On January 17, word flashed through the trenches that Operation ‘Watch on the Rhine’ had collapsed. General Patton’s move over the Moselle had enabled his tanks to cut the supply chain to the German armor. The offensive – the last real hope of a counterattack – turned into a rout.
Nothing happened for another two weeks. On January 30, the twelfth anniversary of Hitler’s appointment as Chancellor, the Soviets crossed the Oder unopposed. The vast Red Army made its way slowly, relentlessly, westward. On February 2, the vanguard of the army was spotted by a lookout on Seelow Heights. Everyone ran to their positions.
They watched all day as hordes of Russian troops and tanks lined up facing them in the distance.
“Should we fire at them?” said Anton to Ludwig.
“No point. They’re out of range.”
“What’s holding them back?” said Anton. “What are they afraid of?”
Ludwig shrugged. “They know we’re the last line of defense. They are in no hurry.”
The Red Army inched closer until they were within range of the Panzerfaust 100.
“Wait for the order,” said Ludwig.
As dusk fell the Red Army unleashed their artillery. Within minutes, they found their range and the trenches took a pasting. The German defense line’s heavy machinegun response was totally inadequate. Anton was itching to fire their weapon, but the order never came.
Anton and Ludwig cowered together in their trench. Within five minutes, Anton was screaming in terror. After 20 minutes he was clinging to Ludwig like a drowning man.
After another ten minutes of terrifying, ear-splitting bombardment, Anton lost his nerve. Leaping to his feet, he climbed from the back of the trench, shells exploding all around him, and lost all sense of where he should run to safety. In one of the trenches to the rear, a lone figure rose to his feet. “Get your head down,” he shouted.
At the same moment that Anton saw the figure fall, he recognized who it was. He turned and threw himself back into the trench.
Twenty minutes of continuous shelling ended suddenly. Anton was uninjured but his head was pounding, his ears ringing. He sat in the mud of the trench beside Ludwig, facing west, trying to stop his hands from shaking.
“Father…”
“That was your father?” said Ludwig.
Anton could barely hear him. “He shouted a warning to me. I think the Russians k-killed him.”
During the pause in the conflict, everyone in the trenches was given food. They were allowed 15 minutes to eat before the order came to collect the dead. Anton confirmed the identity of one of the bodies. His father had been killed by a single shot that penetrated his helmet.
Ludwig tried to console him, but Anton’s grief consumed him.
Ludwig turned to the nearest Wehrmacht soldier and shouted angrily. “What chance do we have if Russian bullets can go straight through our helmets?”
“It was a chance in a million,” said the soldier. “A long-range sniper’s bullet.”
As the morning dawned, they made preparations for the expected Russian onslaught. Ludwig was given a Panzerfaust 30 and a crate of shells.
“I hope I won’t have to use this,” said Ludwig. “If they get within thirty meters we’ll be done for.”
The Russian advance never materialized.
A soldier came by mid-morning. He peered down into the trench. “You, boys. Come with me. Bring your rifles.”
Anton and Ludwig climbed out of the trench and followed the soldier back through the lines. They stopped at a set of steps leading down into a wide fortified trench. The soldier left them at the back of a queue of youngsters. The line shuffled forward quickly.
Ludwig climbed down first. When Anton went in, he found himself in front of a senior army officer – an Oberst by his insignia – sitting behind a makeshift desk.
“Name?”
“Tannhäuser, Anton, Herr Oberst.”
“You were seen leaving your post last night. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I’m sorry, Herr Oberst, I was frightened.”
“How old are you, soldier?”
Anton stood as straight and tall as he could. “I’m nearly thirteen, Herr Oberst.”
The Oberst grunted. “You got one of your Volkssturm colleagues shot.”
“That was my father,” said Anton. His lower lip trembled.
The Oberst took a few moments to consult the papers on his desk.
“That was unfortunate. Perhaps now you understand why it’s important to obey orders. I’m reassigning you.” He handed Anton a card. “Next!”
When Anton emerged from the trench Ludwig was waiting for him.
“I’ve been reassigned,” said Anton.
“I’m to remain here. Let me see your orders.”
Anton gave him the card.
“They’re sending you to the south of the city. You have the luck of the devil.”
Anton didn’t feel lucky. He gave Ludwig his packet of cigarettes.
Ludwig thanked him. “See you after the war, after our glorious victory.”
Anton laughed nervously.
26
On February 3, Frau Niedermeyer told everyone that the Russians had crossed the Oder. They had been seen lining up their tanks and infantry in preparation for a major assault on the Seelow Heights.
“What are they waiting for?” said Gretchen.
“Perhaps they’re nervous of taking on our magnificent army,” said the postwoman.
“It’s the Volkssturm they are afraid of,” said Hans. “How could the Red Army face so many battle-hardened pensioners and Hitler Youth?”
That night, they found out what the Russians had been waiting for. The sirens sounded and everyone rushed to the safety of their shelters. Hundreds of Allied bombers flew across from England, unleashing a bombing raid on the city like nothing seen before.
Oskar objected when Gretchen tried to lift him from his chair. “Leave me alone.”
She tugged at his arm. “We have to go, Oskar. There’s a bombing raid.”
Oskar stiffened his body, clinging to the arms of the chair. Gretchen went looking for help, and Frau Carlson came to her rescue. Between them they managed to get him onto his feet and down the stairs and to the safety of the Neu-Westend U-Bahn station. The platform was crowded with others from the Kaiser Wilhelm blocks. Frau Carlson and Frau Tannhäuser were together but the pair kept their distance.
Gretchen could only hope that Dora
