Authors: Japanese Reaping the Whirlwind: Personal Accounts of the German,Italian Experiences of WW II
Nigel Cawthorne (9 page)
On 18 December, the 12th Panzer Regiment made a disastrous attack on Rocherath-Krinkelt. Willi Fischer, a tank commander, said that they stumbled into the ‘perfect tank grave’.
The tanks of A Company moved ahead, followed by our company with Brödel as the company commander. I was driving behind Beutelhauser, my platoon leader. When he arrived at a place near the church we were offered a cruel sight. Beutelhauser was shot down ahead of me, just when both tanks had passed the second crossroads. When Beutelhauser was knocked out, I could make out the probable location of the enemy anti-tank gun. Beutelhauser managed to get out and escape to safety. The gun loader was killed by rifle fire when he tried to escape. Under the cover of a building I moved my tank into position … Beside me I noticed Brödel’s tank burning slightly. Brödel could be seen sitting in the turret – lifeless. Ahead of me on the road all the tanks were shot out of action. Some of them still ablaze.
They had been hit by a damaged Sherman tank which, though unable to manoeuvre, was otherwise in fighting condition. Fischer managed to withdraw, though a shell destroyed one of his tank’s tracks and the radio equipment. Even so, he covered the escape of the surviving tank crewmen and captured 20 Americans. However, he was threatened with a court-martial for retreating and spent Christmas taking shelter in a farm building ‘as the cold inside the tanks was much in excess of what a man could stand’.
At 3pm on 18 December 1944, gunner Horst Helmus watched as American Mustangs came under attack by Me109s.
It comes to a wild fight. We watch it with scissor telescopes and binoculars. Every knockout arouses applause, like at a sports game. One American after the other buzzes off. Later we learn six losses have been inflicted on the enemy to one on our own … Five hundred metres ahead of us an American two-motor plane has been forced down. Unfortunately it has burned out completely. The landing ground is totally wrecked, the meadow torn up, fences broken down and torn to pieces. The crew is charred beyond recognition and the bodies have shrunk. They can only be identified as such by the helmet.
But the victory was short-lived.
The sky gets dark, plane by plane, close together, not even a span’s space between. Each plane has transport glider in tow. We get frightened. What would happen if these fellows came down in our line? A real nasty feeling. No soldier is running around any more. Everybody is staying inside their holes, looking upwards.
Next to me is an eighteen-year-old infantryman I had been on guard with last night at the window. Suddenly there is an aircraft attack. I jump into the entrance hall and rush into the last room to lie down flat in front of a wardrobe … But my fellow infantry soldier got it. A splinter went right in the carotid and he bled to death.
On the afternoon of 19 December, Rammes and a party of four left for a reconnaissance mission in the Bleialf area.
Moving through brushwood, we find a German infantryman lying on the right-hand verge of the road – shot through the throat. On the left of the road, we discover the remnants of an American camp, slices of white bread lying around, empty tins, tents partly dismantled.
Crossing a railway line, they found a village.
Things look ugly here, the buildings around are more or less damaged. We look to the left and see the church – or what has been left of it. And wherever you look – German tanks and soldiers. A depressing sight.
On 21 December, Rammes went to an area near Schönberg where 9,000 Americans had been captured. The following day, after a hearty breakfast of American rations, he and his men were ordered up to Saint-Vith in Belgium. On the way they commandeered an American half-track.
It is cold and the countryside is covered with a thin layer of snow, the bright sunshine goes into even the remotest corners. It is noon and our ‘tractor’ is parked in the yard of a mill. A quick-fire gun is mounted on top of the driver’s cabin. A belt of ammunition is inserted. We wonder whether the thing is ready to fire. Suddenly a fighter-bomber dives towards the mill, out of the sun. Second Lieutenant Bauer jumps onto the bonnet and grabs for the gun. I and a few comrades escape to safety, taking cover in the barn. The plane’s guns fire. Bauer fires back – a terrible noise all around. No bombs – we are having some luck. I see the impacts of explosive shells around the vehicle. Again Bauer pulls the trigger. The plane crosses overhead and takes a curve over the valley for a repeat attack. Our second lieutenant opens fire at once, but unfortunately fails to hit the aircraft. Luckily the plane turns away …
The miller and our first lieutenant appear at the entrance of the building, both gesticulating. The miller feels that there is no sense in shooting, since the fighter-bomber has the advantage and our presence would put his mill at risk. Everyone looks at matters with his own eyes.
Reaching Saint-Vith, they found it under shell fire.
In the fields to the left we notice many tanks of the ‘Tiger’ and ‘Panther’ types. Second Lieutenant Bauer talks to one of the infantry officers, an old acquaintance of ours. He advises us to turn around at once to get out of there as fast as we can … On 22 December, at 1400 hours, Saint-Vith had finally been taken by German troops … [But] the planned surprise assault of the German Army, aimed at the early capture of Saint-Vith and Malmedy in the north, and Bastogne in the south, had failed. This was what had actually decided the outcome of the Battle of the Bulge. But for us the fight had to go on.
That night they decided to stay in Saint-Vith.
I notice a few nice houses – their inhabitants seem to have been evacuated. There is a garage attached to one of the houses where we put our car. Some soldiers have already been billeted in the building. After a look about we decide to take a room on the east side, opposite the front line. The soldiers have already lit a stove. There is wood and coal in the basement, and someone even finds a big bag of noodles.
Gregor and I go to the basement for water, as the taps in the house do not seem to be working. But there is no water in the basement either – the system seems to have been damaged. Instead we find shelves of preserved foods, such as beans, cranberries and even a large jar of preserved eggs. Should we take them or wait until everything gets smashed? Our buddies in the warm room are happy: today is cooking day – how eventful a soldier’s life can be.
But how to get water? Someone claims to know that there is water in the school building near the open place near the main street. We take a tub from the basement …
They made their way down the street in complete darkness, then noticed other people heading for the building.
Inside a large cellar some water is dripping from a stopcock connected to a main pipe, the pressure being only a little above zero, and we place our tub underneath. Some light from the side illuminates the basement. It takes a long time until the tub is half full and we can walk back to our billet. Again we have to cross that open place and turn right into the main street. All of a sudden there is some howling – rather short – and there is the impact. We flop down with our tub. We survive, but there is only a little water left in the tub. Never mind, that must do …
Everyone is happy when they see us entering the ‘living room’. Now we can cook. The dish is simple: noodles, cooked with ten eggs and cranberries. Delicious – particularly the cigarette afterwards. We get some mattresses from the bedroom and place them on the floor of our room in the back of the house. Soon we are asleep.
The next morning Rammes and the others headed for Rodt, but ‘this will be a clear day with a blue sky; fighter-bomber weather’.
Halfway, the engine suddenly stops. I open the bonnet: the driving pulley between the engine and the dynamo is broken. One half lies on the bottom of the engine casing: the pulley is made of wood! We push the car to the wall of a farm building for cover against aeroplanes. My three comrades start walking, and I remain with the car. The farmer’s wife is inside and we have a chat. She does not believe that the Americans will come back very soon …
In the afternoon my comrades come back from the direction of Rodt with an American track-type vehicle … It is too early now to drive back. To avoid the risk of air attack we wait until dusk.
Soon after they set off, they ran out of petrol. Then they discovered that the vehicle had two tanks, one ‘on either side, the left one empty, but the other one filled to the top’. The lieutenant sent one of the men to a nearby house to get a hose to siphon the petrol from one tank to the other. Meanwhile the others searched the vehicle:
After all, there must be some cock to change over the petrol infeed from one tank to the other … During my search I get hold of a few bars of cigarettes and fresh potatoes. Second Lieutenant Bauer and Gregor continue their search in the driver’s cabin. Then Caspar is back, a hose around his neck and both hands packed with big sandwiches … Soon the engine is humming again. Caspar has told me that there are nice young people living in the second house … We want to stay overnight … so we persuade the lieutenant … Everything is settled, so we park our vehicles outside the house as we want to be off early in the morning.
Rammes and his comrades made a good choice to stay indoors overnight. ‘It was a grim winter night,’ recalled Fritz Langanke, who was with the 2nd SS tank division ‘
Das Reich
’ near Odeigne.
Deep winter snow crunches under one’s feet. The frost is biting even through the winter clothes, and we feel as if we were in Russia.
Even so, his Panzer unit went on the attack.
The approach route leads through marshy shrub and woodland. We get stuck several times and it costs us lots of time. American artillery is spreading harassing fire over the area and target markers in the air to guide the enemy night bombers … It is much brighter than our plan allows, but unfortunately it cannot be altered.
They suffered for it, coming under concerted attack from anti-tank guns.
We have been hit more than twenty times and, as we cannot see the anti-tank guns, we decide to back up. Past our own tanks – one of which is still ablaze – we slowly roll back until we reach the point on the road where we had set out. In the end, our radio operator cracks up completely. He jumps out of the tank and must be taken to a field hospital … The shells have left deep marks on the bow plate. Amazingly it held out. Fortunately, the shells hit at angles which could not do too much damage … I also learn who was killed in knocked-out tanks. Among the dead are some close friends of mine with whom I spent a long stretch in the service. We all are in low spirits. Over our head, floods of bombers are flying towards the Reich. With a heavy heart and helpless in my rage I can only stare after them, full of despair … That was our last Christmas in that war. It was pitiless and it demanded the utmost of us. It suppressed any shimmer of hope because we came to realize more and more that the end and our defeat were already inevitable.
While Langanke’s tank was being battered by shells, Rammes and his comrades were settling in with their hosts.
They have two little children who have now to go to bed. And everything is as in peacetime, an oasis of tidiness amidst the battlefield. Soon dinner and drinks are served. The housewife opens jars of preserved black-pudding – unique! … We soon realize that our hosts are definitely pro-German … An unforgettable evening indeed!
Lieutenant Bauer gets his own bed. We three want to sleep on the kitchen floor on mattresses, which is arranged too. In fact, we are looked after as if we were their own children. Haven’t slept so well for a long time. In the morning we help clear the kitchen. Then we are given breakfast before we say good-bye. We make as little noise as possible in order not to wake up the neighbours.
Christmas Eve, when Germans have their Christmas dinner, found them near the front line.
Most members of the battery have joined in the celebration … The room is packed, but the atmosphere is good. A small Christmas tree with candles lights the room. Erich Beckeer of Völklingen, a baker by profession, has baked a large crumb cake – quite a change. There are many comrades whom I have never met before. Everyone is talking.
I am thinking of my parents. How are they getting along? I have not heard from them for quite a long time, and was unable so far to write to them, so they do not know my post number. In a way this is all rather depressing. How can a short hour of peace match with the reality of a cruel war!
On both days of Christmas, Saint-Vith is destroyed by American bombers. Malmedy was heavily bombed on 23 and 24 December, although that town had never been in German possession. Three raids carried out in error turn the place into a heap of rubble.
Elsewhere in the Ardennes, German soldiers spent ‘a rather sad Christmas Eve in their positions, only slightly animated by gifts from captured stocks of alcoholics’. Others, particularly staff officers, were better off, as General Heinrich von Luettwitz recalled:
Our Christmas was made happy by the number of K rations which were dropped over Bastogne, because a large amount of them fell into the area of my chateau. On Christmas day, I was able to issue two K rations to every member of my staff and to each of the Belgian children.
Lower down the chain of command, Emil Bauer also had a jolly time:
I have found a can of coffee and I make coffee for the company. The commander is happy. At night, the canteen bring some roast pork – Christmas dinner. Together with the four people of my crew I am sitting on the floor in a room of a farmhouse with a ‘Hindenburg’ light burning. We are singing Christmas carols and soldiers’ songs. I tell about the concentration camp. We talk about home. The soldiers’ hearts melt. The commander and the top sergeant come and wish us a merry Christmas and that it may be the last one of the war.
