Tony Le Tissier: With Our Backs to Berlin

Many of my former comrades lie in the military cemetery at Kastell, where I spend many hours of reflection and also lay flowers. My former regimental commander, Lieutenant Colonel Gliemann, found his last resting place here. They fought and died in the faithful fulfilment of their duty in accordance with the oath demanded by the law. May the earth lie lightly upon you, comrades!

I originally obtained a copy of Gerhard Tillery’s manuscript from Joachim Schneider, an amateur historian from Frankfurt/Oder, and found it extremely useful in piecing together the events portrayed in my book Zhukov at the Oder . Later I was able to establish contact with the author in Bremen and obtained his permission to reproduce this remarkable account of his experiences as a rifleman on the Oderbruch battlefront, in the retreat to Berlin, the fighting in the surrounded city and the breakout to the west.

The potential officer course in Lübeck, which should have lasted until 15 March 1945, was broken off on 16 February. We were already in Cleverbrück on a ten-day field exercise when the orders came through. We had all hoped to become sergeants on 15 March and get some leave, but the Russians had already crossed the Oder, the Americans were also getting closer, and every man was needed at the front.

On 15 February I had gone with my comrade Hinnerk Otterstedt to a cinema in Bad Schwartau, and when we got back to the field positions at Cleverbrück at eleven o’clock our comrades were all ready to march back to barracks. We packed our things quickly and then marched back to the Cambrai-Kaserne, where we exchanged our old kit for new and gave away everything that was not absolutely necessary. I packed my personal stuff and had it sent to an acquaintance in Lübeck.

Then we marched in formation singing loudly to the railway station. Now that we were going into action, we were filled with enthusiasm. We were all young potential officers, most of us corporals, and 18 years old, and we could not wait to get out there. None of us would have believed that the war would be over and lost in the next three months and that soon, many of us would no longer be alive.

We were loaded into goods wagons and set off at last at dawn. We had been discussing whether we would be going east or west. Now at last we knew; we were going east. By midday we had reached Hagenow in Mecklenburg. Next day we reached Berlin and then Potsdam that same evening. Here we detrained and went to a barracks. Next morning we were inspected and issued with rations for the journey, weapons and ammunition. In the afternoon we could walk out. I went with Warrelmann and Gessner to the Garrison Church and then to the Palace. A few days later there was a heavy bombing raid in which much of the town was destroyed.

From Potsdam our journey took us to Werbig. The nearer we got to the front, the more heartily we were greeted by the inhabitants, who all hoped that we would be able to stop the Russians at the Oder and throw them back.

From Werbig we marched via Friedersdorf to Dolgelin, where the command post of the Division ‘Berlin’ to which we now belonged was located. We were assigned to the Officer-Cadet Regiments ‘Dresden’ and ‘Potsdam’. Together with 15 comrades from Lübeck, I went to Regiment 1234 ‘Potsdam’, where the others were from various training courses and officer cadet schools.

We marched to Sachsendorf, where our battalion commander, Captain Albrecht, greeted us. Sachsendorf lay in the Oderbruch, a completely flat landscape. We looked for something to eat in Sachsendorf, as our travel rations were long gone. At a bakery we each got half a loaf fresh from the oven, then sausage from a butcher’s, and tobacco from a pub.

I sat down apart from my comrades in a roadside ditch, ate my bread, smoked my pipe and wrote a short letter home to my parents. It was my birthday. I was 19 years old.

The front line was still about four kilometres away. Several Russian fighters and ground-attack aircraft appeared in the cloudless sky, but soon fled when our own fighters appeared. Our divisional commander gave a speech: ‘It is the Führer’s wish that the Lebus bridgehead be eliminated as soon as possible. Not without reason, our best regiments are here, and you can be proud to belong to these regiments.’

That evening we had to go to Rathstock, immediately behind the front line, to dig trenches. We left our packs with the company quartermaster-sergeant, taking only the absolutely necessary items, such as weapon, haversack and rations. We did not even take our washing and shaving kit, believing that we would be coming back.

That night a long convoy of carts removed potatoes and grain from Rathstock, which had been completely evacuated of its inhabitants. The Russians heard the noise and started laying down fire on the road, but long after the convoy had gone. We were marching silently forward in our ranks when several explosions bringing vile smoke suddenly struck quite close to us, and we vanished into the roadside ditches like lightning. As the explosions gradually got closer, our enthusiasm disappeared. Eventually Ivan quietened down and we could continue on our way. We had survived our baptism of fire well.

In Rathstock, which had been badly damaged by the shelling, we reported to the battalion command post. However, it was now two a.m., so we were no longer required to dig trenches. Instead we could take it in turns to sleep while some of us kept watch.

The battalion command post was located in the Rathstock manor farm, the only big farm in the area, and surrounded by small buildings. The Russians could naturally assume that soldiers would be accommodated in these buildings, which is why they shelled them from time to time. The previous day observers had established that the enemy were bringing forward reinforcements and an attack was expected, which is why we were being kept in reserve at the manor. We had to keep watch for two hours and then could sleep for four. I stood watch in the morning and had a good view of the area from a window on the first floor. However, I did not see any Russians, as we had snipers out firing at a range of 600 metres. I had just finished my watch when the Russians fired on the manor farm again. Hit after hit struck home, and gradually the building began breaking up. We had gone down into the cellar and were waiting for the firing to end, but it seemed that this would be the end of us instead. The cellar ceiling started to crack and chalk fell down on top of us. Another hour of this and we knew for certain that we would be buried under the rubble.

I had nothing left to smoke and so borrowed eight cigarettes from Hinnerk Otterstedt. I never got to return them. At last, when nothing was left standing of the building, the Russians stopped firing.

That evening we went into the front line and were divided up among several companies. Otterstedt, Hintze, Bebensee, Thode, Schoone, Meieringh and Borstelmann went to the neighbouring company, while I stayed with Gessner, Warrelmann, Erhardt, Bücklers, Pohlmeyer, Krahl, Gillner and Pfarrhofer in 4 Company, where our company commander was Second Lieutenant Reifferscheidt, and my platoon leader Staff Sergeant Lauffen.

The further forward we went, the heavier was the machine gun fire. Explosive bullets were going off all around us. We would get to know their horrific effect later. They were exploding with loud bangs in front, behind, near to and above us in the trees. We came to a communication trench that we had to crawl through on all fours and eventually reached the front line without casualties.