John Stieber - Against the Odds - Survival on the Russian Front 1944-1945 [2nd Edition]

Our leave-taking next morning was helped by Aunt Hella’s cheerfulness and optimism that all would go well for us and that she herself would be all right. After a last hug we were on our way at six o’clock. We purposely did not leave earlier to avoid attracting attention to ourselves when roads were still deserted. It was a beautiful morning as we set off and the countryside was resplendent in its spring colours. I would have enjoyed the ride a lot more if I had not been conscious of the hazards we could face before getting over the border.

However, we reached Johann-Georgenstadt without any problems and had now covered a third of the way to Werdau. After that, everything continued to run smoothly for the next hour until we approached a small village. For some time now there had been more traffic on the road consisting of a mixture of German army units, some small groups of soldiers, but very few civilians and we were beginning to stand out from the other people on the road.

Suddenly we noticed the traffic bunching up about half a mile ahead of us and we feared that it might be a check-point. We had seen no sign of the American army, so it was most likely to be the German army monitoring traffic movement. This could be very dangerous for us. The German military police, would have no difficulty recognising us as ex-soldiers and, although they could no longer have us court-martialled, they would certainly detain us and ensure that we ended up in a prisoner-of-war camp. With open fields on either side there was no way to sneak past them undetected. If we went back to try another route we would just waste time and maybe end up no better off.

The argument for keeping our uniforms was now to be put to the test. We decided to hop behind some bushes for a quick change and then to continue on our way like obedient members of an infantry bicycle unit on their way to a surrender point. As expected, there were military police on the road checking out all soldiers and questioning the civilians. When our turn came I said that we were on our way to a POW camp, as instructed, and I made it appear as if we were bound for a specific destination. It must have sounded genuine for we were waved on without any more questions being asked.

We then decided to remain in uniform for a while, because the number of German soldiers on the road had increased and we could expect more check points on the way. At this stage it seemed a good time to take a short break. We had covered some steep gradients in the Erz Mountains and after that we had to get through quite an extensive hilly terrain which was tiring on our single-speed lady’s bicycles. With only a three-hour ride to Werdau ahead of us, it was as well to be refreshed in case of emergencies.

We came up against two more check points manned by German military police, but on each occasion they no more than glanced at us and we continued on our way. Once again, we were lucky to have made the right decision about what to wear. When we got close to Werdau we decided to change back into civilian clothes in the hope that they would make us look less conspicuous. Werdau was a small industrial town of 25,000 inhabitants and so it was not long before we found our way to Erika’s road.

When I rang the bell of an old town house where she lived it was answered by an elderly lady dressed in black. To my query, “Does Erika Stieber live here?” she confirmed that Erika was in at the time. I told her that I was Erika’s brother and would she please tell her that I was here. An instant look of suspicion crossed the lady’s face, but she went upstairs and I heard her knocking on a door. A moment later Erika came dashing down the stairs shouting, “John, is that you?” In the joy of our reunion I forgot all about Gerkens and it was only after Erika and I had got over our first excitement that I noticed him standing there looking embarrassed. Satisfied about my credentials, the old lady had already withdrawn, so I then introduced Gerkens to Erika and we went up to her flat.

Erika found it difficult to get over her amazement that I should suddenly turn up on her doorstep only two days after the war was over. She went on to tell me that, though her job with the communication centre was over and she did not have the faintest idea where I had last been on the Front, she had intended staying at her address until she got some word from me. Although we had much to tell each other, we first had to plan our next move.

Erika told us that American troops had already passed through Werdau and she was sure that forces of the western Allies occupied all of Germany between Werdau and Bremen. That was good news, but it was still essential that we should be quickly on our way because the troops might move back again and allow the Russians to take over. Even if we became prisoners of the western Allies there was the danger that they would hand us over to the Russians if they vacated the area. I was later to hear that this did happen.

One of us then had the excellent idea that we should forge travel documents to help us get past Allied military check-points. Erika’s deserted office was in the same building that we were in, so we designed a suitable text and went there to produce our documents on her office typewriter. In my case the wording was:

This is to certify that Mr John Stieber is travelling to rejoin his parents at Milford Villa, Mallow, Co Cork, Ireland. All British and American authorities are requested to give him any assistance he may require on the way.

Erika signed the document somewhat illegibly and our unknown benefactor was given the rank of colonel. We thought it was too risky to overdo it and make him a general. Looking around for something to make the document look more official, Erika came up with a German Navy rubber stamp which also depicted the German Eagle and a Swastika. Experimenting with some judicious smudging, we perfected the art of disguising what should not be recognised while allowing the stamp to impress with its suggested authority.

We produced a similar document for Erika, but had to tone down the one for Gerkens. He spoke no English, so we just referred to him as accompanying us to Rotenburg. Actually, we hoped our papers would be necessary only in a fall-back situation; both Erika and I spoke English with a distinctly English accent and we expected that soldiers would be quickly won over by the face of a pretty girl and voices that betrayed no German background. Maybe this would save us from awkward questions and if Gerkens remained suitably mute in the background all might be well.

While Erika was going through her belongings to see what she wanted to take with her, Gerkens and I checked out our bicycles and then tried to construct a more comfortable seat for Erika on one of the steel luggage carriers. Since she had no bicycle, we would have to take her on one of ours. Using an ordinary cushion we folded it over and tied it firmly to the carrier, but there was no easy way to construct foot-rests for Erika. She would just have to let her feet dangle, or try to wedge them over the nuts of the back axle.

When we tried out our transport arrangements on the road we found that, between the luggage of us three on one carrier and my sister on the other one, we were well loaded up. However, the bikes were strongly built and we considered ourselves well-equipped. Erika then settled up with her landlady who was glad to have Erika’s belongings that she had to leave behind. By the time we were ready to go, it was well into the afternoon, so we decided to push ahead after having a meal and using up any of Erika’s food that we could not take with us. The distance by road to Mücheln was eighty-eight miles and after that it was another 250 miles to Rotenburg. It had been no trouble to us cycling the sixty-five miles from Karlsbad to Werdau in eight hours, but from here on our progress would be much slower.