Nigel Cawthorne (3 page)

The fields of the peasants are located to the west of the town. Through them runs a stream which had, at this time, swollen to a 400m-wide river. The northern part of the river had solid, steep banks, indicating deep water at that point … With the disappearance of the snow, the artillery had finally regained its normal effectiveness. After the most painstaking reconnaissance, the attack on the bridgehead got underway on 15 April. It succeeded with surprising ease, although the bridgehead, too, was protected by the overflowing stream. Despite the arrival of numerous enemy replacements, the Russian troops were no less exhausted than our men.

Since the distance to the northern edge of the village was only about 300m, the obvious next move would have been to attack Ramushevo from the captured enemy bridgehead. No attempt, however, was made as the banks of the stream were steep and high, and the water was bound to reach above a man’s head … At this time patrols had to wade though snow water, which was knee-deep south of the highway …

On 20 April, German forces assembled for the attack on Ramushevo … The enemy had not counted on a German attack through the flooded area … The men had to wade through more than waist-deep snow water. Soon after, other German units penetrated the village from the west and, by 22 April, Ramushevo had been completely cleared of the enemy. The Lovat had been reached. From the east, a combat team of the units encircled at Demyansk launched its own attack in the direction of Ramushevo and on 22 April reached the river. The first boat crossed the Lovat and the first telephone cable was laid. Contact with the encircled units had been established. As yet, the link was only slender, in places no wider than 1km. Nevertheless, supplies soon began to roll through. Unfortunately Demyansk was not evacuated at once. Instead, our troops finally pulled out almost a year later … The fighting in the so-called land-corridor resulted in serious German losses, because the Russians launched one major attack after the other. Almost every month, and sometimes twice a month, it appeared as though a new encirclement was unavoidable, and it is indeed a miracle that the German units fighting around Demyansk did not suffer the fate of those at Stalingrad. Had Demyansk been evacuated in the spring of 1942, the men that would have been saved could have bolstered German forces at Stalingrad enough to avoid that catastrophe.

In the later fall, when the dugouts in the front line had to be heated, the freshly felled wood produced a large volume of smoke which during daytime drew enemy fire on the dugouts. As charcoal was known to generate hardly any smoke, the troops set out to make that type of fuel for use during the day. They established behind the front lines a number of small kilns, which soon produced the required amount of charcoal. [However] the production of charcoal was taken up at a rather late date, after a good many casualties had been suffered …

In the German Army, a supply of stoves for dugouts in winter positions had not been provided for from the onset. Thus the troops resorted to fashioning stoves from bricks or stones, or to the use of empty gasoline barrels and cans. Stovepipes were always the major problem as they could not be made without sheet metal. Brick chimneys take up too much room in the cramped dugouts, and require a good many bricks. Moreover, brick chimneys cannot be used for every type of stove. Thus, whenever sheet metal could be obtained, it was used for making stovepipes. To a limited extent, we procured that material from the ruins of houses and factories in larger localities, where the roofs frequently consisted of sheet metal.

I went through the first two Russian winters without having witnessed the use of snow huts, except in very rare instances, not even in 1941–42 when my division went through the entire winter campaign in the centre of events.

… It was possible to requisition some furs and felt boots from the natives for a small fraction of the troops. Winter clothing was also removed from the enemy dead. But it was not until the spring of 1942, furs, warm underwear, gloves and ear protectors arrived from home, and these too sufficed to supply only a small part of the troops … If a man had a reserve of underwear, he wore two lots. The divisions and army issued the entire supply of underwear they had on hand. Finally, each man succeeded in providing himself with more protection for his head and ears by using pieces of cloth and waistbands. The most difficult problem, for which there was no solution, was that of footwear. Consequently, there were frozen limbs.

Bedbugs, which can be found not so much on the human body as in houses, are unpleasant, but as carriers of diseases they are harmless. The flea which was present in large numbers during World War I seems to be dying out. It was encountered very rarely. But the louse is dangerous. It nests on the human body, in personal effects and also in dwellings … The louse is a carrier of typhus, the most dangerous disease of the east. Persons over fifty years of age hardly ever survive it, but the death rate among the young is also high. At that time vaccines could be produced only by a very complicated and expensive process. Since November 1941 only nurses and attendants in typhus hospitals, doctors, people in important positions and those over fifty years of age could be vaccinated … The troops used a delousing powder; it was sprinkled on the body and underwear. But the results were not too promising.

Quarters were frequently cramped to such an extent that on several occasions even I had to share the same room as four officers of my immediate staff and the orderlies … Living in crowded quarters and positions furthered the rapid increase of lice … our troops were constantly lice-ridden.

Cases of dysentery occurred in a few instances, although inoculation against it was begun only in the middle of 1942. The disease had spread among the troops very seriously during the Polish campaign of 1939. At that time, the cause was undoubtedly the eating of spoiled or unripe fruit. This danger did not exist in central or northern Russia.

As protection against the swarms of mosquitoes, especially in the swamp regions, it is wise to provide the troops with mosquito nets and window screens for shelters, also as a protection against the numerous flies.

Mangy horses were isolated in special stables … In mild cases, the troops treated the horses locally by rubbing the infected parts with a tar preparation. Before this preparation was applied, the troops substituted kerosene, available locally and normally used for lighting purposes; although effective, it strongly affected skin … The most effective and quickest treatment consisted in placing the horse’s entire body – except for the head which was left sticking out in the air – into a gas chamber and exposing it to a gas which killed the mites. But the veterinary company had only one gas chamber; that was not enough … More than 1,000 of the 5,800 horses in my division, the 52nd Infantry Division, were mangy in the spring of 1942. This number decreased considerably during the summer, but mange could not be wiped out completely.

In the summer of 1942, we found that many horses in the Shisdra area (about 100 kilometres northwest of Orel) suffered from large festering boils that were caused by the bite of certain flies. This disease had been unknown until then … Horses withstood the severe winters well, even though for long periods they had no stables.

The extreme cold of the winter of 1941–42 showed to our surprise that the mechanism of rifles and machine-guns and to some extent even the breech-blocks of the artillery became absolutely rigid. It was necessary to apply heat to them carefully in order to make them fit for firing again … It became evident that the lubricants used (grease and oil) froze in the extreme cold and became as hard as stone … The troops immediately made various experiments and determined that kerosene was cold-resistant and suitable as a lubricant … The only drawback was that it had no lasting properties and had to be renewed frequently.

Completely unaware of the fact that grease and oil had frozen and hardened like stone, we tried at the beginning to make the vehicles start by towing them. The result was that the motor was badly damaged, and the differential was ripped to pieces. It was necessary to thaw out the vehicles by carefully applying heat to them before moving. It took up to two hours …

From the very beginning Chrysantine [anti-freeze] was available which was mixed with the water for the radiator, preventing freezing in temperatures not below –25°C. In extreme cold the water had to be drained from the vehicle after driving and had to be brought into the quarters.

I had not been enthusiastic about going to war, but was determined to do my duty by defending my country. I had no ambition to become a general or a war hero.

It took almost five days by train … I could hardly comprehend that we had conquered so much land in just six months. Since the Ukraine is only a small part of Russia, I wondered how much further we would have to go before the Russians would surrender.

With the first rain I learned how valuable horses were to us here. When I had arrived the sun had baked the black clay to a rock-hard surface, but after only a few hours of rain the entire countryside was one big mud puddle. Motorized vehicles were useless in this weather, bogging down to their axles.

After a long and inward struggle, I reached the grave decision to scuttle the
Panzerschiff Graf Spee
in order that she should not fall into the hands of the enemy. I am convinced that under the circumstances this decision was the only one I could make after I had taken my ship into the trap of Montevideo. With the ammunition remaining, any attempt to break out to open and deep water was bound to fail … I decided from the beginning to bear the consequences involved in this decision.

The destroyer attacks subsided at about 0100 hours. I surmised that the enemy had lost contact with us. First, the Chief-of-Fleet addressed the crew between 0100–0200 hours. I did not hear his speech. My comrades told me the Chief-of-Fleet said: ‘We will fire until the last shell.’ I did hear the speech wherein he said: ‘A telegram with the following content was sent to the Führer: “We will fight until the last man. All is for you, my Führer.”’

I later heard by loudspeaker that the Führer had awarded the Knight’s Cross to the 1st Artillery Officer for sinking the battle cruiser
Hood
. It was also broadcast that every available U-boat has been put on high alert, and that 80 aircraft, two ocean tugs, and one tanker were proceeding with all haste. There was great joy among the crew, but the mood had been good all along. The ‘Bismarck’ hymn and other seamen’s ballads were sung.

I slept in the deckhouse until approximately 0500 hours … Shortly afterwards, the alarm sounded. I saw that the ship had ceased to make headway as I emerged from my battle station. The ship was abeam to the sea and breakers crashed over the portside. The ship showed considerably more list.

All the 38cm turrets swung to port while I was still on deck. Then, I went to take cover. Enemy shells splashed 100m ahead of the ship. Then, our guns opened fire. I felt shocks in the ship that must have resulted from hits. I left the deckhouse with my comrades. I observed white smoke ascending from the funnel. The antennae were shot to pieces and I saw hits on the ship’s forward section. Splinters and ship parts were flying about. Several comrades tossed life rafts from the deckhouse to the upper deck. I assisted them with this. I then went to the upper deck, where the majority of the flak crew was. We sought protection behind turret ‘C’. Other comrades were standing in the gangway descending to the battery deck. There were already chunks of the superstructure lying on the poop. The funnel was torn open on the starboard side. The
Oberbootsmann
and two
Obergefreiter
were readying the rescue rafts and laid them on the upper deck. Comrades tossed inflatable boats over the side and jumped in after them. Along with several comrades, I tried to toss an inflatable boat overboard. But we did not succeed because a hit struck in our vicinity and splinters made the inflatable boat useless. I received a flesh wound in the calf of the left leg. We then sought shelter behind turret ‘D’. There was an inflatable boat behind turret ‘D’. We tossed the boat over the starboard side and jumped after it. I had luck on my side in immediately grabbing hold of the raft. Other comrades tried to swim to the raft. Only comrades
Matrosengefreiten
Manthey and Höntzsch made it to the raft. All our efforts to fish out even more comrades were unsuccessful …

After this, we drifted off very rapidly … After we had drifted for some time, we saw a second raft with approximately seven men, but we quickly lost track of this raft. We could see
Bismarck
only when our raft was atop the crest of a mountainous wave. Firing continued. It became silent after an hour. An English cruiser with three funnels passed within approximately 200m after we went overboard. The cruiser was on course for
Bismarck
… During the day we only saw a single Kondor plane. In the twilight, we were seen by U-boat (U-74) and taken on board.

When the skipper gave the order to abandon the ship and leave the doors open, we looked for an exit. I was looking around and saw men sitting on a bench and I asked: ‘Don’t you want to save yourselves?’ They said: ‘There is no ship coming, the water is too cold, the waves too high, we are going down with the ship.’ A little bit further there was a wounded guy, he lost his heels; I said: ‘Come on, I am going to help you out first and then find me an exit.’ He replied: ‘Leave me alone and don’t step on my feet, I am going down with the ship.’ I couldn’t believe that. A little later we found a stairway. When I came out I couldn’t believe it. The British were still shooting, and we looked for cover behind one of the six-inch turrets. Bodies were piled around the turrets, they were all dead. The whole deck was full of blood and body parts. There were a couple of guys sitting there and said: ‘Help me to get in the water, we can’t walk any more.’ So we help them out into the water. Now the ship started turning over more and more to the port side and I stayed on the starboard side. I took off my heavy leather suit and jumped into the water. I thought this would be the end. I was 23 years old, only starting living. I was engaged, and there was no chance to save myself. You just have to jump into the water and swim as long as you can. That’s what I did. It was at least 50 or more feet to jump into the water. I was 100 feet away when the ship started to turn over to the port side all the way, and then a couple of guys that didn’t get over on time, jumped and slid down the starboard side of the hull until they hit the stabilizer and never came up again. They drowned. Then, we had to swim for almost an hour, the water was 15°C and the waves 30 feet high …

First I was swimming and I could see nothing, then a guy came by me and held on to my neck and I said: ‘I can’t help you.’ I was looking and I saw a mast coming up. I couldn’t distinguish the ship, and then a while later I saw the flag on it. It was a British flag. I told the guy who was swimming beside me: ‘There is a British ship coming there.’ He said: ‘I don’t want to do anything with the British; they want to shoot us.’ I didn’t see him any more.

They took my clothing off, dried me up, and gave me a blanket. They brought us downstairs, offered us whiskey. I had swallowed some of the oil in the water and the whiskey was better.

Towards 1100 hours, large numbers of comrades were being washed overboard every time the ship heeled to port; I was among these … After a short time I reached a raft which was already occupied, while being respectively grabbed onto by 40–60 comrades. I grabbed on too. A lot of oil floated on the water. I met the ordnance mate from our turret there. We talked. We could still see the ship which was still firing. But after about an hour we could no longer see the ship … Many comrades became unconscious as a result of swallowing oily water and let go of the raft. Among them was my turret’s ordnance mate. I drifted with five men for about two more hours. The air and the water appeared warm to us. At about 1700 hours the raft capsized.

Five of us got into the raft. But the raft repeatedly capsized, whereby two more comrades drowned – one a staff officer and one of the mechanics … There were two soldered-shut tin cans and two signal flags in the rubber bag in the raft. One of the cans contained a flare pistol and ammunition, the other a bottle of Schnapps, one bottle of seltzer water, cookies, chocolate, cigarettes and matches. Our joy was great when we opened the tins. But we were to be disappointed. The charged water bottle had burst and the entire contents were wet. We decided to deal very frugally with the Schnapps. After a short time we discovered that the contents of the Schnapps container had leaked out because the seal was defective … We three drifted along during the night. Sometime during the middle of the night as I was woken from drowsing by a breaker, I noticed that the comrade from the prize command’s head was lying face up in the water. He had drowned. We took the dead sailor’s life vest off and cast out the corpse. Now I was alone on the raft with my comrade, Seaman Second Class Maus. In the morning, we again saw, at a distance of 200m, a raft occupied by two men – evidently, it was the same raft we had been alongside the previous evening. But the raft soon disappeared once again from view. My comrade woke me up with the scream: ‘A steamer!’ We fired flares. The steamer instantly veered toward us and took us aboard. It was the German steamer Sachsenwald [a German weather ship]. I found out the following day that we had been picked up about 2300 hours.

They shared their bunk with a comrade who did the same job aboard. While one man was on watch for four hours, another would have time to rest. When the watch changed, the other man would take over this bunk, still warm.

It was awful, one bunk above another. And next to it a small locker. Sometimes there was butter stored in it. And all the food stuff hanging around. It was hard to get used to.

You did not run to and fro. If you lived in the aft compartment [on board a Type IXC U-boat] you did not know what was going on in the bow compartment unless you talked about it on watch.

We were encouraged to eat, because we were living under such unhealthy conditions, without daylight and in poor ventilation. The result was constipation. There was no exercise but plenty of nutritious food. Sometimes we disregarded the bread and spread the butter straight onto the cheese. The consumption of castor oil was considerable.