Authors: Japanese Reaping the Whirlwind: Personal Accounts of the German,Italian Experiences of WW II
But there was a last-minute change of plan.
As Hitler, together with Goering, Himmler, Dönitz, von Bock and three or four aides, entered the room, General Schmundt came up and told me that there were no more than eight minutes available for the tour of the exhibition. The possibility of assassination had gone, since even at normal room temperature the fuse would have required ten minutes to set off the bomb. This last-minute change of schedule, indicative of the extreme precautions that Hitler took, was responsible for saving his life once again … Meanwhile Lieutenant Colonel Count von Stauffenberg had joined the conspiracy.
Medical sergeant Walter Klein, out in Normandy in 1944, had to cope with the consequences of their failure.
Another comrade who helped me to carry the infantryman said: ‘I don’t care for anything. Two of my brothers were sacrificed at Stalingrad and it was quite useless, and here we have the same movie.’
Few were sorry to have been seriously wounded.
Men who were slightly wounded were sent back to their units after five days. Men who had lost a finger or were shot through their legs without breaking the bone were sent back. Men wounded by a grazing shot were only sent to the troop dressing station. Therefore the young thought it better to be seriously wounded in order to be sent to a field hospital, or home, which would be best …
It was plain to Klein that the Panzers that had given the Germans such advantages early on in the war were now ill suited to their task.
The German tanks were too large to be used in Normandy. When they were driving along the sunken roads, they could not see, nor could they operate between the hedges. In contrast, the Sherman tanks, with their high and narrow construction, had all the advantages. The hedges, however, permitted our tank destroyer troops to approach the enemy tanks without being seen.
Klein also compared the two sides’ tactics.
If the American infantry did not approach our lines, it was not from cowardice, but because they were ordered to withdraw as soon as they met strong resistance and to wait until the air force and the heavy weapons had exhausted the enemy. Our infantrymen, who could not count upon any such help and who had seen the Russian infantry in action, could not have had a better opinion of the American infantry.
Nevertheless the Germans counterattacked.
During the night of 26–27 July we received orders by radio to join a part of the Panzer Division ‘Goetz V. Berlichingen’ northwest of Vire … in order to make it possible for the rest of Hitler Jugend Division, of ‘Goetz V. Berlichingen’, of ‘Das Reich’ and of the 5th Para Division, to escape.
At 1200 hours we started the attack. We were promised an artillery detachment and a pioneer company with heavy weapons as reinforcements. The whole reinforcement, however, consisted of 16 dismounted gunners and 15 men of the pioneer company without flame throwers under the command of a lieutenant. Covered as much as possible against enemy observation, we tried to approach their lines. The American infantry, however, having observed our approach withdrew in the direction of Marigny, and we were heavily attacked by artillery. A direct hit killed all our officers … During the attack I saw no Tigers of the tank detachment of the SS Division ‘Goetz V. Berlichingen’, and only one tank of the medical service. The enemy received more reinforcements from the direction of Granville, and two hours later, at 1400 hours, he took the offensive. The proportion of strength was approximately 20 to one without mentioning the fact that our only heavy weapons consisted of two 8cm trench mortars. 50 to 60 enemy tanks were pitted against 36 men when the attack started …
We assembled in the valley of the Vire. Approximately 10 per cent of our combat strength was left. Of my company 11 men were left. Once more the Army was sacrificed in order to save the SS units from being taken prisoner. Again we had to leave behind our 178 wounded. We spent the night in a brushwood that borders Vire.
On the morning of 28 July marching along the hedges, we tried to find a gap in the encirclement. Our suggestion to surrender because of lack of ammunition and our hopeless situation was refused by our officers. We avoided villages. In the evening, we were fired on from a farm by some terrorists who escaped when our men were approaching. For five days we had nothing to eat but unripe fruit and the iron rations we took from our dead comrades. We spent the night and the day of 29 July in an oak wood.
That night a French farmer had told us of a gap in the encirclement near Vire. He showed us the exact location of the point on a map. On the morning of 30 July, when we passed through a wood, approximately 150 men joined us. They were dispersed from different units. When we arrived at 0600 hours at the point that the French farmer had described, we received terrific fire from a brushwood which was occupied by Americans. I made field dressings for the wounded, while nobody fired at me. I want to reiterate the fact that the American infantry, tanks and aviators fought in a fair way. Already during the fighting for St-Lô, we had the experience that all men who were wearing the Red Cross could help their wounded without being fired on. The losses in our medical personnel were caused by artillery or bomb attacks.
I was taken prisoner at 0700 hours. The American captain, who was commander of the position, allowed us to recover our wounded, assisted by a surgeon and three medical officers of the American Army. I also helped to bring in the American wounded. Eighteen hours later this work was finished and I was transferred to a collecting station for PWs.
Out on the Dniester, Herbert Winckelmann heard news of both the D-Day landings and von Stauffenberg’s assassination attempt on Hitler.
Although neither of these events had a direct effect on our situation on the Romanian front, we were inclined to discuss them. That, however, was impossible since any opinion that deviated from the official explanation could have far-reaching consequences, even life-threatening ones. Goebbels’ official but absurd explanation of D-Day was: ‘The invasion is nothing more than an ingenious, strategic coup by Hitler. The Allies have been lured into France so they are no longer out of reach as they were when they were in England. Now that we have them within reach, our troops will destroy them with our V-2 bombs and other secret weapons to follow.’ That explanation was accepted by men who wanted to believe it, but I and many others were shocked to hear that the Atlantic Wall, which had been so highly praised by Nazi propaganda, had failed to withstand the assault by the Allies.
No less absurd was the announcement after Hitler’s assassination attempt: ‘The unsuccessful attempt on Hitler’s life was only an act by a handful of infamous men. His life was saved because Providence has chosen him to lead Germany to victory.’
The inevitable attack came in Romania on the morning of 20 August 1944, when 8,000 Red Army artillery pieces opened up. The Romanian units crumbled and fled, forcing the Germans to retreat in confusion. On 23 August, Romania switched sides, opening the skies to Allied bombers. Winckelmann had a narrow escape:
I jumped on my Cossack and he, perceiving the imminent danger, ran as fast as he could, straight for a row of hedges. We had never jumped together before. So I let him have his head, hoping he would know better than I what to do. We survived both our first jump together and the nearby exploding bomb.
Comrades who had witnessed the explosion concluded that Winckelmann had perished, and he was posted ‘killed in action’. But 12 days later, he caught up with them in the Carpathian Mountains, staying with a community of ethnic Germans who wore traditional German folk dress. Realizing they were in great danger from the invading Red Army, the people packed up their belongings for the trek westwards.
It was a heartbreaking sight when our host family loaded their horse-drawn wagon to capacity with their furniture and other belongings. I wondered how far these horses would be able to pull such a heavy load, since their destination was so far away in either Austria or Germany. When the time came to say farewell, the old woman of the house came to me with tears running down her cheek and said, ‘Comrade, take good care of my house and don’t forget to feed the pets …’ I assured her that I would. As they pulled out of sight, I entered the house and found it spotless. She must have even swept the floors before leaving. I wondered what must have been going through her mind to make her think that she would be returning to her home so soon. The eventual reality, that I am sure she had to face, must have been very painful.
By September the Americans had reached the Western Wall, the fortified line along Germany’s western frontier also known as the Siegfried Line. On the 15th the US Army breached it near Aachen. Now fighting on home soil, the Germans were expected to put up fierce resistance. However, civilian morale was not high. ‘You will not stop the Americans,’ the villagers of Langerwehe called out as the 2nd Battalion of the 89th Grenadier Regiment marched through. With them was Alfred Braun. Things, he reported, began well enough:
When the machine-guns opened up, we penetrated Schevenhütte in the darkness. The US forces were caught by surprise asleep. Vehicles, rucksacks and blankets were found on the sidewalk.
Nevertheless the Americans resisted. In the morning, the Germans had to pull back into the forest, and 7 Company set up a command post in the village of Buschhausen. Then a patrol was wiped out except for a single man – and he was wounded.
Afterwards the Americans started mortar fire and shelled the village using phosphorus grenades. Even the brick buildings were set on fire.
Braun was in the thick of the action.
I had a narrow escape. A dud mortar shell passed between my legs and landed in my foxhole. I jumped out and raced away.
After two days, 7 Company moved into the forest and the headquarter’s staff were called to a battalion meeting in the forester’s house.
The signal people had forced open a door leading into the cellar which was filled with a good supply of wine – we used the lot. After we returned to the forest making our way through an orchard. We heard mortars fire and shells landed in our way, forcing us to take full cover. Captain von Ahn, who was CO of 2 Battalion, was wounded by shrapnel in the thigh. First Lieutenant Lück was hit worse; his head and one eye caught several fragments, which were removed by means of an electro-magnet in Eschweiler. He got an eye patch and returned to 7 Company.
Next, 2 Battalion were moved to Stolberg.
Its command post was set up in buildings at the edge of town near the limestone factory. The men had wrapped their boots with patches to avoid any noise when crossing the street. There, too, we had many casualties from the phosphorus ammunition … The distribution of food was at night-time only to avoid casualties … In screening the area we discovered two women and their adult daughters in one of the buildings. They were evacuated the same evening.
They had to fight off attacks by US tanks and fighter-bombers. While they often gave as good as they got, German casualties mounted.
On 22 September, First Lieutenant Hans Zeplier, company commander to the 14th Company of 89th Grenadier Regiment (Tank Destroyers), was made local commander of the villages of Hastenrath and Scherpenseel.
This involved arrangements such as clearing the roads of rubble, compiling a guard and defence plan, and, above all, the evacuation of civilians still living in the place. The inhabitants of the village – elderly people, but women and children too – were requested by me in person-to-person talks to leave Hastenrath and Scherpenseel. As cattle could not be taken along, I purchased the animals and submitted a retrospective report to the regimental staff for the purpose of further action by the butchering company of 12th Volksgrenadier Division. The prices were fixed by the cattle owners and I had their quotations checked by one of my messengers, a farmer by profession, and there was not a single case where a quotation gave rise to complaint. There was no trouble either concerning the evacuation of the civilians. People were allowed plenty of time to make their arrangements and no deadline was fixed; the ever-increasing artillery fire spoke a clear language …
Mid-October I received instructions to collect all sewing machines, radio sets and the like from heavily damaged buildings. Equipment of that kind was badly needed in the rear areas, but commercially hardly available. The idea was to save these items from the rainwater that came in through shell-holes in roofs, walls and ceilings, which even penetrated to cellars, and take them to the rear. Along with my messengers, I collected the sewing machines and radios, and compiled a list showing the names and addresses of the owners, equipment trademarks and the number of items found in each flat. The outcome of this action in the 46 flats in Hastenrath were 32 sewing machines, 32 radio sets and six loudspeakers which, after registration, were taken to rear areas, as instructed.
Shelling by the Americans continued to increase. Then there were the fighter-bombers.
Their bombs very rarely came down on the villages, but rather exclusively on identified artillery and trench gun positions. I observed an incident where American planes laid a volley of bombs on a single horse-drawn supply vehicle. A soldier led the horse by the bridle, walking beside the vehicle. Four or five American planes approached from the direction of Düren. When they were over the vehicle, they released a volley of bombs. I heard the bombs screaming, the impacts were to left and right of the vehicle. All I saw were flames and dust, and I thought: ‘Poor sod – he’s had it.’ After the fighter-bombers had disappeared and the dust had settled I saw the horse – upright and dust-covered – just standing there on the road, its head dangling a little. Nothing could be seen of the driver. Eventually he crawled out of a ditch, took the bridle and off they went. When they passed a trench-gun position, the driver told the soldiers there in his Mecklenburg dialect: ‘We just got bombed.’ This stoicism is very typical of the Mecklenburg people.