Armin Scheiderbauer - Adventures in My Youth

On 29 June Major von Garn had succeeded in getting hold of some Iron Crosses for the regiment. They were distributed almost unceremoniously to the few experienced men. It was done in front of the tent that held the regimental command post. When Garn pinned the Iron Cross First Class on my chest I had just returned from a journey on the tracked motorcycle. I already had orders for another journey. So there was no time for joy and pride over that much longed-for decoration. Still, it was lucky that on the previous day I had got new rubber boots from the baggage-train.

On the following night a rapid withdrawal took place. It lasted well into the morning. The regiment was supposed to move to rest at a location 20 kilometres behind the most forward security positions, of which we certainly had seen nothing. By a pond, which lay in a hollow, we found the spot. The exhausted men laid down their weapons and equipment and most of them immediately went into the warm marshy water. The entire regiment of several hundred men swam, splashed in the water, washed or shaved. Many of them did this quickly and then settled themselves under the shade of trees in order at last to get some sleep. Von Garn and I had first to concern ourselves with setting up security positions and to convince ourselves that we were in contact with the Division, before we could think of relaxing.

The rest had not lasted half an hour when the sound of engines was to be heard. It had to be from our own assault guns or tanks that were standing in front of us to provide security. But we wondered why they were already moving back, since it was only midday. Our wondering immediately turned out to be pointless. From behind the hill of yellow grain enclosing the hollow to the north and west, an enemy T-34 emerged. A second and third followed. The tanks pushed slowly up on to the ridge of the hill, their long gun barrels towering skywards. The appearance of the tanks panicked the men who were bathing and resting. Once again a panicky flight began. But after a few hundred metres the officers succeeded in stopping the men and bringing them back.

Oberleutnant Mallwitz, who had reported to Garn immediately beforehand, ordered me to take care of the tank with him. Through the corn and past bushes we crept up to the tanks. What Mallwitz intended to do was not clear. Neither of us had anything but pistols which were useless. We could do nothing unless the tank crew stuck their heads out of the hatch. We came to within 10 metres of the first tank, which had stopped near a line of bushes.

In order for bravery to succeed, the right weapon must be to hand at the right time. Such an advantage, in the shape of a Panzerfaust , an adhesive hollow charge, or a T-mine , was lacking for us. On the contrary, the crew of the first tank had spotted us. They fired on us with their machine-guns and Mallwitz was shot in the knee. Then even he realised that we had to beat it. Mallwitz hobbled painfully and we moved slowly back. To our surprise the tanks turned round. They had become suspicious.

The emergency line was held until evening. The urgently needed anti-tank gun had come. It was standing in a hedge, well camouflaged. Garn and I were beside it when a second tank attack came in the afternoon. We scored a direct hit on the upper part of its turret at 30 metres range, on the most forward of the three tanks. Flames were soon shooting up and two smoke-blackened figures climbed out, holding their hands high above their heads. Pointing his machine-pistol, the corporal of a group of infantrymen in positions beside the anti-tank gun took them in charge. Von Garn had them taken to the rear in a regimental vehicle. At 10pm the regiment withdrew. The rearguard had to remain until midnight. Only then did Von Garn and I withdraw.

The following night the regiment managed to put some distance between us and the enemy. The march went on during the day, one behind the other, gelaufen as our Silesians said. I appreciated the advantage of not having to run, but for the most part being able to travel on vehicles. To the west of the little town of Kublici the broad sandy road went through forest for many kilometres. The area had for a long time been the home of partisans.

However, in June, the Supreme Commander of our 3rd Panzerarmee , Generaloberst Reinhart, having in mind the possibility of a retreat, deployed all his available forces there to fight the partisans. But there had been no time to bury the bodies. That was why long stretches were overwhelmed by a ghastly stench. It was said that hundreds of dead were lying in the woods. The July heat strengthened the smell of putrefaction. You had to pinch your nose and breathe through your mouth. Some men even put on their gas masks.

On that road, 132 years before, the Grande Armée had moved on Moscow. Not far from there is the source of the Beresina with its other tributaries. On the advance in 1941 our regiment crossed the Beresina at Stujanka, the site of the historic battlefield. During entrenching work at that time a Napoleonic eagle had been found. They had immediately sent it to the Fuhrer’s headquarters. The parallels with the Napoleonic retreat were borne in upon us in a shattering way.

On the way to Globokie, the old Polish border town, a pig jumped out of a farmyard in front of the Kübelwagen . The poor creature kept running in front of the vehicle. Then it was overtaken, run over, and lifted into the Kübelwagen with broken limbs. The fact that in the evening the field kitchen was once again issuing pork, caused von Garn to utter the apposite remark: ‘Just get yourself a calf in front of the Wagen , and not just a pig!’

On 4 July, as our next stage, we reached Dunilovici. From there I had to branch off to the north-west to get to the village of Nowopajewa and to direct the 3rd Battalion to its lines. I had just got off the motorcycle when I heard the familiar roaring of a ‘Stalin organ’. My driver threw the vehicle into the soft bushes and we lay down flat in the sandy road because there was not a scrap of cover. The ‘organ’ sounded like the swish of a mighty scythe as it swings through the air before it cuts. All the shells crashed on to houses, into the gardens and on to the streets. There were 42 explosions of 15.2cm calibre shells. It seemed a miracle that no one was hit. Those weapons no longer had any effect on alte Hasen , or old soldiers, like us. When the ‘blessing’ was over we stood up, shook the sand out of our uniforms and drove on to look for the battalion.

In our quarters that evening the regimental medical officer treated me. Several times I had had injections of Cebion i.e. Vitamin C, into my behind, so that I was almost unable to walk. At that time the staff medical officer Dr Hellweg had little to do. The regiment did not run its own dressing station and, because of the speed of the withdrawal, casualties remained few. The wounded were immediately sent to the rear by the battalion medical officers. Sometimes though it seemed that the doctor would rather be the regimental adjutant. When new maps, always in short supply, were issued, I had to fight him for them every time. It finally dawned on him that as orderly officer, I was more in need of a map than he.

On the 4 July we passed Postavy. It had been set on fire by shelling and was well ablaze. The day before, on another dispatch journey, I had passed through the town and found it intact. Wind was driving the flames. Fire from the many trim wooden houses gave off such heat that in the open Kübelwagen , after two attempts to drive through the town, we had to drive round it. The motorised vehicles had to leave the road. In order not to sacrifice our precious wireless Kübelwagen , we finally drove two kilometres over open country, right in front of the point units of the Russian tanks. Then we finally reached the road leading westwards. At the edge of the road, there were many rolls of expensive field telephone cable. They would almost certainly fall intact into enemy hands, just as had happened with the Army’s supply dump located east of the town. The responsible paymaster, despite being threatened with court martial, had refused to give out the cable supplies right up to the moment when the first tank shells were bursting.