Eastern Inferno: The Journals of a German Panzerjäger on the Eastern Front, 1941-43 (14 page)

We receive final orders at noon. We have a difficult task ahead of us: infantry support in the Saporoshje. Of all sectors, we are ordered to this terrible one. This part of the front has tasted even more blood than the Potschtowaja sector. It is one of the most complex sectors of the entire western Kiev front. The area is covered in thick woods, expansive swamps, and is very difficult to oversee, which allows the Russians to pull all kinds of dirty tricks. Well, we’ll see. I’m not at all happy about this entire situation. At least we have one joy today—the rain has stopped. Thank God!

11 September:
The sun hangs hot and bright in the sky. One is surprised by how fast the roads and paths dry out. Where does all this mud soup come from? Nevertheless, the heavy vehicles get stuck more than once or twice. They are stuck in the mud up to their frames. Hurray! With much effort and sweat they have been pulled out.

The way to Saporoshje indicates to us how important the tasks are at the edge of the front. There is nothing, absolutely nothing for approximately 20 kilometers to the rear of the units fighting on the front. It is unbelievable that this thick line extends for some thousand kilometers, withstands the pressure, and eats its way east. This is different than France. There, the military units were organized five kilometers deep. First there were the combat units, next the regiments for rotation and replacement, then the reserves (the marching battalions), and finally a division for emergencies.

Yes, dear gentlemen at home, every little shooter-ass here is a hero. Everyone, even the weakest guy, needs to be a real man on the Eastern Front, otherwise he will encounter misfortune. Then the Russians will break through and there will be nobody behind us to stop them.

It is nice to hear the special announcements. Father Krause smiles silently (well, well, how was it back there at
Chemin des Dames
?) [Reference to the three Battles of the Aisne in World War I France.] Dear Father Krause, let it be told, we have already gone through a dozen or more “
Chemin de Dames
,” and who knows how many “Doumamonts” are still in front of us. Father Krause, it has always been the same guys who have been giving their blood on the front lines since 22 June! And Mother Krause is also happy, but in a different way. Where is my boy? Is he still alive? Is he healthy or…. Even if he gave his life for the victory, the mourning mother’s heart would still feel joy for the victory and glory of the German flag. She would be proud of her boy who is lying somewhere in the vast lands of Russia, with his eyes wide open. Oh you wives and mothers back in the homeland, we are aware of your bravery. We are no longer your sons and husbands, but your comrade fighters. In our own way, every one of us gives his or her all.

We reach Saporoshje in the afternoon and prepare for the replacements at night. We are replacing a group from Knight’s Cross recipient Major [Albrecht] Lanz’s [396th Infantry Regiment]. They fought bravely. I envy the men under this wonderful leader and person. He’s a man who has intelligence written all over his tanned face, which is full of humor. He has a kind word or a joke for everyone.

Here is the task our infantry has received: form reconnaissance troops and complete an aggressive investigation of the area up to Kiev. It is typical for this campaign that soldiers from all branches take on infantry duties as needed. There are no designated headquarters anymore. The higher ranks are no longer giving orders from secure locations. Now, everyone, officer or secretary, carries a weapon at all times, and uses it at least a dozen times a day.

12 September:
The Russians must have noticed something. The replacement turns out to be an evil undertaking with many casualties. They hammer us with spiral mines [
spiralminen
], insidious hand grenades, and artillery shells of considerable caliber.

It quiets down around noon. The Russians did not use their opportunity for an attack; it would have created chaos and cost many casualties. A scout troop with two prisoners returns in the morning. An especially tough and fanatic enemy lies on the opposite side—handpicked members of the Bolshevik Party, like a “Red SS.”

There is heavy shellfire all day. If the Russians only knew how small their opponent’s unit actually was. Yes, if…. It is good that they often do not have an overall understanding of the situation. We are beating them at their own game: we build bogus positions with large oven pipes pointed skyward, and work on the fortifications all day.

13 September:
Russian scouts are patrolling the front line. Breitung and little Horung are taken by surprise and mutilated by hand grenades and bayonets. I move forward with a few men to free them from their miserable situation. The Russians are throwing egg grenades [
Flaschen Eisminenzünder
(
Fl.Es.Mi.Z.
)] at our feet on our way back; it is a shitty situation if you are transporting seriously wounded men. We take cover in a bomb crater, as a two hundred kilo shell approaches with a roar and slams right in between us. I think every single hair on my body stood straight up at that moment. The glowing hot projectile is sticking out of the mud no more than a meter from me. A dud! This is a rare occasion for the otherwise good Russian ammunition. I don’t need to mention that we had never before left a cover faster than that before. Boy oh boy [
junge
,
junge
], if that grenade had actually worked, a tin would have sufficed for an official funeral of our ten-man group.

We are leaving our trenches for a very risky reconnaissance task in the evening. According to intelligence, the Russians placed a high-voltage barbed wire barrier into operation yesterday. Our assignment is to discover its path and locate the power station. This time, however, we are unable to fulfill our task, because the Russians commence a heavy surprise attack. It all goes so fast that we do not have time to retreat behind our lines. We are in a terrible situation. We lie in the deep ditch of a small creek no more than 80 meters in front of the enemy lines. We see the Bolsheviks storming left and right, sometimes so close we could touch them. We hear the commissars giving their orders. We are lucky that it is a dark night. We would meet our end if they were to detect us. German and Russian tracers are crisscrossing over our ditch. Minutes weigh like years. The Russians flood back after about an hour. We immediately offer flank protection; our machine gun rattles until the barrel overheats. And then, our comrades arrive and everything is good again.

14 September:
A terrible crashing raises us from our uneasy sleep. The Bolsheviks are placing heavy artillery on our sector. Except for the combat positions, everyone takes cover in the bunker, because shells exploding in the trees is not to everyone’s liking. I am on guard in the most forward trench near the woods. There are explosions, one after another, in the swampy meadows. A majestic beech tree stands approximately 100 meters from me. The other guys have named it the “blood-beech.” This is the only dry spot and is surrounded by swamps. The Red dogs continuously attempt to break through this location. The tree will be blown up tomorrow, for it is assumed that it is used by Russian artillery as a marker on the landscape. What a pity for such a beautifully grown tree.

It is crazy—one is lying here under fire and observes a tree, the sunlight, and anything that plays in the light. Man, Hannes, doesn’t this make you long for your beloved forest in the Taunus [German mountain range], and beautiful Sunday walks with Rosel? Instead, you should be thinking about the shells that are slamming into the ground in front of you.

A few large calibers start to arrive at this moment. It is ridiculous to use such large calibers that are shot from a long distance on a position like this! Damn it! What is that? Where is our beech tree? A cloud of menacing black smoke has engulfed it. As the smoke rises, the tree starts to tilt, at first slowly, then faster and faster, until it slams to the ground. The first thing I hear is the thunder of the impact and then the crashing of the tree branches hitting the ground. Now you see, Hannes, your dreams about your Taunus forest are really not well suited here.

Lunch does not taste too good today because we are too nervous. An ass approaches us with news, which is now being hotly discussed in the trenches. First, there is the replacement order; we will get out of here today. But when it rains it pours—we are going back to our old positions in Potschtowaja-Weta. This is the horrible sector where we lost our best! Second, the general attack on Kiev will start in two days. Finally, finally! One could shed tears of joy. This terrible trench war will be over. It is unbelievable; I finally get to know why we had to be engaged in this nasty trench war for weeks. [Colonel General Heinz] Guderian from the north, and [Field Marshal Ewald von] Kleist from the south, have encircled a large area. An enormous encirclement has been achieved which is unprecedented in the history of war.

There will be a battle of encirclement and annihilation that people will probably still be talking about in a hundred years. Man, imagine that; when, in a couple of years, you’re helping your kids with their history homework, and the topic for the next lesson will be the “annihilating battle of Kiev.” You can then tell your kids all the things that are not mentioned in the history books—your experiences! Man, Paul, you, myself, and the rest of us, we’re all part of this! No matter what has happened so far, is it not amazing that we are allowed to participate in this? Who’s thinking about the fact we have not yet ended it and that the next few hours could bring death to anyone of us! But today, today.… Tomorrow we are going to roll and who knows, the day after tomorrow we might attack. Which one of us “
frontschweine
” [frontline pigs] is thinking about death? We wouldn’t be able to fight with all of this thinking going on.

15 September:
This time the replacement was without hassle, and the weather is great! Everybody is in an excellent mood. There are no grumpy faces anywhere. The news has trickled through: the attack will start tomorrow. We now hate the city that has been lying before us for weeks without permission to enter. But just wait, Kiev, proud city full of weapons. Things are going to change soon! Our mouths hang open in amazement during our march; a lot of work has been done during these past three days.

Heavy mortars and long-barrel cannons have been put into position and covered with camouflage netting. And there are shells, lots of shells. We have never seen that many in such a large pile.

We reach Wassilkow in the afternoon. There, the first thing we do is have a feast and drink some alcohol. After that there is some thorough grooming. Only when you are clean-shaven and washed do you qualify for one of these precious corner lots in the mass grave. Meanwhile, we desperately wait for our attack orders.

16 September:
The attack has been rolling since 0500 hours. The main goal is to establish a good attack position for the general attack. A raiding patrol to Gatnoje, which had already incurred bloody casualties six weeks ago, delivers important intelligence. It appears that the Russians almost abandoned their most forward line. Did they retreat to a better fortified line?

Gatnoje is taken by storm. During the course of the afternoon, Potschtowaja is run over and we are back to our previous front line. With this we accomplish the requirements necessary for the general attack. We dig in, which turns out to be a good idea, for the Russian fire curtain begins soon after we are finished. Our own ordnance returns the fire. Some hundred cannons fire in order to make use of the remaining daylight to zoom in on the targets. Only a few large calibers arrive from positions far behind our lines. However, wherever these stinking sweaty
schweine
are, there is death!

17 September:
We are still in our initial position for the general attack. The neighboring division is only making slow progress. Despite heavy Russian artillery fire, we experienced frontline soldiers are able to get some rest. Our well-honed instincts tell us that the Russians are preparing for a defensive posture and will not attack.

Budenny’s swallows appear by surprise around noon. However, the situation is different than the last time in Terempki. FlaKs, calibers of 8.8 and 2cm, have been arranged in masses to maintain the attack. The scenes that follow are awesome.

The Bolsheviks perform two laps of honor. Our FlaKs don’t fire a single shot. Great! The Russians, who were unable to see our camouflaged anti-aircraft cannons, feel like they own the sky. They return with just as much force as they did during the initial days of August. And then it starts: the tack-tack-tack of the 2cm FlaKs and the tinny sounds of the 8.8cms. Eighteen Martin bombers crash to the ground in flames within the next 20 minutes. Well, now it’s really serious, Father Budenny!

18 September:
Our 21 and 30.5cm cannons have been firing onto the Russian defense lines around the outskirts of the city for the last 24 hours. There are rolling attacks from our Stukas. A dark, black cloud hangs over the city after a few hours. These guys deliver precision work. According to orders, the residential neighborhoods of the city are not to be attacked. They are to attack the fortress, the train stations, ammunition depots, and the Dneipr bridges. Orders for the general attack arrive in the afternoon. Tomorrow is the day. Guys, prepare for the mass grave! You can live out your hatred against this city that has been right in front of your faces for weeks, though as of yet unattainable. Tomorrow—finally, finally!!!!