Eastern Inferno: The Journals of a German Panzerjäger on the Eastern Front, 1941-43 (3 page)

12 June 1941, Łasków, Poland

12 June, 1941:
After an extremely exhausting journey that lasted several days, we arrived in łasków [Poland], about 8 kilometers from the Russian border. Our march went from Kiacz-Wielki via Opatów Lublin-Krasnistaw-Zamosc-Hrubiczo, to our current location. The dust and heat are terrible.

Łasków, which is nothing more than a small hick-town with an unmistakable Ukrainian feel to it, is populated by friendly and clean people. The houses [
blockhüssen
] are small, single-story constructions with thatched roofs. As wood and straw are the most common construction materials, both the barns and the houses are made from woven willow. The rooms, small but cozy, are always whitewashed or painted light blue with woven straw mats and beautiful local flowers decorating the ovens, walls, and ceilings. Vibrant embroidered pillows and curtains in their blaze of color create a warm but simple atmosphere in the tiny rooms. We pitch our tents in the barn and enjoy some well-deserved peace and quiet.

13 June:
Drive to Zamosc in order to take position. The beauty of the town’s market is remarkable. The rich baroque façades of the town hall and center, though unfamiliar to me, are delightful. Truly a wonderful style! Russian churches with their onion domes are found everywhere along the way. The street signs and store fronts are mostly bi-lingual—German and Ukrainian.

14 June:
Received orders to drive to the Bug River. With the main intelligence unit [
Offz.-Erkundungstrupp
] already on location there, I am ordered to map out our observations of the enemy’s positions. On my way there, the construction and support units [
bau-und-pionierentrupps
] were feverishly working on the roads in disrepair, rushing to build a corduroy road across the swamps and mud.

I arrive in Piaseczno around noon. The forest there has already been taken by the Russians. The Russian flag, with its hammer and sickle, waves within a stone’s throw. It is unimaginable what would happen to our cohorts if the Russians were to get the idea to send out a reconnaissance unit to explore the area. We know all too well that this is possible.

How should we handle this? The Russian bunkers and machine gun positions are just 100 meters away, facing ten soldiers and a few
pionieren
[engineers]. The river is the border—past it, the abyss. If the Russians do come, we will be unable to retreat, as we are without vehicles. Are we the scapegoats who are supposed to be slaughtered by the Russians [as an excuse] for the German attack? Similar situations took place in Poland. A truly honorable death sentence! Nevertheless, we sleep peacefully. We do not even bother to set out guards. Why should we, only to anticipate the inevitable?

My dear Rosel, if I wrote to you about such events, you surely would not find any peace of mind. How good it is that you do not know about this.

15 June:
The situation is becoming more and more serious. Russian scouts were on our side of the river last night, close to our encampment. Gauging from the footprints in the sand, it must have been a group of at least twenty men. What a fine mess we have gotten ourselves into! Should we fire at them?

We are now no longer able to make a move without being noticed. They track our every movement with their
scherenfernrohr
[scissor telescopes] all day long. We have to sneak like Indians to the riverbank in order to accomplish our task. This is how I will have to map out the enemy’s positions and establish the artillery sectors tomorrow, which should allow us to complete our assignment. I hope that will be the result!

16 June:
What luck we have! I was able to finish my task without any disruption from the Reds [
die Roten
]. I now also know the location of where we, along with our
pionieren
, are going to traverse the river. Once again we will be part of the first wave! Since the mission is intended to surprise the Russians, the attack will probably commence in a few days. The forest to our rear is filled with intense activity. Heavy artillery has been placed in position. Our panzers have also arrived. Flak cannons were set in place last night.

There is a great deal of activity on the enemy side as well. The Reds have strengthened their positions, and given the noise from the opposing forest, they appear to have rolled their tanks into position. I am extremely tired tonight and it is still unbearably hot.

Hans Roth on leave with his wife Rosel.
(Photo courtesy Christine Alexander and Mason Kunze)

17 June:
It is raining, which is a blessing for the local farmers, but bad news for us. Where there were paths yesterday there are muddy creeks today, which reach up to the top of my jackboots.

Our commander [General Willi Moser] arrives at noon. He brings bad news, declaring that we have to stay put for a few more days. The weather clears up in the evening, and a stroll down to the bridgehead on the Bug wonderfully relaxes my nerves, which have suffered greatly under the tension of the past few days.

I now know the day of the attack. It will unfold on June 21, and stretch across an expansive front. What will the following weeks bring? I think of my dear family with longing. As I have asked myself so often in the past, I wonder if my longing actually comes from simply missing the comforts of civilian life. I thought about this on my way down to the fortifications on the Bug: such an idea is not possible. Time and time again I envision Rosel and Butziben [daughter Erika]. How else could the true love that speaks from each line of her letters touch me so deeply? These two people are the most precious things that life could have taken away from me.

My thoughts are with Father and Mother, these two kind beings; the love between is us great. With gratitude I think of all the good things they have done for Rosel and me. God willing, I will get through the coming weeks—for their sake.

18 June:
It is now becoming serious. Under the cover of night, the entire division will move into attack formation. Reinforcement troops from the 528th Infantry Regiment arrived today around noon—young guys with fresh faces. For some of them, the sun will shine for only a few more days. Such is the soldier’s fate! I expect the attack to occur across the front on Sunday.

This new day has already brought great joy to me—two lovely letters from my dear Rosel and one sweet letter from Hanau.

19 June:
My most recent observations lead me to assume that our section [of the front] should expect great resistance. Will our surprise maneuver really succeed?

Further to the rear, farmers are forced to leave their fields and property. Our troops might also have to advance tomorrow. It is atrocious. The farmers’ wives hurl themselves on the ground, pulling their hair. All this damn crying! There is no way we can help them!

Hurray! The greatest battle of all times will start the day after tomorrow!

20 June:
Our cabin is being abandoned. The division has arrived; final preparations for the strike on the Bug fortifications.

21 June:
The attack starts tonight at 0300 hours. We are attached to the von Kleist group [
1st Panzergruppe
commanded by Field Marshal Paul Ludwig Ewald von Kleist]. Our assignment: a rapid putsch in wedge formation, regardless of casualties…

For the moment there is a quiet, wonderful, twilight peacefulness over the countryside. The huts in the village will be on fire in a few hours; the air will be filled with the howling and screeching of shells. The impact of the shelling will tear apart the fields and roads.

How amazing it is that we are once again part of this offensive—fighting under Kleist. Farewell my wife and sweet Erika. Farewell my beloved parents. You will be in my thoughts tomorrow. Do not worry; a soldier’s luck will be with me.

22 June:
All of a sudden, at exactly 0315 hours, and apparently out of the blue, an opening salvo emerges from the barrels of hundreds of guns of all calibers. The howling and staccato of Stalin’s arsenal fills the air as if Armageddon had begun. It is impossible to comprehend one’s world in such an inferno.

Our homeland is still innocently asleep while here death is already collecting a rich harvest. We crouch in our holes with pallid but resolved faces while counting the minutes until we storm the Bug fortifications… a reassuring touch of our ID tags, the arming of hand grenades, the securing of our MPi [
machinenpistole
: submachine gun].

It is now 0330 hours. A whistle sounds; we quickly jump out from undercover and at an insane speed cross the 20 meters to the inflatable boats. In a snatch we are on the other side of the river where rattling machine gun fire awaits us. We have our first casualties.

With the help of a few
sturmpionieren
we slowly—much too slowly—eat through the barbed wire barriers. Meanwhile, shells fire into the bunkers at Molnikow [Ukraine].

We finally get out of this mess. In a few short steps we are able to advance to the first bunker, arriving in its blind spot. The Reds fire like mad but are unable to reach us. The decisive moment is near. An explosive specialist approaches the bunker from behind and shoves in a short-fused bomb into the bunker’s fire hole. The bunker shook, and black smoke emerged from its openings, signaling its final doom. We move on.

Molnikow is completely in our hands by 1000 hours. The Reds, hunted by our infantry, disperse quickly to Bisknjiczo-Ruski. Because the crossing of the river by our panzers is progressing slowly, we are ordered to cleanse the village of any remaining enemy combatants. The area is combed house by house. Our shelling has caused terrible damage. The Reds, however, have also done their fair share.

Slowly, our nerves grow accustomed to the all too familiar gruesome images. Close to the Reds’ customs house lies a large mound of fallen Russians, most of them torn to shreds from the shelling. Slaughtered civilians lie in the neighboring house. The horridly disfigured bodies of a young woman and her two small children lie among their shattered personal belongings in another small, cleansed house.

I am compelled to think of you Rosel and Erika, when I witness such horrible images. How wonderful it is that we are able to exterminate these murderous beasts. How good it is that we have pre-empted them; for in the coming weeks these bloodhounds might have been standing on German soil. It is inconceivable what would have happened then!

We have taken our first prisoners—snipers and deserters receive their deserved reward.

After our panzers arrive, we proceed with our attack under nothing more than light fire and make our advance via Motkowicz-Myskzów, approximately 40 kilometers from the front. We meet serious resistance near Biscupicze.

Helmulth Pfaff and his 14th are pressed hard by enemy tanks. With many casualties, he has had to retreat to Biscupicze. According to his observations, we should expect an attack from 50—some heavy—tanks. We move into hedgehog formation at sunset. Although everyone is extremely exhausted after the first day of fighting, no one thinks about sleeping. It is an uneasy, restless night.

23 June:
The morning starts with light artillery fire. The Red tanks still have not left their deployment area. We can apparently expect panzer and Stuka [
Sturzkampfbomber
] support at around 0800 hours. This good news has noticeably raised our morale.

In the interim, our Luftwaffe comrades deliver a bit of entertainment. Dogfight after dogfight is fought over our heads. One after another, nine Russian bombers are shot down and crash to the ground in flames. This is the precision work of which [fighter pilot Werner] Moelders and [Adolf] Galland are true masters.

The Russian tank attack commences at noon, with the German counterattack starting thirty minutes later. Never have we experienced anything like this: 100 Russian tanks are fighting against us. The most important thing is to keep the blood cool and the nerves calm. We eliminated four tanks within a short amount of time. Approximately 20 Stukas dive bomb, howling from the skies, to attack the Russian tank line. By the afternoon, the battle is decided to our advantage. More than 60 enemy tanks stand burned out or crushed all over the battlefield. Most of the enemy units retreat back to Babicze. We follow close behind them during the night so that we will be able to encircle them.

24 June
: Encirclement of the enemy has been achieved by dawn and continues to close in, despite the desperate attempts by the Reds to break through. The battle culminates around 0900 hours. The tremendous pressure on the enclosed division worries us. The Russians run like maniacs against our lines. The situation becomes extremely critical around 1000 hours, with the enemy encirclement being breached to the southern end of the valley basin.

Artillery fire has been ordered, and just minutes later, scores of heavy shells hiss and howl over our heads. A wall of black smoke stands before us. The smoke is at times white, and occasionally holes are torn into it from the shrapnel. The entire valley swills from the impact of the shelling. We are able to reach the first buildings in Babicze under the cover of the well positioned fire. The damn spiral mines [
spiralminen
] explode one after another in angry thunder right before us and over our heads. That sound—that nasty and poisonous sound from the swarms of artillery shelling. With our faces contorted by anger, we jump into the Reds’ shrapnel trenches. Anti-tank grenades hammer into their fortifications. All goes crazy now and chaos erupts. The shelling from the Reds spews forth clouds of shrapnel which blow over us.… And from these swirls of fire rain down showers of metal into the small pond right in front of us.