Armin Scheiderbauer - Adventures in My Youth

Replacements had also arrived. To my surprise, among them there were men from Lorraine and Luxembourg. Their homeland was then part of the Reich and they had become eligible for military service. They did not seem too enthusiastic. Most of them seemed anxious and were obviously badly trained. A tall blond man from Düdeling made an optimistic impression and found his feet straight away. On the other hand it seemed that during the night another Unteroffizier had disappeared. No one had seen him go and nowhere had he given any hint of leaving. Kaczmarek, an Upper Silesian who was about 40 years old, spoke Polish and Russian well and had only been a few weeks at the front. Otherwise he had always been with the baggage-trains. It was painful for me to realise that the man must have gone over to the enemy.

In the early morning of 5 October, I was wakened by the rattle of our MG 42s and the clear sound of Russian machine-pistols. With my two runners I jumped up to the main trench. A Fahnenjunker came running to meet me with the words ‘the Ivans are here’! I took him by his lapels, said that he should come with me, and hurried on. In the trench there lay a dead Russian. With my machine-pistol drawn I felt my way around the corners of the trench, the runners behind me. One of the runners shouted ‘there they go’! We had come a little too late to repulse the assault unit. Our reliable Feldwebel Geissel had been there before us.

The last two Ivans fled, then collapsed under our rifle fire in the area between the lines. Two gave themselves up. Three lay dead in the trench, among them the leader, a junior lieutenant. We examined his papers. The newcomers to my unit, who had not yet seen any dead Russians, approached the bodies with curiosity. They were surprised at the primitive nature of the Russians’ equipment. We ‘oldies’ were surprised by the oversized officers’ epaulettes that the junior lieutenant was wearing. The previous year they had not had those historic Russian insignia of rank. But by then the ‘Great Patriotic War’ declared by Stalin had begun. By then it was no longer the workers’ Fatherland, but Mother Russia who was in danger, and who had called her sons.

In the meantime, Oberstleutnant Dorn had relieved Nowak in 3rd Battalion, and had taken over command of the regiment. In the evening he inspected the sector and received reports about the morning visit of the enemy. It is true that he did not call me Bubi, as Nowak had done in the summer, but like Nowak he was really paternal. On his belt buckle he had a field flask dangling from which he offered us drinks. It was good warming cognac.

The hope for a period of rest in the Puply sector had proved impossible. On the night of 12 October we had been relieved and had moved into the baggage-train village some 10 kilometres away. Until midday we had been able to sleep without the disturbing influence of the enemy. Transport, on lorries northwards to the ‘taxiway’, was planned for the afternoon. There, one of the combat actions was underway. In the history of the war in Russia, they were called the ‘Smolensk highway battles’. The Russians had continued to attack and had made critical breakthroughs.

We spent the night of 13 October in the village of Lenino. The company had been topped up to 70 men and I had found them quarters in two rooms of a Russian house. The conditions were dreadfully cramped. The only way get some sleep was side by side, all huddled in one direction. It was impossible to turn over, because the whole chain would have become tangled up. The stench, the cramped conditions, and the lice saw to it that our rest did not develop into a recuperative sleep. Again and again a man would start up, tormented by lice. Then, in addition, there was an ‘owl’ in the night. It was a Soviet biplane, well-known to us from our trench warfare. Since my night ride in Jelnja I was sensitive to that aircraft, so there was to be no hope of falling asleep. In actual fact the ‘owl’ did drop some shrapnel bombs. One of them, a dud, stuck in the thick thatch of our house. There would have been a bloodbath if that bomb had exploded.

During that day Leutnant Rauprich, my acquaintance from the trench construction staff, came past with his battery. I stopped him and asked how the situation was going. He said that the artillery commander had ordered his regiment to take up preventative firing positions. Rauprich also had some other bits of news. He said the third Smolensk highway battle was underway. Not far from there the Polish Division Thaddeusz Sikorsky had been sent into action, and also Soviet female units. He said that he himself had seen female prisoners of war. Rauprich was not surprised that the Russians were able to stand the tempo of their advance, but at the same time were carrying out offensive battles. He also told me that, as the result of a shortage of transport, the enemy was having containers of petrol rolled westwards, on the highways, by women, children, and old men.

As dusk fell, I moved forward as ordered with my company. It was necessary to form a kind of second line behind the point where a breakthrough had been made. We dug our foxholes and the men fetched hay and straw so that the foxholes could be made warmer and softer. Though at that season the sun could still shine strongly by day, the nights were already getting cold. In the meantime, from the baggage-train we had received overcoats. We could not take off our overcoats during the day. Where could we infantrymen have put them! Therefore we were exposed, in the same clothing, to a difference in temperature of 20 degrees.

It must have been three kilometres to the main line of resistance. From the front line there rang out now and again the sound of artillery fire and the impact of shells as well as the sound of some infantry fire. Knee to knee I crouched with my runner in our two-man hole. We were freezing and could not get to sleep. At 10pm a battalion runner took me to the command post of the local unit, where our staff was already located. Freezing and swearing, I followed him.

Hauptmann Beyer had taken over command of a battalion of our sister regiment 461. So I was received by the new commander, Major Brauer. He had just come from Norway. He had taken part in the First World War, had no experience of the Eastern Front, and seemed anxious and awkward. In actual fact, the battalion was being run by the Adjutant, Leutnant Buksch. I was ordered to bring the company forward immediately in order to clean up the breakthrough area. It was about 220 metres wide and 100 metres deep, at the centre of which was a cemetery. With my company, and supported by three assault guns, I had to mount a frontal attack. From right and left assault troops of the 1st and 2nd companies were to move up the main trench. From 10.35pm to 10.40pm the artillery was to lay destructive fire on the area of the breakthrough. Then my company, with the assault guns, had to work its way forward as close as possible.

With a Leutnant of the unit in whose sector the breakthrough had taken place, I gave notice of my departure. The Leutnant went ahead in order to brief us. In ranks separated by intervals of five paces the company moved forward. I wanted to attack in two wedges. One was to be led by me, and the other by Geissler. That arrangement was necessary because in the darkness of the night I would not had been able to view the entire sector and so I relied on Geissler. Meanwhile, time had moved on, and from behind us the dull roaring of the assault guns could be heard. 300 metres separated us from the place where the breakthrough had taken place. It was the target of our attack. The Leutnant from the other company set off, after another handshake. He pointed me in the direction of the cemetery of Asowowo.