it in turns to sleep while some of us kept watch.
The battalion command post was located in the Rathstock manor farm, the only big farm in the area, and surrounded by small buildings. The Russians could naturally assume that soldiers would be accommodated in these buildings, which is why they shelled them from time to time. The previous day observers had established that the enemy were bringing forward reinforcements and an attack was expected, which is why we were being kept in reserve at the manor. We had to keep watch for two hours and then could sleep for four. I stood watch in the morning and had a good view of the area from a window on the first floor. However, I did not see any Russians, as we had snipers out firing at a range of 600 metres. I had just finished my watch when the Russians fired on the manor farm again. Hit after hit struck home, and gradually the building began breaking up. We had gone down into the cellar and were waiting for the firing to end, but it seemed that this would be the end of us instead. The cellar ceiling started to crack and chalk fell down on top of us. Another hour of this and we knew for certain that we would be buried under the rubble.
I had nothing left to smoke and so borrowed eight cigarettes from Hinnerk Otterstedt. I never got to return them. At last, when nothing was left standing of the building, the Russians stopped firing.
That evening we went into the front line and were divided up among several companies. Otterstedt, Hintze, Bebensee, Thode, Schoone, Meieringh and Borstelmann went to the neighbouring company, while I stayed with Gessner, Warrelmann, Erhardt, Bucklers, Pohlmeyer, Krahl, Gillner and Pfarrhofer in 4 Company, where our company commander was Second Lieutenant Reifferscheidt, and my platoon leader Staff Sergeant Lauffen.
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
