We were now getting our food regularly and on time. At dusk the wagon would come up the road as far as the front line. At first I would have to go back to the wagon to eat as I had no mess tins, but then I borrowed a mess tin lid. After the meal, ammunition was issued and the wounded and dead were taken back. The badly wounded were taken back straight away.
As soon as we had finished constructing our position, the company was replaced. In the meantime, we had gone on to build alternative positions, communication trenches and saps. We now got a not-so-well constructed position to the right of the road, where the same digging had to continue. A company of our battalion that had been in reserve replaced us in the old positions.
One day while fetching food, I met Jurgen Schoone from Luneburg, who had been with me in Lubeck. He was now occupying my old dugout. Several days later I asked a member of his company for news of him and was told that he was dead. He had been sitting out a barrage in the bunker and had been killed instantly by a hit. If we had not been relieved a few days earlier, I would have been the one to be killed.
We expected the Russians to push their front line forward, so every night men were sent out to keep watch about 300 metres in front of our trenches. Each platoon would send a man. It was quite an uncomfortable feeling, spending four hours completely alone only 100 metres from the Russians. I always dug myself a shallow scoop to lie in. You began to freeze after a short while, despite the thick winter clothing. Everyone on this duty got a quarter litre bottle of schnapps, which was fine against the cold, but made you feel tired. The Russians also had men out but, fortunately, I never encountered one. I was always glad when my four hours were up.
Once we had completed this position we were again moved to another position about a kilometre further south. This position was quite horrible, for only 50 metres separated us from the Russian snipers, who made things very difficult for us.
Once I was given 24 hours’ rest and went to the company command post, about 200 metres to the rear in a building. During the day I climbed up to ground level and could see far across the Russian lines. That evening we were sitting in the kitchen cooking something for ourselves when the barn suddenly burst into flames. The Russians had fired incendiaries at it. The fire soon spread to the other buildings and we had to flee. Sergeant Munz, a fine, older fellow, was wounded. He was always concerned about me. At night when I returned from the company command post I would walk across the fields rather than use the wet, dirty trenches. Although the Russians were always firing across the area, the chances of being hit at night were remote. But whenever Munz saw me he would complain: ‘Tillery, don’t be so careless!’ However, he was the one that was hit in the brain by a stray bullet. He immediately lost consciousness, but was still breathing when he was taken to the Main Dressing Station that night. I do not know whether he recovered.
After a few days in this position we were moved yet again. We went even further south and each of the three platoons occupied its own farm, which had been developed into strongpoints. The farms formed a triangle and our platoon had the middle one. Only the foundations of these farms remained, the rest having been shot away by the Russians.[7] They had already dug a front line opposite us, and the farms offered the Russian artillery good targets. We had to suffer a lot of shelling and also take casualties.
I shared quarters with an old senior corporal who was a cook by trade. Every night he had to cook in the platoon command post and I would have to stand sentry duty alone. There was no question of getting any sleep, of course, for a lot went on at night. The rations arrived irregularly and always cold. The result was that I, like many comrades, got diarrhoea from the cold food and dirty water. The food was nothing special, there was plenty of bread, but little fat.
Here a Bavarian comrade was severely wounded and Albert Gessner from Bremerhaven was sent to hospital with hypothermia. The company had shrunk considerably during the past weeks and was barely 60 strong. On 15 March the regiment was relieved. We had noticed during the preceding days that the Russians were bringing forward reinforcements and were clearly planning an attack and in fact a few days later they attacked and took Sachsendorf.[8]
Once our relief, a newly established and equipped regiment, had been briefed by us, we marched to Sachsendorf, where carts were waiting to take us to Dolgelin. There we had a few hours free to sleep and, above all, to have a wash, which had been impossible in the positions we had come from.
SOLIKANTE
That afternoon we were taken by trucks to Neu Trebbin, where we stayed until the next morning. At lunchtime some comrades and I acquired two chickens, and the comrade that had shared a foxhole with me cooked them to make a tasty meal. It was just like peacetime for us.
Neu Trebbin lay about ten kilometres behind the front line and had not yet been cleared of its inhabitants, but there was considerable nervousness among them and we were often asked: ‘Can you stop them?’ Although they did not have much themselves, the inhabitants gave us some good things to eat.
In the evening we took a stroll. I even cleaned my boots and brushed my uniform for the event, but my eyes closed on me with the first glass of beer and I went back to our quarters, which were in a barn. I was very tired. I had not had a whole night’s sleep for weeks, at most a few hours during the day. I slept in the hay as if in a feather bed, and no shelling or rifle fire disturbed me.
Next morning the trucks took us on to near Letschin, from where we marched to Solikante, about 15 kilometres north of Kustrin. Our regiment was relieving another one that had suffered heavy casualties here. At first our company was left in peace. We moved into quarters in the Solikante manor farm. The manor itself was burnt out, but the stalls, farm labourers’ cottages and barns were still standing. We made ourselves at home in the cellar of one of the barns, where we could look after ourselves properly for the first time. We received our rations on time and hot. We could also see to our weapons and equipment properly. Finally, we could get some more sleep.
How good it felt, sitting out in the open air in that lovely spring weather, or sheltering in our quarters when it rained. We also found various kinds of food, potatoes, peas, beans and corn, which we cooked and fried all day long.
It was then that I first noticed that my feet had been frozen. Often I could not sleep for the pain, and every step was agony. We had no duties during the daytime except weapon and equipment cleaning, but at night we had to dig trenches in the front line. The Russian air force was very active in this sector, but directed its attention to our rear and did not bother us much.
We were always very happy to get front line parcels with their contents of biscuits, sweets, chocolate, glucose, etc. Unfortunately, this was not very often.
After a week here, we had to take our turn in the front line, which ran between the villages of Solikante, which was in our hands, and Amt Kienitz, which was occupied by the Russians. There were about 400 metres of meadowland between the villages, with the lines running in between. The positions had already been prepared by the previous regiment.
The Russians were about 120 metres away. Our company command post was on the edge of Solikante in a farm that was partially burnt out. From there a trench ran forward to the front line and back to the battalion command post in Solikante. To the right of our company was a unit of Infantry Regiment ‘Grossdeutschland’.[9]
The Russians had driven a sap forward opposite our communications trench to within 70 metres of our trenches, which had a barbed wire fence in front, and had laid mines in front of their positions. Our trenches were only weakly manned with two men every 80 to 100 metres, the distance to the enemy trenches being about the same. The Russians knew this and emerged at night to try and snatch people, so we always had to be very alert.
It was forbidden to sleep at night, and we hardly got any during the day. After dusk in the evening the food carriers would deliver our rations, bringing ammunition and mail with them, but the food was cold. We got three quarters of a litre of soup and half a loaf every day, but hardly any butter or fat to go with it.
I had received my last mail in Lubeck at the beginning of February, and now at last, at the end of March I
