All language subtitles for [English (auto-generated)] Memoirs of a Waffen SS General. SS-Panzer-Divisions „Leibstandarte“ and „Hitlerjugend“.Eastern Front [DownSub.com]

Hello dear friends. Today we will take a

look at the memoirs of Waffan SS Major

General Curt Meyer. This general

commanded the elite soldiers of the

Third Reich. These memoirs are

interesting because they give us a

glimpse into the career path of the

Waffan SS general. He commanded a

motorcycle company, a reconnaissance

battalion, a grenadier regiment, and an

SS tank division.

The combat units of Armored Meyer, as he

was nicknamed in the army, took part in

fierce battles. The invasion of Poland

and France, the occupation of the

Balkans and Greece, and the brutal

battles on the Eastern Front and the

campaign in Normandy, where the division

was almost destroyed.

These are perhaps the most dynamic

memoirs I have ever read in my entire

life. Curt Meyer was always at the

forefront of the attack. His rapid

attacks are simply astonishing. They

accompany us throughout his story. He is

an incredibly daring, brave, and

unyielding man. He managed to survive in

conditions that are difficult to even

imagine.

Don't forget to rate the video and leave

your opinion on this material. Well,

let's begin. Polish campaign.

We all stood and waited for this moment.

Our eyes, which were already beginning

to blur, were fixed on the hands of the

clock. At dawn, the engines of the cars

roared. We increased our speed, going

faster and faster to the very border.

I listened intently to the silence of

the morning twilight.

At any moment, clearing the way for us

to the east, the first shells of our

artillery were to begin their deadly

flight. And suddenly, hissing, howling,

and piercing screeches hung over us,

creating the impression of even greater

speed, which we felt with every nerve.

Approaching the border, we glanced at

our assault groups as they rushed toward

the border fences and destroyed the

obstacles with high explosive charges.

Machine gun fire swept down the street,

and short, blinding flashes from

exploding grenades illuminated the

targets. Our tanks and armored vehicles

burst into the village of Golola at full

speed. The infantry assault units

captured the bridge over the Prozna

River. It had already been prepared for

demolition and fell into our hands

intact.

In a matter of minutes, the village was

occupied.

Polish soldiers climbed out of their

positions, stunned and bewildered, and

walked toward us with their hands up.

They still couldn't believe that just 10

minutes after the start of hostilities,

the war was over for them.

I stopped in front of the body of a

Polish officer.

A bullet had pierced his throat. Warm

blood spurted from the wound.

Yes, this was war.

This first death I had seen in this war

clearly imprinted its grim reality on my

mind.

But we had to move on. Uprooted trees

and burning houses made it difficult to

advance. We could barely make out the

road. The fog rising from the ground

mixed with the smoke from shell and bomb

explosions.

I could not remain with the regiment

headquarters.

Passing Gola, I moved forward with a

reconnaissance patrol.

Of course, as commander of an SS tank

destroyer company, I had completely

different responsibilities.

An enemy tank attack was not expected

and besides my company was divided among

the separate battalions of our regiment.

I was not satisfied with this type of

combat. So I secretly followed the

advancing tanks.

Since 1934 I had been observing the

development of tanks as weapons during

exercises at Doberitz and later at

Zosen.

Now I found myself at war as a tank

destroyer.

Swirls of dust and fog still hung in the

air when I saw two of our tanks in a

motorcycle platoon.

Visibility was less than 300 m.

Suddenly, the ominous silence was broken

by the impact of a shell from a Polish

anti-tank gun.

The first tank spun around and covered

in smoke came to a halt.

Its tracks were still turning when the

second tank was also hit.

Both of our tanks were about 150 m away

from the anti-tank gun, whose position

was well camouflaged.

Shell after shell pierced the armor of

our tanks, and machine gun fire sprayed

the street, forcing us to seek cover.

We heard the cries of the reconnaissance

tank crew and were forced to watch,

unable to come to their aid.

Each time a new shell pierced the armor

and penetrated the tank, the cries of

our mortally wounded tankers inside grew

louder.

We tried to help our comrades who had

managed to leave the damaged tanks and

get out of the line of fire, but it was

impossible.

Enemy machine guns were firing down the

street. Their fire followed the tankers

who had managed to get out of their

wrecked and burning vehicles.

The cries of those who remained in the

damaged tanks grew fainter.

I lay behind a pile of gravel.

I stared, spellbound at the blood oozing

from the holes in the armor of the first

tank.

I was paralyzed, unable to see the

Polish soldiers who were firing, but my

comrades were already lying dead right

in front of me.

Polish cavalry galloped out of the fog.

They rushed straight at us, and the fire

from my machine gun did not stop them.

Only when the motorcycle platoon's fire

mowed down several horses and riders did

the furious cavalry detachment gallop

back into the fog.

Our artillery was shelling the hill in

front of us. While the Grenadier tank

battalion stormed the enemy positions,

the young grenaders moved as if they

were on maneuvers.

Neither machine gun nor artillery fire

could stop them. A seemingly endless

stream of soldiers supported by tanks

advanced on the enemy.

I watched in amazement as the attack

unfolded right in front of me. The tanks

rushed forward. As the attack

intensified, the poles were swept from

their positions.

The offensive continued, meeting almost

no resistance. Neither the enemy nor

natural obstacles could stop it.

Each of the advancing German soldiers

was convinced of the justice of this war

and without hesitation gave his life for

the rights of his people.

For these young warriors, the war with

Poland was not an act of aggression, but

the elimination of injustice.

They wanted to eliminate the shameful

legacy of Versailles, to regain the

territories lost in 1919,

and to end the oppression of the

Germans, who had become a people divided

by borders.

German soldiers drew their strength from

their aspirations.

These young men were the elite of the

nation. They were selected from

thousands of volunteers and underwent

intensive training for four years.

The SS regiment from August 1940 a

brigade and from June 1941 a division

lesband Adolf Hitler was recruited from

soldiers who had reached the age of 19

by the beginning of the war.

Non-commissioned officers were about 25

years old.

Obviously these young people had no

influence on the political events of

1933.

In 1933, they were still school

children, striving for certain ideals

and wishing to devote themselves to

serving those ideals.

At about 10:00 in the morning, the town

of Bolislav surrendered after a fierce

assault and street fighting.

Enemy artillery fire rained down on the

town, causing casualties among the

population.

By nightfall, we were already near Vujo

and were preparing for an attack the

next morning.

The SS motorized regiment, Leeb Dandarta

Adolf Hitler, was attached to the 17th

Infantry Division and was supposed to

cover its right flank from possible

attacks by the Polish Cavalry Brigade.

The approaching darkness hid the

destruction wrought during the day. The

horrific scene of the battlefield was

only visible up close. The glow of

burning villages rose on the horizon and

thick smoke hung over the desecrated

land.

We sat silently behind a half-ruuined

wall trying to comprehend the first day

of fighting and listened to excerpts

from Hitler's historic speech.

I have decided to resolve the issue of

Danzig and the Polish corridor and to

find a way to ensure that the change in

relations between Germany and Poland

will make peaceful coexistence between

us possible.

The Furer's words echoed in our ears for

a long time. Our regiment rejoined the

battle across the Varta River as part of

the 17th Infantry Division and advanced

toward Pabianitza near Woodj.

On September 7th at about 10:00 in the

morning, we reached the outskirts of

Pabanita and received orders to take up

defensive positions to the south along

the hills stretching through RGavola,

Rakov, and Lodge.

Significant enemy forces with anti-tank

weapons occupied Pabanita.

An attack by the first battalion of the

23rd tank regiment had just been

repelled by the defending Poles.

Our damaged and destroyed tanks remained

on the battlefield.

They had been put out of action by

Polish anti-tank guns. The motorized

regiment Lee Dr. Adolf Hitler continued

to carry out its combat mission and

immediately launched an assault.

The first and second companies broke

into the city followed by other units.

This fierce attack forced the Poles to

retreat to the city center, but then

powerful enemy counterattacks followed

against the flanks of the regiment.

The second battalion of the 46th

artillery regiment held its firing

positions with all its might, repelling

persistent counterattacks by the Polish

infantry.

The Polish units advanced relentlessly,

disregarding their losses.

The regiment's command post suddenly

became the main target of the attack.

All the clerks and drivers also had to

fight. The poles approached the command

post through a potato field, and since

the foliage provided excellent

camouflage and concealed the attackers,

we could not see them until they were

within grenade range.

It seemed impossible to stop the enemy

as they drew closer and closer.

Then I jumped to my feet and started

shooting at the potato field from a

standing position.

That was the only way to hit the poles

as they crawled forward. To my right, a

grenadier from the 13th Company was

firing at them as if he were at a

shooting range, firing round after

round.

Our target practice did not last long.

Suddenly, I found myself back at the

bottom of the trench, thrown there by a

bullet that had grazed my shoulder. My

neighbor was killed by a bullet wound to

the neck.

Never again would I try to stop an

attack from a standing position.

The attacks continued with persistence

on both sides, and only towards evening

did the moment come when the poles were

broken.

Hundreds of them surrendered and set off

on the long journey that awaited

prisoners of war.

Meanwhile, the 16th Panzer Corps

approached Warsaw and engaged in battle

with Polish units and formations

defending the city as well as with the

remnants of Polish troops breaking

through to the east.

The commander of the Panzer Corps,

General Heepner, welcomed the advanced

units of our regiment in Nadarin.

We were attached to the fourth tank

division of this corps.

The Libstand Darta Adolf Hitler received

orders to hold the Ultarv Dov line and

prevent Polish units breaking out of the

encirclement from advancing westward

toward Warsaw.

While on the march, the first battalion

of the SS motorized regiment

Liebstandarda Adolf Hitler received

orders to change direction and move

north towards Ultarv.

The motorized infantry followed the tank

and armored vehicle units.

The columns of our troops disappeared

into the night.

General Heepner had no doubt about the

outcome of the war in Poland, but he

foresaw heavy fighting for his 16th

Panzer Corps.

He believed that the Polish troops,

still fighting in an encirclement west

of Warsaw, would make every effort to

break through our positions and reach

the capital.

After a few kilometers, it became clear

that the approaching night would bring

heavy fighting.

We had to fight our way through the

suburbs of Warsaw.

Loud sounds of battle could be heard

from Olargev.

The first battalion reached the main

deployment line and fought against

significant enemy forces.

On the road, retreating Polish columns

closed in on each other and formed a

complete traffic jam.

During the night, they were completely

destroyed.

Hundreds of dead lay among the wreckage.

The entire road was littered with broken

artillery pieces, other weapons, and

abandoned ammunition.

The merciless battle continued until

morning, and both sides waited for dawn

to assess the situation.

When dawn broke, the full horror of what

had happened became apparent.

Not only had many Polish soldiers been

killed on and near the road, but our

fire had also shot down columns of

refugees who had mixed in with the

troops.

Dead and wounded horses hung in their

harnesses from broken carts.

Crying children clung to their dead

mothers, or mothers to their dead

children.

The wounded crawled out of the rubble

and cried for help. The field dressing

station was soon overflowing.

Poles and Germans worked together to

help the victims.

Not a single shot was heard.

The war had been suspended.

The refugees were unlucky. They had

retreated from Pausnan and joined the

military columns, which they thought

would protect them. But instead, they

ended up in a meat grinder.

That night, for the first time, we truly

saw the true face of war.

Now there was no longer any difference

between a soldier and a civilian.

Modern weapons destroyed both.

I did not see a single German soldier

laughing on the road of death near

Ultgev.

Horror touched them all.

The September sun brightly illuminated

the blood soaked road. More than a

thousand Polish prisoners were ordered

to clear the debris.

600 men were sent to the enemy positions

with an offer to surrender.

A single anti-tank gun destroyed the

enemy's armored train.

The exploding ammunition flew into the

air with a terrible roar and completely

destroyed the train.

Over the next two days, powerful enemy

attacks rain down on the positions held

by the second battalion of the 33rd

Infantry Regiment, the second battalion

of the 35th tank regiment, and our

regiment.

But the Polish attacks were useless.

I asked the commander in vain to allow

me to expand my responsibilities and

take a more active part in the battle.

I had to content myself with commanding

a company that was scattered throughout

our regiment in platoon.

I reminded the commander at every

opportunity that I was a tankman and a

motorcyclist and I felt completely

useless in my current position.

But it was all in vain.

For the time being, I remained a tank

destroyer.

During the night of September 12th to

13th, a strong enemy force broke through

the positions of the second battalion of

our regiment.

A total breakthrough seemed inevitable.

Early in the morning, we received a

report that the sixth company of the

Leebond Darta had been crushed and the

company commander killed.

He had always been close to me. We had

served in the same regiment since 1929.

However, we found the report of an

inevitable breakthrough unbelievable.

We simply did not believe that the enemy

could break through our defensive

positions.

After getting orders to check if the

report was true, I jumped on the

driver's seat of a motorcycle with a

sidec car. SS Oberm Furer Feifer came

with me and we headed towards Blown.

Feifer died a few years later while

commanding a tank company.

Once we were on our way, we sped along

the road of death to get rid of the

annoying flies as quickly as possible.

In addition, the horse carcasses stank

terribly.

A few hundred meters from Spitza, I saw

two Polish soldiers and a soldier from

the sixth company of the Leebond Darta

standing behind a small bridge.

The behavior of all three soldiers

seemed so strange to me that I break

sharply, jumped off my motorcycle, and

walked towards this group standing in a

trench.

Only when I reached the edge of the

trench did I understand the reason for

the German soldiers strange behavior.

He had been taken prisoner by these

Polish soldiers and looked at me in

amazement as I walked toward them alone.

Damn, I was damn lucky again.

Only Feifer's MP38 submachine gun

prevented the Poles from sending me to

the other world.

Indeed, our sixth company had been

attacked and defeated. The company

commander lay dead in a trench a few

hundred meters from here.

Feifer and I continued on to Spitza and

soon found our fallen comrade.

His chest had been riddled with bullets.

Sepilang had died like a true soldier.

We will never forget him.

The enemy units that had pushed us back

were destroyed during the day. The front

line was restored.

The SS motorized regiment, Leeb Dandarda

Adolf Hitler and the fourth tank

division of Gner's 16th tank corps were

engaged in the battle on the Bizuro

River to prevent scattered units and

formations of the Polish army breaking

out of the encirclement from crossing

the river.

The Poles attacked with tremendous

tenacity and proved once again that they

knew how to die.

It would be unfair to deny them their

courage. The battle on the Bizura was

desperate and fierce.

The blood of the best of the Poles mixed

with the waters of the river. The Polish

losses were terrible. All their attempts

to break through were repelled by our

artillery fire from prepared positions.

The Polish resistance here was finally

broken on September 18th, after which we

were ordered to attack the fortress in

Modlin.

Heavy fighting with Polish troops

attempting to break through to Warsaw

broke out in a wooded area south of

Modlin.

The first battalion of the Lebanon Darta

was attacked and surrounded by superior

enemy forces.

At 7:00 a.m. on September 19th,

Lieutenant General Reinhardt ordered an

attack to rescue our first battalion and

break through to the Vistula River.

The attack was supported by the second

battalion of the 35th Tank Regiment.

The sticky, sandy roads made movement

very difficult, and wheeled vehicles

could only move very slowly. Another

fierce battle ensued and although the

pole's situation was hopeless, they had

no intention of surrendering and fought

to the last bullet.

During the attack, we found the remains

of SS Oberm Furer Brookman and one SS

Unfurer from the first battalion of the

Libstand Darta.

Both had been wounded, taken prisoner,

and severely mutilated.

Brookman was a platoon commander in my

company and had gotten married just two

weeks before the war began.

The battle for the old Modland fortress

began with artillery preparation and

attacks by dive bombers.

We encountered the devastating effect of

our dive bombers for the first time and

could not understand how the Polish

garrison of this old Russian fortress

could withstand such a barrage of fire

for so long.

Contrary to our expectations, the Polish

units in Modlin put up stubborn

resistance and repelled all attacks.

The fortress fell only at the very end

of the campaign.

On September 25th, Adolf Hitler visited

the front to personally observe the

actions of the 15th company of the

Leebond Darta near Guzo, west of Warsaw.

Infantry divisions replaced our tank and

motorized units around Mlin.

The freed up mobile forces were prepared

for a decisive offensive on Warsaw,

which began with bombing and

concentrated artillery fire and air

strikes on fortifications and key strong

points. The main bombing of the city

began only on the evening of September

26th, while the city's outer forts and

supply bases were bombed a day earlier.

The Poles were not yet ready to

surrender.

120,000 Polish soldiers, not counting

the militia, still remained to defend

the capital.

The Poles agreed to surrender the city

only on the afternoon of September 27th.

Then almost all fighting on the front

ceased. The campaign in Poland was

practically over, but the Mlin garrison

fought until September 30th and the

garrison on the Hell Peninsula until

October 2.

On September 28th, General Blasovitz,

commander of the 8th German Army, signed

the surrender.

We listened with amazement to the

generous terms offered to the Poles.

The officers were allowed to keep their

swords and the non-commissioned officers

and soldiers were only briefly taken

prisoner of war.

Very soon on October 1st, the SS

motorized regiment Leeb Dandarta Adolf

Hitler, like many other units and

formations, was ordered to move west.

We were all sure that we would march to

the banks of the Rine, but we were

mistaken.

On October 4th, we reached Prague, where

we were allowed to stay for 2 weeks. The

regiment was greeted with great

enthusiasm by the German population of

the city. Thousands of people joyfully

welcomed us when we appeared on Weslas

Square.

Constantine vonroth, the venerable

Imperial Governor of the German

Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia,

gave a speech in our honor.

I again reported to the regimental

commander in Prague with my urgent

request to be assigned to other duties.

My experience in Poland had not been

satisfying and I feared that I would

remain commander of the SS tank

destroyer company within the regiment

for the rest of the war. At the end of

October, I took command of an SS

motorcycle company. This meant that I

would be at the forefront of the

regiment.

Although I had long desired this

assignment, I was sorry to part with the

SS tank destroyer company. I had formed

my company in 1936 and had grown

attached to it.

Still, it was nice to know that I was

allowed to take my platoon commander and

several SS Unafuras with me. In

addition, my loyal driver was also

allowed to serve with me in the 15th

company of the Libdan Darta Adolf

Hitler.

Finally, I was in my element. We trained

hard every day. The motorcyclist did so

with enthusiasm, and I found them to be

fully supportive.

My slogan, the motor is our best weapon,

was fully supported by my soldiers.

In just a few weeks, I had won the trust

of my new company and knew that I could

rely on each individual soldier.

We eagerly awaited further developments

on the Western Front. The Blitzkrieg in

Poland gave the soldiers hope that

politicians would be able to end this

ill- fated war and that another military

campaign against the Western Allied

Coalition might be avoided.

Our elucory hope was soon dashed when we

learned that the Allies had

categorically rejected Adolf Hitler's

peace proposals in early October.

After that, it became clear to our

soldiers that the war could only be

ended by fire and sword.

The question of how victory in the war

against the western allies could be

achieved occupied the minds of young

grenaders as much as it did the minds of

the most experienced military

commanders.

Everyone agreed that defense alone would

not achieve the result the country

needed.

The commanders and soldiers were united

in their view. If political

understanding was impossible, then only

a general offensive would bring the

results and peace that we all wanted.

In November, our unit advanced to the

Cooblins area and came under the command

of General Gudderion.

We used the experience gained in the

Polish campaign and trained the soldiers

to perform new tasks.

Planning, exercises, and training

followed one after another without

interruption.

The enthusiasm of the soldiers I

commanded inspired me once again.

Neither the hardships of training nor

the winter cold dampened the zeal of the

young warriors.

Combat training continued under the

slogan, "Sweat saves blood.

Better to dig a 10-meter trench than a

one-me grave."

My company was housed in empty houses in

Bamps, located on the banks of the Lawn

River.

The rugged terrain there was very

suitable for our combat training, as we

knew that our advance with Cadarian's

19th Panzer Corps would take us through

the wooded Arden, and we would encounter

terrain problems similar to those we had

encountered in the Veesterva where we

were based.

Like the Arden, this is part of the

Renish Slate Mountains.

Gudderion inspected each company. His

exercises in planning were of particular

interest to us. All his comments served

as excellent guidance. He said that the

tank's engine is your weapon just as

much as its gun.

Under the command of this extremely

experienced commander, we prepared

ourselves for the inevitable advance to

the west. On December 24th, 1939, Adolf

Hitler visited us in Bamps.

He spoke to the regiment and told us

what hopes he had for us.

He hinted that we would soon have to

walk the battlefields sprinkled with the

blood of our fathers in the struggle for

lasting peace and a strong Europe.

In February 1940, we were transferred to

Vonbach's Army Group B and moved north.

The unexpected deployment came as a

complete surprise. We would have

preferred to remain with Gdderion.

The transfer marked a new stage in our

training. We were assigned to the 227th

Infantry Division. As a motorized unit,

we were ordered to cross the Dutch

border at the start of hostilities,

break through the border posts, and

reach the ISIL River.

Carrying out this order required the

troops to move at full speed in order to

quickly capture the numerous bridges

over the canals and above all over the

ISIL River.

We constantly trained in crossing rivers

and canals. Soon we had worked through

all possible combat situations and were

confident that we could accomplish the

task assigned to us.

My unit was stationed in Saltsburgen and

I stayed at the priest's house. It was

there on May 1st that I met the famous

Bishop Graanggalan

who a few years later would fight for

the revision of my death sentence and

draw the judge's attention to the fact

that justice must be based on Christian

principles.

Grafang Galan insisted that my company

receive his blessing.

With the onset of favorable weather on

May 9th, 1940, the code was transmitted

and operational readiness was declared.

At 2:00 in the morning on May 10th, the

next code was given, Danzig.

This was the final order to attack the

Dutch border fortifications.

We left Saltsburgen in the dead of night

and moved quietly in the darkness.

People stood on both sides of the road,

waving goodbye to us. They wished us

luck and a quick return alive and well.

The final preparations for the attack

were completed at 4:00 in the morning on

May 10th.

I gathered my young motorcyclists again

to remind them of the basic principles

of combat.

When dawn broke on that fateful day of

May 10th, I promised my soldiers that

every officer in our combat group would

always be on the front line, thus

confirming the principles of leadership

we had adopted.

In the presence of my soldiers, I shook

hands with all my officers to emphasize

my promise.

The attack began at exactly 5:00 in the

morning. Our assault squad attacked the

outpost near Depapi from an ambush and

captured the Dutch who were stunned by

the suddeness of the attack.

We captured the bridge over the Feck

River intact and the assault squad cut

the wires of the explosive devices.

Above our heads, countless U52 transport

planes flew westward. Our comrades in

arms from the 22nd Airborne Division and

other units were flying to their landing

sites.

German fighter planes swooped through

the air like hawks, diving toward their

predetermined targets.

It was as if we were seized by a fever.

As soon as the border barrier was

removed, the bridge behind it was

immediately taken under guard. And then

we raced along the smooth asphalt road

like race car drivers.

Max Vinca, commander of the first

platoon, raced ahead of his soldiers and

carried them forward with his

enthusiasm.

I followed Vinc's platoon and was

surprised that we encountered no

resistance.

Our advance towards Oldenzal and

Hangalow continued at full speed.

The concrete tank barriers and bridge

defenses were unprotected.

Some bridges were slightly damaged by

explosions, but we were able to cross

them.

We entered Bora without firing a single

shot.

The inhabitants of Holland stood by the

road and watched the rapid advance of

our troops. Enemy sappers blew up the

bridge over the canal behind Bourne, but

we broke this first enemy resistance and

forced the canal in a matter of minutes.

Doors and walls from neighboring barns

were used to build bridges. Now speed

was of the essence. All motorcyclists

were sent ahead to pursue the enemy

demolition teams and prevent them from

destroying the next bridge. SS Oberm

Furer Cross, commander of the second

platoon, took it upon himself to pursue

the enemy engineering troops.

Meanwhile, the temporary bridge under

construction had become strong enough to

carry motorcycles with side cars.

37 mm anti-tank guns were attached to

the motorcycles. The rapid pursuit

continued.

Unfortunately, the tanks and armored

vehicles were temporarily left behind.

They provided security for the

engineering troops who were quickly

building a new bridge across the canal.

Unfortunately, we were unable to prevent

a team of Dutch saboturs from damaging

other bridges. These bridges, which had

been mined in advance, were blown up,

but these explosions could no longer

seriously hinder our advance.

We reached the city of Zva without any

significant delays. At about 11:00 in

the morning, the vanguard was already on

the outskirts of Zva, which meant that

we had penetrated 80 kilometers into

enemy territory.

The advance platoon under the command of

Ress moved towards the railway

embankment south of the city and then

behind the embankment decided to

continue the advance on foot.

What a surprise awaited our soldiers in

the next minute.

The beautiful chestnut trees on both

sides of the road had been cut down to

block the entrance to the town.

But what good are the best obstacles if

they are not guarded by soldiers ready

for battle?

To the north of the barricade, just a

few hundred meters away, we saw a

machine gun in long range firing points,

as well as anti-tank barriers.

Most surprising of all, their defenders

sat calmly and carefree on top of these

fortifications, eating breakfast.

They were enjoying the May sunshine,

having left their combat posts in the

gloomy casemates and bunkers.

Three barricades prevented us from

breaking through the line of long-term

fortifications and catching the Dutch by

surprise.

However, the fire we opened on the pill

boxes, which had relaxed and missed our

appearance, allowed our soldiers to

quickly overcome the space covered by

the pill boxes without losses.

Before the Dutch could understand what

was happening, our motorcyclists reached

the pill boxes and disarmed their

unfortunate defenders.

However, it took a lot of effort to

remove the trees. Our approaching tanks

began to drag away the giant trees.

Dismantling the barricades took too much

time, which I did not like at all. We

couldn't let the enemy recover. We had

to take advantage of the element of

surprise.

Without a moment's hesitation, I jumped

into the Dutch car and rushed to Zvola

with SS Overtorm Fiora and an SS

Grenadier.

SS Obertorm Bonfurer Eric accompanied us

on a Dutch motorcycle.

I intended to take the city commander by

surprise and force him to agree to a

ceasefire.

The Dutch soldier stood rooted to the

spot in the street when we shouted at

them and pointed to the barricade of

trees where they were ordered to go.

They dropped their weapons and headed in

the direction indicated.

The further we went into the city, the

more uneasy I felt about this excursion.

I wanted to turn back, but it was too

late, and I had to play along until the

end.

The sound of gunfire from the pill boxes

could not be heard in the city center.

Dutch families enjoying a beautiful

Mayday scattered like frightened

chickens under the shadow of a hawk

hanging over them.

Despite the extremely awkward situation,

we couldn't help but laugh at the Dutch

people's reaction.

The imposing building of a civil

institution in the city center and the

sight of people in uniform entering and

leaving it prompted us to try our luck

there.

We drove right into the middle of the

crowd, breaking sharply at the last

moment. The car seemed about to

overturn.

In a split second, all our weapons were

aimed at the astonished people in

uniform.

The Dutch stood rooted to the spot.

A respectable gentleman in civilian

clothes introduced himself to us as the

queen's representative and said he would

instruct the Dutch troops in Zola to

cease resistance.

He kept his promise. Not a single shot

was fired in Zola.

With several captured Dutch officers, we

hurried back to the barricade of trees.

Zvola was ours, but unfortunately, we

were unable to prevent the destruction

of the large bridges over the ISIL.

Both bridges had been blown up early

that morning.

I was almost knocked off my feet when I

drove up to the dismantled barricade.

My soldiers and several young Dutchmen

were having fun riding the carousel with

little thought for caution.

Meanwhile, the third battalion of our SS

Leestand dart Adolf Hitler regiment

crossed the Eizel River 800 meters south

of the destroyed railway bridge at

Zutin.

The SS troops under the command of SS

Sturbon Furer Travant attacked Hoen. The

village was taken at about 2:00 in the

afternoon. Our losses were

insignificant.

The mission of the regimenal combat

group was accomplished. We reached the

Isel River and partially crossed it. The

only casualty in my assault group was

one soldier who was wounded. Motorcycle

rifleman Fleer was shot in the leg at a

tree barricade.

During the night, our regiment was

withdrawn from the 227th Infantry

Division and transferred to the

operational control of the 18th Army

headquarters.

The commander of the 227th Infantry

Division, Major General Zikwolf, praised

the regiment's swift and successful

offensive. As the first officer to

distinguish himself in this campaign, SS

Oberm Fura Cross received the Iron Cross

first class from the general.

Cross and his reinforced platoon

advanced about 60 kilometers beyond the

Isel and captured seven officers and 120

soldiers.

offensive on Rotterdam and the Heg.

After the fighting on the Isel River,

the regiment received orders to advance

to Gertridenberg and establish contact

with the 9th Panzer Division.

After minor skirmishes with Dutch

infantry, we reached our destination

near the evening of May 13th.

Contact with the 9th Panzer Division was

established.

The next morning at 4:00, we began to

advance, crossing the bridge over the

muse.

Thanks to the actions of the

paratroopers, the bridge was in our

hands, intact and undamaged.

During the landing, the paratroopers

were scattered across a large meadow on

both sides of the bridge embankment.

Many of the brave paratroopers were

killed on the approaches to the

long-term firing points defending the

bridge. But the element of surprise

worked here too. The enemy had no way of

destroying this extremely important

bridge. The way to South Holland and the

coast was open. The ninth tank division

advanced to the port of Roderdam and

made contact with the 11th company of

the 16th Airborne Regiment.

The company was dropped from gliders

near strategic bridges, captured these

bridges, and defended them from

continuous Dutch attacks until our tanks

arrived.

The regiment's task was as follows. The

reinforced motorized SS regiment Liebon

Darta Adolf Hitler in cooperation with

the ninth Panzer Division will pass

through or past Rotterdam and continue

its advance towards the Hague.

The regiment was preparing to attack

south of Kotenrect.

Preparations were completed by noon.

Rotterdam was to be attacked at 2 p.m.

after artillery preparation and bombing

by U87 dive bombers and bombers.

My vanguard advanced towards the port of

Rotterdam and stopped near a large Dutch

liner.

The ship had been on fire since May

10th. Its cargo consisted of American

cars.

At 2:00 in the afternoon, a rumor spread

that the Dutch were negotiating

surrender.

The negotiators were General Student,

Lieutenant Colonel Von Holitz of the

22nd Airborne Division, and Dutch

Colonel Charo.

During the negotiations, General Student

was shot in the head and taken away in

serious condition.

Confirmation was needed as to whether

the Dutch High Command had accepted our

terms of surrender.

I was with a group of officers on the

bridge when several groups of H111

bombers approached Roderdam.

Dutch anti-aircraft guns opened fire on

the German planes. The truce was broken.

We tried in vain to attract the

attention of our pilots by firing red

flares to stop the bombing.

We stood in the middle of the target

area of the air attack and believed

until the last moment that we could

prevent it. But as we later learned, the

pilots did not see our signal flares

because of the fog.

Thick clouds of smoke from the burning

ship at the pier created a smoke screen

over the city. When we heard the

whistling of falling bombs, we cleared

the bridge and hurried to the nearest

basement.

That's how it turned out. The bombing

could no longer be stopped.

Roderdam became a sea of fire.

The last bomb fell at 4:00 in the

afternoon.

We looked at the burning city and

experienced the full horror of an air

raid for the first time.

Fire was rising everywhere like a wall.

It was almost impossible to move through

the streets.

Our doubts about negotiations in the

streets of a burning city were dispelled

by the order to leave immediately.

My vanguard was to make contact with

units of the 22nd Airborne Division in

Overshee.

We approached the maze of cluttered

streets and searched for the road to

Overhe, going deeper and deeper into

burning Roderdam, covering our faces.

People were fleeing from this hell to

the port area.

My motorcyclists moved through narrow

streets that seemed to be in the grip of

the devil.

Shop windows around us shattered with a

crash. Burning mannequins and

decorations created an unearly scene.

Further on, we moved through the

deserted streets of the city. There was

not a single Dutchman in sight. They'd

all been driven out by the unbearable

heat of the fires.

Heavy armored vehicles moved through a

thick veil of smoke, and sometimes only

the tail lights of the tank in front or

the armored car following behind showed

the way.

There could be no mistakes because it

was impossible to stop. The heat had

become unbearable.

After we passed the commercial district

and reached the alley, I ordered a short

stop to allow the motorcyclists to catch

up with us.

Covered in soot with singed hair but

smiling faces, the motorcyclists of the

last detachment rode out of the burning

city.

Behind us, everything was already

blocked by a thick wall of fire.

We couldn't turn back, so we had to go

forward.

We advanced cautiously toward Overshy

under the protection of the canal

embankment and were met by fire from

Dutch infantry.

The drawbridge across the canal was

raised.

However, we quickly blew up the drive

mechanism. A heavy vehicle drove onto

the bridge and it slowly lowered.

Ahead of us lay a road to the northwest.

But what did this straight stretch of

road look like?

One after another, our planes landed on

this wide concrete road.

Already on it were completely disabled,

wrecked, or burned out aircraft.

These were transport planes of the 22nd

Airborne Division which used this road

as a runway when they could not use

their designated airfields.

They became targets for Dutch artillery.

The airborne troops steadfastly repelled

all enemy attacks for 3 days.

A particularly fierce battle broke out

in Overshy.

We continued to advance on both sides of

the road. Dutch machine gun and rifle

fire could not stop us. We searched

overseas in vain for survivors of the

22nd Airborne Division. But apart from

traces of battle and the bodies of dead

comrades, we could not find a single

German soldier.

Only when we advanced further in the

direction of Delft did about 10 soldiers

and a lieutenant run out to meet us. The

young officer embraced me in exhaustion.

Around 9:00 in the evening, we reached

Delft and made contact with the

surviving units of the surrounded 22nd

Airborne Division.

On May 14th, our regiment captured 3,536

Dutch soldiers. The disarmament of Dutch

troops in the HEG was completed on May

15th without resistance from the enemy.

The regiment captured 160 officers and

7,000 soldiers.

With the capture of the war ministry,

the war in Holland was over for us.

Invasion of France.

The regiment entered northern France.

After passing through Neamore, Belgium

near the French Belgian border had

Valencen it clashed with French troops

for the first time.

The regiment's task was to prevent the

French, who were cut off in Belgium and

northern France, from breaking through

to the south.

All attempts by the enemy to do so were

suppressed by our fire from quickly

prepared defensive positions.

The regiment then occupied a front of 30

km, which is a lot.

Not far from the old fortress of Leenua,

20 km southwest of Valencian, a field

from which the harvest had just been

gathered gave me a feeling of unreality.

A few hours earlier, thousands of French

soldiers must have been camped here.

Now, not a single French soldier was to

be seen, but countless French helmets

lay on the huge field as if lined up for

a parade.

The neatly arranged helmets, it seemed

to me, expressed the helplessness and

weakness of the French army. It was an

army without morale or self-confidence.

It no longer had the soldiers who had

stood their ground in the Battle of

Verdon.

This army fought without faith in its

righteous cause, and unlike us, had no

clear goals.

The battles of World War I were still

fresh in the minds of French soldiers.

They believed in the impregnability of

their Majino line and therefore in the

invincibility of the defenders of this

greatest fortification in the world.

France not only had the Majinino line

but also possessed the greatest tank

power.

The armed forces of the Allied coalition

had more than 4,000 tanks at their

disposal.

This armored equipment opposed 2 and a

half thousand German tanks at the

beginning of their offensive.

The reason for the rapid defeat of the

French was of course their outdated

command principles and the dispersion of

their armored forces.

On May 24th, the SS motorized regiment

Livestandarda Adolf Hitler was

transferred to the operational command

of Von's tank group and attached to the

first Panzer Division.

A few days earlier, von Kle's rapidly

advancing tank group had reached the

rugged battlefields of the SA from World

War I.

After crossing the canals and passing

through Comre, Peron, Amyens, and

Abbeville, Kle was ready to take

Bolognia.

On May 24th, the first tank division

reached the river at Hula and received

orders to advance on Dunkirk.

As part of this operation, our regiment

attacked Watans.

During the night march, I advanced with

my vanguard up the river and onto the

hill of Watans, whose height of 72 m

allowed it to dominate the surrounding

terrain, a marshy lowland.

This hill reinforced the enemy's

defenses on the opposite bank of the

river, across which the bridges had been

destroyed, and where British and French

troops had taken up prepared positions.

Under these conditions, the hill could

only be captured by a wellplanned and

unexpected attack.

That night, the third battalion of the

Leestand darta Adolf Hitler prepared for

the attack.

Shortly before it began, the crossing of

the river was unexpectedly prohibited by

Hitler's order.

The Luftvafa was tasked with eliminating

the enemy's Dunkirk bridge head.

All offensive operations of von Kle's

tank group were immediately halted.

We were simply shocked by this order as

we were in open terrain on the west bank

of the river and breathed the sigh of

relief when we heard of Septri's

decision to break through despite

Hitler's order.

After effective fire preparation, the

10th company of the Libstandar to Adolf

Hitler managed to cross the river and

reach the outskirts of Watans on the

eastern bank of the river.

Stubborn resistance from the British and

French prevented the advancing troops

from moving forward.

It was only thanks to an attack by the

third battalion of the Leebanda that the

hill was captured.

The hill framed by the ruins of an

ancient castle gave us an excellent view

to the east.

We were standing on the ruins when

suddenly the general commanding the 14th

Panzer Corps appeared and demanded an

explanation from Sept Dietrich as to why

he had advanced despite the prohibition.

Septrich replied, "The area west of the

river was perfectly visible from Watton

Hill. This hill was a thorn in

everyone's side. That's why we decided

to capture it."

General Gudderion approved Septri's

decision.

Moments after this conversation, we were

all lying in the mud, forced to crawl

for our lives, seeking cover from enemy

machine gun fire.

The speed with which the veteran tankers

Dietrich and Gudderion disappeared,

taking cover in the ruins was

astonishing.

As a result, Gudderion ordered the

offensive to continue further in the

direction of Vormubberg.

During this attack, our regiment was

attached to the 20th Infantry Division.

To our right, the 76th Infantry Regiment

attacked. To our left was the Reinforced

Infantry Regiment, Great Germany. The

start of the offensive on May 27th was

delayed because the bridges across the

canal had not been completed on time.

At 8:00 in the morning, an enemy attack

was launched from a small wooded area 2

km east of Waten Hill, which was

repelled by our artillery.

At 9:00 in the morning, our regiment

went on the offensive and advanced

rapidly.

At 10:00 in the morning, the regimental

command post came under heavy enemy

artillery fire, which continued until

noon.

In Bozel, the first battalion of the

Libstand Darta encountered strong

resistance and in addition came under

intense fire from the flank in the area

of the advance of the Great Germany

Infantry Regiment which lagged behind

and only after some time was able to

secure the flank of our advance.

The motorcycle riflemen were on standby,

awaiting the outcome of the attack.

After the capture of Bozel, my vanguard

was to be launched like an arrow from a

tightly drawn bow and taking the British

by surprise, capture Vorm.

I could not waste any more time and

tried to assess the situation with my

own eyes after the attack of the first

battalion of the Leestand Darta Adolf

Hitler.

A motorcycle without a sidecar seemed to

me to be a suitable horse for this

purpose.

Artillery fire at the intersection

forced me to drive at full speed.

Broken telephone wires lay on the road,

turning the ride into an obstacle

course.

Suddenly, I felt a jolt and separated

from the motorcycle, flew like a rocket

toward a tree. From that moment on, I

remembered nothing.

Apparently, someone picked me up and

took me to the regimental command post.

Zep Dietrich's not particularly friendly

voice brought me back to reality.

In accordance with his orders, I was

immediately placed on a stretcher and

received the doctor's prescription not

to get up under any circumstances, as I

had been concussed by the blow.

Sometime later, while still bedridden, I

learned that our unit had begun to move,

and I saw my motorcyclists riding toward

Bull.

The dull roar of the motorcycle engines

was like music to my ears.

My collision with the tree was in the

past. I had to lead my soldiers.

Unnoticed by anyone, I jumped off the

stretcher onto the road and jumped onto

the courier's motorcycle, then quickly

passed the company's advance units. The

commander of the vanguard group, Vuncha,

greeted me with a questioning look, but

he had no opportunity to ask questions.

With the engine roaring, I drove to the

advanced platoon and headed in the

direction of Bols.

My soldiers followed me. They had no

idea that I had just gotten off the

stretcher.

On the outskirts of Bols, we were met

with rifle and machine gun fire. We also

came under mortar fire. Mines exploded

on both sides of the road.

Stopping in such a situation was not

recommended, so we raced at full speed

toward the entrance to the town. It

seemed as if the motorcycles were flying

over the cobblestones of the road. I

knew that it would only take a few

seconds to pass through the dangerous

zone and that my soldiers were following

me without hesitation.

To the left of the road, I saw a machine

gun nest. My motorcyclists were already

out of its firing range. We sped past

the first houses of the town at full

throttle.

Around the bend in the road, we saw the

French hastily erecting a barricade out

of farm machinery.

Without firing a single shot, Eric's

group managed to disarm the barricade

builders.

Behind us, the motorcycle gunners fired

at the gardens on the left and forced

the shocked defenders of the town to

cease fire and gather in the street.

15 enemy officers and 250 enlisted men

and non-commissioned officers were taken

prisoner. We had to report two

casualties.

During the approach, SS Unerstorm Furer

Peters was killed and SS Oberm Furer

Eric was shot in the thigh.

Our bold strike was successful, but I

had to hand over command of my vanguard

to my assistant for a couple of days and

follow the doctor's orders.

On May 28th, the regiment, the second

tank brigade, and the 11th rifle brigade

launched an offensive on Vorm.

At 8:00 in the morning, the tanks began

to move together with the grenaders.

The enemy tried to stop our tanks with

heavy artillery fire.

The enemy had superiority in artillery.

It also had numerous infantry units

here.

Two enemy regiments were discovered in

the area of the second battalion of the

Leebstandarda.

I was at our regiment's command post and

was not allowed to leave it without

permission.

My motorcycle riflemen were waiting for

developments and verms. They were to be

brought into the operation after the

town was taken.

The encirclement around Dunkirk was

tightening. Seep Dietrich and Max Funa

went to the first and second battalions

of the Leebstandard to get a clear

picture of the situation.

At noon, a messenger returned with the

bad news that they had been cut off on

the eastern outskirts of Escalberg.

The second company of the Leestand

attempted to rescue their commander from

the critical situation, but they were

prevented from doing so by intense enemy

machine gun and artillery fire.

The attack by the 15th company of the

Leeb Standard was also repelled by the

defending British.

A reinforced platoon of the sixth

company of the second tank brigade

commanded by Lieutenant Carter lost four

tanks and was unable to cross the open

space.

Lieutenant Carter and Sergeant Kramer

were killed a few hundred meters from

Mezberg.

Sept Dietrich who found himself

surrounded was clearly visible.

He was 50 m from the enemy positions.

His car was parked at a roadblock.

The staff car was on fire and thick

clouds of smoke rose from the ditch.

Fuel spilled into the ditch and ignited

the dry grass.

While all this was happening, Dietrich

and Vuncha, covered in mud from head to

toe, took cover from the fire in a

narrow pipe that ran under the road

crossing.

Five of our medium T4 tanks and a

platoon of light T2 tanks went on the

attack towards the outskirts of

Escalberg.

The tanks moving to the left of the road

advanced through the park which was

stubbornly defended by the British.

The British set fire to fuel that had

been poured onto the park pads, making

it impossible for the tanks to advance

any further. Our entire regiment was

subjected to intense artillery fire.

It was only around 3:00 in the afternoon

that the third battalion of the Leestand

dart managed to break through to the

southeastern part of Vor.

At 4:00, our commander Sept Dietrich was

finally rescued from his predicament by

an assault group from the first

battalion of the Leestandard under the

command of Ernst Meyer.

Unfortunately, the commander of one of

the assault units was killed. He was the

first non-commissioned officer of the

regiment to be awarded the Iron Cross

first class for the Polish campaign.

The second battalion of the Leebonda

steadily pushed forward despite the

stubborn resistance of the enemy who

were fighting to the death. Our

grenaders took house after house and by

about 5:00 in the evening were able to

break through to the market square in

Verms.

All enemy counterattacks were repelled

during a sudden attack by enemy tanks.

The commander of the second battalion of

the Libstond Darta Sternbon Fura Schutz

was wounded.

Two enemy tanks were knocked out and

caught fire. The regiment captured 11

enemy officers and 320 soldiers.

A huge number of artillery pieces,

vehicles, and ammunition were captured

in Verm.

At 11 p.m., our regiment, supported by

tanks, resumed the attack and forced the

British to retreat.

During the night, six more British

officers and 430 enlisted men were

captured.

By dawn, the regiment, meeting no

serious resistance, reached the most

important road.

The enemy troops in the regiment sector

were completely scattered and tried to

escape north to Dunkirk, abandoning

their military equipment and supplies.

The roads leading to the coast and the

port of Dunkirk were completely blocked.

Endless columns of British trucks,

tanks, and artillery made it impossible

to move along them.

The amount of military equipment

abandoned by the enemy was enormous.

The British retreat took on the

character of a disorderly flight.

At 4:00 in the afternoon, an order was

issued from the headquarters of the 16th

Panzer Corps to withdraw from the battle

and prepare for the march.

The SS motorized regiment Leeb Dandarta

Adolf Hitler came under the operational

control of the ninth panzer division and

was to pursue the enemy fleeing to

Dunkirk.

But at 6:00 in the evening, for unknown

reasons, this order was cancelled.

And again, we just watched the British

remaining inactive.

We were not allowed to continue the

offensive. All we could do was watch as

the British left Dunkirk and disappeared

across the English Channel under the

blows of our air force.

One can only imagine how the war would

have unfolded if von Kle's tank group

had been allowed to continue its planned

operation against Dunkirk and capture

the British Expeditionary Force.

The battle against the British was over.

We did not participate in the final

phase of the Dunkirk operation.

On June 4th, the regiment came under the

command of the Sixth Army and found

itself in the Camre area.

The battle of the SA began and the

French positions here were subjected to

powerful blows from German troops which

quickly led to a series of breakthroughs

on the front.

Our regiment was nearby, ready to move

towards Amyen or Peron via the Bapome

fork in the road.

The enemy brought in fresh forces. They

were probably ordered to stop the deep

breakthrough of German troops and buy

time for the French troops fighting on

the SA to retreat and establish a new

line of defense beyond the W.

But there was also a possibility that

the enemy would try to quickly retreat

south during the night.

Therefore, on June 8th, it was planned

to attack with four divisions and break

through in a southwesterly direction.

The regiment was transferred to the

operational control of the third tank

division.

The attack began according to plan. The

breakthrough of the French front was

expanded.

On June 9th, we were suddenly

transferred to the 46th Army Corps

sector and received orders to advance to

Swasan and then in a southeasterly

direction.

By the time my motorcycle riflemen

crossed the A River west of Swasang,

they were exhausted.

But there was no time to sleep. We had

to cross the forest at Villa Cotto

during the night and then head for

Leferte Mon.

Late at night, we entered the dark

forest and moved slowly along the road,

which had been badly damaged by mines

and bombs.

The 124th Infantry Regiment had set up

camp on both sides of the main road in

the forest.

Soon, we passed our last combat guard

positions and entered no man's land.

French soldiers were surrendering.

voluntarily.

Most of them belonged to the 11th French

division.

We were hampered by a dense beach forest

where we expected to encounter the enemy

at any moment, and every sound seemed to

indicate the presence of the enemy.

This advance through the forest

obviously had special significance for

Sept Dietrich.

It was here during the First World War

that he took part in a tank operation

for the first time and destroyed his

first enemy tank.

At around 4:00, we reached Viller's

Carter and took a number of French

soldiers prisoner.

The whole situation already bore the

stamp of the imminent collapse of the

French army. The scattered units of the

French 11th division offered only weak

resistance.

At 5:00 in the morning, we advanced in

the direction of Laferte Mongon and

captured a number of soldiers from the

11th division in a forest 4 kilometers

south of Viller's Carter.

A short distance from Leferton, our

advanced units came under fire from

enemy infantry, but the village was

quickly taken.

The first battalion of the Leebond Darda

managed to take Chateau Tiieri on the

move and advanced to the blownup railway

bridge.

Chat Thierry, an important town for the

Germans, had been abandoned by the

French.

But heavy artillery fire rained down on

its empty streets, turning the sleeping

town into a rather uncomfortable place.

On June 11th, my vanguard proceeded in

the direction of Montreel.

We broke through several lines of enemy

resistance on the move. I had difficulty

restraining my grenaders.

The advance on the MN began.

The next day at 6:00 in the morning, we

passed through Montroy and took the

French by surprise during their wakeup

call.

They willingly laid down their arms and

came out onto the main street.

At 9:00, we reached the MN at Satwin.

Fire from large caliber machine guns and

automatic cannons scattered the enemy

columns on the south bank of the river

even before we seated our position to

the second battalion of the Lee Dandarda

Adolf Hitler and set out to pursue the

already defeated enemy.

Although we had achieved our objectives

reaching the northern bank of the Mann,

the second battalion of the Lebanon

Darda forced the river at Santwen to

create a bridge head. thus ensuring the

possibility of a subsequent attack on

the railway embankment at the bend in

the M.

At 7:00 in the evening, Moasi was taken

and the embankment was captured.

With the creation of this bridge head,

further operations over the next few

days went more smoothly, and the enemy

was deprived of the opportunity to gain

a foothold in the bend of the MN.

During the night, the regiment again

came under the command of the 9th Panzer

Division.

At 1:00 in the afternoon of that

unforgettable June 14th, we listen to a

special broadcast.

German troops are entering Paris early

this morning.

Soldiers from the 11th Company of the

Lie Darta Adolf Hitler stormed into the

church and began ringing the bells.

We stood silently and listened to the

solemn ringing.

No one rejoiced. No victory toasts were

made. No bonfires were lit.

Moved, we accepted this as a fact and

watched with our eyes as squadrons of

our U87 dive bombers flew over the MN,

carrying death south of Paris.

That evening, one of our best junior

commanders died a brave death. He became

an example for his entire platoon.

We continued to advance south through

Mont Morel and Ne with orders to

establish a bridge head across the A

River near Mulan.

The bridge on the highway was blown up

by the French before our eyes.

The explosion occurred just as the

lieutenant of the 10th Rifle Regiment

attempted to cross to the opposite bank.

The officer fell with the bridge into

the fast waters of the Lir.

However, we managed to capture the

railway bridge.

It was set on fire by the French, but

the fire could not destroy the metal

structure of the bridge, and we were

able to create a bridge head.

The enemy offered only weak resistance.

Although the French high command still

had 70 combat ready divisions at its

disposal,

but the French army no longer wanted to

fight.

We encountered only isolated pockets of

serious resistance.

On June 19th, I received an order to

reconoider the road. At dawn, my

vanguard advanced through wooded and

hilly terrain, clearing the way with

cannon and machine gun fire. The

retreating French units again attempted

to create a defensive line to buy time.

These attempts no longer bothered us

much. We had only one goal, to advance

further south. The flanks were no longer

important. We moved along the roads like

a fireb breathing dragon. We could not

stop. Fire was only directed from combat

vehicles and motorcycles on the move.

Our advance began to resemble a wild

hunt.

Around 10 in the morning, we reached a

small hill and looked down on St.

Porsen.

I was moving with the advance guard and

saw French soldiers struggling to erect

a barricade on the road at the entrance

to the town.

The terrain on both sides of the road

was open and the road sloped downhill

for about 800 meters in the direction of

St. Porsen.

These unfavorable terrain conditions

prevented a proper attack on the town.

Therefore, I decided to take the French

by surprise and capture their positions

with a lightning attack. For this

surprise attack, I chose the advance

unit under the command of SS Oberm Furer

Canitt.

I ordered the rest of the attacking

platoon to follow 100 meters behind and

provide covering fire for the advance

unit. The French still had no idea that

we were already so close to St. Porsen.

They were calmly gathering whatever

materials they could find to barricade

the entrance to the town.

Suddenly, our first motorcycle with a

sidec car rolled down the hill and like

lightning jumped onto the road, firing

as it went. The other motorcycles

followed at full speed.

Armored vehicles followed on both sides

of the road, firing their 20mm automatic

cannons, clearing the way for the

advancing motorcyclists.

Mortars pounded the city. In just a few

seconds, all hell broke loose. I hurried

after the advance unit and saw

frightened French soldiers running in

panic from their houses into the street.

Officers justiculated frantically,

trying in vain to get the soldiers to

fight.

The shock was too great and effective

defense was no longer possible. Only

bullets from isolated rifle shots

whistled over our heads.

In a short time, a breach wide enough

for us to pass through was made in the

French barricade. A 75mm gun had been

installed there by the French, but its

crew did not have time to open fire. So

quickly did our advance units act.

However, the enemy's initial confusion

passed and it was no longer advisable to

continue the attack with vehicles.

We now advanced on both sides of the

road in a combat formation on foot.

Turning onto the main street of the

city, we were met with intense machine

gun fire which forced us to be cautious,

but we could not delay any longer. The

attack had to be carried out as quickly

as possible to prevent the bridge at the

far end of the city from being blown up.

The advanced platoon rushed toward the

bridge in short bursts. The French

prisoners ran back, trying to leave the

danger zone.

50 meters from the bridge, the commander

of the assault group, SS Obersttorm

Furakittle, was wounded in the thigh and

barely managed to take cover behind a

large elm tree before debris from the

bridge blown up by the French flew

around us.

As soon as the smoke cleared a little,

we were met with fierce fire from the

French infantry.

The opposite bank of the Sul River was

slightly higher, which created excellent

conditions for defense.

In the current situation, we remained on

the occupied line and I asked the

battalion following us to bypass St.

Porsen and try to capture the bridge

over the S's River about 12 km to the

south.

Meanwhile, behind the blownup bridge,

the enemy felt safe and had no idea that

their complete defeat was imminent.

At 2 p.m. Yoken Piper, commander of the

vanguard company of the third battalion

of the Liebstandarda Adolf Hitler,

reported that the crossing over the SU

had been completed.

To top it off, an enemy company was

captured with all its military

equipment.

The third battalion of the Lie Dandarta

was hastily fed across the river and

launched an attack on St. Porcen.

The battalion attacked the French from

the rear and was able to complete the

battle without significant losses.

My vanguard left St. Porsen and pursued

the enemy to Ghana.

By 4:00, Ghana had been taken without a

fight, and we began to conduct

reconnaissance in the direction of

Vishy.

Heavy tree barricades on the Ghana Vishy

road prevented us from completing our

task before nightfall.

Shortly before reaching Vishy, we took

an artillery unit by surprise.

Its outdated trucks were unable to climb

a steep hill. The guns were obviously

left over from World War I and of course

were of little use. They had probably

been in storage somewhere until then.

The motorized rifle company successfully

disarmed the French without suffering

any losses and sent them back to GNU on

foot.

A demoralized French officer stood on

the road staring gloomily at the guns.

I saw tears streaming down his cheeks.

He stammered, "What a shame.

The soldiers of Verdun should not have

allowed this to happen."

We found that the bridge over the a was

intact and made contact with the German

troops who had occupied Vishy.

On June 19th, 17 officers and 933

soldiers were taken prisoner.

All the prisoners looked exhausted and

demoralized.

On June 29th, the second battalion of

the Leebanda Adolf Hitler reached the

city of Claremont, Verand, and captured

242 aircraft of various types. At the

airfield,

we captured eight tanks, numerous

vehicles, and other equipment.

In addition, the battalion took a major

general, 300 officers, and 4,000

soldiers prisoner.

A French captain, captured immediately

after the start of the attack at Pont Du

Chateau, volunteered to be a negotiator.

Despite his white flag, he was shot dead

by French soldiers when he approached

the French positions to ask for the

surrender of the so-called open city.

On June 23rd, our vanguard moved towards

Saint Etienne and two kilometers north

of Lafuyo came under sporadic fire from

behind barricades on the road.

The advance unit drove into the

undergrowth on both sides of the road

and attempted to reconoider the approach

to the far end of the barricades.

I was moving along the ditch with the

second platoon and had barely passed the

anti-tank barriers when intense fire

began and a tank rolled out from behind

the barricade.

It moved across the open space firing.

We huddled at the bottom of the

anti-tank ditch like rabbits and watched

the approaching steel monster.

Half dead, we watched as the tracks

moved closer and closer to the edge and

seemed to slip down into the concrete

ditch.

Finally, the tank stopped right above

us, just before the slope of the ditch.

The tank and our anti-tank gun engaged

in a duel at a distance of only 20 m

from each other. The anti-tank gun fired

first, and after a loud bang, we heard

the piercing whistle of a ricocheting

shell.

But the second shell also failed to

penetrate the tank's armor. It was too

thick for the shells of our 37 mm gun.

We saw the tank roll straight towards

the anti-tank gun and fire point blank

at the gun crew.

Just a few meters short of the destroyed

gun. The tank turned around and returned

behind the barricade.

We were relieved to see that the second

shell had jammed the tank's turret and

the crew could no longer aim the gun

properly.

Unfortunately, three tank destroyers

from the anti-tank gun crew were killed.

They were the last of our soldiers to

die in the French campaign.

From the position of the advance unit, I

could see a total of six enemy tanks

hiding behind the barricades.

They were veterans of the First World

War, built for the planned and failed

offensive of 1919, and had never seen

combat.

Half an hour later, the tanks were

forced to retreat under fire from our

150 mm guns.

The road to Santienne was open.

The next morning, the first battalion of

the Leech Danda Adolf Hitler regiment

entered the city and captured several

hundred more French soldiers.

At 9:00 in the evening on June 24th, we

learned that a truce had been concluded

between Italy and France. Although the

truce between Germany and France had

been signed two days earlier on June

22nd,

the fighting in France was over.

Was this the end of the war? The

armistice agreement established a

demarcation line and on July 4th we had

to withdraw from the occupied territory

to the north.

Then our regiment was transferred to the

command of the 12th Army and left for

Paris early in the morning.

We were to take part in the upcoming

parade.

Despite the defeat suffered by the

French army, the French population was

quite welcoming.

Shortly before reaching Paris, we

learned that most of the French fleet

had been sunk or captured by British

ships in the ports of Iran, Dar,

Alexandria, and others.

This deeply shocked the French.

Never before and never since have I seen

so many people crying as I did then in

France.

Churchill's actions were seen not as

military action but as a crime.

Paris was surrounded by a tight ring of

von Brieon's division.

The city center could only be entered

with permission and a pass from

headquarters.

My soldiers and I took the opportunity

to see the sights of Paris.

Since the planned parade was first

postponed and then finally cancelled,

the regiment left Paris and moved to

Mets.

I asked Sept Dietrich for permission to

leave 24 hours early to show my soldiers

the blood soaked battlefields of World

War I at Verdun.

The Battle of Verdon lasted from

February 21st to December 18th, 1916

and cost the Germans 600,000 dead and

wounded and the French 358,000.

Permission was granted and on July 28,

1940,

about 100 soldiers gathered at Fort

Duoman.

Together we made our way through the

casemates that had been taken by brave

Brandenburgg grenaders 24 years earlier.

We stood deeply impressed in front of a

huge casemate whose gates were walled up

and behind which countless German

soldiers found eternal rest.

The ravaged earth in the area around the

ruined Fort Duoman spoke for itself.

Rows of craters, a lunar landscape.

The short grass could not hide the

suffering of this land. Trenches

crisscrossed the terrain like deep

wrinkles.

Between Fort Duoman and the casemade

crypt, we discovered the fresh grave of

our fallen comrade, who had lost his

young life just a few weeks earlier.

With our heads bowed, we stood at this

abandoned grave and looked at the

countless graves to our left.

Thousands and thousands of wooden

crosses stood in neat rows.

Words were powerless to express what we

were feeling.

Here were invisible regiments whose

former existence was marked by crosses.

From the casemate crypt, we slowly

climbed up to Fort Vo and tried to

imagine the incredible efforts of the

German and French soldiers who lost

their lives on this hill in June 1916.

We climbed to the top of the hill, which

had been plowed by shells, where the

fort stood, and tried to trace the path

of Lieutenant Keel, who with about 40

grenaders had advanced to the center of

the fort through the eastern moat on

July 2nd, 1916.

We soon gave up this endeavor.

Nothing could be found in the dugup

earth.

In this place, man's propensity for

destruction had changed the face of the

earth.

In our imagination, we pictured the dark

shadows of the grenaders advancing,

breaking through the hurricane fire and

the breach in the outer wall of the

moat.

We imagined German sappers using

flamethrowers against the embraasers

from which fire was being directed and

neutralizing the gun crew in the armored

turret.

Today that armored turret lay shattered

at our feet.

As I told my soldiers about the

situation in which the French garrison

found itself, I thought I could hear the

deafening roar of French artillery

trying to suppress the German grenaders

who had taken the fort.

In the dark corridors of the fort, we

found traces of fire on the walls and

ceilings of the casemates and learned

the effect of German flamethrowers.

Shocked, we stood by the sistern, which

was partly responsible for the fall of

the fort after 3 months of fighting, and

vividly felt the agony of the French

soldiers dying of unbearable thirst.

But the Germans who took the fort on

June 7th found themselves in the same

situation.

Sweat and blood were on every bottle of

water that made it into the fort,

passing through a storm of fire and

metal.

Visiting this historic site turned my

comrades into silent listeners.

Without uttering a single word, they

surrounded me as I told them about the

heroic battles of June 8th, 1916.

On that day, the French attacked seven

times in an attempt to recapture the

fort.

But the exhausted Germans fought like

madmen. They were not going to surrender

the fortress they had taken at the cost

of so many lives.

At dusk, we passed a group of 21

soldiers and two German officers who had

broken through the French barrage and

reinforced the defending force.

They were the remnants of two German

companies.

All the others had remained on the

battlefield.

Under cover of night, our vehicles moved

eastward.

Visiting the battlefield made us more

cautious.

Verdun taught us that despite having

survived two campaigns, we had not yet

experienced the terrible hardships that

our fathers had endured.

Formation of the reconnaissance

battalion in Mets.

On July 29th, we settled in a fort in

Mets.

The fort was located west of the Moselle

and offered a view of the picturesque

Moselle Valley.

In the fort, we discovered old batteries

of German crop cannons from the early

20th century.

There was even ammunition for them. It

was stored neatly arranged next to the

cannons.

The inventory list of the cannons was

also of German origin.

German artillery men were forced to

surrender these cannons as well as the

lands of Lraine and Alsace conquered by

Prussia in 1871

to the French in 1919.

After much hard work and effort, we

managed to adapt the fort to accommodate

troops. The fortress was to become a

training camp for the newly created

reconnaissance unit, Livande Adolf

Hitler. Since August, the Lives Darte

regiment has been deployed as a brigade.

I was entrusted with its formation in

August. The basis of the units could be

formed from the 15th motorized company,

a platoon of armored vehicles, and a

platoon of motorcycle couriers from the

former regiment that were at my

disposal.

I was allowed to select additional

personnel from the motorcycle battalion

of reinforcements.

I did not have to search long for

volunteers.

The young motorcycle riflemen wanted to

join the combat units and were happy to

leave their rear barracks.

Excellent, strong young soldiers

surrounded me as soon as I asked if

there were any volunteers.

These were young men who had just turned

18 and had been soldiers for only 6

weeks.

Within a few days, the new battalion in

Mets was complete and began an intensive

training program.

The young men were up to the task. They

enthusiastically followed their

instructor's instructions and became a

team as tough as steel.

The old battlefields became a training

ground for motorcyclists and armored

vehicle scouts.

In the years since Germany's defeat in

World War II, a great deal of nonsense

has been written about the Vafan SS and

especially about its composition.

I think you should get an idea of the

origin and social composition of a

typical SS unit.

As an example, I will quote an excerpt

from the registration log of the second

motorcycle company of the reconnaissance

detachment live Adolf Hitler.

Before being drafted, the soldiers were

engaged in the following professional

activities.

Technical professions 42%.

Trade 22%.

Individual labor activity 14%.

Agriculture 7%.

Unskilled

15%.

The average age of the soldiers was 19.

The average age of the non-commissioned

officers was 26.

In total, the unit had 450 brothers and

sisters.

All regions of the Reich were

represented.

It is fair to say that these troops

represented a cross-section of German

society. and were neither a unit of the

offspring of important persons nor

mercenaries.

48 officers, non-commissioned officers

and soldiers of this magnificent company

were killed in the six months from July

10th to December 31st, 1941.

During the same period,

122 were wounded.

In the heavy defensive battles near

Rostov in December 1941,

the company's strength was reduced to a

platoon.

How dare today's public figures call

these honest and self-sacrificing young

men party soldiers.

These guys fought for Germany and of

course did not die for the National

Socialist German Workers Party which

ruled the country in those years.

In the fall of 1940, I was sent to a

training course for staff officers in

Alsace.

The chief instructor of the course,

Lieutenant General Biller, commander of

the 73rd Infantry Division, was an

excellent specialist.

During my training, I met a couple of

colleagues with whom I would later

experience several serious situations in

Greece and Russia.

At that time, the units and divisions of

the Leeb Dandarta were practicing

Operation Sea Lion and training in

amphibious landings.

The Moselle River was a favorite place

for training. Under conditions of

secrecy, the training shifted to

conducting combat operations in

mountainous terrain.

We rode motorcycles at breakneck speed

down the steep slopes of the Moselle

Hills.

The area surrounding the fortress with

its high walls and moes looked like a

circus.

We even trained in climbing and

descending rocks with motorcycles and

anti-tank guns. By spring, we expected

to be a well-trained unit ready for

combat in any conditions.

Soldiers, non-commissioned officers, and

officers worked with heavy weapons as a

single team, coordinated like clockwork.

Colonel General Blasowitz praised our

efforts in his speech. General vonzfish

expressed similar sentiments when we

were inspected in Mets for the last

time.

The unit was ready for action and

awaiting orders.

The Balkans.

During World War I, the Germans had a

tough time on the southeastern flank. In

the fall of 1916, at the very moment

when we were suffering the bloodiest

losses in the west at the SA in the east

against General Brucilov's Russian

southwestern front and in the south near

Azanszo, the Allied powers completed

their encirclement of Germany as a

result of Romania's entry into the war

on their side.

For almost three long years, the Central

Powers fought the Allied armies in the

impassible mountains of Macedonia, the

Salonica front. But it was only in

September 1918 that the Allied coalition

forces, French, Serbs, and British under

the command of General Franché Despare

managed to break through the German and

Bulgarian defenses.

With 29 Allied divisions, he reached the

Danube, thereby sealing the fate of our

allies. Bulgaria, which signed an

armistice on September 29th, 1918.

Turkey on September 30th, and

AustriaHungary on November 3rd.

What role the Balkans would play in this

war in the spring of 1941 was anyone's

guess. What was clear was that Winston

Churchill was once again having a

decisive influence on British strategy.

He had organized the landings at

Gallipoli in 1915 and then at Salonica.

In the spring of 1941, London kept

expeditionary forces on standby in the

Mediterranean and then landed them in

Greece. In midFebruary, British Foreign

Minister Eden and General John Dill,

chief of the British general staff, were

in Athens to discuss the deployment of

British troops in Greece.

In January, the first units of the

German regular army entered Romania.

These soldiers, said to be from training

units, were warmly welcomed by the

population.

In early February, we also received

orders to march. No one knew where this

campaign would lead. We crossed the Rine

near Strawber and then proceeded through

the amazingly beautiful landscapes of

southern Germany to Bohemia.

Passing Prague, we headed straight south

and the next morning saw the outlines of

Budapest.

Continuing our journey through the

Hungarian steps, our train approached

the Romanian border. We got to know the

Transian Germans, mainly Saxons, and

their beautiful country near the

Hungarian Romanian border, and were met

with extraordinary hospitality and

cordiality in Brashoff, Hermanat,

and many other outstanding towns and

villages in the Carpathians, which had

long been inhabited by Germans.

Our troops were stationed in the

Campalong area. This once quiet narrow

gauge railway station was completely

transformed.

There was bustling activity everywhere.

In the very first hour of our march

along the road, an incident occurred

that would have repercussions in the

future.

A Romanian lieutenant colonel who was

complaining about the poor roads asked

me to pull his small car out of the mud.

A woman was sitting in the car,

obviously in great pain.

I quickly forgot about this incident.

However, in 1943 in Doberit's Crumpnets,

a Romanian colonel approached me and

greeted me warmly.

He kept telling his comrades that I was

the savior of his wife and son. It took

me quite a while to remember what he

meant.

The Romanian said that when the car got

stuck, his wife was on her way to the

maternity hospital and was about to give

birth.

They arrived at the hospital just in

time and his wife gave birth to a son.

Naturally, we celebrated our meeting in

Germany.

After several weeks of standing in

Campalong, we marched south to Bulgaria

along muddy roads with deep ruts.

The tank tracks sank deeper and deeper

into the ground, and repair crews worked

continuously.

Bare, wide spaces with almost no hills

or forest areas could be seen on both

sides of the road.

From time to time, we passed another

poor village where there was nothing but

a well and a few dirty huts deeply

embedded in the ground with several

windows open to the wind.

Then one morning we saw the wide earthy

brown ribbon of the slowly flowing

Danube.

South of the Danube, the mountains of

Bulgaria rose up through the misty haze.

The sun beat down mercilessly as we

crossed the bridge built by our military

engineers into Bulgaria.

The Bulgarians welcomed us joyfully.

Many memories of World War I were

awakened, and Bulgarian peasants proudly

showed us their German medals.

The march across the infamous road to

the Shipka Pass was unforgettable.

The dangerous sharp turns of the narrow

road were nevertheless overcome rapidly

under the supervision of repair crews.

When nothing else helped on the asense,

the Bulgarians lent us their draft oxen.

Long columns rolled steadily southward

past Sophia into the Strumica Valley.

There was a danger of crashing into the

sharp rock ledges on the road.

Drivers struggled to navigate their

heavy vehicles around the bends of

narrow mountain roads covered with a

thick layer of dust.

These roads with their potholes, steep

ascents and desents, and bends that

demanded the utmost from vehicles and

drivers had not seen such a huge amount

of traffic for many days. A 20 km

traffic jam formed in the Struma Valley,

which became a particularly serious

obstacle to the movement of our troops.

Sappers and military engineers built a

new road, constantly leveling it,

blowing up rocks and erecting new

bridges.

The danger of delaying the advance of

the troops soon passed. The columns

quickly crossed the valley and dispersed

into several valleys, high mountain

ranges, hidden canyons, and wide valleys

effectively concealed the huge military

formations.

Large quantities of fuel, ammunition,

and other supplies were stored along the

roads. The march of convergence was

complete. The assault companies were

ready.

Meanwhile, anti-German circles incited

by the British seized power in Belgrade

with the traditional pro-Russian

sentiments in Serbia playing a special

role.

During the uprising on the night of

March 26th to 27th, the pro-German

government was overthrown and Prince

Regent Paul was forced to leave the

country. As a result, the situation in

the Balkans changed dramatically.

The new government renounced its

alliance with Germany and on April 5th,

1941

signed a treaty of friendship and

non-aggression with the Soviet Union.

After the coup in Belgrade, Hitler had

already decided to eliminate the

Yugoslav threat to our flank.

In addition to General Vanc's first

Panzer group operating from Bulgaria and

General Vanvik's second army

concentrated in former Austria, which

were to break through to Belgrade and

occupy northern Yugoslavia.

The 12th Army under the command of Field

Marshall List, also from Bulgaria,

struck southern Yugoslavia, Scopia, and

then advanced into Greece.

The 12th Army had 16 divisions at its

disposal, plus the Great Germany

Infantry Regiment and our SS Lives Darta

Brigade.

Hitler ordered the attack on Yugoslavia

on April 6th following the conclusion of

a non-aggression and friendship pact

between the Soviet Union and Yugoslavia

on April 5th. The hot spring day was

coming to an end. The heat in the

Strumica Valley was almost unbearable.

Due to the events in Yugoslavia, we

advanced to the northern part of the

valley in Houston, located 20 kilometers

from the Bulgarian Yugoslav border. The

9inth Tank Division had already reached

this border town and had orders to

advance on Scopia and if possible

capture this important junction city. We

were to follow the ninth tank division

almost to Scopia itself, then turn south

and proceed to the Greek border via PLP

and Bullah. My reinforced battalion

assembled in the square in front of me.

Darkness enveloped us as I briefed my

comrades on the most important details

of our upcoming operation. They listened

silently as I explained the task of our

advance guard and pointed out the

problems we could expect.

I also felt it necessary to remind them

of the fierce battles our fathers had

fought in World War I in the mountains

of Macedonia and during the capture of

Monastere, a city for which a sea of

blood had been shed and which was now

one of our first targets. We wanted to

take it quickly and by surprise.

As I spoke, if I felt for the first time

the boundless trust that bound me to my

soldiers, I could have led them into

hell, and they would have followed me.

The night was damp and warm. There was

little talk, and most of the soldiers

smoked.

Everyone wanted to be alone with their

thoughts before the operation.

The silvery moon cast a dim light on the

soldiers as they walked bent over next

to their motorcycles.

The steep bare slope of the mountain

rose ominously, opening up before us as

soon as dawn broke. The white road

snaked steeply up the slope, and we knew

that firing points and dragon's teeth

awaited us at the Stitchar Pass.

The vanguard of the 9inth tank division

set out at dawn, moving westward across

the natural border of a low mountain

range.

Beyond the Stitchar Pass, it encountered

Yugoslav fortifications.

Our heavy artillery opened fire. 88

millimeter anti-aircraft guns and heavy

anti-tank guns destroyed the enemy's

firing points. In a matter of minutes,

they were reduced to smoking ruins. It

all seemed somehow unreal. Far to the

east, a blood red sun was rising, and in

the valleys, the morning fog mixed with

thick clouds of dust.

Rounds of red tracer bullets from our

machine guns flew down into the valley

from the pass we had captured.

Suddenly, enemy planes appeared, flying

low over the mountains. They circled

over the road in the valley and attacked

Houston.

As bombs fell on the city, its streets

and roads in the surrounding area were

filled with columns of our troops. Thank

God the losses were minor, but

unfortunately the commander of the

second battalion of our SS motorized

infantry brigade, Leapstand Darta Adolf

Hitler was seriously wounded.

Moving in columns, we got closer and

closer to the border and finally reached

it towards evening.

The 9th Panzer Division had already

broken through the border fortifications

and was advancing deep into Yugoslavia.

The leading tank unit was advancing on

Scopia, firing on the move. We descended

from the pass, past destroyed border and

road barriers, and skillfully positioned

small concrete firing points.

We came across numerous prisoners, among

whom were many Germans from Bernat, who

greeted us with loud cheers and shook

our hands.

The corpses of dead horses, already

swollen under the southern sun, lay in

the trench. Living horses galloped

across the fields or stood indifferently

at the edge of the road.

The difficult terrain gave way to a

slightly different one. There were fewer

mountains. The high snowcapped peaks

were left behind.

We came across our first destroyed tanks

and fresh graves near Kumanovo, evidence

of the fierce battle for the city.

Darkness fell quickly. The darkness of

the southern knight quickly enveloped

the marching column.

Soon we were to reach the fork in the

road south of Scopia. From Vellis and

beyond we were to take on the role of

the striking vanguard in the advance

south through Priip and Moner.

We reached the last outposts of the

9inth tank division shortly after

midnight and prepared to enter no man's

land.

Before the advanced guard platoon set

out in the vanguard, I once again

briefed its soldiers and commanders,

informed them of the situation unfolding

for us, and wished my comrades in arms

all the best. I sent the platoon off

into the darkness with the words, "Guys,

the night belongs to the good soldier."

The motorcycles set off slowly at first,

then faster and faster. It was

reminiscent of the Dutch campaign. Soon

I discovered that Varjane had personally

taken command and without further ado

rushed south. But here there were no

smooth asphalt roads like in Holland and

France. Our advance was hampered by

narrow mountain roads and gorges.

The road to Pip climbed steeply. After a

short time, the first bullets whistled

over our heads.

Individual enemy soldiers had taken up

positions somewhere in the mountains and

were trying to stop our advance.

I followed the advance guard. A short

command was enough to keep moving

forward and only forward.

Our goal was to capture the territory to

the south and take advantage of the

enemy's confusion.

At the foot of a small hill behind the

village, we came under fire again.

Armored vehicles provided support to the

attacking motorcycle riflemen and fired

tracer rounds at the enemy.

The motorcycle riflemen combed through

the village. Our battalion's first

participation in combat operations led

to complete confusion among more than a

hundred Yugoslavs.

The enemy officers cursed their guard

posts in the mountains. They listened

incredulously to our interpreter's

explanation that the fire from their

posts did not hinder us and we simply

continued moving south.

Half an hour later, it was all over. The

motorcycle riflemen rushed forward. They

were unstoppable.

We continued to move forward in a

frantic race along the mountain road and

across bridges over ravines. We took the

enemy battery by surprise on the march.

After a couple of minutes, the

excitement subsided. With a clang and a

crash, the captured guns fell into the

ravine. At dawn, we arrived in prelip

and made contact with the vanguard of

the 73rd Infantry Division.

The battalion was commanded by Major

Stafater, with whom I had studied at

retraining courses.

Stafater, moving from the east, reached

prelap without significant losses.

It looked like it was going to be a hot

day. We allowed ourselves a short and

much needed rest. We had advanced far

toward the strategically important city

of Monaster.

At dawn, a light rain began to fall. It

mixed with the dust and turned it into

gray, sticky mud.

We gazed anxiously at the fleeing

shadows of the night. The road now led

to a plane with only one high mountain

visible on the right.

Around the bend, we saw the Churner

River where we noticed a solid bridge

with steel arches. It had not yet been

blown up.

Several enemy trucks and horsedrawn

carts were approaching the bridge. I saw

only the bridge. Nothing else interested

me. It had to fall into our hands,

intact and undamaged.

Two armored cars broke away from the

marching column and opened fire with

their 20mm automatic cannons on the

distant approaches to the bridge.

Our lead vehicles rushed toward the

bridge as if driven by the devil

himself.

Yugoslavian horsedrawn carts and trucks

trying to get away from us collided in

their eagerness to outrun each other and

created traffic jams.

They were only a 100 meters away from

us. Bullets whistled past us. I could

already see the undamaged bridge in my

hands, but then echoing across the

entire river valley, there was a

deafening explosion.

The bridge blew up right before my eyes

and collapsed into the water. The

enemy's horses, soldiers, and vehicles

were thrown into the air along with the

bridge and swallowed up by the turbulent

waters of the Cherna.

A Yugoslav machine gun rattled.

At first horrified, then enraged, and

finally coldly assessing the situation,

I approached the remains of the blownup

bridge.

The commander of the second company of

the first SS reconnaissance unit,

Hopsterfer Cross, stood next to me. The

situation was quickly assessed, and a

decision was made. The enemy could not

be given time to rest. They had to be

pursued.

We were lucky. The metal structure

protruded above the water and could be

used as the foundation for a temporary

bridge. The grenaders quickly prepared

temporary positions on the ruins. The

sapper units that had arrived built a

new crossing as if they were doing it in

training.

Motorcyclists crossed the river and

reconoided the road to Monaster.

The bridge grew before our eyes, and

soon the first heavy armored vehicles

crossed the river.

The offensive continued. The second

company moved forward again. The

railroad ran to the left of the road we

were advancing on. Enemy snipers crawled

behind its embankment, trying in vain to

slow our rapid advance.

The armored vehicles simply fired

several machine gun bursts at the enemy

who were lying behind and on the

embankment.

Everyone else looked straight ahead. We

wanted to take Monaster on the move.

Nothing else mattered.

The railroad embankment was getting

closer and closer to the highway,

crossing it a few hundred meters ahead

of us. The advanced guard stopped and

the grenaders jumped into the ditch on

both sides of the road.

A house was visible, which was the

center of resistance. A 50mm anti-tank

gun took up position under enemy fire

and fired a couple of shots at the

walls. The house exploded with a bang.

Only then did I noticed that the enemy

on the embankment had become more

active, emboldened by the halt of our

vanguard.

A machine gun fired from behind the

embankment, showering us with bullets

and leaving us no choice but to accept

the challenge.

The matter was quickly settled thanks to

fire from armored vehicles.

The surviving Yugoslav soldiers fled to

the marshy lowlands behind the railway

embankment.

I was about to jump onto SS Unterm Furer

Viles's motorcycle when renewed fire

from several Yugoslavs pinned us to the

ground again.

My tablet was riddled with bullets. Its

fragments lay on the edge of the ditch.

Enemy bullets pounded the grass,

churning up the wet earth around us. A

gurgling sound made me look at Vile. He

was writhing at the bottom of the ditch.

His lower jaw shattered and hanging

down.

We couldn't afford to get stuck here. We

couldn't let the enemy pin us down on

the approaches to Monastery and drive us

out of these high hills, I shouted to

the advanced units. The motorcyclists,

like acrobats, jumped onto their bikes

and raced forward.

The advanced units drew the rest of the

battalion behind them like a magnet.

We raced along the slippery road, wet

from the rain. It had been raining all

day, but the sun was beginning to break

through the veil of ragged clouds.

The Yugoslav's resistance was growing.

The tracer bullets from their machine

guns whistled viciously, piercing

through the hay stacks that served as

cover, turning them into giant torches.

Monaster was right in front of us. We

could already see the city sprawling

among the mountains. On the slope to our

right, I saw an enemy battery taking up

position

forward. There was no time to put out

the fires. We had to enter the city. We

wanted to grab the defenders by the

throat. We were mesmerized by the speed.

We fired bursts from our machine guns at

the enemy on both sides of the road. A

half-built roadblock appeared right in

front of us. Fire. Bursts from armored

vehicles tore through the air and hand

grenades flew into the barricade.

Completely confused, the stunned

defenders rushed for cover. Contrary

to the enemy's expectations, we did not

attack on a broad front. Instead, we

acted unconventionally, like a dagger

strike. The battalion entered the city

in a column. The only thing we didn't

have was artillery.

It took up positions and fired over our

heads. I saw no churches, minouetses, or

other buildings. Only machine gun nests

defending the houses and the

determination of the enemy.

The battalion advanced deeper and deeper

into the city. I lost my maps, but I

knew where the barracks were. We wanted

to get to them because that was where we

would find the command post controlling

the enemy's actions. The enemy soldiers

stationed in the square scattered as

soon as our motorcycles roared around

the corner. The enemy fired at us from

all the windows, from the roofs, and

from the gardens.

The armored vehicles proved their

reliability. Their weapons reached every

suspiciousl looking corner and forced

the enemy shooters to seek cover.

Under the cover of fire from the armored

vehicles, two heavy 150 mm guns took up

position.

From 200 m away, they opened fire on the

barracks.

The result was impressive. Within 20

minutes, Monaster lost almost all of its

defenders with the exception of a pocket

of resistance at the railway station. A

sapper unit was fighting there, and the

battle ended within an hour. Our

offensive confirmed what we had learned

during our years of study. A machine is

a weapon.

For several hours, prisoners who were

indifferent to everything were brought

in and disarmed.

We captured an entire artillery

battalion without firing a single shot.

But the battle had to continue. We had

no time to rest.

Yuguslav forces were stationed at Lake

Orid and occupied the Java Pass, 20 km

west of Monaster on the road leading to

Lake Prespa and further onto Lake Oid.

We knew that significant British forces

that had landed in Greece were

approaching from the south and advancing

towards the city of Florina.

I was under intense pressure to decide

on our next course of action.

We were alone in Monaster and could not

count on support in the next 24 hours.

I had to advance in two directions and

also hold the city with the prisoners,

artillery and railway workers we had

captured.

Cross's reinforced company was ordered

to cross the Javat Pass and attempt to

make contact with the Italians who were

in Albania west of Lake Orid.

Schroeders's company was ordered to

reconoid the British positions south of

the city and keep an eye on the enemy.

If possible, they were to prevent the

British from leaving the Clelet Pass.

Both company commanders looked at me in

amazement when they received these

orders. Hugo Cross shook his head in

disbelief. The situation for Schroeder

was not so bad. He had plenty of room to

maneuver, and with the roads in good

condition, he had every opportunity to

conduct reconnaissance.

The company set off.

My motorcyclists, tank destroyers,

sappers, and grenaders rode past me with

joyful laughter. They were heading into

the darkness, into the unknown.

The headquarters personnel prepared for

defense and maintained radio contact.

We maintained constant contact with the

companies and received reports from

armored vehicles. We knew their location

at all times.

Within minutes, Cross attacked a battery

located in the orchards west of

Monaster, which surrendered.

I was still waiting for the order to

open fire. By midnight, Cross had passed

through several villages and was at the

foot of the Javat Pass. Reconnaissance

reported that the pass was occupied and

that a welle equipped defensive position

had been set up along the ridge of the

mountain range.

Enemy reconnaissance groups were

captured. The attack on the pass was to

begin at dawn.

Schroeder also acted successfully and

soon reported from Greek territory from

Florina and Vavy.

Between these two settlements, a curious

incident occurred with the company. As

the old saying goes, all cats are black

at night. The next morning, Schroeder

submitted the following report.

I sent several reconnaissance groups

from the crossroads and slowly followed

the first one which was conducting

reconnaissance in the direction of

Florina.

Shortly thereafter, two reconnaissance

armored vehicles emerged from the

darkness heading in our direction.

Suspecting nothing, we continued to move

forward. I thought they were ours.

We only realized our mistake when they

were 2 m behind us. The two British

armored cars stopped in front of us,

then slowly moved on.

They did not understand who was in front

of them. Apparently, they mistook us for

Serbs.

Having calmed down, I moved the company

a few hundred meters forward and waited

for the British armored vehicles to

return.

Half an hour later, they fell victim to

our ambush on the road. We were able to

learn about the enemy's intentions.

Australian troops, part of the British

forces, occupied the high ground and

blocked the valley with extensive

minefields.

Schroeder kept the British in sight and

continued his reconnaissance by combat.

Our heavy artillery and mortars

apparently misled the enemy about the

true strength of our forces, and the

British did not venture out from behind

their barricades.

Cross's attack on the Jabat Pass began

early in the morning. The road here

climbed steeply up the mountain, so a

surprise attack was out of the question.

Sharp turns followed one after another.

Almost vertical precipaces, gorges,

overhanging rocks, and bare treeless

spaces completed the picture.

The pass was 1,179

m high. It was bordering on madness to

risk attacking it with only one

reinforced company. But our trump card

was surprise.

No one expected such a rapid advance,

and it would never have occurred to

anyone that a single company would risk

attacking the pass.

I went ahead to cross his company before

dawn. I was very anxious and wanted to

participate in the attack myself.

We passed the First World War memorial

just north of Monaster.

There on the heights, in a foreign land,

lie countless German soldiers.

Suddenly, I saw 20 mm tracer shells from

automatic cannons soar up into the

mountains like pearl necklaces.

Cross's attacking company could only be

supported by armored vehicles. The

motorcyclists turned into mountain

rangers.

All night long, they climbed toward the

pass on both sides of the road and found

themselves right in front of the enemy

positions on the ridge.

Several Yugoslav positions were bypassed

and attacked from the rear. The company

commander led his soldiers into the

attack quite energetically and they

quickly captured the Serbian positions

on the ridge.

Surprisingly, the psychological effect

of using heavy artillery contributed

significantly to the victory.

The explosions of large caliber shells

created a hellish noise.

I tagged along behind an armored vehicle

and took part in the final battle for

the pass. To coach's group eliminated

the last pocket of resistance here. I

found Hugo Cross behind a small chapel

and congratulated him on his success.

Several hundred prisoners were lying or

standing in front of us. An entire

battalion had surrendered. The result

was simply incomprehensible. Our

battalion could have withstood the

attacks of more than one regiment at the

enemy's position, but here only one

company on our side had attacked. The

commander of the enemy battalion

explained what had happened to us. He

said, "When my soldiers heard yesterday

that German troops had already reached

Monaster and would appear in front of

our positions by nightfall, their will

to resist was significantly weakened.

The very fact that we would have to

fight German soldiers made my battalion

nervous. Your bombardment, meaning the

shelling from heavy infantry guns,

finished the job. From the crest of the

pass, we looked down at the dull glimmer

of the blue Presna Lake. And from the

mountain, we could see the bright lights

of Florina. The city was ours, even

before the enemy learned that their

battalion surrounded at the pass had

surrendered. We did not have any spare

motorcycles at hand, but several armored

vehicles were ready to descend into the

valley and take the enemy by surprise.

While we slowly made our way down,

following the twists and turns of the

serpentine road, Cross's company

gathered and waited for their vehicles.

We reached the valley without

encountering the enemy and rushed

towards the city of Oid. I was in

Buggalzac's armored vehicle. This SS

Ober Stormbornban Furer was the

commander of my best reconnaissance

group and had an excellent grasp of the

situation. The fleeing Serbs rushed away

from the road and sought cover in the

thickets. Others threw down their

weapons and moved toward the pass. In

this case, we could not stop. We had to

enter the city and take advantage of the

confusion. Under machine gun fire, the

road became clear. The element of

surprise worked perfectly. Within a few

minutes, we were firing red flares into

the sky. Cross's company soon broke into

the city and sent reconnaissance teams

into the mountains west of Lake Oid to

establish contact with the Italians.

Within a few hours, this was

accomplished. The reconnaissance

battalion's first task was completed

quickly, successfully, and without

unnecessary losses. I was proud of my

soldiers and knew that I could rely on

them for anything. I reported the latest

success of my battalion to the commander

of the Livesandarta and went with him to

Schroeder's company where we met with

the commander of the first battalion of

the Livestandarda, Adolf Hitler, SS

Stormbbonfur Vit. His battalion had been

ordered to take key positions held by

the British defending the Clity Pass,

thus enabling the Livstandarda and the

Ninth Panzer Division to break through.

The New Zealanders and Australians had

dug in well on the mountain slope of the

Klitty Pass. The enemy had had time to

build an impressive defense system

there. Their artillery observers had a

wide view of the plane where our troops

were to appear. Monastery was a kind of

gateway blocking the way from the Klitty

pass and the pass was the gateway from

Yugoslavia to Greece. The enemy had all

the advantages. Numerous minefields on

the pass ruled out an armored attack.

Our infantry had to take the heights in

heavy fighting.

Invasion of Greece.

A sunny summer day, as is often the case

in the mountains, gave way to a rainy

evening and then the icy cold of night.

Snow covered the slopes. The soldiers of

the first battalion of the Livstandarda,

Adolf Hitler, encountered a

significantly superior enemy force. It

had dug in thoroughly in anticipation of

our attack. It happened at dawn on the

12th. The whistle of heavy shells broke

the silence. Heavy anti-aircraft guns

began to destroy the detected pockets of

resistance, and self-propelled guns

rolled forward. I stood at the optical

tube watching the attack of the first

company of the SS motorized brigade

livenarta Adolf Hitler under the command

of SS Obermfur Gared Pice. Shots were

still raining down from the mountain.

The entire summit was shrouded in smoke

and the air smelled of earth and

gunpowder. Suddenly, the artillery fire

ceased. The infantry rushed into the

attack, making their way up the

mountain. Heavy self-propelled guns

climbed up the slopes from the valley.

We watched in amazement as the

self-propelled guns moved forward. They

climbed higher and higher and then

joined the battle. No one thought they

could be used here, but now they were

there at the top, providing invaluable

support to the infantry.

Completely shaken by the unexpected

German artillery fire, the British

prisoners descended from the pass. They

were tall, strong men and serious

opponents.

Our infantry advanced deeper and deeper

into the British defense system. To

clear the way for armored vehicles, our

sappers set to work on the minefields.

But the hardest work, driving the

British from their positions, still fell

to the infantry. We saw SS Durban Furov

Vit standing shocked over the remains of

his fallen brother, Franzel.

Franzel Vit had tried to cross the

minefield and was torn to pieces by

exploding mines.

Ply's company was already fighting

directly below the pass. Self-propelled

guns could no longer support our

infantry. We could not hear the

explosions of hand grenades, only see

the clouds of smoke from them.

The enemy's firing points were captured

by our infantry in hand-to-hand combat,

and the pass was taken by storm.

The brave fighters of Ply's company

prevailed over the enemy. More than a

100 prisoners were taken. 20 machine

guns and other military equipment were

captured. Gared Ply himself was wounded

but remained with his grenaders until

the end of the battle.

The gates to Greece were wide open.

However, the fighting continued.

The first battalion of our SS motorized

infantry brigade, Libstandarta Adolf

Hitler, attacked the retreating enemy at

a furious pace.

Enemy tanks were destroyed by anti-tank

and self-propelled guns. Enemy aircraft

tried to hinder our advance, but their

bombs did not achieve the effect desired

by the British due to the difficulty of

bombing in the mountains.

SS Hopster Fura Fent, commander of the

88 mm gun battery, was taken prisoner

and spent the night in a British convoy.

At dawn, our infantry freed him and also

captured a significant number of New

Zealanders.

Early in the morning, the southern

descent from the pass was taken.

Large British and Greek forces attempted

to regain what they had lost and pushed

the Germans back over the pass.

The British had a large number of tanks

at their disposal and they posed a

serious threat to our vanguard.

The first battalion of the SS motorized

infantry brigade Liebstandarda Adolf

Hitler had already reached open terrain

while our self-propelled guns were still

on the mountain road which created a

dangerous situation. The first enemy

tanks were already halfway to the lead

company when SS Ober Stormfurer Nman

suddenly appeared with his two 88 mm

guns, opened fire and put an end to the

nightmare. One after another, the

British tanks flew into the air or came

to a smoking halt. The tank attack was

engulfed in fire, death, and debris.

While the ninth tank division was moving

south, my reconnaissance battalion

rushed towards Lake Castoria. The

shadows of night were already

surrounding us when we saw the dark

mountains and the Clura Pass. We needed

our goal was the city of Korche and the

headquarters of the Third Greek Corps.

But before that, we had to cross the

Clura Pass, which was a serious obstacle

for our equipment, not to mention the

enemy's resistance. As we climbed to an

altitude of almost 1,400 meters, the

surrounding mountains seemed to press

down on us. Our progress was rapid. The

two ridges stretching out before us were

overcome in the next half hour. Before

us lay a wide mountain range with a road

winding its way up it in a series of

narrow serpentine bends. There was no

turning back. It was impossible to turn

around. On the left, the mountains

dropped steeply into a gorge, while on

the right, sheer cliffs rose up. The

small mountain villages seemed deserted

and abandoned. In the last village, the

inhabitants looked at us with horror.

Their faces expressed question and

expectation. We were overcome with a

terrible tension. The smell of exhaust

fumes filled the clean mountain air. The

next ridge appeared right in front of us

in several rows. The road veered

slightly to the right and then crossed a

narrow but deep gorge via a small

bridge. We maneuvered carefully toward

the turn in the road. At any moment, we

expected a hail of bullets or rocks to

rain down on us from above. We felt as

if we were walking on hot coals. The

vanguard stopped. The soldiers hid

behind cover and prepared to open fire.

What was happening? No one had opened

fire yet. Overcome with nervous tension,

I ran forward. Suddenly, a chasm opened

up in front of us on the road. The

bridge across the gorge had been blown

up. The massive stone span of the bridge

lay in a pile of rubble at the bottom of

the gorge, forming a low saddle. We were

surprised that the obstacle was not

guarded, and there were no signs of

enemy positions. We cautiously made our

way forward to the collapsed saddle. The

gorge was probably 15 m wide and could

easily be crossed by soldiers on foot.

However, it was impassible for

motorcycles.

The lead platoon was ordered to cover

the far end of the bridge and ensure the

safe construction of a temporary bridge.

No sooner had the grenaders reached the

bridge debris than machine gun fire

whistled around us. We could make out

the enemy positions to our right at the

top of the mountain. Flashes of light

from machine gun barrels indicated their

location. Mines whistled through the air

and exploded in the ravine behind us.

These were enemy mortars trying to drive

us away from the obstacle. My battalion

was in a very unpleasant situation. It

could neither move forward nor backward.

There was no alternative. We were on the

only road leading through the mountains

to the rear of the Third Greek Corps.

Only mountain troops could really handle

crossing such a mountain range, not a

reconnaissance battalion of a motorized

brigade. But these thoughts were

overshadowed by current events. There

were no mountain troops available, so we

had to do their job, and we did. At

dawn, both of our motorcycle companies

attacked the enemy positions while I

continued along the road with the

drivers, headquarters, and a company of

armored vehicles, distracting the

enemy's attention from the direction of

the main attack. We would only need

heavy weapons and artillery later.

Meanwhile, darkness was falling on the

gorge. The enemy occasionally opened

harassing fire on the obstacle. Our

sappers drilled holes for explosive

charges to level the approaches to the

old bridge with an explosion. The

explosion occurred and in a matter of

seconds, masses of earth and stones

collapsed into the gorge on top of the

bridge debris. Now my mobile

reconnaissance battalion had turned into

a construction battalion. Strong

grenaders dragged boulders and threw

them down onto the bridge debris, a

living conveyor belt passing stone after

stone.

Shortly thereafter, the first anti-tank

gun crossed the temporary bridge.

As soon as the new bridge was completed,

two motorcycle companies began their

ascent of the mountain range. The

motorcyclists became mountain rangers.

The grenaders had to climb 800 meters

before attacking the enemy's pockets of

resistance. Both companies went on the

attack. Separated from each other by a

chasm, each had to act independently.

Although they took different routes,

they had a common goal, the pass. Now

the enemy was before us. The soldiers

fatigue vanished like the wind. Their

nerves were tense. Their instincts for

action sharpened. Our soldiers used

traditional tactics for rough terrain,

supporting each other and finding ledges

to hold on to as they climbed. Cross's

company also moved away from the ravine

to the right and climbed the mountain.

They had the longest way to go. I took

charge of the detachment that was to

advance along the road. It consisted of

30 fighters. We had several armored

vehicles, anti-tank guns, and a

detachment of 88 mm anti-aircraft guns

at our disposal. The road wound higher

and higher, and we had no communication

with the other companies. It was quiet.

Nothing broke the silence of the night.

Not a single shot was fired. The moon

disappeared behind the mountains, and

the night grew darker and darker.

According to the map, we had reached a

large bend in the road that was supposed

to go around the last rock to the

enemy's rear. Their positions must have

been high above us. Our plan was to

outflank them and cut off their retreat.

The road turned behind the mountain and

stretched another 400 m to the north

before turning west again toward a group

of peasant houses. Near these houses was

the pass where the road crossed the

ridge and then descended to Lake

Castoria. I did not dare to move

forward. I had a feeling that something

was wrong. I had to wait until dawn. It

was windy and cold at the pass. We

huddled close to the rock. Nman's

platoon pulled an 88 mm anti-aircraft

gun into position so that it could cover

the peasant houses and the ridge with

its fire.

It was gradually becoming unbearably

cold. Since we had neither great coats

nor blankets, we suffered greatly,

shivering from the cold.

Sleep was out of the question. If only

we could have smoked. The radio

communication vehicle slowly crawled

upward. Under its cover, I smoked and

studied the map again. The longer I

looked at it, the more I shivered. At

first, I thought my teeth were

chattering because of the terrible cold,

but then I realized that I was very

scared.

The more time passed, the more tense I

became. I could no longer stay in the

car. The radio transmitter with its

endless beep beep beep was getting on my

nerves.

Outside, I tried not to talk to anyone.

I was afraid that someone would hear my

teeth chattering and realize that I was

scared.

We all huddled silently behind a rock,

peering into the darkness. Were my

comrades afraid, too? I didn't know.

Motorized rifleman Yan from the first

company of the SS Reconnaissance Unit

arrived with a report. However, he did

not look scared. He reported the

situation to me briefly and clearly, and

then they gave him a sip of alcohol from

the medic's flask.

It was getting lighter. Soon we could

make out the outlines of the village.

The attack by our three combat groups

was to begin with fire from 88 mm guns.

I leaned behind the gunshield and tried

to see something in the darkness through

my binoculars.

The closer the time to open fire came,

the stronger my confidence in the

success of the attack grew. It simply

had to be successful.

I counted on the enemy having learned

the basics of military science at the

military academy and anticipated what

measures we might take in this case.

From everything the Greek commander had

been taught, he would expect me to

advance my motorized unit along the

road. That is why I am attacking him

across two ridges and will only launch a

diversionary attack on the road.

As the shadows of the night faded, the

outlines of houses became visible.

Crouching low to the ground, I gave Nman

the order to open fire. In a matter of

seconds, we found ourselves in a witch's

cauldron. An 88 mm anti-aircraft gun

fired shell after shell at the ridge to

our right. Mortars and infantry guns

also showered the defenders with mines

and heavy shells. High above us,

motorcyclists stormed the enemy's

defensive positions. I couldn't see how

the two motorcycle companies were

attacking, but I could hear the furious

machine gun fire and the explosions of

their grenades. The commander of the

heavy howitzer battery informed me that

he could no longer provide fire support

to the attacking companies without

endangering his crew. The guns took up

positions along the mountain road one

after another. But because the road was

too narrow, they could not anchor their

plows in the ground. The commander

refused to take responsibility.

This kind of stupidity was the last

straw for me. In anger, I ordered him to

open fire. We had to do it. Heavy shells

thundered over the first ridge and

exploded on enemy positions on either

side of the small mountain village.

Enemy machine gun fire rained down on

the road and the rocks above us, causing

a rock slide. Stones whizzed past us

with a roar. There was nothing left to

do but move forward. We rushed forward,

jumping like frogs, to the first bend in

the road and took cover a few meters

ahead behind a rock. At the next bend,

we would be directly below the enemy

position 100 meters above us. After such

a sprint, I collapsed, exhausted, behind

a boulder and gasped for air. Our

advance was hampered by the fact that we

had to run from one pile of rocks to

another, using them as cover so as not

to become targets for enemy snipers. We

heard screams and the furious sounds of

battle above us. Units of the second

company of the first SS reconnaissance

battalion broke through to the enemy's

positions on the first ridge. We rushed

forward. At the last big turn of the

winding road, we came across several

soldiers who had been separated from the

rest of the company during the attack.

Among them was SS Unterm Furer Vorvine,

who briefly reported to me on the

operation on the ridge. From information

obtained from prisoners, we learned that

we were facing a reinforced infantry

regiment on the left flank of the Greek

defense. Its task was to hold the Clura

Pass, ensuring the retreat of the Third

Greek Corps from the Albanian front,

which was being withdrawn to avoid

encirclement by German motorized units

and to continue the battle for Greece in

cooperation with British forces. The

Greek plan could not be allowed to

succeed. The retreat not only had to be

prevented, but also had to be completely

defeated. We had to complete our

crossing of the mountains and block the

valley beyond Castoria.

We continued to advance along the road.

Suddenly, the ground in front of us shot

up. I couldn't believe my eyes. A huge

crater had formed in the very place

where the road had been just a moment

before. The road had fallen into an

abyss. Sweat left light streaks on our

faces. We were terrified.

After all, in the next few seconds, we

could also be blown up. Another 100

meters further, the ground shook again,

and when the dust settled, there was

another giant crater on the road. We hid

behind the rocks, not daring to move. I

felt nauseous. I shouted to Emil Varbjek

that we had to attack, but good old Emil

looked at me as if he doubted my sanity.

Machine gun fire tore through the rocks

in front of us. Our leading unit

consisted of only 10 soldiers. Damn it.

Of course, we couldn't stay there while

craters were forming on the road from

the explosions and machine gun fire was

pinning us to the rocks. However, like

everyone else, I hid in cover and feared

for my life. How could I order Varvan to

go first? As I continued to worry, I

felt the smooth roundness of an

egg-shaped grenade in my hand. I called

out to the group. Everyone looked at me

in amazement as I showed them the

grenade, pulled the pin, and it rolled

to the last grenadier. I had never seen

such a united rush forward. As if bitten

by a tarantula, we rushed across the

rocks and jumped into the crater that

had just formed. The state of stuper was

broken. The grenade had done its job. We

smiled together and rushed forward to a

new shelter.

At the top of the ridge, our attacking

companies penetrated deeper and deeper

into the Greek defenses. Our 88 mm guns

were in clouds of dust and smoke from

the explosions of Greek mountain

artillery shells, but Nman's

anti-aircraft guns continued to fire.

The shells from the anti-aircraft guns

cleared the way for us, burying the

pockets of Greek resistance under piles

of rubble. We were right below the

ridge. Sweat blurred my vision. I

watched the battle through a veil of

dust and dirt. We rushed like madmen

toward the ridge. The Greeks were

leaving their positions, raising their

hands and ceasing resistance. Their

retreat was already covered by fire from

the second company of the first SS

Reconnaissance Battalion, whose machine

guns were firing directly at the enemy

positions from their dominant height.

My soldiers broke the resistance of the

Greeks, supported by a battery of

mountain guns with the help of hand

grenades.

We made the crossing through the

mountains at the limit of our strength.

My grenaders accomplished what others

considered impossible and what even

today is considered madness. The clura

pass is ours.

But there was no time to rest. Only a

swift pursuit of the enemy would bring

us complete victory.

Our sappers used explosives to bring

down rock debris into craters on the

road. The artillery changed position and

fired at the retreating enemy. Entire

columns were moving west and then south.

The resistance of the Greeks, who as a

rule bravely held their positions until

their last breath, was broken.

We took more than a thousand prisoners,

including a regimental commander and

three battalion commanders.

Only then did the strategic importance

of the position we had captured become

clear to us. From the pass we could see

the Greek troops retreating from

Albania, and we directed all our weapons

at them. I wanted to move further ahead

of the fleeing enemy, but again on the

road that descended steeply, explosions

thundered, deafening us.

Precious time was lost filling in the

giant craters left by the high explosive

shells.

The second company of the first SS

Reconnaissance Battalion drove down the

road and entered a small village.

All of its inhabitants had left their

homes and fled.

I wanted to regroup my battalion there

and then move along the main Greek

retreat route. I waited for the first

company of the first SS reconnaissance

battalion.

Soon, young soldiers appeared. I

understood everything from their faces.

They were carrying the remains of their

company commander on a blood soaked

raincoat.

Rudolph Schroeder lay in front of me,

his chest torn to pieces.

He had achieved outstanding military

successes, but was killed while breaking

through the enemy's defense system,

commanding the lead assault group.

We descended from the mountains towards

evening and reconoided the approaches to

Castoriia, a town on the shore of the

lake of the same name, 630 m above sea

level. I wanted to conduct

reconnaissance and followed the

reconnaissance group. We slowed down in

front of a small bridge. Beyond it, we

could see a hill 800 meters high,

dominating the approaches to Castoria,

as well as the retreat routes of the

Third Greek Corps. There was no movement

visible on the bridge. It had not yet

been blown up. Suddenly, machine gun

fire was opened on us. War correspondent

France Roth, who was walking with the

reconnaissance group, suddenly cried out

in pain. A bullet had literally split

his skull open. With his head covered in

blood, but still alive, the

correspondent was sent back to his

colleagues. The second company of the

first SS Reconnaissance Battalion

reached the bridge at nightfall,

creating a small bridge head. The

company conducted reconnaissance north

of Lake Castoria and encountered

stubborn enemy resistance. The attack on

the 800 meter height southwest of

Castoria began at dawn. Again, our

shells roared overhead and smashed

boulders, but the Greek artillery was

more powerful here. The bridge collapsed

from a direct hit. We lay at the bottom

of the trench, pressed into the muddy

ground. The intensity of the artillery

fire told me that a sudden assault would

not be successful. A wellplanned attack

was needed. Around midday the attack was

resumed with the support of heavier

artillery and the third battalion of the

SS motorized infantry brigade liv Adolf

Hitler. The battalion advanced to

encircle the Greek positions on the left

and was supposed to reach the main Greek

retreat route by evening. To suppress

the strong Greek artillery and help

destroy the enemy's positions at an

altitude of 800 m. U87 dive bombers were

called in to support my battalion. The

operation was carried out with unmatched

precision. The U87s struck the enemy

positions like birds of prey, circling

widely around the mountain and then

diving deep down with a roar. Flashes

from the bombs dropped, lit up the

heights and the mountain range, and the

sound of explosions could be heard.

Mushroom-shaped columns of dust and

stones rose into the sky, merging with

each other and drifting like a dark haze

over the lake. A thick veil covered the

mountain, revealing the devastating

effect of our bombs and artillery

shells. It was a scene of utter

devastation.

When the first bombs fell, the

motorcyclists jumped out of their

trenches and ran across the open field,

gasping for breath. Excellent

anti-aircraft gunfire completed the work

of the U87 and heavy artillery.

It would be a long time before the

Greeks recovered from the U87 attack. By

then, it would be too late.

Soldiers from the second company of the

first SS Reconnaissance Battalion

climbed the mountain and took up

positions among the rocks.

The rest of the battalion rushed to

Castoria across a hastily repaired

bridge.

The unsuspecting Greek companies and

batteries retreating from the mountains

were so stunned that they did not fire a

single shot and voluntarily surrendered.

However, one of the Greek batteries

continued to fire and was smashed to

pieces by us. Our battalion's armored

vehicles roared past the Greek columns

toward the center of Castoria.

The chaos was complete. In the market

square, I was greeted by the local

priest.

I will never forget his brotherly

embrace. After that, I stank of garlic

for several hours.

At dusk, my brave comrades took over the

defense of the northern approaches to

Castoria.

Greek troops marched on and on from

Albania to Castoria after fighting with

Italian forces. The Greeks had given the

Italians a good thrashing, but now they

were forced to retreat under the threat

of encirclement by the Germans.

It rained constantly. The rumblings of a

powerful thunderstorm alternated with

the roar of shells and bombs.

Our forces were running out. We fell

asleep right where we were.

The extent of our success became

apparent only the next morning. Over the

past 24 hours, my reconnaissance

battalion had taken 12,000 prisoners and

captured 36 guns. For the performance of

my brave grenaders, I was awarded the

Knights Cross.

The fighting with the trapped Greek army

continued. The SS Libstand Darta

Brigade, overcoming considerable

difficulties, took the Qatara pass

through the Pendis mountains and forced

the 16th Greek Division to surrender.

The surrender was signed on April 21st

in Larissa.

Towards the evening of April 24th, when

I was in Yoanina, west of the Qatara

Pass, I was ordered to pursue the

defeated British troops. My comrades in

arms had just managed to get a good

night's sleep for the first time since

the start of the Balkan campaign.

In the morning, they were roused from

their dreamless sleep. The fuel tanks of

our motorcycles and cars were filled to

the brim from canisters taken from the

Greek garage.

No one bothered to collect the Greek

machine guns stored at the Alip Pasha

Mosque in the old Turkish fortress, as

well as the countless weapons left in

the city.

The Greek soldiers who had retreated

here across the mountain passes from

Albania left their weapons leaning

against the walls of houses, shaved off

their dark beards, and went to the

nearest bakery. They left with loaves of

fresh bread, a bunch of leaks, and if

they were lucky, a few fish strung on a

rod.

Then they wandered south again. We

intercepted them.

This interception once again clearly

demonstrated to us the difference

between the path of the victors and the

path of the vanquished.

These people who had previously been

fishermen, farmers, shepherds,

merchants, or professional soldiers,

were apparently quite respectable before

the defeat of Greece. Now they wandered

chaotically through valleys and mountain

passes, returning home in disgrace.

The war had ended for them in hopeless

confusion.

Even if we happened to see a lone

colonel sitting upright in his saddle,

it was decay.

We however advanced further and further.

We were going to corner the British

sooner or later. The battalion did not

stop anywhere, but along the way we

asked a few questions in every village

or small town.

Those who managed to cut themselves a

piece of bread with fat spread on it

along the way until they ate it covered

it with their hands so as not to eat the

quickly accumulating layer of dust and

dirt along with it.

Only once at the bay did I allow myself

a short stop.

I found the local orange groves simply

enchanting.

The soldiers filled their helmets with

fragrant fruit. We wanted to taste them

and make sure we were in the south.

On a narrow mountain road stood an

unfortunate pony of the Greek army, a

white horse with blue shadows showing

between its ribs.

abandoned without harness on its last

breath. It did not move. It stood like a

monument to defeat.

Our armored cars and motorcycles passed

by it. The horse was also a veteran of a

lost war, an exhausted, pitiful

creature.

Further south, we crossed turbulent

mountain rivers and saw unarmed soldiers

enjoying the cool water. But we covered

in mud and sweat could not enjoy a

single drop. We saw thousands of people

lying in the shade of olive trees.

Instead, we had to keep an eye on the

fuel gauge and the bends in the road. We

had to avoid potholes and hold on tight

to the steering wheel when our vehicles

were thrown about on the bumps. Of

course, we remembered the miserable

Polish roads, but this road was a bloody

cheese grater that seemed to want to

shake our souls out of us. Evening gave

way to night, and we still hadn't

reached our destination.

British soldiers and demolition teams,

who had broken away from their units,

scattered before us. Greek peasants told

us that the British were laying spike

strips on the roads to delay our

advance, and this turned out to be true.

The drivers cursed as they had to change

yet another flat tire. We made a short

stop in a small town. The battalion

couldn't afford to attract attention.

The pursuit of the British continued at

dawn. We raced southward, up through a

low mountain range, and down again into

the valley. We crossed deep gorges. The

ruins of classical Greece welcomed us.

Someone remembered Lord Byron who was

killed here in battle with the Turks in

1824.

But we had no time to think about

history. The city of Messongi appeared

right in front of us. Soon we would

reach the ismas of Corinth and then we

would be able to intercept the British.

The vanguard cautiously moved along its

route towards the city and entered its

narrow streets. The Greek population

welcomed us. The last British troops had

just left the city and were retreating

along the coast on the road leading east

towards the ismas of Corinth.

A dash across the Pelpine. We endured a

250 km march through mountainous country

and stopped in front of the dark

mountains towering over the Pelpineese

Peninsula. We had no radio contact with

the regiment. We were alone.

British reconnaissance planes flew

overhead and circled over the port of

Patric on the other side of the bay. We

could see the ships in the harbor and we

saw a British destroyer setting sail to

head south.

We were following in the footsteps of

the British demolition teams and would

soon reach the ismas of Corinth. But I

was no longer interested in this kind of

pursuit. The gaping craters in the road

slowed us down. I thought I would gain

more experience in road construction

than I would in intercepting the

British. The mountains on the other side

of the Gulf of Corinth increasingly

attracted my attention. Along the road

along the coast of the Pelpineese at the

far end of the Gulf, British troops were

moving from Corinth to Patric to reach

their ships and evacuate. I had to get

there. But how could I cross the Gulf? I

was standing on the pier at Nafakto, a

small unremarkable harbor with medieval

fortress towers, when a formation of U87

dive bombers attacked the port of

Patric. Clouds of smoke and explosions

rose into the air from the cluster of

ships. Suddenly, I noticed the

telephone. It was still connected. It

was working and Patric was answering.

Shuddering, I put the receiver back on

the arm of the ancient device.

I was tempted by the idea of crossing

the bay and disrupting the British

plans.

I sent for an interpreter, demanded that

the Greek commandant in Petros be

summoned, and asked him to report on the

situation.

The commonant was impressed by the dive

bomber attack and willingly answered all

my questions.

In a matter of minutes, I received

accurate information about the movement

of British troops between the cities of

Corinth and Petros.

I ordered the commandanton to send

liaison officers to Nepacto.

Soon I noticed a small motorboat heading

for Nefpacto.

Then the devil himself came into play.

Another squadron of Stookas roared

overhead and attacked the British ships

in the harbor again.

The unpleasant result was that the city

commandon thought that I had ordered

another attack on Petros.

To top it all off, on the way back, the

pilots attacked the motorboat carrying

the liaison officer. The boat

immediately turned 180° and the angry

Greek officer reported by telephone that

under such conditions no one would want

to cross the bay. Sweat dripped from my

forehead onto the map. It was long out

of date. Where were the British on the

left flank? After capturing Thermopoly,

our troops had to either reach Athens or

advance even further to the ismas of

Corinth.

Consequently, the British had to either

defend the Pelpineese or take control of

the Greek ports.

I imagine German paratroopers landing on

the Istmas to block the narrow passage

and canal near Corinth.

Had the British noticed our rapid

advance. Was their intelligence working

well? Were destroyers and other ships

standing by to prevent our attempts to

cross the bay?

No one could answer these questions for

me. My soldiers and officers looked at

me expectantly.

They saw me standing on the pier,

assessing the distance again and again.

More than 15 km of water separated us

from the British retreat route. By the

next day, at the latest, the

Corinthysmas would become the object of

confrontation, and I wanted to

participate in that battle. I wanted to

cross.

The moment of truth had arrived.

With all responsibility resting on my

shoulders, I would not act according to

the traditional rules of war. I would

cross the Gulf of Corinth with the

forces at my disposal. Whether this

would be a bold or reckless move would

become clear in the next few hours.

My comrades responded enthusiastically,

but soon practical objections arose. The

artillery would not be able to support

the landing. The distance was too great.

Military engineers drew my attention to

the height of the waves and the

condition of the pitiful fishing boats.

The objections mounted, but I had

already made my decision. The surprise

attack had to succeed. We found two

shabby fishing boats in the harbor.

Their crews were brought to the site.

The second company of the first SS

reconnaissance battalion was to attempt

reconnaissance.

The strong arms of the SSmen lifted the

heavy motorcycles and placed them in the

boats. The first boat took on board two

motorcycles with sidec cars and 15 men.

We loaded an anti-tank gun and several

motorcycles onto the next boat. The

combat mission was to block the road and

in case of an emergency retreat to the

mountains. Then the motorboats left the

harbor.

I said goodbye to Hugo Cros and SS

Sturbon Fura Grettech.

Those who remained dubbed the

motorcyclists the suicide squad.

Someone jokingly said, "Watch out,

there's a mine ahead." Everyone laughed.

A young soldier shouted back, "What

mine? A grenade is enough for this box."

The boat rocked violently. The waves

splashed us with salty spray. The

machine gunners took up their positions

at the bow. The anti-tank gun was ready

to fire.

All the boats from our shore were headed

for Nafto.

Soon the rest of the company was loaded

onto the boats. The first boats were

already barely visible. Two tiny dots

bounced on the waves.

I stood on the pier again and watched

the dark dots on the water.

A red rocket would signal the failure of

the mission and the presence of large

enemy forces.

That was what I had agreed with my

soldiers.

My eyes began to sting.

Soon I could no longer make out

anything, but I couldn't tear myself

away from the binoculars.

By the time I lost sight of the boats,

my clothes were wet with sweat.

We stood waiting on the shore for an

hour. The tension reached its peak.

An hour and a half later, two dots

appeared again. Were they our boats?

They were getting closer and closer.

Soon, we could clearly make out their

outlines, and we could even see

movement. A circle of cigarette butts

had already formed around me, and I lit

another cigarette.

However, I had already calmed down and

began to believe in the success of our

operation.

Suddenly, a staff car covered in dust

stopped on the shore and excited

officers jumped out of it.

I recognized my respected commander,

Sept Dietrich, and reported my decision

and the progress of the operation to

that point. As I was reporting, I

noticed his usual shortness of breath

and the look he gave me from head to

toe.

Then a storm broke out over me. Are you

crazy making such an idiotic decision?

You should be court marshaled. How can

you treat my soldiers like this?

I didn't dare respond to this torrent of

undoubtedly justified indignation.

I stood by the old harbor wall with my

tail between my legs, wishing only for

it all to end.

Suddenly, there was an awkward pause.

Only my soldiers chuckled quietly as if

to say, "Hang in there. Don't pay

attention to his barking. Maybe he's

right. But take us across the bay now so

we can do something else.

Meanwhile, the boats approached and

details could be seen through

binoculars.

Both boats were full of soldiers. More

people were returning than I had sent.

I didn't dare say it out loud, but that

was the case. Both boats were carrying

captured British soldiers back.

Septrich looked at me, turned, and

walked away. Not another word was

spoken. I had no more reason to delay.

The loaded motorboats sailed towards the

returning boats. I waited anxiously for

the report from the other side. What had

happened there? SS Rottenfurer reported.

After half an hour of sailing, the rocky

coast of the Pelpine Peninsula appeared

before the masts of these little boats.

Now came the final test. Everyone looked

intently at the shore through their

binoculars.

800 m, 700 m, 600 m, 500 m.

From there, of course, a machine gun

would start firing. Some people in

uniform between the houses and on the

shore could be seen through binoculars

and with the naked eye.

We weren't thinking about anything else.

We lay in the boat, rifles and machine

guns at the ready, prepared to

disembark.

As soon as we reached land, we jumped

overboard and rushed towards the houses.

And just as we were running, a brown

armored car turned onto the road from

around a bend about 50 m away from us,

turned its turret, and aimed its guns at

the shore. At first, we were paralyzed

by surprise, but then we pulled

ourselves together and waved friendly to

the armored vehicle.

standing on the shore in short-sleeved

shirts and without hats. We looked like

bandits.

The Tommy's vehicle roared, turned its

turret back, and drove away.

What had happened? Had these guys not

recognized us as Germans?

We stood by the first houses, squinting

our eyes. Looking back at the other part

of Greece, we saw nothing but water and

beyond it, steep, gloomy mountains.

We had to act. We knew that our comrades

were waiting on the other side of the

bay. It was just over a hundred meters

from the shore to the foot of the

mountains where there was a railway and

a country road.

We rushed up the road and covered our

eastern flank, the side from which the

British had appeared. As soon as we

reached the road, we heard the sound of

an engine again. The platoon commander

ordered us to take cover. By that time,

the local residents had already come out

of their houses. Seeing the foreign

soldiers who had been hiding among the

boulders and bushes, they threw

themselves to the ground in fear. But

our hearts were also pounding with

excitement. An English messenger on a

motorcycle appeared from around the

bend, followed by a truck. The British

were moving along the road without a

care in the world, as the armored car

had already conducted reconnaissance.

We let the British get so close that we

could read their license plates until

the shield with a feather and a knight's

helmet with a cross, the emblem of the

fourth Husar regiment was above us. Then

we quickly jumped up and shouted, "Hands

up!"

The brakes screeched. The British raised

their heads and jumped out of the truck.

The leg of the messenger on the

motorcycle was feeling the ground. One

Tommy shouted something and his machine

gun flew into the bushes. Hands up.

Hands up. All the British soldiers

dropped their weapons and raised their

hands.

Suddenly, one of our men ran out from

around the bend and shouted, "Another

truck is coming." In a matter of

seconds, an SS man jumped into the first

truck and drove it off the road. The

prisoners were quickly taken behind the

houses. A second car appeared again with

a messenger on a motorcycle in front.

The surprise and amazement were

repeated. One of the Tommies only had

time to exclaim, "Germans!"

And indeed, the Germans were already

here. In a few minutes, we captured more

than 40 people, including three

officers. They told us that they were

heading for the port of Patras.

None of the British had any idea that we

had already crossed the bay. Their unit

was still fighting near Corinth.

We gathered all the motorboats and boats

in the area. The entire battalion was to

be fed across during the coming night.

My faithful driver, Eric, had the last

bottle of sparkling wine hanging in the

water of the harbor. I took it under my

arm and went to visit Zep Dietrich, who

was talking to the British officers.

I invited the British to have a drink

with us. We sat down in the shade of a

thick tree. Before I could say a word,

the English officer raised his glass and

drank to the health of his sister, who

was apparently celebrating her birthday.

I'm sure we didn't look like scholars

during this drinking session.

I said goodbye and jumped into one of

the damn boats we had captured.

After half an hour of rocking on the

waves, I was exhausted. I no longer

believed that this shell we were in

would reach the other side, but it did.

Completely exhausted, I greeted Cross's

company.

According to orders, the company, having

received the vehicles, was to conduct

reconnaissance as far as Corinth. SS

Sturban Furugrezich contacted the

commandant of the city of Patras and

ordered large motorboats from him to

transport our heavy equipment from

Nefacto.

At the same time, the last British

troops left the Patras area and

retreated south.

In the afternoon, aerial reconnaissance

reported enemy units advancing from

Corinth to Patras.

Things were taking an interesting turn.

The unloading was completed quickly, and

the ships could return to the far shore

as soon as possible.

As for heavy weapons, we had several

anti-tank guns and a light armored

vehicle at our disposal.

We were preparing a warm welcome for the

British,

but the British regiment that had been

reported did not arrive. Apparently, it

had changed direction toward the

southern coast of the Pelpineese.

Through our intelligence service, we

learned about the operations of our

paratroopers near Corinth and that a

second parachute regiment had been

deployed there. Contact with the

paratroopers had to be established

immediately.

The second company of the first SS

reconnaissance battalion received orders

to clear the southern coast of the Gulf

of Corinth of enemy forces and advance

to join the paratroopers.

The first company of the first SS

reconnaissance battalion occupied Patrus

and conducted reconnaissance in a

southerntherly direction.

The companies set off in captured and

confiscated cars and motorcycles.

An elegant limousine towed an anti-tank

gun and mortars peaked out of a sports

car. A platoon of company sappers

boarded a bus and they gave the

impression that the whole war no longer

concerned them. Although a significant

part of our equipment was still on the

northern shore of the bay. The battalion

was nevertheless motorized and moving

along the roads of the Pelpineese.

But I was not satisfied with the speed.

Having caught up with the second company

of the first reconnaissance battalion, I

rushed to Corinth as fast as I could. My

intuition told me that the British had

already gone south. Our limousine raced

frantically along the washedout road

along the coast. Small fishing villages

looked sleepy and abandoned under the

scorching southern sun.

After passing another small village just

around the bend, I noticed a car driving

down the road at full speed toward the

estate. We caught up with it. My

comrades shouted, "Tommy!" and raised

their weapons in a flash. I took another

look at this Tommy and saw a German MP

38 submachine gun in his hands.

Immediately, I noticed the helmet of a

German paratrooper.

The paratroopers also recognized us and

lowered their weapons. They too had

initially mistaken us for British

soldiers.

A few minutes later, my entire company

arrived and made contact with the second

parachute company. Colonel Strum began

pursuing the British in a southerntherly

direction.

We immediately turned around and rushed

back to Petros.

Night shadows were already falling on

the ground.

Meanwhile, the third battalion of the SS

Liebstand Darta motorized brigade also

crossed the Petrios Gulf and began

pursuing the British who were retreating

to the south of the Pelpineese.

There was a machinist in this battalion.

He fired up the locomotive in Petros and

took the battalion south by rail along

the western coast of the peninsula.

At the brigade command post that day, I

met Zep Dietrich, who was now in a

friendly mood. Everyone was silent while

I reported to him that I had made

contact with the paratroopers.

With a smile, he held out his hand and

said in his Bavarian dialect, "Hey,

Kurt, yesterday I thought you were

crazy. Now I take back my words." That

was brilliant. Tell me how you came up

with this crazy idea.

I saw my agitant behind me already

marking new passages on our map and

glancing at his watch. I had barely

given Sept Dietrich the information he

needed when he gave me a new assignment.

The battalion was to regroup and

continuing to pursue the enemy, conduct

reconnaissance in the direction of

Kalumata via Olympia and Tripoli.

My comrades lay in ditches on both sides

of the road, fast asleep.

Meanwhile, new armored vehicles and

other machines arrived. The battalion

was ready for action again. Before dawn,

we began our march south to the

Pelpineese.

Countless British vehicles lined the

road. The British had to abandon them

due to a lack of fuel. Some of the

trophies came in very handy. We even

found intact armored personnel carriers

and small Bren machine guns on them. The

Greeks in Pieros greeted us with wine

and subtropical fruits.

I interrupted our march in Olympia and

took my soldiers to the famous ancient

Greek stadium. The mayor of Pieros

showed us around the classical arena and

did not forget to show us the monument

to Hinrich Schlean, the German

archaeologist who discovered the

location of Troy and conducted

excavations in Msini.

For over an hour, we wandered around the

stone strewn ground, admiring the

amazing mosaics and impressive buildings

of this historic site. In Tripoli, we

joined up with army units that had

attacked the British in the southern

ports.

SS Untorm Fioetta, commander of the

reconnaissance group in armored vehicles

returning from Kalamada, reported, "The

enemy caught between a rock and a hard

place is being crushed.

The battle in Greece was practically

over. The road took us through Patras

and Corinth to Athens. It was assumed

that in Athens we would take part in a

parade under the command of Field

Marshall List.

After so many impressions we crossed the

Corinth Canal, which cut deep into the

ismas, and that same evening stood at

the Acropolis.

Many of my comrades, who had never known

anything about classical ancient culture

before, were amazed by its technical and

cultural achievements made 2 and a half

thousand years ago.

The classicism enthusiasts among us were

inspired and probably for the first time

were able to truly immerse themselves in

classical ancient culture at the

Acropolis. For them, visiting ancient

Helles was like returning to the youth

of our civilization.

We saw places we had never seen before.

But it was here, enveloped in a mystical

power, that we drew new strength from

the heritage of the Helens and were

ready to go further, making sacrifices

in the name of our homeland.

A Greek soldier stood guard at the

monument to the unknown soldier.

Here, the memory of the brave soldiers

who sacrificed everything for their

country was immortalized.

We moved through thermopoly and the clei

pass, past burned out tanks and armored

vehicles and freshly mounted graves,

through Belgrade and Vienna to the area

east of Prague.

Here we regained our sense of reality

and set about putting our weapons and

military equipment in order. We had no

idea what awaited us. The troops were in

a feverish state of excitement.

New military equipment and more

sophisticated weapons arrived.

The experience of the Balkan campaign

was analyzed and intensive training

began again.

Everything we did was subordinated to

speed of execution.

Experience had taught us that only those

who act faster win, and only the most

agile soldiers survive in battle. The

camaraderie in my battalion was like

that of a large family.

Iron discipline was the backbone of this

community. We approached each subsequent

training session imbued with these

fundamental values and forged an

instrument on which I could play all the

symphonies of battle.

Company commanders and platoon

commanders mastered the art of playing

these keys with virtuosity,

and my young comrades became soldiers

whom I could command without

particularly keeping them in check. They

understood me with half a word. My

soldiers were not ignorant fools held

together by Slavic zombie-like

obedience.

No. Standing before me were young

individuals who believed in themselves,

in their own values, and in their own

strengths.

The war with the Soviet Union.

The news of the attack on the Soviet

Union struck us like a bolt of

lightning.

While in the Czech Republic, we listened

to the radio as Adolf Hitler justified

his decision with the desire to finally

get rid of Bolecheism, which threatened

the whole world.

With a bad feeling that we might suffer

the same fate as our fathers, who had

been victims of war on several fronts,

we prepared for the most brutal war that

soldiers had ever had to fight.

On the morning of June 27th, 1941,

our battalion marched eastward past

Jubilant residence.

On June 30th, we crossed the Vistula

River near Anapole and reached the

Russian border near the village ofug at

8:00 a.m.

Meanwhile, our forces had already

advanced far to the east. The

Liebstandarda Adolf Hitler, which had

been expanded from a brigade to a

division, was assigned to Army Group

South, commanded by Field Marshal Von

Runet, whose immediate task was to break

through with motorized units in the

direction of Kiev, during which the

Russian forces west of the Neper were to

be destroyed.

To accomplish this task, the army group

had at its disposal 26 infantry

divisions, four motorized infantry

divisions, four light infantry

divisions, and five tank divisions.

The offensive of Army Group South was

supported by the fourth air fleet under

the command of Colonel General Lear.

Army Group South had a total of 57

divisions and 13 brigades, including 13

Romanian divisions, nine Romanian and

four Hungarian brigades.

Field Marshall von Runet was opposed by

Marshall Budioni with 40 infantry

divisions, 14 motorized divisions, six

mechanized corps, and 21 cavalry

divisions.

The Russians fought stubbornly and

tenaciously for every inch of ground.

Fierce fighting continued across the

entire front when we reached the Sever

Highway near Lut on July 1st.

On July 2nd, we received orders to

advance on Rivna via Clean and establish

contact with the third motorized corps

there.

A report was received that the third

motorized core was surrounded near

Rivna. Large enemy mechanized units

attacked our stretched flanks.

The situation with the enemy was

something completely new to us. Slightly

discouraged, I looked at my maps to

inform my soldiers about the situation.

The old criteria were no longer

applicable.

Where was the clear distinction between

us and the enemy?

Far ahead, the tank divisions of the

third motorized corps had launched

combat operations east of Rivna.

German infantry units were fighting a

few kilometers ahead of us, while

Russian troops were fighting to the

north and south of us. After

unsuccessful attempts to give my

comrades a clear picture of the

situation, I summed up the situation

with the following words.

Today the enemy is everywhere.

When I addressed my soldiers, I did not

yet realize how close I was to the truth

in summarizing the situation.

A couple of kilome east of Lutk near the

railroad. We came across the last

outposts of an infantry battalion.

Thick clouds of smoke showed us the

location of a damaged Russian tank.

A dark forest stretched on both sides of

the road as we moved eastward.

We had to cover a distance of 60 km to

reach Rivna.

Would we reach our destination on time

and be able to provide our comrades from

the 25th motorized division with

tangible support?

I gave the signal to the advance units

to start moving into the approaching

night. Fritz Montag was in the lead.

Montag was a World War I veteran and

commander of the motorcycle platoon of

the first company of the first SS

reconnaissance battalion.

Slowly at first, then faster and faster,

the vanguard moved forward into the dark

woods. I wanted to shout, "Stop! What

I've been telling you isn't true. The

machine is not your friend. Move slowly

or you'll ride to your death."

But my lips remained tightly closed.

They were pressed together so tightly

that there was no gap for air to pass

through.

Squinting, I followed the leading units

of the column with my eyes as they moved

deeper and deeper into the forest.

Damaged Russian tanks stood along the

sides of the road. Trucks and horsedrawn

transport had been abandoned under the

trees.

In one place, we found 12 camouflaged

Russian T-26 light tanks.

They had no fuel and had also been

abandoned.

The battalion, ready for battle, moved

across the vast wasteland stretching to

the north.

Suddenly, I saw the lead platoon

disappear, and the 20 mm gun of our

armored vehicle opened fire on

individual bushes.

Then four or five of these bushes moved

toward us and started shooting from a

distance of about 150 m.

Well camouflaged Russian tanks attacked

the marching column. In the blink of an

eye, everyone hid in the bushes and

watched the duel between our armored

vehicles and the enemy tanks.

Several of our anti-tank guns joined the

battle and put an end to the confusion.

A few minutes later, we resumed our

march.

The burning tanks continued to light up

the night sky behind us for a long time.

So, at 7:00 in the evening, we exchanged

the first shots with Soviet troops.

To make sure we would accomplish our

mission, I sent a combat reconnaissance

group south and ordered them to go to

Cleven via Olika and wait for the

battalion in Cleven. When we reached

Stovec and moved further east, we were

already enveloped in complete darkness.

Shortly after midnight, I spotted a

truck crossing the road right in front

of me and then other vehicles on a

narrow forest road. Russians.

Within minutes, the motorcyclists opened

machine gun fire in their direction.

Several enemy trucks burst into flames

and tall columns of fire lit up the

forest road intersection.

The forest had an unearly effect. The

darkness was oppressive and extremely

tense. I felt uneasy. Such a battle was

too unpredictable for me, and among

other things, I did not have the

necessary experience of fighting the

Russians.

Hour after hour, we moved through the

darkness. More than 30 km still

separated us from Rivna.

A couple of kilometers from Cleven, just

beyond the forest, which thank God we

had passed, we stopped and the battalion

closed ranks. We could hear the sound of

fierce fighting coming from Cleven.

Flashing bursts of fire showed us where

the battle was taking place.

Just as I was about to move towards

Cleven, I heard a terrible scream behind

me. Amidst the explosions of grenades,

the swearing of soldiers, the grinding

of tank tracks, and the roar of breaking

metal, I could make out the outline of a

tank in the column. To my horror, I saw

that the tank was plowing straight

through the motorcycles.

Then it turned sharply across the road

to the left and disappeared into the

darkness.

No sooner had we recovered from this

surprise than the same trick was

repeated a little further away at the

end of the column.

Two enemy tanks drove into our marching

column in the dark and only noticed

their mistake when they stopped.

For our part, we mistook them for our

own armored vehicles and thus continued

along the forest road in the company of

the Russians.

Other Russian tanks were spotted to the

left of the road. The combat

reconnaissance group I had sent to Alika

made contact with part of the third

battalion of the first SS infantry

regiment and was under heavy pressure

from large Russian forces.

The 12th company of the first SS

infantry regiment requested assistance

because it was surrounded by Russians.

So as soon as dawn broke, we had to

rescue the units that were in a

dangerous situation and continue the

advance towards Riva.

We quickly rushed forward. The Russians

were fighting for the road.

Meanwhile, it had become completely

light and we could make out a long

column of abandoned trucks. The enemy

infantry was right in front of us in the

fields of tall wheat and was trying to

gain the upper hand over the 12th

company of the first SS infantry

regiment.

So far the enemy's attempts had been

unsuccessful.

The SS company received reinforcements

in the form of our armored car just in

time.

Without wasting any time, we returned

through the forest to Claven.

The village was taken and the offensive

on Rivna continued.

The road ran in a southeasterly

direction. A couple of kilometers from

Claven, the road descended, then climbed

steeply uphill again. I was moving

behind the advanced guard platoon and

examining the terrain through my

binoculars.

Suddenly, I thought I saw an abandoned

gun on the slope. Among the green cereal

field, I could make out a couple of

light patches.

The gun was a light 75 mm field gun that

had been left in its firing position.

It made a depressing impression on us.

It was the first time we had found a

German gun abandoned on the battlefield.

A few steps away from the gun stood a

gutted ambulance. Its doors were wide

open and covered in blood.

Silently, we surveyed the devastated

area.

No living or dead soldiers were found.

We slowly moved up the road. The light

patches became more and more distinct.

We could distinguish large and small

patches very clearly. I dropped my

binoculars, rubbed my eyes, and picked

them up again.

My god, was this possible? Could what I

had just seen be real?

We covered the last couple of hundred

meters quickly. The advanced guard

dismounted and ran with me toward the

light patches. Our steps slowed. We

froze. We didn't dare go any further. We

held our steel helmets in our hands as

if we were praying.

Not a single word was uttered to

desecrate this place. Even the birds

fell silent.

Before us lay the naked bodies of a

German company of soldiers, mercilessly

mutilated.

Their hands were bound with wire. Their

eyes stared at us wide open. The

officers of this company had met an even

more brutal death. They lay a few meters

away from their comrades.

We found their bodies torn to pieces and

trampled underfoot.

Still not a word was spoken. Here her

majesty death spoke.

Slowly we walked past our slain

comrades. My soldiers stood facing me.

They expected me to give them an

explanation or guidance on how to behave

in Russia in the future. We looked at

each other. I looked into the eyes of

each soldier. Without saying a word, I

turned and we moved toward the unknown.

Until July 7th, we repeatedly repelled

Russian attacks north of Rivna.

The enemy suffered heavy losses while

our losses were minimal.

At 2 p.m., we received an order to cover

the flank of the 11th Panzer Division

and conduct reconnaissance to the

northeast in the Jitamir direction.

At noon the next day, we engaged in

combat with large enemy forces in a

wooded area north of the village of

Ramanov.

The enemy artillery was firing harassing

fire. From the data received from

reconnaissance units and defectors, we

identified a motorized battalion with

several tanks and batteries.

By evening, we lost an anti-aircraft gun

as a result of a direct hit by a Russian

shell. The wounded gun crew was

evacuated.

Meanwhile, the situation on the Sever

Highway became critical.

The tank divisions of the third

motorized corps advanced further in the

direction of Jitimir and Keev, while the

25th motorized infantry division, which

was supposed to cover the core's

stretched flank, was attacked from the

north by large enemy forces.

The motorway north, a vital artery for

the core, was under threat. Therefore,

on July 9th, we received orders to

attack the enemy from the north, advance

through wooded areas to the north, and

establish contact with the 25th

motorcycle battalion near the village of

Soalova.

After a massive artillery barrage, I

wanted to launch an attack with

motorized units in order to immediately

wedge ourselves deep into the Russian

defenses and take advantage of the

element of surprise.

The first motorcycle company of the

first SS reconnaissance battalion took

up position for the attack behind a

small hill.

Fritz Montag again went to the front

line. The company commander, my old and

loyal comrade, Gared Bremer, repeated

the battle order once more and went to

his vehicle.

I forbade the company from engaging the

enemy or slowing down before it reached

the edge of the forest.

The plan was to rush at full speed

through the enemy's battle lines and

leave the rest to the next battalion.

Two anti-aircraft guns were set up on

each side of the road. Their task was to

open fire as soon as the company went on

the attack, providing fire support.

The anti-aircraft guns would clear the

way for the attacking company.

At exactly 5:00 in the evening, our guns

opened fire, destroying the forest on

both sides of the road.

The engines of the motorcycles roared.

The motorcycles with sidec cars and the

soldiers sitting on them looked like

predators.

Clinging to their motorcycles, my

comrades rushed down the hill and raced

toward the explosions of shells and the

sound of enemy machine guns.

In a few seconds, the company reached

the edge of the forest and disappeared

from view.

My driver pressed the accelerator pedal

and we rushed after the company.

Our artillery was still firing at the

edge of the forest. However, not a

single shot was fired in response.

Small, dirty horses chewed their bits.

The Russians were running north on both

sides of the road.

But what happened next?

The company stopped.

It opened fire on the fleeing Russians

and isolated pockets of resistance.

The company began to advance on foot and

lost precious time.

This could not be allowed. We had to

reach the crossroads a few kilome

further north and prevent the Russians

from retreating in an organized manner

from the forest to the left flank of our

offensive.

Angered, I moved forward to resume the

advance.

Armored vehicles and self-propelled

assault guns cleared the way for the

motorcyclists.

In a matter of minutes, we had captured

Russian guns, tractors, and trucks.

There was one thing we couldn't do.

Stop.

We had to keep moving and take advantage

of the enemy's confusion.

Exhausted, unarmed Russians approached

us, shouting something.

At first, I didn't understand what they

were shouting, but then I heard,

"Ukrainians, Ukrainians."

They rejoiced like children and hugged

each other endlessly.

The war was over for them.

We reached the crossroads at 6:00 in the

evening. We overtook the Red Army

columns, retreating to the east, and

disarmed them. Now, the Russians only

offered resistance from time to time.

They had completely lost their presence

of mind from the battalion's lightning

attack.

Hundreds of prisoners were gathered on

the road and many small arms and other

weapons were captured.

The enemy found themselves in a

situation that played into our hands.

Their units had only just begun their

retreat.

Unfortunately, we lost a light armored

car which was hit by anti-tank fire

during the battle. But thank God we

could only complain that during the

entire operation only one of our

comrades was wounded.

Although we had adapted to the Russian

style of warfare and felt completely

superior, I thought it wise to retreat

and spend the night in the liberated

area in the forest.

The main forces of our division were

still fighting somewhere and could only

catch up with us by morning. The forest

was alive.

We heard Russian columns retreating

eastward. They were looking for a way

east between the advancing German troops

through forests, swamps, and places

relatively hidden from view. We lay down

with our weapons at the ready and waited

for the new morning.

The rustling of the tall trees mingled

with the distant rumble of several of

our guns firing somewhere to the east.

The morning sun was truly blessed and

God gave us a wonderful summer day. I

reluctantly gave the order to move

north. The first company of the first CC

reconnaissance battalion went ahead

again and waited on the road, ready to

move when I ordered Bremer to break

through to the highway.

Overtaking my armored car, the soldiers

waved their hands, smiling at me as they

finished their breakfast.

What would the new day bring?

I quickly and briefly instructed the

commander of the second company of the

first SS Reconnaissance Battalion,

Cross, and followed the combat escort

company. I led the way for about 5

minutes. In addition to my command

vehicle, converted from a mediumarmored

communications vehicle, I was

accompanied by two messengers on

motorcycles.

Hines Dresser, my brilliant interpreter,

and I sat on the armored vehicle as we

climbed a small hill and were able to

scout the route for several kilometers.

From a distance, we could see the last

motorcyclists disappearing around the

bend.

The main forces of the battalion would

follow us in a few minutes. They were

waiting for the artillery to join the

column.

We looked ahead in silence and enjoyed

the beautiful sunny day.

It is amazing how quickly you forget the

bloody battles during a combat operation

and consider even a few minutes of peace

a gift from God.

The deep silence was broken by an event

that was perhaps the most interesting of

everything that had happened to me

during my years on the front lines.

To my great surprise, I saw a Russian

anti-tank gun in a firing position as I

was driving past it. Behind the gun's

shield, I could see the tense faces of

several Russian soldiers.

I wanted to shout, but I suppressed the

cry and let my armored vehicle drive

another 200 m before stopping it. The

messengers on motorcycles were briefly

informed about the gun, and I headed

into the forest with two officers and

four soldiers to neutralize the

forgotten anti-tank gun from the rear.

Like redskins on the war path, we made

our way through tall heather and

blueberry bushes from tree to tree. I

looked at the gun through the trees. The

gun crew was no longer visible.

Maybe the Russian artillerymen had run

away. Had they really abandoned their

gun? I clutched my MP38 submachine gun

tightly in my hands, my finger on the

trigger. My eyes were still fixed on the

artillery position. I could hear Dresser

breathing behind me and didn't dare turn

around.

Step by step, we approached the gun.

Stop. Stop. Hands up. The Russians

looked at me, making funny faces.

I stood surrounded by a Russian company.

All this time, my comrades and I were

making our way through the passage

between two Russian platoon.

My blood ran cold.

Numerous rifles were pointed at us. I

looked at the people surrounding me in a

days. Force was no longer an option. In

a hushed voice, I commanded my comrades,

"Don't shoot."

The barrels were lowered. An athletic,

handsome officer stood 10 m away from

me. I walked towards him. He also

separated from his comrades and headed

towards me. It became quiet.

The Russian soldiers and my comrades

watched this meeting. We stopped 2

meters apart, each took our weapons in

our left hands, and almost

simultaneously greeted the enemy. Then

we took the last step and shook hands.

All this time, I felt no emotion. I felt

neither defeated nor victorious.

When we straightened up after a slight

bow, each declared the other his

prisoner.

The Russian laughed as if I had told the

best joke of the year. His big blue eyes

sparkled mischievously as he looked at

me while I reached into my pocket and

pulled out a pack of cigarettes for him.

He politely waited for me to put the

cigarette between my lips, then lit it

with a match. We both behaved as if we

were alone on the wide plane, and as if

the war had long been forgotten.

The Russians spoke only broken German,

and I did not speak Russian. I called

Dresser over and whispered to him, "We

need to buy some time."

Dresser and the Russian engaged in

lengthy negotiations about which side

should lay down its arms. While all this

was going on, I walked from one Russian

to another and offered them cigarettes.

With a smile, the young Russian soldiers

took the cigarettes and sniffed them

before putting the end of the cigarette

between their lips. They enjoyed the

aroma of the cigarettes.

I patted each Russian on the shoulder in

a friendly manner, indicating that they

should lay down their weapons, but in

the blink of an eye, the pack was empty.

Only then did I realize that I had

strayed some distance from Dresser and

was standing alone among the Russians. I

was indescribably happy when I rejoined

my group around Dresser. From the

officer's tone, I could tell that his

patience was running out. Very slowly, I

moved closer to the edge of the forest

to force Dresser and the Russian to

continue their negotiations outside the

forest. I waited for the battalion to

approach. It could appear at any moment

and end this nightmare.

The three of us stood at the edge of the

forest and tried once again to explain

to the Russian that his unit was

surrounded and that the vanguard of our

first tank group had almost reached

Kiev.

Then the Russian shook his head

vigorously and told Dresser to tell me

that he was an officer, not a fool. At

that moment, there was an explosion on

the road and I saw a light armored car

engulfed in flames. A Russian anti-tank

gun had hit it from a distance of about

20 m. Thick clouds of smoke rose into

the sky. Since I knew that all my

vehicles always moved in a fairly

scattered formation in order to have a

sufficient firing sector, the next

vehicle could appear at any moment.

Its turret would appear from behind the

rise at any second. The Russian insisted

that I put my machine gun down on the

ground.

I asked Dresser to explain to the

Russian officer that I did not

understand the last sentence and that he

had to show me. The Russian looked at me

suspiciously and put his beautiful

machine gun with an optical sight on the

road. He shouldn't have done that. With

lightning speed, I was next to the

weapon stepping on it and stood with my

shoulder pressed against my opponent's

shoulder. and we both stood like statues

between the Russians on one side of the

road and my comrades on the other. All

my soldiers moved to our side of the

road. From deep within the forest, the

commasar's voice fanatically called for

action. More and more Russian rifles

were aimed at me, and I pressed myself

even closer to the officer.

Even Dresser hid in the ditch. At that

moment, a shadow ran past me. I didn't

dare look back, but I knew it was my

armored vehicles.

Everything happened in a flash. The

commasar's commands left no doubt that

fire could be opened at any moment. I

looked my opponent in the eye one last

time. He sensed what was coming. He

calmly looked back at me. Then I

shouted, "Fire!"

The explosions of the armored vehicles

automatic weapons shook the forest. My

comrades threw grenades across the road

and I instantly jumped into a ditch. The

Russian commander was lying on the road.

The war was over for him. We tried to

retreat, but it was impossible.

There was a small bridge ahead. The

armored vehicle had only a couple of

hundred meters to go when a Russian

anti-tank gun opened fire. It was

becoming uncomfortable.

We expected the Russians to attack

across the road at any moment. At that

moment, something happened that I will

never forget.

Our youngest messenger on a motorcycle,

Hines Schlint, who later became the

German champion in the 1,500 meter run,

jumped up, ran to his motorcycle with a

sidecar, jumped on the seat, and

disappeared.

I saw him ride up to the armored

vehicle, shout something to its

commander, and then returned to us. He

waved to me. I jumped up and crouched

down between the seat and the sidec car,

and we sped back to our battalion.

The second company of the first SS

Reconnaissance Battalion dismounted, and

Hugo Cross led the attack. Heavy

artillery, mortars, and infantry with

small arms quickly took up their

positions.

The battle was fierce. The Russians

fought for every tree, but it was

useless.

15 minutes later, it was all over. I

looked for the Russian commander and

found him with his chest riddled with

bullets.

He was buried in the same grave as my

comrades who fell in this battle.

After the battle, we reached the sever

highway along which units of the 25th

motorized infantry division and support

units of the 13th and 14th tank

divisions were moving.

Among the Russians killed was Commasar

Newman.

We were curious if he was German.

The 25th Motorcycle Battalion engaged in

fierce fighting north of Soalov and

requested our assistance.

I provided them with a couple of assault

self-propelled guns which soon came to

the battalion's aid.

Our battalion took up a position east of

Soolov about 20 km along the front as a

covering force.

At 3:00 in the afternoon, traffic on the

highway was interrupted.

Enemy forces crossed it west of

Sookalov, thus cutting off all supply

routes to the third motorized core.

Our battalion section came under heavy

fire. Our headquarters was located under

a magnificent oak tree a 100 meters

south of the highway.

Machine gun fire pierced the thick

foliage of the tree, causing the green

leaves to swirl and fall to the ground.

Peter got me a plate of rice pudding,

which I ate with great appetite under

the protection of the thick trunk.

Only now, many hours after the incident

with the Russian commander, did I find

time to think about food.

Suddenly, the rice became tasteless, and

I felt goosebumps all over my body.

At dawn, headquarters was within range

of heavy artillery.

Companies reported enemy concentrations

in wooded areas north of the highway.

We tried to eliminate the detected enemy

concentrations with artillery and other

heavy weapons, but the Russians were not

going to lose their composure.

I was worried about my motorcyclists

because the area was unusually large and

there were no reserves at hand.

The company's armored vehicles scured

back and forth along the highway to

cover the gaps in our defense.

It looked like it was going to be a hot

night.

I drove back to the right flank of the

sector to visit two motorcycle

companies.

The first company of the first SS

Reconnaissance Battalion with its right

flank on the Tenya Bridge was subjected

to particularly fierce attacks.

Both companies dug in well. My

motorcyclists dug into the ground for

the first time in this war.

All along the way, my armored vehicle

was fired upon with machine guns and

small arms.

Russian bullets pounded the armor and

ricocheted, making a singing sound that

filled the air. The battalion personnel

dug in, and everyone from cooks to

clerks to the last driver was in firing

positions, waiting for nightfall.

At 11:00 in the evening, the expected

Russian attack began.

A terrible hail of metal rain down on

our section. The disgusting cries of

harrah, harrah made our blood run cold.

These nerve-wracking cries were

something new to us. Flashes lit up the

darkness. Tracer bullets created a

colorful trail in the night. The

Russians broke through to the highway

and the attack was only stifled by

flanking fire from several armored

vehicles.

Another attack followed around midnight.

Its main effort was directed at the

first company of the first SS

Reconnaissance Battalion.

The Russians broke through to its

positions and destroyed two machine gun

nests, but were repulsed by entrenching

shovels and bayonets in hand-to-hand

combat. The former positions were

recaptured. Enemy artillery fire became

more intense for the first time. A

battery of heavy rail guns fired

intensively at the crossroads south of

Soalov and the battalion headquarters

east of the crossroads.

The motorcycle companies were running

out of ammunition and the motorcyclists

requested urgent replenishment.

But how could we deliver ammunition to

the right flank? There were no access

routes to the right flank and the

highway was the dividing line between

the Russians and us.

Only the road separated the opposing

units engaged in combat from each other.

I heard Cross's voice again in my

headphones and saw the terrible

fireworks on his section to my right.

The first SS company and mortars

desperately needed ammunition. Shouts of

harrah, harrah were heard to my right.

The Russians were attacking our

headquarters.

A platoon of anti-aircraft guns opened

fire on the attackers, firing

anti-aircraft shells that produced a

mass of shrapnel when they exploded.

The anti-aircraft guns concentrated

their fire primarily on the thicket of

bushes at the far end of the road. Then

Peter removed the camouflage cover from

the left headlight and drove off,

lighting his way down the road. While

moving, the armored vehicle was hit by

bullets several times, but the

ammunition was delivered to the

companies.

My requests for reinforcements were in

vain. The arrival of other battalions

could not be expected until noon at the

earliest. They were still being

withdrawn from the fortified line.

Once again, heavy enemy artillery fire

rained down on the right flank of our

sector. Shells from Russian guns mounted

on railway platforms shook the forest in

the sector of the first company of the

first SS reconnaissance battalion. And

around 1:00 in the morning, a third wave

of Russians descended upon us. A few

minutes later, the flanking company

requested reinforcements.

The enemy had wedged itself into its

defensive positions, and hand-to-hand

combat ensued. The mad creatures,

Russians and Germans, fought for their

lives. It was every man for himself.

I couldn't take it anymore. I ripped off

my headphones, jumped into an armored

car, and drove off. Without looking left

or right, my driver drove straight

through groups of attacking Russians who

were crossing the highway where there

were gaps in our defenses.

We were driving without headlights, so

we could only see the shadows of those

crossing the road. The brakes screeched

as the vehicle made a left turn on the

road and then disappeared behind a small

rural building. The motorcyclists were

just repelling the last Russian attack.

It had completely stalled, having been

repelled by the defenders.

The attackers were completely destroyed.

The cries of people mixed with the sound

of machine guns and muffled grenade

explosions made any communication

impossible.

Cross and I crawled behind the rubble of

a wall, probably about 20 m south of the

road, and tried to see something in the

morning fog.

The Russians heavy mortar fire covered

the entire area.

Several motorcyclists carried a

seriously wounded comrade out of the

battle, then tore open his shirt to

administer first aid.

I looked out and saw my old comrade,

Gretch. His eyes were closed, and his

chest rose and fell weakly. He was

mortally wounded. I called out to him,

called his name. I wanted to bring him

back to life, but it was all in vain.

Death had already taken its toll.

His lips moved as if Greec wanted me to

convey his last farewell words to his

wife and children. His eyelids lifted so

that his eyes, which could no longer see

anything, became visible.

Then his head slowly fell to one side.

A bullet to the heart had ended his

life.

SS helped Sha Fiora Fonbe was in the

first single trench. He was the platoon

commander of the first company of the

first SS reconnaissance battalion.

A shell hit him in the chest and took

him out of our ranks.

Yup Hansen Bag's longtime friend

screamed for help. His cries were

drowned out by the blood gushing out of

him.

A piece of shrapnel or a bullet had

pierced his lung and the wound was

fatal.

Hansen was dragged to cover and laid on

a raincoat.

Yup recognized me and wanted to speak,

but he was no longer able to do so. He

died a few hours later.

The new day illuminated the gloomy

landscape. The scorched earth, craters,

uprooted trees, broken equipment, and

blackened ruins could drive a silent,

faint-hearted witness mad.

In front of me was a one-tonon truck. At

night, it had been a well-lit target,

and now it was a smoking wreck. A faint

smoke curled across the roadside.

The driver sat behind the wheel. His

uniform was burned to his body. Only

black ash covered his charred chest in

places.

His blackened skull with empty eye

sockets was still facing in the

direction of travel. I wanted to scream,

to curse all the madness of war, but I

threw myself into the next trench and

returned fire at the Russian lying

behind a bush no more than 50 m away on

the other side of the road.

Looking at the people around me sprawled

out and scratching the ground, I

imagined the bloody fields of Verdun.

My comrades and the Russian soldiers

laid dead in the trenches. They had

killed each other. The survivors threw

the dead out of the shallow trenches.

They wanted to live and were looking for

shelter.

Day broke. There was not a single

Russian in sight. The battlefield was

empty. Before us were meadows overgrown

with flowers and swaying fields of

grain. Not a single shot broke the

silence of the morning. My comrades, who

had been lying flat on the ground,

crouched down, then stood up, at first

timidly, then without fear. The first

soldier stood up, lit a cigarette, and

looked in the direction of the enemy.

Everyone stared spellbound at the

motorcyclist standing there.

Nothing happened. Shouts and words of

encouragement were passed from trench to

trench. Life had taken us back into its

embrace. It was taking its toll.

I shook Hugo Cross's hand. Throughout

the night, he had been the backbone of

our defense. He blinked nervously.

We shook hands, and there was bitterness

in his words. Over the past two days, we

had both lost more comrades than in all

previous campaigns combined.

We received a radio message that we

would be relieved by the third battalion

of the first SS infantry regiment, which

was due to arrive at noon. Just as we

were about to return to the battalion

headquarters, SS Untorm Furer Balmhart

asked me to reconider the bushes 150 m

north of the road. He had recently

noticed some movement there. Peter

steered towards the bushes and wanted to

drive around them at a distance. He

circled the bushes in an ever decreasing

radius, but I didn't notice any enemy.

Then Peter drove very close. I stood

leaning out of the turret hatch.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a Russian

officer jumped out. With a single leap,

he was already standing on the slope in

front of our vehicle and firing.

Staggering back from his extraordinary

agility, I fired my pistol and ducked.

The vehicle stopped. It wasn't moving. I

yelled at Peter. There was a loud bang

in the gearbox. The armored vehicle

jerked and started moving in fits and

starts. Peter tried to throw a grenade

into the bushes, but it immediately

rolled under our armored vehicle where

it exploded.

Peter never repeated such close combat

tactics again. Upon arrival at the first

company of the first SS infantry

regiment, we came under fire from

Russian artillery, which did not dampen

the battalion's fighting spirit in the

least. The grenaders under the command

of Fritz Wit never showed any

hesitation.

This battalion was already a strong,

fearless fire brigade. In a roadside

ditch, I met an old comrade with whom I

had trained in Uterbog in 1934.

Quasowski, a tall guy, had suffered a

serious leg injury. A shell fragment had

shattered his foot. With his folding

knife, this native of East Prussia made

one last cut and separated the foot from

the body.

The relief arrived without delay.

Soon SS Halpterm Furer Hemple was

killed. He was a good friend of Greech.

We buried the dead man to the sound of

Russian artillery fire. The farewell

speeches were drowned out by the roar of

engines. The highway was open again.

Columns of German troops rolled

eastward.

We advanced on Jitamir and fought on the

approaches to Kiev together with the

13th and 14th Panzer divisions.

Then our battalion was replaced by a

reconnaissance battalion of the infantry

division and released for other tasks.

While Klest's first tank group advanced

through Jitamir towards Kiev, units of

the sixth army attacked Russian forces

near Oman, having previously taken

Venita.

Further south, the 17th German army was

advancing. The divisions of the third

motorized corps involved in the advance

on Kiev were then replaced by units of

the sixth army and turned southeast

toward Kirovrad and Kremanchuk.

At about 3:00 in the morning on July

30th, we stopped in the southern suburbs

of Zebra Manovka and covered the right

flank of our division which was under

attack.

By 5:00 a.m. we had reached Lechinovka,

which was defended by large enemy

forces.

The second company of the first SS

reconnaissance battalion got stuck in a

swamp on the approach to the village and

was pinned down by heavy Russian

artillery fire.

The first company of the first SS

Reconnaissance Battalion was also under

heavy fire.

Around noon, Russian troops attempted to

break through to the east. Enemy tanks

raced at full speed straight at the

motorcyclists and tried to crush our

anti-tank weapons.

It was impossible for the motorcycle

company to break out of the battle due

to Russian artillery fire. During this

fierce battle, SS Unerm Fura Balmhart,

who commanded a platoon in the second

company of the first SS Reconnaissance

Battalion, was killed.

Company commander SS Hopster Fioras was

wounded.

SS Oashm Furbet took temporary command

of the company. A shell fragment tore

off the lower jaw of one of our youngest

comrades, SS motorcyclist Guusman.

Risking their own lives, his comrades

evacuated him. A Russian company was

captured in a surprise attack by several

armored vehicles.

The company had orders to secure passage

across the bridge.

On July 31st, the battalion came under

the operational control of the 48th

motorized corps, which was tasked with

advancing to Novo Arangelsk and

completing the encirclement of the

Russians in the Oman pocket.

We reached Novar Arangelsk at noon

without a fight. This large village was

located on the left bank of the small

Sinyuka River, which flowed from north

to south and was impassible for tanks

due to its steep banks.

As soon as we reached the first houses

of the village, we came under heavy

artillery fire from the west. To the

northwest of the town, I noticed a

German battery, several armored

vehicles, and motorcycles moving away to

the northeast.

These German troops apparently mistook

us for Russians.

We tried unsuccessfully to contact this

German unit with signal flares. However,

their fire could not be stopped and then

they withdrew.

As we later learned, it was the 16th

Reconnaissance Battalion. It had broken

away from the enemy in the wrong

direction and accordingly forced us to

work extra hard.

In the village, small arms fire was

opened on us and we had to fight our way

to the bridge. There we found an

abandoned armored car of the 16th

reconnaissance battalion. The bridge

itself was damaged by mines.

Behind us, the first battalion of the

first SS infantry regiment had already

reached Novo Arangielk and captured the

southeastern part of the village in

battle. After that, I felt much calmer.

We could rely on Fritz wit. The first

battalion of the first SS infantry

regiment and the first reconnaissance

battalion joined forces.

We always got along well with each

other. By 6:00 in the evening, the

village was entirely in our hands.

However, apart from my armored vehicles,

there were no other reserves available.

When darkness fell, the Russians

attacked the battalion's positions,

advancing from the northeastern edge of

the village with large infantry forces

and eight tanks.

Our anti-tank guns opened fire directly.

But what happened? The tanks were not

bothered in the least. They continued to

advance on the motorcyclists.

The shells ricocheted off the armor of

the Russian tanks.

Thank God the motorcyclists were among

the houses and were thus able to take

cover from the tanks.

Russian infantry also wedged into our

positions and pushed back our company.

The tanks made a big impression on my

soldiers. I hoped that this would not

turn into a complete defeat. I thought

that maybe our gun on the bridge would

have better luck. I jumped into the

assault gun and drove to the bridge

where I met Montag's platoon which was

about to take up position on the near

bank of the river. I couldn't believe my

eyes. Motorcycle companies were rushing

to the bridge and wanted to cross to the

opposite bank. A few words were enough

to normalize the situation.

The companies turned around and drove

back the Russians who had already

infiltrated.

Four Russian tanks fell victim to the

assault gun and the 47mm anti-tank gun.

At 4:00 in the morning, a massive

infantry attack followed, which was

overwhelmed by the fire of the

motorcyclists.

The Russian attacking troops entered the

village along the stream from the south.

However, the bridge guarded by my

sappers was not in danger.

At dawn, the Russian troops that had

broken through were partly repelled and

partly taken prisoner.

All other attacks were also repelled

with heavy losses to the enemy.

The encirclement of the 6th and 12th

Russian armies in the cauldron near Oman

was tightening.

From August 2nd, six barrel mortars and

mortar batteries were used against them.

From a small hill, I watched the

movements of the enemy troops.

Several columns of Russians with various

weapons disappeared into the woods 5

kilometers from the positions of the

first company of the first SS

reconnaissance battalion.

Obviously, the enemy wanted to make

another attempt to break through to the

east at nightfall.

Disturbing artillery fire rained down on

our entire battalion sector.

More and more columns of Russian troops

disappeared into the forest.

The tall trees hid thousands of people.

Infantry, cavalry, and artillery sought

cover from observers in the shade of the

trees.

Didn't they understand that we could

follow all their movements?

The Russian officers were leading their

soldiers and themselves to their deaths.

These concentrated forces could not be

allowed to attack. They had to be

destroyed first.

Otherwise, we would not be able to

withstand these masses in the dark. They

would overwhelm us and break through

like water through a floodgate,

and a hole would form in the Oman

cauldron.

All of the battalion's heavy weapons, a

unit of six barrel mortars and a battery

of mortars, were deployed to carry out

the combat mission, to cover the forest

area with concentrated fire.

I reserved the right to personally give

the order to open fire. At that point,

six barrel mortars were still an unknown

weapon to us. We had no idea how

effective they were. The clock was

ticking.

I waited patiently for the most

favorable moment.

The stream of Russian soldiers had not

yet dried up. The cauldron was so full

that it was already beginning to

overflow.

The critical moment had come. There were

signs of nightfalling.

The outlines of the trees were becoming

barely discernible.

Everyone waited tensely for the order to

open fire.

Fire. And all hell broke loose. A

terrible howl hung over us. The smoke

trails of the rocket mines described an

arc above our heads and disappeared

among the dark trees.

These mines flew incessantly with a

whistle toward the enemy and exploded,

bringing death and destruction.

Heavy mortar shells roared through the

air, adding to the hissing of the rocket

propelled mines. The forest literally

split in half like an antill under the

feet of a prehistoric monster. People

and animals fought for their lives, but

still ran toward death. Horses galloped

madly away with carts and artillery,

dying under the fire of machine guns and

automatic cannons from our armored

vehicles.

The fading sun set below the horizon

over this field of death. People were

dying or becoming crippled. The animals

awaited the final deadly blow. Thousands

of people surrendered.

I no longer wanted to see or hear

anything.

Such carnage filled me with revulsion.

Russian and German doctors watched the

human suffering with great pain. We saw

Russian women in uniform for the first

time. I admired their behavior. They

often behaved with more dignity than the

men. To ease the suffering of the

wounded, female medical assistants

worked through the night. After

midnight, all hell broke loose. The cry,

"Paratroopers!

echoed across the positions.

And indeed, I saw large 4engine

transport planes above us. And then we

heard the rustling of parachutes.

All around us, parachutes were

descending to the ground. The situation

was extremely serious. We had no

reserves.

We waited for the parachutist to descend

with our rifles and machine guns at the

ready, but nothing happened.

A few minutes later, the first report

came in and the first parachute was

delivered. These were not parachutists.

The enemy was dropping ammunition, food,

and fuel for the surrounded troops.

Towards evening, our sector was handed

over to the 297th Infantry Division. The

battalion was withdrawn to the center of

the village. During the following night,

a crowd of rear echelon personnel

suddenly rushed across the bridge,

ammunition carriers and carts.

It was the enemy infantry that had

penetrated the artillery park where

panic ensued.

The battalion immediately launched a

counterattack and captured several

hundred Russian soldiers.

The fighting for Oman was over. The

sixth and 12th Russian armies were

largely destroyed.

Up to 140,000 prisoners, both army

commanders, 317 tanks, and 858 guns,

fell into German hands. The first tank

group was again released and sent to the

southeast to cut off the retreat of the

Russians, who were retreating before the

front of the 11th Army.

On August 9th, the battalion received

orders to conduct reconnaissance in the

direction of the village of Bo.

For many hours we marched through a

thick layer of dust and mud to the

southeast.

Russian cavalry followed us at a

respectful distance, not giving us a

chance to get rid of such annoying

company.

At dawn on August 10th, I noticed a

cloud from an explosion on the horizon

to the right of our direction of

advance.

It was an armored car of the 16th

Reconnaissance Battalion that had hit an

anti-tank mine.

Soon we captured a team of Russian

miners. The team had been formed to dig

up the recently laid mines.

The prisoners were from the 12th Cavalry

Division, which was retreating eastward

under fire. I led the battalion straight

east across tall grain and potato

fields, then turned south.

Suddenly, we found ourselves behind the

enemy's rear guard. Our motorcyclists

destroyed several armored vehicles,

trucks, and anti-tank guns.

Thick clouds of smoke rose straight into

the sky.

Pursuing the retreating Russians, the

advanced platoon stumbled upon field

fortifications that were so well

positioned that they were only noticed

at the last moment.

One of our best non-commissioned

officers was killed in the battle.

The always cheerful Booby Burose was

killed while leading his platoon. The

platoon commander SS Unstar Vavzine was

wounded. The target of the 16th Panzer

Division's offensive was the port of

Nikolv.

We were tasked with covering the

division's left flank from possible

attacks from the east.

General Huba led his division across the

Inhul River and then advanced south

along the eastern bank of the river. In

doing so, he cut off the retreat route

to the east for many Russian units.

Upon reaching the bridge at Kiryanovka,

our battalion came under heavy artillery

fire from the southwest.

This meant that the enemy was behind us

and was trying to prevent us from

crossing the Ingul.

But this fire did not prevent us from

accomplishing our task. Increasing the

intervals, the vehicles sped across the

bridge. There were no losses and either

manpower or equipment.

The 16th tank division advanced rapidly

through the retreating Russian troops

and reached the approaches to Nikolia

with its vanguard.

We also advanced continuously, cutting

off the retreating Russian units and

reached the village of Zasay, which

stretched far along the road to Nova

Potavka.

During the 5-day offensive, we found

ourselves in critical situations many

times and fought many battles with the

retreating units of the Russian army.

We were used to not fearing the enemy,

but of course, we were beginning to

respect the endless Russian expanses.

Two lakes bordered this long village to

the west and it was easy to defend from

that side.

The last Russian troops left Zaselier

around noon, retreating to the east.

They belonged to the 162nd Rifle and

fifth cavalry divisions.

Under the Bolsheviks, the church was

used as a barn and a cinema.

The staircase from the bell tower had

obviously been used for firewood and

burned in stoves.

Red banners hung from the ceiling.

Suddenly, a frail, toothless man

approached us, introducing himself as an

Orthodox priest.

He asked permission to conduct a

service.

Tears streamed down the priest's

wrinkled face as the villagers entered

the modest room, and he read his first

sermon in many years with a trembling

voice.

The old people listened to his words

with reverence.

The young people stood in the square in

front of the church with curiosity, but

also some confusion.

At night, the sound of fierce fighting

came from the west.

It was the 16th tank division advancing

on Nikolai.

At dawn, I climbed the bell tower and

looked out over the typical rural

landscape of southern Russia.

Vast fields stretched in all directions,

and a network of dusty country roads,

like a spider's web, stretched deep into

the black soil.

Dust swirled along all the roads and

enemy planes took off and landed near

the neighboring village of Novo

Petrovka.

As expected, the Russians had surrounded

our battalion.

There was no need to explain what would

happen if Nikolai held out for a while

longer and the enemy tried to encircle

the flanks of the 16th Tank Division.

The thick clouds of dust in the west and

east spoke for themselves. It was going

to be hot.

The motorcycle companies advanced to

positions on the outskirts of Zasai, and

they were just having their morning roll

call when large enemy forces were

spotted in the east. At the same time,

an enemy column moved toward Zasai from

the west. The Russians had no idea that

we had taken Zaselia yesterday, and so

they walked straight into a trap set by

our engineer platoon and several armored

vehicles. The dam that separated the two

lakes became the Russians doom. Many

enemy soldiers who did not have time to

resist or even fire a single shot were

taken prisoner.

The bell tower became my command post.

From there, I could observe the enemy's

movements and take timely action. More

and more Russians appeared from the

direction of Shuvanka and disappeared

into the swaying wheat field, only to

turn around and launch their planned

attack on Zaselia.

I calmly watched the situation unfold

because there was a strip of field at

least 400 m wide approaching the

village. Under such conditions, any

enemy attack would be drowned in its own

blood.

Russian artillery batteries were taking

up positions on the horizon. Mounted

couriers galloped across the black

earth. There were plenty of targets for

our guns, but we had to conserve

ammunition.

Our lines of communication were

endlessly long, and ammunition was truly

precious. We waited for the right moment

when each shot would successfully do its

bloody work. Small black dots moved

toward us across the ripening fields.

From time to time, the sun reflected off

the shiny metal, sparkling brightly

against the more even daylight.

The dots were getting closer and closer.

They no longer resembled ants. They were

clearly Russian infantrymen.

Their battle formations were excellent.

They advanced in a widely dispersed

formation. Groups of soldiers pulled

anti-tank guns. Horses remained behind.

I carefully assessed the situation like

a chess player and prepared the weapons

that would be most deadly to the enemy.

The Russians advanced stubbornly but

cautiously.

Not a single German soldier was visible

on the outskirts of Zaya.

The village must have looked unoccupied

to the Russians. Only reinforced platoon

of motorcycle companies remained in

position. All my other units were

waiting for orders to attack north and

south of the village. I wanted not only

to repel the attack, but also to destroy

the Russian military unit. That moment

came at 11:00 in the morning.

The Russians were covered by fire from

all types of weapons and terrible gaps

formed in their ranks. Our mortars and

field guns tried to destroy the enemy's

guns with accurate fire.

The attacking Russian chains lay down.

Then they jumped up and ran forward to

their deaths.

Officers and commisaars tried to resume

the attack, but I saw only a few Russian

soldiers running forward. Most remained

lying on the ground as if they were

nailed down.

The moment had come for the

motorcyclists and armored vehicles

waiting for their chance on the flanks.

They moved eastward, then turned and

drove the Russians toward our positions.

By midday, we had captured 650 men and

killed more than 200.

According to the prisoner's testimony,

the commander of the 962nd Rifle

Regiment shot himself after shooting one

of his officers.

Since this regiment originally had only

900 soldiers, it was practically wiped

out as a result of the losses it

suffered.

Over the next few hours, we were

attacked several more times. In the

afternoon, heavy artillery fire was

directed at the village. It came from

the west. Although we expected an attack

from both directions, this strike still

took us by surprise.

In the blink of an eye, the front line

changed and we took up pre-prepared

positions west of the village. Unlike

the first attack, this one was carried

out by motorized forces.

Several light amphibious tanks. These

were obsolete T38 light tanks and

armored vehicles formed the Russian

vanguard.

The Russian artillery strike hit the

position of our battery where a truck

carrying ammunition exploded.

We let the Russians get closer again and

they again ran into our concentrated

fire.

The amphibious tanks were the first

victims. They were blown up. Black

clouds of smoke covered the battlefield

while our armored vehicles and tank

destroyers moved forward.

They fired at the partially scattered

Russian battle formations.

One of our tank destroyers stopped and

started smoking.

Red tongues of flame burst out from

inside and engulfed the driver before he

could be rescued.

Two other crew members were pulled out

of the fiery hell and the flames were

extinguished.

My ears were ringing from the screams of

the badly wounded driver burning alive.

However, I tore my gaze away from the

burning tank destroyer and pointed my

binoculars to the southwest.

Clouds of thick dust heralded the

arrival of new columns of Russian troops

trying to break through to the east. Our

armored cars and tank destroyers, like

panthers, pounced on these columns and

shot at the vehicles, turning them into

burning wrecks.

Russian soldiers tried to scatter in all

directions, but only a few managed to

escape.

Most of the attackers soon had to trudge

along the road leading to captivity.

During the debriefing, I heard the cries

of the wounded and the heart-rennding

screams of our burned comrade.

He was lying on a stretcher and begging

me to finish him off. His burned hands

lay on his charred body. His hairless

head, sunken lips, and blackened torso

were one continuous wound. The lower

part of his body was protected from the

fire by his trousers, and therefore did

not suffer as much.

I felt disgusting and could not utter a

word of comfort. In such a situation,

they would have been a shameless lie.

My soldiers stared at me intently. Again

and again, the young soldier begged for

relief from his suffering.

The doctor said there was no hope. He

couldn't even see where to inject the

painkiller.

The doctor could only shrug his

shoulders helplessly.

A blood curdling scream drove me out of

the field dressing station. I was unable

to say goodbye. I couldn't even put my

hand on his forehead.

One last glance and I ran out.

With the end of the day came the end of

our comrade's life.

We held the village of Zasai, repelling

Russian attacks until August 17th and

conducted reconnaissance far to the

south all the way to Sneigyka.

At 7:00 in the evening, it was reported

that the Sneigyfka station had been

cleared of the enemy.

SS Unst's

armored car was hit by a shell from an

anti-tank gun. It was reported that Ted

was missing in action.

Just a few hours earlier, Ted had

learned of the birth of his first child.

The 16th Panzer Division managed to

capture the city of Nikolia and push the

Russians back to Kerson.

In Nicolav, the defeated grenaders

discovered a battleship under

construction with a displacement of

36,000 tons which had not yet left the

slipway.

On August 18th, our battalion was tasked

with conducting reconnaissance in the

direction of Croissant.

This city had developed particularly

rapidly since the end of the 19th

century and in the 1930s.

However, on our maps, it was marked as a

poor village.

Long before dawn, we moved south.

A few hours later, the shining red face

of the sun rose above the neeper and

warmed our stiff joints.

Clouds of dust swirled behind us as we

moved forward quickly.

A group of motorcyclists covered by two

armored vehicles rode ahead. The rest of

the first platoon and my command armored

vehicle followed behind them. The

commander of the vanguard was SS Help Fa

Eric whom I could rely on.

After a short time, we came across a

Russian column that was looking for a

Ford.

We disarmed them and sent them in the

direction of Zasiel.

The Russian trucks were taken as

trophies and joined our column.

The prisoners were glad that the war was

over for them and willingly obeyed

orders.

On both sides of our route, we found

huge vineyards and fields of tomatoes

and cucumbers.

Soon the entire battalion was eagerly

devouring tomatoes.

Orchards covered the western slopes of

the Neper Valley, but the fruit was not

yet ripe.

Our advance southward continued.

My soldiers smiled at me as I drove past

them or relayed radio messages to me. As

experienced people, they had, of course,

noticed that we were not conducting

reconnaissance at that moment, but

simply resting.

In vermocked reports, such actions were

referred to as surprise attacks. But

this surprise attack was far from the

brainchild of a rash or reckless

commander.

No. In most cases, a surprise attack was

an operation planned in advance by a

responsible commander.

Such a commander was in control of the

situation and was eager to achieve great

success through coolheaded planning,

fearlessness, and courage, and quick

action.

In addition to military abilities,

outstanding human qualities were a

necessary condition for this type of

combat operation.

The commander must enjoy the absolute

trust of his soldiers and be in the true

sense of the word the combat leader of

his unit or division.

The order to launch a sudden strike

cannot be given from above.

The general staff does not have the

ability to give orders on the actual

battlefield based on conclusions

suggested by intuition.

The prerogative to launch a surprise

attack belongs exclusively and entirely

to the combat commander himself.

Often a lightning fast operation seems

like recklessness on the part of a

commander who is accompanied by luck.

But there is another side to reality.

Such a commander literally puts himself

in the enemy's shoes. He is aware of the

failures and setbacks suffered by the

enemy. He is familiar with the physical

and mental stress experienced by the

enemy. He knows his strengths and

weaknesses well. He does not rely on

intelligence reports from higher

authorities. They only provide a general

overview of the situation and the

balance of forces in the current

operation and nothing more.

The combat commander develops his own

assessment of the situation. From

thousands of bits of information, he

forms a picture of the enemy. He can

read the operational situation on the

ground like a book. His deeply hidden

instincts as a hunter and warrior are

awakened.

Such a commander sees and senses the

enemy. The faces of prisoners reveal

more to him than the pages of

interrogations.

A combat commander is not only a

superior officer but a person who leads

by example.

His will is the will of his soldiers. He

draws his strength from his grenaders

who believe in him and will follow him

even to hell.

The outlines of Kersonen were already

visible on the horizon.

Grain elevators towered over the neeper.

The western part of the city was dotted

with tall factory chimneys.

Shady, inviting trees loomed before us.

The scorching sun burned us. We dreamed

of water and shade in the city.

A few kilometers from Kersonen, I stood

for a long time on the armored vehicle

and looked at the city stretching out

before my eyes. On the neeper, which

flowed here from east to west, there was

lively ship traffic with gunboats

scurrying back and forth.

Large steam fairies lazily made their

way to the far shore where they unloaded

their cargo and returned to Kersonen.

The city seemed to be within arms reach.

It was tempting, beckoning, and seemed

to be laughing at my indecision.

The company officers looked at me

expectantly. The artilleryman's face

showed that he had already determined

the positions from which he would

provide fire support for the battalion's

advance.

At that moment, my soldiers were sitting

in the tomato fields again, happily

eating the wonderful fruit.

I envied their care-free attitude. I lit

another cigarette, blowing smoke into

the shimmering air. I felt completely

confident and had no bad premonitions

that the huge city could swallow us up.

My decision was firm. The city had to

fall under a sudden attack.

The Russians were expecting an attack

from the northwest from Nikolai.

They had prepared their defenses in that

direction.

That was where the Liebstandard division

was ready to attack.

We drove to the city along a country

road along the Deniper and immediately

crushed a company of Red Army soldiers

who were erecting a barricade in the

suburbs of the city. Taken by surprise,

the Red Army soldiers forgot to swap

their shovels for weapons. But then

modern multi-story buildings appeared

before us. An enemy machine gun tore up

the ground around us. The battle for

Keron had begun.

SS Hulsterfur Eric touched his steel

helmet with his index finger, shouted,

"Go!" to the lead platoon, and rushed

across the wide square at full speed.

He disappeared behind the wide street

leading to the center of Keran.

The platoon followed their leader.

Armored vehicles fired their guns at the

space in front of the houses. The

muffled explosions of hand grenades

indicated that close combat had begun.

I followed the advanced platoon and

suddenly found myself back at the

Neeper. The road wound like a snake

through the old fortress district. From

the southeast bank of the river, Russian

artillery began intense shelling of the

road. Soviet sailors fought with the

ferocity of wild cats. The fire forced

us to leave our vehicles and continue

the battle on foot. A row of houses

shielded us from view from the east bank

of the river.

Pressing close to the walls, we fought

for every house on both sides of the

street. Eric fought like a lion. This

blonde warrior roared, jumping from

passage to passage, setting the pace for

the attack.

Machine gun fire sent sparks flying from

the sidewalk.

The attack stopped. The machine gun fire

was almost an insurmountable obstacle

for the leading units. But for Eric,

there was no stopping. He knew we had to

reach the port to prevent the Soviet

troops from organizing their defense.

Eric lay a few steps away, clutching his

machine gun tightly in his strong hands,

his legs pulled up close to his body.

Throwing his helmet back, he commanded,

"First platoon, advance! Cross the road!

Get ready! Go!"

I saw the young soldiers jump up, rush

across the street, and fall to the

sidewalk as if they had been mowed down

by a burst of fire.

Their coordinated dash fooled the enemy

machine gunner. Soon he stopped firing.

We reached a small square. Sailors took

up positions among the decorative bushes

and tried to stop our advance.

As I threw myself forward, I suddenly

saw Eric fall onto the pavement. His

machine gun fell onto the asphalt with a

metallic clang.

Eric bent over, his hands searching for

something to grab onto. He scraped his

hands across the ground.

The grenaders dragged their platoon

commander to the wall of a house and

shouted for medics. A bullet had split

Eric's skull.

I wanted to say a few words and shake

his hand, but he could no longer hear

anything. It was his last battle.

Two days later, after dictating a letter

to his wife, he closed his eyes forever.

In Eric, the company lost one of its

best non-commissioned officers, and I

lost one of my most loyal soldiers.

The battle was getting fiercer. Russian

artillery was firing down the street.

Fuel depots were burning. Fixed smoke

billowed high into the air, and

everything was flying up from the

explosions.

Wanting to find shelter on the street

that was under fire, I threw my whole

weight against some kind of gate, but it

was bolted shut.

Bullets hit the sidewalk and ricocheted

with a screech. I thought the game was

over and ran down the street, fired upon

by sailors. I thought a kiosk would

provide cover, but bullets split its

thin wooden walls and machine gun fire

blew the kiosk to pieces. A chainsaw

couldn't have done a better job.

Pressing myself tightly to the ground, I

waited for the end of the firefight

between the Soviet soldiers and the

soldiers of my first platoon.

Once again, I was caught between two

positions.

After a few minutes, the situation

calmed down and the attack on the port

continued.

Soviet troops retreated to the port

area. Two large fairies at the pier

picked up those fleeing. We were getting

closer and closer.

Whistling mortar shells hindered our

rapid advance toward the port, but we

were unstoppable.

Street after street, house after house

fell into our hands. Studded with

wide-headed nails, our boots clattered

loudly on the pavement of this

strategically important city on the

neeper. Our machine guns fired at the

pier. They were not heavy weapons, but

the effect of their fire was deadly.

Ignoring the people still running toward

them, the ships cast off and headed for

the southeast shore.

As the fairies moved heavily and

awkwardly away from the pier, people

clung to the sides of the ships, hanging

like bunches of grapes.

Barrels of oil and fuel flew through the

air, and people engulfed in flames

jumped to their deaths, disappearing in

the strong current of the river.

Some Russians emerged from this hell in

tears, while others sought salvation by

throwing themselves into the neeper.

A tractor with an anti-aircraft gun

drove through the thick smoke from the

burning barrels and took up a convenient

firing position.

No sooner had the gun been brought into

combat position than the first shell

flew out of the barrel and exploded in

the bow of one of the large fairies.

The gun stood under a hail of fire in

full view of the Russian artillery men.

The ammunition, vehicles, and fuel left

behind burned and exploded, and debris

whizzed around the gun which stood alone

on the pier.

Abandoned horses, not knowing where to

go and jumping at random, fell into the

brownish, fastflowing stream, choking.

A large barge drifted uncontrolled

toward the shore and ran ground.

Russian soldiers tried to swim to the

safety of the shore. Only a few managed

to escape. Most of them were carried

away by the current into the sea.

I heard SS Oberm Fior Nman shouting as

he directed his platoon's second gun to

a firing position.

He yelled in the heat of battle and

rushed to the first gun. My god. At that

moment, I saw the danger, but the

grenaders at the gun obviously did not

notice it. Absorbed in the firefight,

the gun slowly rolled down the pier and

plopped into the neeper.

Fortunately, all the soldiers survived,

but our gun was lost. It was a great

loss. The shooting in the port subsided.

Only a few shells whistled over us and

exploded somewhere in the city. The

connection with the Liebstand Darta

division, which was attacking from the

northwest, was made at 4:00 in the

afternoon.

The battle for Harrison was over.

With the fires in the port extinguished,

work began to restore and maintain order

in the city. It was cleared of debris.

Citizens came out of their shelters and

children were the first to start

communicating with German soldiers.

On August 22nd, the Hitzfeld regiment

replaced our battalion.

The 73rd Infantry Division reached the

Neper and prepared to cross it north of

Keron.

Continuous fighting until the very last

moment placed excessive demands on our

battalion and cost it dearly.

Heavy losses eloquently spoke of the

need for people to rest and equipment to

be repaired.

Officers and soldiers did everything in

their power to accomplish their tasks.

The battalion had long been feeding

itself and required thorough medical

examination.

Finally, we were in dire need of

reinforcements. both in personnel and

combat equipment.

The Liebstanda division was withdrawn

from the front line and was to be

re-equipped and replenished within a

week. We were glad for this break and

enjoyed the few remaining sunny days of

rest as a gift from God.

All our desires were satisfied.

We went to bed at the end of the day and

basked in relative peace.

But soon concern arose.

It soon became clear to us that there

would be no repairs.

The repair and restoration services did

try to repair the weapons and military

equipment, but their efforts were a drop

in the ocean. There were not enough

spare parts.

The battalion partially armed itself

with captured equipment. We also had to

wait a long time for reinforcements.

Day after day passed, and the eagerly

awaited reinforcements from Germany

still did not arrive.

The result of this re-equipment was that

serious problems had to be raised with

senior commanders.

At the beginning of the war, we had a

specific and achievable goal, the

Deniper.

We were fully manned when we began our

advance toward this goal and fought with

absolute confidence in its

achievability.

But now, after so many battles in

reaching this waterline, our battalion

was no longer a full-fledged combat

unit. We could only field a fraction of

our former strength.

It didn't take much effort to calculate

how long it would be before our proud

battalion ceased to exist as a combat

ready unit.

What would happen when we crossed the

Deniper with this battered battalion and

moved east? What were our goals? Would

we be able to achieve them before winter

set in?

We talked about the dawn, the vulga, and

the Caucasus.

The endless expanse of Russian territory

overwhelmed us. We began to think like

Russians. Never mind, we'll break

through.

I led my vanguard battalion to the Neper

again on September 8th and crossed the

river on September 9th at 5:00 in the

evening. The bridge head on the left

bank of the river was taken by the 73rd

Infantry Division under the command of

General Ber.

We slowly crossed the wide, muddy waters

on a rickety pontoon bridge. Assault

guns and tanks were transported

separately on feries.

The commander of the crossing area

handed me an order from the army corps

and at the same time informed me that my

battalion after completing the river

crossing was to be attached to the 73rd

Infantry Division.

The division commander was waiting for

me southeast of Barislav.

Accompanied by two messengers on

motorcycles, I slowly drove to the

command post.

Fresh graves of fallen German and

Russian soldiers were visible everywhere

along the road.

In view of the expected night operation,

I allowed my soldiers to go to the river

to bathe.

I found the headquarters of the 73rd

Infantry Division in an orchard. I was

tasked with breaking through from the

bridge head to the south, advancing on

the settlement of Nova Mayachka, aiming

for the village of Copani, and taking up

a circular defense for the night.

Colonel Hitzfeld's regiment was to be

our neighbor on the left.

Immediately after the general's first

words, I signaled one of my motorcycle

messengers to relay the order to the

battalion to get ready to move out. He

rushed back to the battalion so they

could start preparing for the march.

While receiving the order, I relayed the

order to the battalion to start moving

via another messenger. He rode off on

his motorcycle and delivered the order.

A few minutes later, I saw that my

company commanders were already waiting

for me. They were chatting with Major

Stifer.

After detailed instructions, General

Biller offered me a cup of coffee and

asked, "When can you get going?" He

followed my gaze with surprise and I

pointed to the waiting company

commanders and the approaching dust

cloud and replied, "General, the

battalion is already on its way." I will

never forget his stunned expression.

The broken, dusty road slowed our

progress.

Soon we left the last outposts of the

73rd Infantry Division behind and moved

into the darkness.

Bremer was in front. Moving slowly and

cautiously, we rolled into the night,

our engines rumbling dully. We were

enveloped in pitch darkness.

At 9:00 in the evening, 4 km north of

Nova Mayka, we came into combat contact

with the enemy. We took the Russian

combat guard by surprise and captured

them without a fight.

The Soviet soldiers seemed completely

exhausted and willingly provided us with

the information we needed. According to

their testimony, the village of Nova

Mayachka was held by significant forces.

After 8 days of rest, I felt somewhat

uncertain. I did not have a clear

picture of the enemy. We found ourselves

in a situation where we felt like

strangers, and for this reason, we

advanced uncertainly.

I waited for the new day to dawn. The

bright morning light would give us the

security we needed. The dense defensive

formation doz was our fortress.

I sat in the radio communication vehicle

and talked to the captured Red Army

commander about what kind of actions his

superiors might take. Pedicope and the

Tatar trench, an ancient trench crossing

the entire Pedicop ismas up to 15 meters

deep, came up again and again in our

conversation.

The prisoner was convinced that the

Tatar trench had been prepared for

defense. The night was quiet. Not a shot

was fired. This calm was elucery.

A couple of shots would have revealed

the enemy's position, but for now we

felt as if we were completely surrounded

by Soviet troops.

Dew settled on the dry surface of the

leaves as the first faint rays of the

sun heralded the dawn of a new day.

I was tense and nervous as I tried to

make out Nova Mayka through the faint

dawn light. The outlines of the town

slowly emerged from the surrounding fog.

The motorcyclists got on their bikes and

waited for the order to attack.

At 4:00 in the morning, peace and quiet

came to an end. Hitzfeld's regiment

attacked Nova Mayachka from the north.

The noise of battle filled the air and

instantly dispelled fatigue.

The infantry men of the 73rd Infantry

Division advanced in the still faint

morning light.

The Russian artillery shells sweeping

away everything in their path could not

stop the men who were relentlessly

pushing their way toward the city. In

the fading morning twilight, we could

see the enemy's fortification system. It

was well adapted to the terrain west of

the city and built to perfection, as is

always the case with the Russians.

They were masters at building field

defensive positions.

The attacking 73rd Infantry Division

occupied more and more territory, and

the time came to attack the

fortification system itself.

Our battalion prepared to attack from

behind a wide hedge of trees.

The Soviet troops had not yet noticed

us, and their artillery was making every

effort to suppress the attack of the

73rd Infantry Division.

We had to cover 2 kilometers to reach

the enemy's positions, and there was no

cover in the area. There was no wooded

area in sight except for our forest

belt.

Before us lay the step of northern

Tavria,

smooth as a board with hard, cracked

soil and scattered patches of step

grass.

Together with the commander of the first

company of the first SS reconnaissance

battalion, I observed the movements of

the Russians in their defensive

positions and realized that a swift

attack by my battalion would completely

defeat the enemy.

Moreover, our attack would also

contribute to the division's offensive.

I wondered which attacking unit would

cover the no man's land without losses

and at the fastest possible speed.

The open spaces of the step reminded me

of the swift cavalry attacks of times

past. The devil himself must have been

whispering to me at that moment. What if

a swift attack by my motorcyclists would

lead to success?

I didn't dare voice my thoughts. I still

considered such an attack madness.

And yet, while common sense and

intuition fought each other for the

final decision, in my mind I could

already see my motorcyclists racing like

devils on roaring motorcycles across the

step and wedging themselves into the

enemy's positions.

My soldiers looked at me silently, and I

scanned the step again and again,

estimating the distance.

I lowered my binoculars and looked

searchingly into Bremer's eyes.

How would he react assessing the

situation if I ordered his motorcyclists

to attack?

Did he expect something unusual to

happen in the near future? His gaze was

open and his face showed no surprise

when I explained my intention to attack

the enemy with motorcycles and armored

vehicles.

My greyhounds received the order with

icy calm and as a matter of course.

The artillery and other heavy weapons

took up their designated positions.

The motorcyclists spread out across a

wide front, still under the cover of the

forest.

The armored vehicles moved forward at

predetermined intervals so that they

would be able to open barrage fire

without hindrance.

Feverish with excitement, I climbed into

my armored vehicle and raised my hand

vertically.

There was no turning back. The dye was

cast. The uncertainty evaporated.

Our armored vehicle slowly rolled out

from behind cover. We were in the

Russians field of vision. The first

enemy shells were about to rain down on

us. I pulled myself up, looked out of

the armored vehicle, and looked ahead.

We were moving between two motorcycle

companies. The motorcyclists jumped onto

their bikes with the agility of monkeys.

After driving a 100 meters, I could no

longer make anything out. Shadows

flashed and fell before us. The attack

turned into a race. Would it be a race

with death?

Russian shells whistled over us and

exploded where we had been just a few

seconds ago. The artillery fire spurred

us on even more, and our speed

increased.

We had to outsmart the Russian fire

control system and break through the

Soviet troops positions like devils.

Caught up in the thrill of speed and

intoxicated by the roar of the engines

that penetrated us to the core, we

squinted our eyes, looking for the

enemy. Our target was where our

artillery was carrying out its deadly

task, where the blood of Russian

soldiers was already sprinkling the

ground.

The picture of destruction spurred us

on. We rushed toward death like madmen.

Suddenly, the first Russians appeared.

Faces contorted with horror stared at

us. They threw down their weapons and

ran westward. We advanced through the

defense system, past the trenches, past

the mangled bodies of dead and mortally

wounded soldiers.

Many Soviet soldiers fled in disorder to

the west where they were surrounded.

However, Russian artillery still

remained somewhere in firing position.

We could not interrupt our frantic

pursuit. Enemy trucks tried to escape,

but were set on fire by the automatic

guns of our armored vehicles. We drove

past abandoned weapons and rushed on,

bypassing Nova Mayka and heading towards

Star Machka.

The tension gradually subsided.

There were no longer any signs of life

around us.

The step lay before us as if it were

dead. On the other hand, the area behind

us resembled an antill.

Both our own and enemy soldiers were

helping the wounded.

After exchanging handshakes with Colonel

Hitzfeld and receiving a brief briefing

on the situation from the command of the

73rd Infantry Division, the advance

south continued.

534 Soviet soldiers, mostly wounded,

were taken prisoner during the attack.

As for our personnel losses, two

soldiers were killed in action, and a

sergeant and two privates died of their

wounds.

The attack was a complete success, but

nevertheless, I never again gave the

order for such a motorcycle attack.

With the onset of darkness, we advanced

to Kalanchack. using the element of

surprise attacked the city and took it.

Engulfed in flames, an enemy armored

vehicle exploded and 221 Russian

soldiers joined the ranks of prisoners

of war.

Reconnaissance groups reported that the

area 10 km east of Kalanchack was free

of the enemy. At midnight, I received an

order from the infantry division to

break through the Paracop ismas with a

surprise attack and await further

instructions on the approach to Ashunia.

During various campaigns, I often

received orders and assignments that had

nothing to do with the basics of

classical military leadership, but this

order surpassed them all. Did my

superiors really believe that a surprise

attack on the Paracop ismas would open

the gates to Crimea?

My company commanders looked at me in

amazement when I relayed the order and

briefly briefed them on the situation.

Crimea is separated from the mainland by

the Seash Bay, also known as the rotten

sea.

This so-called sea is a system of

shallow bays with highly mineralized

water and is almost impassible.

Due to its shallow waters, it was an

insurmountable obstacle even for assault

boats. There were three main routes to

Crimea. The Paracop Ismas in the west,

the railway crossing through the Chongar

Peninsula in the center, and the narrow

straight at Henichesque leading to the

Arabat Spit in the east. The Paracop

ismas, 8 km wide at its narrowest point,

was dug by the ancient Tatar moat to a

depth of 15 m. The terrain here is flat

as a pancake and crossed by several

ravines. They served as the battalion's

only shelter.

Right on the northern side of the Tatar

moat was the ancient fortified town of

Paracop.

The railway ran through the Paracop

ismas to Crimea.

Given such favorable defensive

opportunities and the fact that over the

past few days we had taken prisoners

from three different enemy divisions, no

one believed that the ismas would be an

easy obstacle to overcome.

On September 12th, at about 4:00 in the

morning, my battalion moved towards

Paracop.

We made contact with the advanced

battalion of the 73rd Infantry Division

under the command of Major Stifer at

5:00.

Stifer joined my battalion.

The distant horizon slowly emerged from

the twilight of dawn.

The step sparkled with the most amazing

colors.

There was not a single living soul in

sight. Only my soldiers were moving

forward, jumping like frogs.

SS Utter Sterm Furer Montag led the

advance platoon.

SS Utterm Furer Vestfall was in the lead

patrol.

I followed behind, nervously scanning

the horizon, trying to see any signs of

movement, but there were no people or

animals to be seen.

Only the play of colors from the rising

sun gave the plane a strange fairy tale

appearance.

I sent Bner's platoon far ahead to

reconoid the area along the coast of the

Paracott Bay near second Alexandrovka.

From there, the area to the north and

south of the Tatar ravine should have

been clearly visible.

Suddenly, I noticed several horsemen on

the horizon who circled around and then

disappeared in the direction of the

village of Preo Brjena.

Their fleeting appearance excited us.

The village of Preo Brjanka was located

behind a small hill and only a few

houses were visible.

Deeply alarmed, we scanned the horizon.

As we continued on our way, we drove,

increasing the distance between the

cars. We had a feeling that the peace

could be broken at any moment by the

howling of shells and mines from large

caliber mortars.

The Soviet troops must have been using

these convenient defensive positions.

The eerie calm foreshadowed battle.

There were no fleeing Russians, no

wildly galloping cavalry units, no roar

of car engines. Nothing indicated flight

or even retreat.

The step was empty. There was not a soul

in sight. This fact alone indicated

strict control and discipline on the

part of the enemy command.

My soldiers were leaning out of the

vehicles again. Even the motorcyclists

of the lead platoon were sitting

sideways on their bikes. I was standing

on the running board of a speeding

armored car in the center of our battle

formation.

My watch showed 6:00 in the morning as

the Westfailian detachment slowly

approached the houses of Poena.

A huge herd of sheep blocked the

entrance to the village. It was heading

for the step.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by an

explosion, followed by another, then a

third. The sheep were thrown into the

air. The crazed animals rushed to

safety, jumping on top of each other to

get out, but they were thrown into the

air. Turning aside, the sheep fell into

a minefield.

The plaintive bleeding of the dying

animals filled the air. It mingled with

the dull sound of exploding anti-tank

mines.

Crouching on the ground, ready to dash

forward and trembling with excitement,

we waited for the bright flashes of

shots from the Soviet troops. We ran

alongside the vehicles, intending to

enter the village and secure our

position there. However, not a single

shot had been fired yet. Only the mines

were completing their deadly work.

All that remained of the large flock of

sheep was a twitching, bloody mass and a

couple of animals that had managed to

escape.

But then it happened. The long awaited

voice of the front sounded.

Russian shells whistled over us and

exploded in Stifer's marching column.

His soldiers ran back, first one by one,

then in large numbers. I rushed forward,

wanting to reach the first houses of the

village from where Paracop should be

visible. After a few jumps, I dove into

the road dust under a hail of shrapnel

from exploding shells.

A dark monster advanced on a small rise

and fired directly at us. Just a few

hundred meters ahead of us was a fireb

breathing dragon sowing death and

destruction in our ranks. An armored

train stood in the battalion's path,

bristling with gun barrels. I gave the

signal to retreat. My motorcyclists

turned around and rushed back in a wide

front while the armored vehicles fired

at the train and retreated, covered by a

smoke screen.

The anti-tank gun fired shells at the

armored train, and a few seconds later,

it itself was blown up. The clang and

roar of the crushed steel gun carriage

drowned out the cries of my dying

soldiers.

Five batteries of heavy guns and two

batteries of light guns were firing at

us. Behind us, only columns of dust were

visible.

I breathed a sigh of relief. There were

no burning tanks or armored vehicles in

sight.

I crawled forward a few more steps and

could make out deeply echelon field

fortifications with a strip of trenches

and barbed wire barriers.

The armored train puffed away in the

direction of Pericop.

I could see Russian infantry men in

their trenches only 50 m away from us,

their machine guns rattling, forcing us

to lie flat on the ground.

We had to get rid of them or we would be

taken prisoner.

Now it was our shell's turn, whistling

over our heads, forcing the Russians to

seek cover, although we ourselves had to

press ourselves into every fold of the

terrain.

Wounded soldiers lay around me. SS

Unstrom Furer Vestfall had his arm torn

off. SS Rottenfur Stol was a few meters

away from me, moaning in pain.

Only Helmet Belela was uninjured.

Stol's motorcycle with sidecar was still

in working order. Its engine was running

against the backdrop of machine gun

fire.

Bela shouted something to stole, pointed

to the motorcycle, and began to make his

way toward stol.

I bent over SS Unstrom Furer Rarl. All

efforts were in vain. Shrapnel had torn

his back apart.

As he gasped for air, I could see his

lungs heaving.

The roar of the engine heralded stole's

rescue.

Belela took the wounded soldiers to

safety, ignoring the Russian fire. He

made three trips, risking his life for

his comrades.

Three times he returned with a load of

moaning wounded.

Another of our comrades was still lying

in the grass of the step. Like us, he

was in the dead zone behind a small

rise.

Soldier G was a reservist, married, and

the happy father of two young sons.

He crawled into a shallow depression,

his shock of blonde hair spattered with

blood. With a groan, he uttered the

words, "Get out of here. It's useless.

I'm done for."

I tried to calm him down, but in vain.

Several motorcycles roared up behind the

remnants of the advance group. I

couldn't take my eyes off G, his hand

clenching the handle of his pistol. He

slowly raised his weapon, pulled the

trigger, jerked his whole body, and fell

silent.

The horrified motorcyclists threw him

onto one of the motorcycles.

We were lucky. We all made it to the

battalion's positions despite the fire

from Russian artillery and infantry.

With a tremor in my voice, I told Dr.

Gathering what had happened to our

comrade in-arms G. And only then did I

learn that he had suffered and shot

himself, having lost his manhood in the

battle, torn off by a shell fragment.

Rural died while the doctors were

fighting to save him, but their efforts

proved insufficient.

Retreating, we took up a position 4 km

west of Preobraena with Stifider's

detachment, where we awaited the

approach of the 73rd Infantry Division.

At 7:00 in the morning, Butner's platoon

reported that the western shore of the

Pedicop Bay was free of the enemy. From

there, the area south of Pedicop,

including the Tatar Ravine, was clearly

visible.

Vonbutner reported strong field

fortifications, barbed wire barriers,

and guns and tanks dug into the ground.

Half an hour later, I was convinced of

the accuracy of his report.

An attack on the ismas could only be

carried out by several divisions with

the support of heavy artillery.

Therefore, I was thunderruck when in the

middle of the day I received an order to

continue the attack on the ismas.

I refused to lead my comrades to certain

death, citing my first report and the

unusually strong fortifications in the

attack zone.

The division ordered me to report this

personally to the division commander.

After several hours of travel, I arrived

at the command post in a small village

northeast of Kalanchak.

I expected a severe reprimand for my

refusal to carry out the order and was

quite surprised when General Biller

greeted me very warmly and agreed with

my assessment of the situation.

In the evening, I briefly outlined the

situation in our battalion sector to

Colonel Hitzfeld and then led the

battalion to Chaplinka, where new orders

awaited us. We left the front pursued by

enemy dive bombers and accompanied by

enemy artillery fire.

In Chaplinka, I received orders from Zep

Dietrich to advance eastward to the

central part of the Chongar Peninsula

near Salov and if possible take it by

surprise.

Meanwhile, it was already 4:00 in the

afternoon and we had to carry out the

operation in the approaching night.

When I arrived at the battalion, my

young soldiers were already seated in

their vehicles, and 5 minutes later, we

set off eastward north of Seash, deep

into the dimly glimmering step.

At 6:00 in the evening, we passed

Vladimirka, where we came under fire

from the Crimean Peninsula's Rhinos,

122 mm artillery batteries attempting to

stop our advance.

We continued eastward without losses.

I wanted to cover as much distance as

possible while it was still light and

darkness had not yet fallen.

We spent the night in the village of

Gramovka without coming into contact

with the enemy.

At 4:00 in the morning on September

15th, the second company of the first SS

Reconnaissance Battalion was ready to

move in the vanguard.

Steam rose from the hot coffee in my

soldiers's hands while I together with

SS Oberm Fioret weighed up the situation

and evaluated the latest intelligence

and prisoner statements.

Air and ground reconnaissance reported

welle equipped field fortifications

stretching in a semicircle around a

railway junction called Saloff.

Breaking through the fortifications

seemed impossible.

We had neither the necessary forces nor

the appropriate weapons at our disposal.

In addition, aerial photographs taken by

reconnaissance aircraft showed guns on

reinforced concrete firing positions

south of Salv which dominated the narrow

ismas.

Thick fog settled over the step and

visibility was less than 20 m. The

latter factor gave me the idea of using

the fog to appear right under the nose

of the enemy battery and break through

to the defense line at Salv.

I was sure that the fortifications

closest to the shore were weaker and

that no one would think that a

motorcycle unit could be crazy enough to

storm a system of defensive

fortifications two or 300 meters in

front of artillery batteries.

The fog would last at least another

hour. During this time, it was necessary

to capture the junction at all costs.

During a long march across the noguai

steps of northern Tavria, I felt for the

first time the terrible emptiness of

open spaces.

We moved westward for hours without

encountering a single German soldier.

Left to their own devices, the rapidly

advancing Vanguard battalions rushed

deep into Russian territory and pushed

far to the east. But German troops did

not take control of the region.

The vast emptiness of the step had a

depressing effect on us. How would we

conduct further operations in the east?

Which units and formations would be

thrown against the enemy forces in

Crimea?

We began to look beyond the immediate

battle and guess at the army's

operational task in the east.

No one believed anymore that the units

at hand were sufficient to hold the

front during the winter months.

The German units and formations were

battered and in urgent need of rest,

replenishment, and repair.

We were assigned to the 54th Army Corps.

And after the brave 73rd Infantry

Division managed to storm Paracop on

September 26th and cross the Tatar

trench, we had to quickly cross the

ismas and wedge ourselves into the

retreating enemy lines.

The battalion stood ready to carry out

the operation. At the end of the day, 4

km northwest of Paracop Bay.

A battle ensued characterized by

extraordinary intensity and ferocity on

both sides. And it was not until

September 27th that the battalion of the

72nd Infantry Regiment was able to break

into Army.

However, even on September 28th,

conditions were not conducive to the use

of motorized units.

Soviet troops repeatedly counterattacked

with large forces supported by tanks.

At 4:00 in the morning, the battalion

was assigned to the 46th Infantry

Division and advanced to a position 3 km

northwest of Paracop.

Positioned north of the Tatar Ravine,

our battalion was withdrawn at 9:00 in

the morning.

Since there was no possibility of

conducting combat operations in the

operational area of the 46th Infantry

Division, at 11:00 the battalion

returned to the command of the Livestand

Darta.

The Soviet defensive positions on the

ismas south of Paracoup were crushed

only after 10 days of heavy fighting.

It was not possible to break through the

ismas until September 28th. After that,

the road to Crimea was open.

On September 29th, the pursuit of the

defeated Soviet troops began,

culminating in the final assault on

Sevastapole on June 29th to July 4th,

1942.

While the 54th Army Corps fought

stubbornly for every inch of land south

of Paracop and the main army command

planned to send the lie danda to pursue

the enemy after a successful

breakthrough. Events unfolded on the

eastern front between the sea of Azovv

Malipole and the Neper. Events unfolded

that required the immediate transfer of

the division.

The Russians reinforced the front line

here and following the arrival of two

new armies, the 18th and 9th, launched

an offensive against the positions of

the 30th Army Corps and the Third

Romanian Army with a total of 12

divisions.

Their attack on the positions of the

30th Army Corps was stifled by the

stubborn resistance of the German

troops. But further north in the sector

of the third Romanian army, the fourth

Romanian mountain brigade was crushed.

Two other mountain brigades suffered

heavy losses and a 15 km breach was

opened in the army's front.

Due to this change in the situation on

September 29th, we were pushed back to

the north and together with our other

units were tasked with attacking and

destroying the enemy in the area where

they had broken through the Romanian

defense line.

In cooperation with units of the 49th

German Mountain Corps, the breach in the

defense of the Third Romanian Army was

eliminated and the Soviet troops

suffered heavy losses.

Undoubtedly, the unexpected appearance

of two new Russian armies near Malipol

caused the German high command to

experience many hours of fear. But

because of the way the Russians

conducted their operation, they provided

Army Group South with a unique

opportunity.

As a result of massive costly attacks

aimed at disrupting the German offensive

on Crimea, the Russians did not have

enough reserves to prevent the

breakthrough of Von Kle's first Panzer

Group from the Neper bridge heads.

On October 1st, von Klest's first panzer

group launched an offensive to the

southeast, threatening to cut off the

lines of communication of both Russian

armies and together with the 30th Army

Corps and the Third Romanian Army,

destroy them.

The pursuit of the retreating Russian

troops north of the Sea of Azov began

from October 2nd to 4th. Vonbowden's

battalion, the 72nd Infantry Division's

anti-tank battalion, and our battalion

fought together against large enemy

forces in the area of the village of

Eliza Vettovka, northwest of Berdansk.

Soviet troops suffered heavy losses in

these battles. Time and again, they fled

before our superior weapons and more

mobile battalions, suffering heavy

losses in the process.

The step naturally gave our vanguard

battalions a huge advantage and put the

enemy infantry which had a significant

numerical superiority at a disadvantage.

On October 5th, our infantry divisions

attacked deeply echeloned positions

between Malipole and the Neper.

A deep anti-tank trench stretched across

the entire attack sector and was

stubbornly defended by Soviet troops.

Minefields and wire barriers hindered

our advance.

Our battalion was tasked with capturing

the crossing over the Malakna River and

holding the bridge, ensuring the advance

of the infantry across it.

Once again, we followed the attacking

infantry battalion and waited for the

signal to begin the operation.

Our brave infantry had to make their way

through numerous minefields.

The Russian anti-personnel mines were

enclosed in wooden casings and could not

be detected by mine detectors.

There were also anti-tank mines in

wooden casings.

Around noon, the German infantry finally

crossed the anti-tank ditch, breaking

through the main line of Russian

defense.

A crossing was immediately created

across the trench in order to bring my

battalion into the brereech.

In anxious anticipation, the first

company of Bremer's first SS

Reconnaissance Battalion took up

position at the head of the column

behind my armored car. The Soviet troops

were retreating. We could see individual

batteries retreating to rear positions.

Our time had come. We had to wedge

ourselves into the retreating enemy

lines and capture a bridge head across

the Malachna River. The hunt was on.

Full of enthusiasm, the advanced platoon

rushed forward like a greyhound released

from its leash. Bremer and I followed

him in a cloud of dust. Only a few

mortar shells hindered our advance. The

battalion advanced through the

retreating enemy lines and at noon

passed through Federovka, where the

first artillery batteries and several

hundred prisoners were captured.

We saw the Russians retreating as far as

the eye could see. The entire front was

in motion.

Our lead armored vehicle was hit by a

direct shell. Motorcyclists destroyed an

enemy anti-tank gun firing from a

cornfield.

The tractor pulling our anti-tank gun,

which was moving ahead, hit a mine. The

pace of the pursuit accelerated.

We were walking on thin ice as the

retreating Soviet troops always made

extensive use of their effective minds.

Ahead of us was the village of Terpena,

which was cut in two from north to south

by the Maloknaya River. The terrain

sloped down to the east. Thousands of

Soviet cavalrymen raced frantically on

their horses parallel to us, trying to

reach the crossing before us. They

rushed toward the river in a wide front.

We reached the first houses of the

village of Terapena.

The road sloped sharply downward,

prompting us to pick up speed.

In search of shelter, frantic Soviet

soldiers rushed into houses. At a bend

in the road, artillery, vehicles, and

wildly galloping horses collided in a

chaotic heap. Machine gun fire broke

out. I looked back at the bridge.

Several Russian columns had gathered on

the riverbank, trying to find salvation

on the other side by waiting across.

Shells fired from armored vehicles

whistled over the chaos and turned the

river water red. With bursts from

automatic cannons, we lashed out at the

Soviet soldiers like a whip. Our

advanced platoon approached the bridge,

firing on both sides of it. There was

unparalleled commotion.

A dense stream of running people blocked

the bridge. To the left and right of the

crossing, people and horses were

fighting for their lives.

Only about 50 m separated us from the

bridge. But the crush and commotion soon

came to a violent end.

As soon as the front platoon turned onto

the road to the bridge, firing from a

cannon that left a bloody trail in the

living mass, I saw people and vehicles

thrown high into the air.

For a moment, they hung in a

mushroom-shaped cloud of explosion along

with the bridge beams and then

disappeared into the muddy slush of the

river.

The enemy blew up the bridge, regardless

of their own losses.

I stood at the sight of the explosion

with the bitter taste of burnt gunpowder

in my mouth, desperately looking for a

way across the river to prevent the

retreating Soviet troops from

regrouping.

Although we were firing mainly at the

area on the far side of the river, we

noticed a small row of hills 3 km away

where the Russians were setting up

defensive positions.

We had to break through them. We

couldn't allow the front to stabilize.

A few meters to the right of the bridge,

we found a ford.

Motorcyclists from the first company of

the first SS Reconnaissance Battalion

had already reached the opposite bank

and captured a small bridge head. An

explosion shook our armored vehicle.

Engulfed in flames, it began to smoke.

The armored vehicle hit an anti-tank

mine as it approached the Ford. Only

then did we notice that the Russians had

mined the area around the shore and that

a number of Soviet soldiers had fallen

victim to their own mines.

I warned Bremer about the mines and

instructed him to neutralize them before

the rest of the troops crossed the

river. Bremer, who was standing a few

meters ahead of me, suddenly began

gesturing excitedly, pointing at my feet

and shouting, "Look there. You're

standing on one of them." He was right.

I was standing on one of these hellish

devices and could have triggered the

explosive at any moment with a slight

shift in my body weight. Meer had

apparently stepped on an anti-tank mine.

It was triggered by a pressure of

between 200 and 700 kg.

We tried to get away from this

inhospitable place as quickly as

possible.

By 3:00 in the afternoon, we were able

to get the entire battalion across the

temporary bridge over the Malakna River.

On its eastern bank, we managed to

establish a bridge head 3 km wide.

Witz battalion joined us. The pursuit

was to continue early in the morning.

I was relieved to learn that our losses

amounted to only four soldiers killed

and only one of the wounded died from

his injuries.

Soviet troops suffered enormous losses

in manpower and equipment. It was

difficult to count the prisoners.

During the night, the battalion's

position came under disturbing fire, the

nature of which indicated the continuing

retreat of Soviet troops.

Based on the testimony of prisoners, the

course of the fighting during this time,

and data from frontline intelligence

during the night, I concluded that the

Russians were retreating.

The advance of von Kle's first tank

group, which was advancing southeast

from the Denipro Petrofsk bridge head,

was obviously taken into account by the

Russian command.

While it was still night, I withdrew the

combat guard posts and prepared the

battalion for the day's offensive.

My soldiers knew that we were going to

wedge ourselves deep into the battle

lines of the retreating enemy, and that

we might be dependent on our own

resources for days on end.

Attacks and counterattacks would follow

one another, including probably brutal

and merciless blows from behind.

We wanted to confuse the Soviet troops,

disrupt their plans, and deal them a

fatal blow.

As dawn broke, I looked at my sleeping

soldiers, huddled and curled up next to

their motorcycles, guns, and tanks,

which along with their raincoats,

protected them from the night cold.

As always, when I was faced with the

need to make a decision and the lives

and deaths of my soldiers were in my

hands, my whole body trembled, and I

smoked cigarette after cigarette.

The time before the first exchange of

fire, the first combat contact with the

enemy, always weighed on me like the

heaviest burden.

But once the battle was underway, and I

was in the thick of it, that pressure

seemed to evaporate.

The soldiers of the engineering and

sapper units moved forward, their strong

backs bent under the weight of the

explosives.

A few hundred meters ahead of us was a

crossing over an anti-tank ditch. It had

been blown up during the night. We had

to knock down the walls of the ditch

into the ditch itself to level the steep

edges and use the masses of crumbling

earth to build a crossing. The

motorcyclists were nearby, ready to rush

across the ditch immediately.

Our mortars and artillery were also

ready to open fire. The hands of my

watch moved inexurably forward, and

night fell again, swallowing the light

of day.

Green bushes and trees loomed out of the

darkness. A few isolated shots rang out

from the Russians toward our bridge

head. The rooster crowed its morning

greeting. Morning had come. I walked to

my armored car, taking long strides with

my stiff legs, and climbed into it. From

there, I could see the thicket far

beyond the anti-tank ditch and our

sappers advancing.

The armored vehicles silenced several

enemy machine guns. The enemy's weak

barrier had been broken, securing our

crossing of the ditch.

As expected, the Russians had retreated

during the night, so it was clear that

we would not encounter their main

forces, at least not for the next 2 or 3

hours.

That day, the second company of the

first SS Reconnaissance Battalion was in

the lead. I felt some uneasiness after

the company got a new commander, who had

previously taught tactics at a military

academy, and was skeptical of my

unconventional methods of warfare.

I had another heart-to-heart talk with

SS Halpstrom Furer L and told him not to

stop without my order. He was to move

forward at maximum speed in the

designated direction.

I moved with the front company. After a

short battle near the village of

Shuroki, the enemy's rear guard was

crushed and at 9:00 in the morning, we

reached Astraanka.

The Russian prisoners captured by that

time belonged to the 35th Rifle

Regiment. The regiments were hastily

retreating in a southeasterly direction.

We entered the offensive zone of the

30th division. An interesting, truly

impressive picture appeared before us.

As far as the eye could see, Russian

units were running, driving, and riding

eastward.

An artillery unit with horsedrawn guns

was descending the slope.

The guns were swaying in different

directions. It was trying to take up a

firing position to meet us properly and

disrupt our further movement.

Russian mortars were firing at us with

mines landing dangerously close to our

battalion.

But the retreat of the Soviet troops

turned into a disorderly flight when the

commanders lost control of the

situation.

It would have been pointless to get

involved in a firefight with the Russian

rear guard and lose precious time.

I ordered SS Halpstrom Furer L to

continue the attack without slowing down

and not to worry about the threat to our

flank.

My order and the corresponding signals

to my young soldiers added fuel to the

fire. The motorcyclists descended on the

Soviet troops like a tropical storm and

split the mass of fleeing people in two

with their machine gun fire.

Heavy armored vehicles were behind the

motorcyclists flanks, providing cover.

Assault guns fired shells at distant

targets. Enemy trucks carrying

ammunition exploded with a roar, and

artillery batteries formed a disorderly

cluster of horses, crews, and guns.

In the background, two old Soviet planes

flew over the wide step like burnt

moths.

They did not dare to approach within

range of our anti-aircraft guns.

A few seconds later, Bremer was standing

next to me. I pointed to the enemy

artillery advancing to their positions

and the advanced units of our battalion

disappearing in a cloud of dust.

Words were unnecessary.

What we had learned during long,

grueling training sessions at training

camps and on the firing range was now

bearing fruit.

Spreading out widely, the company rushed

toward the firing guns. From the flanks,

the company burst into the Russian

artillery positions like a pack of

wolves, silencing six guns.

SS Oberm Furers Hess and Wolf were

seriously wounded in hand-to-hand

combat.

Many Red Army soldiers were trudging

westward with their hands raised.

Everywhere the eye could see, Soviet

troops were fleeing in disorder.

Bremer raged like a hound let off its

leash, leading his company into the

thick of the crowd.

Gudderion's words were proven right

again. The machine is a weapon.

Our lightning speed literally

demoralized the Soviet troops. I led the

advance company and raced through the

ranks of Soviet troops with my

motorcycle couriers.

The main forces of the battalion

followed behind at 5-minute intervals.

Ahead of us was a collective farm.

Orchards and tall deciduous trees

surrounded the peasant houses.

As I approached this small group of

houses, I began to have doubts. I saw no

movement. There were no Soviet soldiers

or civilians in sight.

For some reason, I continued to have

doubts. Even though the second company

of the first SS Reconnaissance Battalion

had just passed through the village,

dust still hung in the air. What could

we expect?

Peter kept his foot on the pedal and

didn't worry about my doubts. But after

we passed the first house, I shouted,

"Step on the gas. Get out of here."

The houses on the left and right were

full of Russians.

In the farmyard, I noticed a Russian

radio station with its antenna still up.

Apparently, we had driven right through

the Russian command post, which the

second company of the first SS

Reconnaissance Battalion had wanted to

leave for the other units of the

battalion to destroy.

Following my orders, the second company

of the first SS Reconnaissance Battalion

roared through the collective farm

without stopping.

Remembering the bitter experience of the

incident on the Sever Highway, I tried

to catch up with the Vanguard Company at

top speed.

The main forces of the battalion would

have no problem smoking out the Russian

headquarters.

We breathed a sigh of relief when our

armored car drove out into the open

step, which it should be noted was

uneven.

To our right, in the southeast

direction, the Russians continued to

retreat.

Behind us, and slightly to the right, we

could hear the noise of the battle being

fought by Bremer's company. The Vanguard

Company was still not in sight. The new

company commander quickly adapted to our

style of combat. The motorcyclists

seemed to be intoxicated by speed. In a

small depression was the village of

Enrivka.

It stretched along the road. It seemed

that this village was also deserted. At

the fork in the road, we found an

anti-aircraft gun with minor mechanical

damage.

Soon, it was up and running again.

The artillery commander wanted to take

the road to the east. Even though the

road to the south was actually the right

one, it took some effort to get the

artillery men to take the correct road.

They still tried to say something to me

and continued to point east.

Annoyed by the delay, I gestured for

them to move where they were told, along

the road to the south and at full speed.

The artillery commander shrugged in

agreement and followed my vehicle. The

road ran parallel to a forest protection

strip, which was probably no more than 5

m wide and consisted of shrubs and

scattered trees.

The monotony of the landscape was broken

up by small hills.

In the lowlands, we came across a group

of armed Soviet soldiers who were

marching south and seeing us stopped

dead in their tracks.

I angrily gestured to the Soviet

soldiers to drop their weapons and move

north. At the same time, I began to

express my dissatisfaction to my agitant

because the second company of the first

SS reconnaissance battalion had not even

disarmed these Russians.

As soon as we left the lands, I noticed

other Russians walking briskly away to

the south, carrying their rifles with

them. Some of the officers still had

their tablets with them. At that point,

I completely lost my patience and bered

the commander of the second company of

the first SS Reconnaissance Battalion.

Of course, we had to move quickly, but

not at the expense of not disarming the

prisoners.

The last platoon of the company had to

be given this specific task.

In front of us and to our right, we

could see thousands of Soviet

infantrymen and enemy artillery

batteries rushing away along the slopes

and ridges.

We wedged ourselves into the stream of

fleeing Russians for about 30 km.

Soon it would be time for the battalion

to close in in the village of

Novospasovka

and perhaps risk an assault. The masses

of retreating Soviet troops would have

to gather in front of this village.

There we would be able to reap the

fruits of our operation.

Herman Viser, my loyal agitant, nodded

in agreement when I informed him of my

decision. A few hundred meters ahead of

us was the Romanovka Collective Farm.

The windbreak forest strip ended and the

terrain rose slightly here. Instead of a

strip, a small river flowed to the

south, forming a small swamp just in

front of the collective farm. I couldn't

see the left side of the village. I

could only glance at a row of houses on

the right, stretching from north to

south. The village street was at least

20 meters wide.

To the west of the collective farm,

along the ridge of burial mounds, the

Soviet troops continued to flee. I had

never seen such a mass exodus before.

Another 50 m, and we reached the first

houses of Romanovka.

Meanwhile, the clock was approaching

3:00 in the afternoon, and the sun was

beating down mercilessly.

A stormy atmosphere hung over the

countryside and the panicked masses of

people fleeing from us. Hot air

shimmerred between the houses on the

long village street. As in other

villages, there were no signs of life

here. Those who had fled bypassed the

village.

Wiser's piercing scream hit me like a

whip. Peter stopped. A shadow flashed

from behind the wall to our left. I saw

Wiser fire his pistol at the corner of

the wall and throw a grenade at the same

spot with his other hand. Damn it. I

noticed a Russian anti-tank gun in a

firing position and a row of Red Army

soldiers lying in the corner. I jumped

to the right, crossed the street in

leaps, flew into a manure heap, and

suddenly saw the horror in the eyes of

two Russians lying by their machine gun.

They had obviously just woken up. We lay

opposite each other and waited to see

who would make the first move. I didn't

dare look at the road. A direct hit had

scattered the crew of our anti-aircraft

gun in all directions. The soldiers

cries turned into howls. Peter called

out to me and looked for me with his

eyes. He must have been behind me and

slightly to the left. On the other side

of the road, the clanking of tank tracks

could be heard. A second shell hit our

anti-aircraft gun. I had to act quickly

if I wanted to leave this dungill alive.

The two Russians were still staring at

me in shock. They must have thought that

we had attacked the village with a large

force and that their last hour had come.

When I gestured for them to get out of

there, they bolted like a pair of

rabbits. Almost simultaneously with the

two Red Army soldiers, I jumped over our

broken anti-aircraft gun and pressed

myself against a small slope where I

found Dreer and Peter's messenger.

Wiser had disappeared.

Dresser claimed that Wiser had jumped

into the house on the left. Only then

did it become clear to me why we had

encountered armed Russians on the way.

The advance company at Enrivka had taken

the wrong direction, and I immediately

overtook it, finding myself in a

delicate situation.

I hoped the main forces of the battalion

would appear soon. I was eager for SS

Halperm Furer Fent to appear with his

anti-aircraft gun, hoping that the

Russians would not counterattack,

otherwise it would be the end of us all.

I almost opened fire on Herman Wiser.

How did he manage to climb onto the

roof? He kept pointing excitedly to the

left. Did he want to draw our attention

to the tank? We were extremely lucky

that the slope protected us from a

possible Russian tank.

I moved a little higher up the slope

until I noticed a small plane on the

edge of the village. This old banger was

taking off from the collective farm

airfield. Maybe we had reached

headquarters again. The minutes dragged

on like hours.

To our right, the Russians were still

retreating across the mounds. We pressed

ourselves closer to the ground. The tank

changed position. The sound of its

tracks came closer, then receded again.

Suddenly, a headquarters vehicle sped

out of the first collective farmyard,

making such a sharp turn that it

balanced on two wheels for a while.

At first, we were stunned with surprise,

but then we opened fire on the vehicle

with all types of weapons. However, it

drove away, leaving a huge cloud of dust

behind.

Finally, we heard the sound of engines

and the clanking of tracks behind us. An

anti-aircraft gun unit was approaching.

Our position and the broken

anti-aircraft gun for the grenaders were

sufficient guidance for action. With a

deaf turn, the driver turned the tractor

so that the gun was immediately in

firing position. A few seconds later,

shrapnel shells exploded along the road.

SS Halpstrom Furer Fent tried to destroy

the plane on the airfield, but it was

not as easy to do as it seemed. The

staff car drove up to the plane, and

soon it took off like a tired bird. The

plane made a large circle over the

collective farm and disappeared over the

horizon.

Our anti-aircraft gun worked wonders.

Our fighting spirit returned and the

paralysis of the last half hour passed.

How wonderful it was that its shells

whistled past us. What pleasant music

for soldiers who had already counted

themselves among the dead and buried.

However, a heavy Russian tank broke

through the orchards behind us. We

couldn't fire at it because the slope

blocked our view. Infantry guns were

brought to the firing position. An

anti-tank gun approached and together

with the anti-aircraft gun, it opened

fire on the retreating enemy columns.

Finally, I had a platoon of sappers at

my disposal. With their help, I was able

to advance further into the village. I

wanted to know what was going on there.

We entered the first house without a

fight. An excited wiser approached and

led the team of sappers to the entrance

to the cellar. To my amazement, I saw

Soviet commanders climbing out of the

dark cellar.

Wiser led me to the building and

reported. Suddenly, to our left, I

noticed a Russian tank. Its crew was

having breakfast.

Before I even had a chance to let you

know about my discovery, an anti-tank

gun was pointed at us. I didn't know

what to do. Jumping up, I opened fire on

the crew and threw a grenade at them. I

didn't know what had happened to the

Russians. I just wanted to get away to

some safe place as quickly as possible.

I threw open the door of the house and

found myself face tof face with several

highranking Soviet commanders who were

discussing the situation, huddled around

a map spread out on the table. My

appearance had a stunning effect. The

red commanders began jumping headfirst

out the window. Terrified, I jumped up

the stairs to the attic and saw you

behind a manure pile. On the opposite

side of the house, many Soviet soldiers

and officers were fleeing.

Several senior officers climbed onto a

tank and drove away. We had definitely

captured the command headquarters.

Before examining the trophies, I gave a

dressing down to the commander of the

second company of the first SS

Reconnaissance Battalion, who had

appeared by then. His guilty expression

saved him from a thorough scolding, and

he eagerly set about carrying out his

new orders.

Wiser's joyful exclamation prompted me

to enter the house. Peter had already

put on the Russian general's shirt.

There were numerous maps on the table

and a radio station in the next room.

We had broken into the headquarters of

the 9inth Russian army, but

unfortunately the commander had fled by

plane with the air force general and

before that in a staff car which we had

fired upon.

Among the prisoners were several staff

officers and the secretary of the air

force general. They all behaved

correctly and with dignity, and only

during interrogation did we learn that

the headquarters of the Russian 30th

Rifle Division had been captured earlier

at a collective farm. The 9inth Army was

retreating in panic toward Rostoff.

Proud of such an extraordinary success,

I sent a report to the division and was

thunderruck when the radio operator

relayed the division's response.

What is all this boasting?

A bucket of ice water would not have had

such a stunning effect.

After calming down a bit, I sent the

captured staff officer and secretary to

the division.

Soon, my radio operators began

transmitting orders in Russian. We

wanted to deceive the retreating

Russians and force them to go on the

defensive, thereby giving Mckenon's

motorized corps the opportunity to close

the lid on the cauldron. But the Soviet

troops could not be stopped. Their

disorderly retreat continued.

Bremer's company requested support.

During the pursuit, it became involved

in fighting. We had to wait for the next

day's offensive and the infantry

following behind us. For the first time,

we were unable to make an inventory of

the trophies.

All around us were abandoned guns,

tractors, and horsedrawn carts.

Numerous prisoners marched westward and

many Russians were killed. We lost three

men killed, 27 wounded and one soldier

missing.

Just before nightfall, Witz battalion

arrived and completed the search of the

village. Bremer returned to the

battalion at midnight.

With the first battalion of the first SS

motorized infantry regiment, which was

in our rear guard, we continued the

offensive on October 7th with orders to

take the port city of Berjansk.

We passed the outposts in the cold

autumn fog.

The first company of the first

reconnaissance battalion was in front.

We encountered damaged and abandoned

Russian guns, armored vehicles, and

tanks.

In Beerjansk, we encountered

insignificant enemy forces which were

retreating as quickly as they could to

the east.

On the main street of Beerjansk, we

found many shot Russian civilians.

Some victims with severe bullet wounds

crawled toward us, begging for help.

Unfortunately, I never found out why

Soviet troops had massacred civilians.

The collective farm in Enrovka was taken

after a short but intense battle, and we

continued our pursuit at full speed.

Strong enemy artillery columns retreated

across the low hills in front of us and

to our right. We caught up with them and

captured them so quickly that the Soviet

artillery men did not even have time to

bring their guns into combat position.

By 10:00 in the morning, we could no

longer count our prisoners and trophies.

The day was an exact replica of the

previous one, and we were unable to

increase our pace.

Then we moved through hilly terrain. A

few kilometers ahead was the small Burda

River, which flowed south into the Sea

of Azerdansk.

If the Soviet troops were going to

retreat in an orderly manner, they had

to hold the western bank of this river

and engage our forces in battle here,

delaying our advance so that the

retreating troops could be directed to

organize defenses on the Muse River line

or even as far as the Dawn. The Russians

had to fight for time and space, and we

had to prevent them from doing so. Their

units and formations pressed by us had

to be destroyed before they could

consolidate their positions.

The mobility of German units and

formations was supposed to ensure their

victory. The Germans could no longer be

allowed to get bogged down in long

protracted battles.

At the same time, if we calculated our

losses, it became clear that the combat

capability of our troops was already

below critical levels.

None of the units were fully manned, and

each of them could only deploy the

remnants of their former combat power.

Even the most junior soldier knew that

we had to use the crossing near the

village of Novos Spasovka, rushing

across it at full speed and most

importantly preventing the bridge from

being blown up. Once again, everything

was decided in a matter of minutes. The

vanguard platoon of the first company of

the first SS reconnaissance battalion

rounded a low hill and saw the village

of Novospasovka below.

The village is located in a lowland. The

riverbed had washed away the banks which

were almost vertical.

A modern concrete bridge was built

across the river. Horses waited across

the river and struggled to climb up the

opposite bank. The entire land was

swollen with retreating people, carts,

and equipment. But to our right, along

the heights, the defeated Soviet units

were retreating eastward and further

across the bridge or trying to ford the

river to ease the load on the bridge. It

was assumed that the first company of

the first SS reconnaissance battalion,

taking advantage of the enemy's

confusion, would take the bridge with a

surprise attack.

From the middle of our column,

motorcyclists, armored vehicles, and

tank destroyers rushed down the smooth

slope in a wide front, roaring into the

very center of the Russian troops.

The fleeing Soviet troops did not even

think of resistance.

In wild panic, they rushed down the

slope into the riverbed.

Horsedrawn artillery, army supply

vehicles, and infantry formed a chaotic

throng.

Horses stood in the water, unable to

climb onto the opposite bank.

More and more people crossed the river

to avoid capture, but they were running

to their deaths.

Countless barrels fired shells and

bullets, sewing death among the fleeing

masses.

It was already impossible to control the

retreating troops. People ran in panic,

saving their lives.

The first company of the first SS

reconnaissance battalion broke into this

chaos and firing from all barrels rushed

towards the bridge.

Several armored vehicles cleared the

bridge with fire from above.

Only the dead and dying remained lying

on it.

Suddenly, I saw the first platoon rush

forward as if bitten by a tarantula.

They jumped over the barrier, leaped off

their still moving vehicles, and

eliminated the crew of a Russian heavy

anti-tank gun.

The gun had already taken up a firing

position. A few more seconds and the

crossing would have become a blood bath

for us, too.

With fire support from the second

company of the first reconnaissance

battalion and armored vehicles on the

hill, the first company of the first SS

reconnaissance battalion attacked at

speed and was soon on the eastern edge

of the village.

I moved forward with the company along

the main street of the village and

struggled with my doubts.

Should we continue the offensive on

Marupople or not?

In view of the rapid retreat of the

Russians, the situation required us to

move on to Marupople, trying to push

large forces of Russian troops to the

coast of the Sea of Azav.

The retreat was taking place in a

southeasterly direction, i.e. towards

Marupople.

Why then should we waste precious time

capturing Berdansk?

The city would inevitably fall when

Marupil, located further east, fell.

I stood with a few soldiers pouring over

the map. We were behind the last houses,

intending to go out behind the windbreak

forest strip that prevented us from

seeing the terrain ahead.

Fran Roth, a war correspondent, was with

us when he suddenly cried out as if

stung. He pushed me behind the strip and

not very politely.

Fron couldn't say a word and was

literally beside himself.

He wanted to start filming everything

that was happening with his movie

camera.

No more than 20 paces ahead was a

monstrous Russian tank which seemed

ready to move or open fire at any

second.

The street emptied in the blink of an

eye.

SS Unterm Fura Bergman grabbed the

explosives and made his way under fire

cover through a small orchard to blow up

the tank.

We followed this man holding our breath.

The tank did not move. Its engine was

silent. Perhaps this monster had

mechanical problems.

Bergman prepared to throw, took a deep

breath, and rushed toward the tank. At

any moment, the explosives could fly

onto the rear of the vehicle, disabling

the engine in the next second. It could

happen at any moment.

A shot broke the silence. I saw Bergman

fall and the explosive land in the sand

a few meters from the tank. A pistol

shot from the tank proved fatal for our

comrade.

There was an explosion, but the Russian

tank remained intact.

After that, an assault gun took up

position and fired shell after shell at

the steel giant from a distance of no

more than 25 m.

Nothing happened. The shells did not

penetrate the armor. The Russians seemed

invulnerable.

The gun commander, Isek, shook his head

in resignation and cursed elaborately.

His gun had met a worthy opponent.

Previously, we had managed to destroy

the first T34s we had encountered,

mainly with the help of incendiary

mixtures from backpack flamethrowers or

shots from heavy anti-aircraft guns.

During a combat encounter with a T34, I

was standing in the garden of a small

house with several soldiers and climbed

onto a small hill to get a better view.

The hill was obviously a potato storage

cellar. We stood on the hill for a while

when suddenly my faithful dog Pat rushed

furiously into a hole. The dog had

discovered more than a dozen Russians in

the cellar.

We looked at each other in confusion and

then the Russians climbed out of their

hiding place with hand grenades,

automatic weapons, and other weapons.

Once again, we were convinced that a

soldier in war needs a lot of luck to

stay alive.

My intention to continue pursuing the

enemy to Marupul was impossible to carry

out at that moment, as an order to

capture Beredansk was transmitted by

radio.

Once again, the first company of the

first SS reconnaissance battalion went

ahead and crossing the hills reached the

Sea of Azovv.

Several Russian batteries were captured

by surprise attack and disarmed without

a single shot being fired.

A cold wind whistled overhead and a

reconnaissance plane flew over the

column and dropped the message attached

to a smoke flare in front of the armored

vehicles.

The message read, "There are only

insignificant forces in the city. The

enemy column is 10 km west of Beredansk.

Several more enemy columns are moving

parallel to each other in the direction

of Marupul, east of Bedansk.

I received the message 8 km north of

Bedansk.

The cold, hunger, and fatigue were

forgotten. The enemy had to be destroyed

while they were still west of Beredansk.

They could not be allowed to reach the

city before us. A few words to Peter

were enough to make our light armored

vehicle race past the company column

like a race car.

Clouds of dust hung behind us, and ahead

we could already see the shimmering

surface of the sea. Gared Bremer and the

advance units received the order. Follow

me. The city was indistinguishable from

the north. It was located right on the

shore under steep cliffs.

Peter break as soon as we spotted the

airfield from which the last plane had

just taken off and flown east.

We cautiously approached the first city

houses. The motorcycle detachment was

moving ahead. The street seemed

completely deserted. There was not a

soul in sight.

Potholes and a broken road forced the

motorcyclists to drive slowly.

I signaled Peter to overtake them and

cross the city as quickly as possible.

At that moment, our car took the lead in

the column and soon pulled ahead by more

than 100 m.

We delved deeper into this ghost city.

The intersections attracted us like a

magnet. The nose of the armored vehicle

peaked around the corner and sniffed out

the situation on the street. Then our

car made a quick dash and stopped at the

next corner. So we moved from one street

to another, setting the pace for the

motorcyclists.

Standing on the running board, I hid

behind the tower and held my carbine

with a death grip while Peter prepared

to drive the vehicle to the next corner.

There was no sound. All the windows were

tightly closed and there was not the

slightest movement.

Before the armored car disappeared

around the corner, I looked back to see

if the motorcyclists were following us.

Suddenly, the armored car jerked

backward and I was lying on my side

right on the street. Bullets whistled

overhead. Horses reared up and galloped

down the street. Firing

indiscriminately, the Csacs dismounted

and rushed to the nearest houses. Their

commander pulled out his revolver and

opened fire. At that very moment, I

heard Peter's voice behind me. Sternbun

Fur, I've already taken him out. He was

right. The revolver fell onto the road.

The horses without riders galloped west,

and the wounded Csacs leaned against the

walls of the houses. Our

command armored car ran into a Russian

cavalry detachment.

If we were going to take the column west

of the city by surprise and destroy it,

we needed to hurry even more.

Bremer rushed to the outskirts of the

city and waited there for further

orders.

The Soviet column was getting closer and

closer, completely unaware of our

presence.

We could already make out every soldier

and every vehicle.

These were apparently the remnants of an

infantry regiment that had been fighting

on the shore south of Molapole and was

now trying to rejoin the main forces.

Meanwhile, the battalion took up

positions on both sides of the road and

waited for my order to attack.

I had time. I waited until the column

disappeared into the lowlands and began

to climb the nearest slope.

The minutes dragged on in agonizing

anticipation of what would happen. The

motorcyclists sat on their bikes and

enjoyed their last puffs of cigarettes.

At that moment, the enemy's advance

units were only 300 meters away and were

moving along without a care in the

world.

I even felt a kind of pity for this

Russian unit. They had covered the

retreat of their comrades and were now

left to fend for themselves.

Before the doomed Russian unit realized

what was happening, motorcycle companies

and armored vehicles rushed down both

sides of the Russian column and

surrounded it almost without a fight.

More than 2,000 Soviet soldiers were

taken prisoner with their weapons and

military equipment.

Two artillery batteries were captured.

From October 7th, our losses amounted to

only one killed. The brave SS Unster

Bergman died in a battle with a tank.

Having captured the enemy column, we

established contact with the advanced

guard of Bowden's battalion.

I personally went to the battalion and

congratulated Bowden on his award, the

Knights Cross.

His battalion occupied Berdansk while we

moved back to the village of

Novospasovka

and prepared to pursue the enemy further

in the direction of Marupople.

For the first time, we were given

priority for a short rest under the

cover of infantry. The third battalion

of the first infantry regiment covered

us from the east.

At midnight, mail arrived from home,

delivered by our supply officer, SStorm

furer Valta Everett.

He always took every opportunity to help

the frontline soldiers, knowing all

about their needs.

We were immensely grateful to him.

Before we knew it, a new day had dawned.

I could hear the roar of engines

starting up and the clatter of field

kitchen utensils, but I didn't have the

strength to get up and finally wake up.

However, Peter kept trying to wake me up

until I finally stood up in the middle

of the room, bringing a mug of hot make,

a substitute for coffee, to my lips.

The dull roar of assault gun engines and

the higher pitched sound of motorcycles

drove me out onto the village street.

The noise of engines has always been

music to my ears. In order to ease the

burden on the units, we decided to use a

rolling movement in the advance of the

front units. That is to alternate the

units marching in the vanguard.

The advanced platoon reinforced with

armored vehicles and anti-tank guns

moved at full speed ahead of the main

forces and waited for them to arrive at

predetermined points.

The battalion followed the advance units

at a constant speed. The terrain was

very hilly and treeless. Recently

destroyed gardens could only be seen in

builtup areas.

For the first 20 minutes, we moved along

a wide, dusty road without encountering

the enemy. There was no abandoned

equipment or Russian soldiers, which

would have indicated that this was a

retreat route.

We moved toward the light of the

approaching new day from 5 in the

morning and expected fire from the

defenders at any moment, but we only

encountered enemy resistance around 8:00

near the village of Mangush.

The first company of the first SS

reconnaissance battalion attacked in

marching order and broke through this

village.

It was difficult to understand how it

had been planned. Mangush occupied a

fold in the terrain on both sides of our

route of advance.

As we advanced through the village, I

noticed enemy infantry between the

houses and in the gardens. But we did

not have time to defend this settlement.

We had a more important goal ahead of

us. We had to reach Medopal.

The infantry following us would take

care of destroying the remaining enemy

units. Our battalion advanced

relentlessly.

Fire was opened on the move. 2 km east

of the village of Mangush, the advance

units discovered well- constructed

Soviet field fortifications.

This was the outer defense ring of

Medupal.

Due to the rapid advance of German

troops, these fortifications could not

be fully utilized by the Russians. There

were few troops left to defend the city.

But nevertheless, all possibilities for

a stubborn defense were there.

The defensive position stretched along

the ridge in our path and completely

dominated the terrain.

We again chose an unusual form of

attack, intending to drive onto the

ridge under cover of our artillery and

heavy infantry weapons.

The Vanguard Company was ordered to

engage the enemy only after bypassing

the Russian positions and striking the

defending Russians from the rear.

The units following our battalion were

to attack the enemy positions from the

flanks with the support of assault guns.

The order was given verbally and via

messengers on motorcycles.

I was with Bremer when he was preparing,

together with my old comrades in arms,

to break through the ridge into the

unknown.

The self-propelled guns roared forward

behind the advancing company. Shells

fell among the defenders and pinned them

to the ground. The position on the ridge

was reached in a few minutes. The

advance units wedged themselves into it

and then the units following behind

surrounded it on both flanks.

During the attack, the commander of the

advanced guard platoon, SS Untorm Furer

Schultz, was wounded,

but the Russians recovered fairly

quickly from the unexpected blow.

Fierce fighting continued, especially to

the right of the road. The young,

enthusiastic commasar spurred his unit

on again and again.

But it was not only the commasar shouts

that encouraged his soldiers. His own

example of personal bravery motivated

them to continue their resistance.

I will never forget my last impression

of this man, standing at full height,

throwing the last grenades in his

sector.

Then he threw the last grenade on the

ground in front of him and fell on it

with his whole body.

The explosion threw his body into the

air. Pieces of it fell to the ground.

Such was the end of the fanatic.

Two Soviet batteries that had been

firing during our advance were captured.

Unfortunately, Eric, the younger brother

of our fallen comrade, was killed during

this operation.

I transferred his body to the supply

train to preserve it.

More than 300 Soviet prisoners were

lined up in front of the newly captured

defensive position.

The prisoners claimed that they had

orders to retreat to Rostov.

So forward. There was no time to lose.

The Soviet troops had to be struck while

they were on the march.

At 10:00 in the morning, I stood at the

highest point to the right of the road

and looked at Marupole.

It was a few kilometers away. The road

led straight to the city. On the

outskirts of the city, we could see

roadblocks and armored vehicles arriving

and departing.

But what else was happening? A long

column was marching into the city from

the northeast.

This column of Soviet troops stretched

for several kilometers.

Artillery separated from the column and

took up firing positions opposite us. We

also saw a group of Soviet troops

marching west of the city. The Russian

troops were retreating along the

Berdonsk Marupole road. Judging by the

map, both columns would have to use the

only bridge in Marupole if they wanted

to continue their retreat to the east.

I stared intently at the columns of

Soviet troops for several minutes and

could not make up my mind. The huge city

with its gigantic steel mills,

shipyards, and airfields, and the

soldiers that the city constantly

absorbed, made an impression on me. The

eastern column of Soviet troops

stretched to the horizon.

Dark as a cloud, it rolled inexurably

toward the city.

Was it even conceivable to consider

attacking such a mass with less than a

thousand soldiers?

A Soviet plane took off and flew east.

Wasn't this a direct challenge to us to

take a risk and attack despite our bad

feelings?

Didn't the departure of the planes mean

that the city was being abandoned?

As always, when making decisions, I went

to the front line and listened to what

my young soldiers were saying. If the

plan was bad, if it didn't look

promising, my guys would become a kind

of litmus test, looking at me with

indifference or wandering aimlessly with

their weapons.

However, if there was the slightest

chance of success, I could feel their

readiness to attack, their silent trust,

which prompted me to give the order to

attack.

The vanguard units were commanded by Sep

Maul, my comrade in arms from the 15th

company of the first SS infantry

regiment.

Sept took command of the platoon after

its commander was wounded. He nodded to

me, saluted in farewell, and nervously

lit a cigarette.

Company commander Gird Bremer looked at

me calmly. I could always see in his

eyes that he would follow me to the ends

of the earth.

I never noticed any doubt or even a hint

of doubt in him. My soldiers were

waiting for the order to continue the

pursuit.

Intuition and experience gained in

numerous battles made them believe in

our success.

Their confidence, their belief in

brotherhood in arms and in their own

strength drove me forward.

The fear of my own cowardice also

spurred me on.

The clock showed 10:00 in the morning

when our advance units went on the

attack and the first Russian shells

exploded dangerously close to them.

Infantry guns and an anti-aircraft

battery engaged the enemy batteries and

fired on the airfield.

During the offensive, I noticed field

fortifications on both sides of the

road. They were right on the outskirts

of Marupople.

Fountains of machine gun fire ran across

the ground in the distance, and mortar

explosions shook the black earth far

behind us. Our advance was now

unstoppable.

Motorcyclists raced toward the city on

both sides of the road. The roadblock

was incomplete. The defenders fell under

fire from assault guns. Just a few

hundred meters to the left of the road,

enemy planes took off and disappeared,

flying low over the flat roofs. They

were flying eastward, but none of the

planes attacked us. Perhaps the enemy

air force did not have enough time to

load ammunition and bombs.

Unlike other Soviet cities, there were

tall multi-story buildings on the

outskirts of Marupople.

Since there was not a single tree or

small house there, the sudden change in

scenery was depressing, even oppressive.

The advanced units stopped after the

first steep climbs and began to advance

on foot. I also wanted to jump out of my

armored car and use it as a shelter.

High walls loomed menacingly over us. I

was only distracted from my thoughts

when Peter drove into a round square.

SS Halpder Fura Fritz Bugalzac suddenly

appeared to our left. Tramas were moving

in our direction. Trucks, tractors,

horsedrawn carts, and hundreds of people

made this large round square bustling

with activity.

Our armored car suddenly found itself in

front of a firet truck whose driver

stopped it in confusion.

Shrapnel from Buggles armored car

literally tore the vehicle in half.

The machine gun fire from our

motorcyclists echoed eerily among the

houses behind the square.

Enemy soldiers engulfed in flames ran

across the square like living torches.

Dozens of people were set al light by

the explosion of the firetruck's fuel

tank. The panicked crowd rushed into the

alleys, trampling everything in their

path. Barely catching our breath, we

continued to move forward and block the

streets. We shouted and yelled. The

shells from our assault guns began to

fall on the crowded streets. The columns

of Soviet troops entering the city were

broken up. All semblance of order was

lost. We, like locusts, swarmed through

the streets and tried to find our way to

Rosto.

The square was littered with smoking

debris. Only the seriously wounded or

dead soldiers remained.

The bulk of the Soviet troops had

disappeared.

The corner building was turned into a

command post from which further combat

operations could be directed.

Bremer advanced in the direction of

Tagenrog.

At 1:00 in the afternoon, the first

company of the first SS reconnaissance

battalion was in Sartana, 2 km northeast

of Marupople.

A large column of enemy troops was

retreating eastward along the main road.

When we reported the fall of Marupople,

we received the following reply from the

division.

This must be a mistake. You must have

meant mangush.

However, it was not a mistake. The city

was taken by a daring assault by a

handful of German grenaders whose speed

prevailed over the inertia and

indecision of the defenders.

The success of the day came at the cost

of a wounded officer, a non-commissioned

officer, and the lives of four soldiers

who left us forever.

The infantry that followed took over the

mopping up operations in the city and

established guard posts outside it and

further east. We were amazed when we saw

the huge Azoval plant. It stretched for

several kilometers along the seashore

and was equipped with modern production

facilities.

The plant fell into our hands intact and

undamaged.

The battle on the Sea of Ozov ended with

the fall of Marupople.

In total, more than 100,000 Soviet

soldiers were taken prisoner in this

battle. 212 tanks and armored vehicles

and 672 guns were captured. From October

10th to 12th, the battalion fought in

the area between Marupople and the Muse

River. a few kilometers west of

Tagenrog.

At 5:00 in the morning on October 12th,

the battalion attempted to capture a

bridge head on the eastern bank of the

Muse and take the bridge across the

river with a surprise attack. As we

advanced, we came under heavy fire from

enemy artillery on the eastern bank of

the Muse. The first company of the first

reconnaissance battalion was thrown back

700 m from the bridge and was forced to

hold its ground under enemy fire until

dark. The main forces of the battalion

were able to withdraw from the battle at

the muse without losses, but the advance

units were badly battered by Soviet

troops.

More than 20 soldiers and five officers

were wounded. Among the wounded were

also two battalion doctors.

At dusk, I took the body of my loyal

Peter, SS Unermfur Eric Petersil. He was

killed by shrapnel.

It was the first time a driver had been

killed next to me. I could not even

imagine that during this war, seven more

of my drivers would be doomed to death.

In the gray morning twilight of the

dawning new day, we stood at the graves

of our fallen comrades.

We lowered four bodies wrapped in

raincoats into foreign soil.

My soldiers stood silently at the edge

of the grave, saying goodbye to their

comrades in arms.

The rumble of Soviet heavy artillery

firing from Tagenrog could be heard and

their shells whistled over our heads,

searching for our artillery.

The communications unit on motorcycles,

Peter's close friends, Visor, and other

staff officers, waited for my farewell

speech. I was overcome with emotion and

couldn't utter a word. Tears streamed

down my face. A few wild flowers fell

into the dark grave. I saluted Peter and

turned away.

Later, I would write to his mother.

The battalion fought to clear the

western bank of the Muse River of enemy

forces until October 16th. Then followed

Witz battalion which had secured a

position at Coelkin.

On October 17th during the offensive on

Tagenrog, our battalion advanced south.

Witz battalion advanced to our left and

Freys battalion followed to storm the

city. Our infantry attacked the northern

suburbs of Tagenrog with incredible

determination and broke into the city.

Unfortunately, Freys battalion came

under fire from two Soviet armored

trains. Their fire tore huge gaps in our

battle formations until the armored

trains were destroyed by our

anti-aircraft guns.

More than 80 soldiers were killed by the

fire of these steel monsters bristling

with numerous barrels.

During the assault on Tagenrog, we had

our first opportunity to observe the

organized destruction of the city by

Soviet troops.

Factories and institutions were blown up

one after another.

Thick clouds of smoke marked the retreat

of the Soviet troops.

When we broke into the city, we saw huge

piles of burned grain. In Tagenrog, we

saw the scorched earth policy in action.

Those who fled on ships were sunk by

artillery fire. None of the Russians on

the shore even thought of rescuing

people from the sinking ships.

Only on Dresser's orders did they begin

to rescue the survivors and bring them

ashore.

A monument to Peter the Great stood on

the steep bank. The Russian emperor, who

had fought for access to the southern

seas, looked at the sinking ships.

It was cold. An icy wind blew from the

sea, heralding the imminent onset of

winter. To the south, the snowcapped

peaks of the greater Cauasus Mountains

were visible. The giants sparkled,

mesmerizing, untouched by the frenzy of

humanity.

We were freezing. Our uniforms hung in

tatters. We had no winter clothes. Our

unit's plan of attack had not yet been

thwarted, but a new target had not been

identified. A huge territory, truly

unoccupied by our troops, and without

any communication system, lay behind us.

The railway lines ran mainly from north

to south. For the first time, we thought

about defense.

Under the cold rain and along the broken

roads of October 20th, we moved in the

direction of Rostovon.

The main blow was delivered by the 14th

tank division and the Leeb Standarda

motorized division, which were part of

Mackinson's third motorized corps.

I looked indifferently at the remnants

of the Russian battalion on the opposite

slope of the hill near Sambeck.

I could no longer read the map. The

letters blurred before my eyes.

Weakness and nausea tormented me to such

an extent that I had to ask the

divisional commander to replace me.

Four months of fighting in Russia were

enough to confine me to bed. I was no

longer fit for combat.

SS Halpderm Fura Cross took temporary

command of the battalion and threw it

into extremely heavy fighting.

I returned to Tagenrog after dark. I was

admitted to a field hospital with

jaundice and dysentery accompanied by

nausea.

At that time a dysentery epidemic was

raging and it dangerously weakened the

front.

There were no longer any full-fledged

German regiments and divisions. The

Eastern Front was held by the weak

remnants of once powerful combat units.

German grenaders were entering the most

difficult battle of their existence.

They were bloodied and unprepared for

it. They saw the impending disaster with

wide open eyes, did their duty, and did

not doubt it for a second. They believed

in the necessity of self-sacrifice.

I left the field hospital after almost

two weeks. I was still quite weak on my

feet, but I reported my arrival to the

unit after which I was unceremoniously

transferred by the commander to the

officer reserve and was to remain at the

division headquarters.

By this time, the Lie Darta division had

moved to the defense west of Rostov.

It worked closely with the 13th and 14th

Panzer Divisions and repelled all Soviet

attacks.

The Third Cors area of operations

stretched across bare fields, and the

bitter cold had frozen the ground,

making it as hard as rock. It was

impossible to dig a trench or even set

up a decent position.

The weather became our most formidable

enemy.

My battalion took up defensive positions

and fought against the 253rd Russian

division under the command of Colonel

Okatsky, which had only been formed in

August in the North Caucasus.

The division was made up of Kuban

Casacs, who were not particularly fond

of Soviet rule.

In my absence, the battalion became even

weaker. The lack of officers was

particularly noticeable.

The second company of the first SS

reconnaissance battalion was commanded

by SS Obermfurer Olutter. He was wounded

but refused to leave his company. The

third company of the first

reconnaissance battalion was struck by a

severe outbreak of dtheria which further

weakened the battalion's combat

capability.

On November 1st near the village of

Alexandrovski,

SS Oberm Fura Vonbutner was wounded.

Together with the division commander, I

visited my old comrades in Alexandrovski

on November 2nd and attended the

presentation of the Knights Cross to

Gared Bremer. I noted with satisfaction

the genuine joy of the motorcyclists at

Bremer's award. The company deserved

this recognition of its achievements.

Frost gave way to rain. Water

accumulated in the trenches and deep

ruts in the roads and constantly flooded

our uniforms.

Cars, guns, and tanks got stuck in the

mud. The grenaders waited through it

kneedeep. Supplies became almost

impossible to deliver and could only be

transported by horsedrawn vehicles. The

cars crawled along like turtles. Fuel

consumption and losses of military

equipment were disproportionate to the

results. The army was sinking in the

mud. Losses due to disease were

increasing endlessly.

The frost period began in mid- November.

We had to dig frozen vehicles out of the

mud one by one and warm up the engines

using additional means. We became a

crippled army. At that very moment, I

was attending a very important meeting

at the command post in the village of

Lahanov.

It concerned the important role of oil.

Colonel General von Klest, General Von

Mackinson, Sept Dietrich and several oil

experts were present. They were

convinced of the need to capture the

Russian oil fields in Baku in order to

continue the war. In this regard, the

capture of Rosto became an absolute

necessity.

Lower ranking military personnel

listened silently as figures on oil

production and consumption were cited

and the needs of the economy and the

army were discussed.

We did not have the necessary data and

experience to evaluate these

presentations.

However, from a military point of view,

the situation was different. Everyone

warned against an attack on Rostov,

pointing to heavy losses in the units

and the fact that the army was simply

not ready for such an operation.

The divisions were depleted. There was a

lack of military equipment. And the

situation with winter uniforms necessary

for conducting a winter campaign was

extremely poor. Fur coats and hats were

delivered from Marupople with great

difficulty.

German soldiers could not be

distinguished from Russian soldiers even

at a distance of 100 m. The health of

the soldiers also left much to be

desired.

The commanders of units, divisions, and

formations assessed the situation with

absolute accuracy when they said, "We

will attack. We will take Rosttoff and

pursue the Soviet troops beyond the

dawn, but we will not be able to

reliably defend the captured city.

In mid- November, 11 soldiers of the

second battalion of the first SS

infantry regiment were found in a sewer

pit of the NKVD building in Tagenrog.

They had been captured in September and

according to civilian testimony had been

thrown into the pit alive.

The decision to attack Rostoff was made

on November 14th. The main strike was to

be delivered from the west by the

Liebstandarda motorized division and the

13th Panzer Division and from the north

by the 16th Panzer Division.

The attack was supposed to begin on

November 16th. However, it had to be

postponed for a day because due to

severe frosts, there were not enough

tanks and armored vehicles ready for the

operation.

My battalion advanced along the road and

immediately came under heavy barrage

fire in a heavily mined and fortified

area.

Every piece of land had to be fought for

with unprecedented effort at a

temperature of minus30° C.

The road to Rosto was captured only

thanks to the exceptional tenacity of

the SS troops.

My soldiers fought without me for the

first time and engaged in what were

perhaps the heaviest battles they had

ever fought. Fierce fighting broke out

across the entire front around Rostoff.

The attacking division suffered heavy

losses fighting in heavily fortified and

mined terrain.

Gird plays the brave commander of the

first company of the first SS

reconnaissance battalion lost both legs

and died on the way to the field

hospital.

Fritz Wit fought side by side with his

grenaders.

Colonel General von Mackinson

demonstrated a brilliant example of true

Prussian valor.

Patiently summoning all their willpower,

the troops of the third motorized corps

under his command continued to march

through the snow drifts and went on the

attack together with the Leestandarda.

Grenaders and generals stormed

shoulderto-shoulder across the icy

fields near Rosttoff.

The counterattacking T34s crushed the

light anti-tank guns of the 61st

motorized division and threatened to

break through.

but then stood engulfed in flames under

anti-aircraft fire. Tears of rage ran

down the faces of the light anti-tank

gunners. They were powerless against the

steel monsters.

The German 37 mm anti-tank gun became a

museum exhibit. Its caliber was no

longer sufficient to destroy medium and

heavy enemy tanks.

The grenaders and tankers continued to

attack with remarkable tenacity and

fortitude and on November 21st they

stormed the desperately defended Rostov.

The first company of the first SS

infantry regiment managed to capture the

bridge across the dawn and occupy a

small bridge head.

The commander of this company, Hines

Springer, was wounded six times during

this operation, and only 12 soldiers

remained in the company.

The outcome of the battle for Rusttov

was summed up in the following order.

Commander of the Third Motorized Corps.

Core Headquarters, November 21st, 1941.

Core Order.

Soldiers of the Third Motorized Corps,

the battle for Rostov has been won. On

November 17th, before noon, the core

began an offensive, carrying out the

task of capturing Rostov and the bridge

across the Dawn River.

The task was successfully completed by

November 20th. We captured more than

10,000 prisoners.

According to the latest estimates, we

also captured 160 guns, 56 armored

vehicles, two armored trains, and a

large number of other military

equipment.

Soldiers of my core, we can all be proud

of this great new and successful

demonstration of the actions of our

units to which each individual soldier

made an invaluable contribution.

Neither the icy wind, nor the severe

frost, nor the lack of winter clothing

and military equipment, nor the darkness

of moonless nights, nor the enemy's

tanks, rocket artillery, and thousands

of mines, nor the field fortifications,

which took more than a week to build,

and whose enormous size we all saw, nor

even the Red Army soldiers themselves.

Nothing could stop our triumphant

advance.

As a result of a carefully and

skillfully prepared surprise frontal

attack to the east by the energetic

Liebstandard division with the active

support of tanks from the 13th Panzer

Division, the enemy's defenses were

swept from their positions.

The enemy was no longer successful

despite its fierce counterattacks,

especially against the 14th Panzer

Division in an attempt to prevent the

bold breakthrough of our two formations

into the northern suburbs of the large

city of Rostoff into the Dawn River and

the bridges across it.

The remnants of the retreating enemy

troops tried to escape by crossing the

Dawn.

Thanks to its determination, the first

battalion of the first infantry regiment

of the SS division, Liebstandarda,

a unit accustomed to victory, even

managed to capture the Rostov railway

bridge intact.

At the same time, with a decisive

offensive carried out far to the east

and southeast, the 60th motorized

division successfully covered the

exposed flanks of the core and took the

village of Oxisaya.

while units and subunits of the 13th

tank division quickly and decisively

pursued the enemy retreating to the

east.

In addition, all core units as well as

air force units, especially our

wonderful, flawlessly operating air

reconnaissance pilots made a significant

contribution to our overall success.

We have cut off the Russians only

effective link with the Caucuses once

and for all.

Now we must hold on to what we have

conquered in order to open the door to

new victories as soon as the furer

orders them to be won.

We also salute him with our Sie Hile

signed von Mitskenzen, general of the

cavalry.

Victory was achieved, but as it turned

out, disaster was already brewing.

The core was stretched thin and too

weakened to carry out a prolonged

defense of the captured objects.

Our units which were battered and

bloodied were subjected to continuous

attacks by superior Soviet forces.

My battalion under the command of SS

Halpermfur cross fought on the dead

daets river. This river branched off

from the Dawn River near Rostov and

formed the northernmost rightmost arm of

the Dawn Delta.

The battalion held a position 8 km along

the front line. There were fewer than

300 soldiers on this defensive line.

This included drivers, signalmen, staff

workers, and all officers.

There were no more supply trains.

Everyone who could fight was at the

front.

As Soviet troops repeatedly attacked the

German front northeast of Rosto, they

threw newly formed divisions across the

Icebound Dawn, trying to crush the

German forces weakened by heavy losses.

The resilience shown by German soldiers

in these fierce battles almost reached

the limits of human endurance.

The widely dispersed positions were

located on the steep, icy northern bank

of the river and faced south towards the

frozen flood plains of the delta and the

main channel of the dawn.

Only with great difficulty and with the

help of explosives was it possible to

dig shallow trenches in the hard ground.

To protect themselves from the severe

cold, they stripped warm clothes from

dead German soldiers and even from dead

Soviet soldiers.

For 3 days, the Russians conducted

active reconnaissance on our weak

defensive front, indicating an impending

offensive.

My comrades watched all this without

fear or excitement. They performed their

duties almost fatalistically.

The few officers were in their sectors

like sheep dogs, watching over the

soldiers entrusted to them. I found Hugo

Cross and Herman Viser in a small house

where they were evaluating the testimony

of a deserter from the Russian Cavalry

Division and preparing their units for

the upcoming defensive battles.

The position of the first reconnaissance

battalion, weekly held but defended by

battleh hardardened soldiers, was

subjected to Russian artillery fire of

all calibers at 5:00 in the morning on

November 25th and then attacked.

The losses from this barrage were almost

zero. Where there is nothing, nothing

can be destroyed.

But then my soldiers blood almost froze

in their veins. In the dim light of

dawn, large masses of Russian infantry

appeared, singing and shouting as they

rushed to attack our positions. The

front ranks joined hands, forming a

continuous chain that marched across the

ice in time with their wild singing. Our

mortar shells made large holes in the

ice, forcing the Soviet troops to break

their chain. But the shells could not

stop the mass that had set itself in

motion, advancing on my comrades like a

welloiled machine.

In the middle of the river, Soviet

soldiers came under our fire and fell

onto the ice like ripe wheat under a

sythe. My soldiers lost faith in God and

humanity when the advancing Russian

soldiers attacked, climbing over the

fallen and continuing their assault.

The attack was led by two rifle

divisions and one cavalry division.

Three newly formed divisions attacked

several hundred men spread out over

8,000 m and practically alone. Each was

left to his own devices and had to cope

with such a mass.

Two battalions of the Russian rifle

regiment broke through the section of

the second company of the first SS

reconnaissance battalion and were

already at our defensive positions,

threatening to break through the entire

front.

Two Russian rifle regiments attacked the

central part of the battalion's defenses

and were also close to breaking through.

A counterattack on the section of the

second company of the first SS

reconnaissance battalion had to be

carried out immediately. But at that

moment there was no one on hand to carry

out this urgent task.

Soviet troops attacked across the entire

front with fierce intensity, threatening

to overwhelm the handful of soldiers

lying behind their machine guns.

The Russian assault was like a tidal

wave rushing from the caucuses and

crashing against the steep banks of the

dawn, losing its force there.

The first rays of sunlight breaking

through the thick clouds illuminated a

terrible scene. As far as the eye could

see, the dawn and its tributaries were

dotted with dark spots, some of which

moved with great difficulty, while

others were gradually covered by snow.

The Soviet attack was repelled with

heavy losses across the entire front.

However, thousands of Soviet soldiers

lay down and waited for nightfall.

Horses without riders galloped south,

their piercing nays sounding like a

death nail. The enemy forces that broke

through the section of the second

company of the first SS Reconnaissance

Battalion were swept away by our

immediate counterattack.

Six officers and 396 soldiers of the Red

Army were taken prisoner.

In this sector alone, 310 Russian

soldiers were killed.

According to the prisoner's testimony,

the attack was intended to cut off Rosto

from the West. The attacks continued

unabated on November 26th and 27th

despite heavy losses.

It was a mystery to us how people could

so willingly allow themselves to be led

to slaughter like lambs to the

slaughter.

Despite the masses of dead and mutilated

bodies lying motionless on the ice, new

Russian formations joined the battle and

rushed toward death.

The Russian attack on November 27th

began at 4:00 in the afternoon with

artillery preparation and a barrage of

fire from guns of all calibers,

especially rocket artillery. But even

this last attack in the area of

operations of the first company of the

first SS Reconnaissance Battalion was

repelled by 8:00 in the evening.

Individual enemy units broke through to

the company's positions and were

blocked. A counterattack was planned for

November 28th.

The battalion's losses were heavy and

affected both non-commissioned officers

and officers.

Battalion agitant SS Obermfur Visor took

command of the second company of the

first SS reconnaissance battalion.

SS Obermfur Olutter was wounded again.

The last attack against the second

company of the first SS reconnaissance

battalion fell mostly on the left flank

and was repelled with terrible losses

for the Russians.

The attacking Russian unit was formed in

June in Krasnadar as an infantry

division and was first deployed in

battle here.

The battalion that attacked our left

flank had more than 500 personnel at the

start of the assault.

In the attack across the dawn,

135 soldiers from this battalion were

killed and more than 100 wounded were

taken prisoner.

Another 37 who were captured by us were

unharmed.

The enormous merits of our unit can only

be truly appreciated by those who have

experienced the paralyzing effect of the

severe cold and the psychological strain

of endless fighting.

I saw soldiers lying behind their

machine guns with tears of despair

rolling down their faces as their hands

flashed changing one machine gun belt

after another and again bullets rained

down on the attacking masses.

Older acting as company commander led

his motorcyclists into a counterattack

without boots.

They had been cut off their feet shortly

before the attack.

Both of his legs were severely

frostbitten.

In this battle, every fighter was a

winner.

Relying entirely on their own strength,

every second soldier was lying behind a

machine gun, fighting the hardest battle

of their lives without guidance, orders,

or other actions from their superiors.

The wounded were bandaged as best they

could in such severe cold and

transported by truck to Tagenrog.

The heart-wrenching cries of our wounded

soldiers who were in unbearable pain

were harder to bear than the most

terrible attack.

Since we understood that our daily

losses would not allow us to defend

ourselves successfully for long, we

could only guess where our front would

collapse.

The fighting continued even after dark.

The area in front of the positions of

the first company of the first SS

battalion was cleared of the enemy with

the help of several assault guns and by

9:00 in the morning the breakthrough had

been eliminated.

More than 300 dead remained lying on the

approaches to the positions.

The prisoners dragged their wounded

comrades with them.

But even after this costly battle for

the Soviet troops, they continued to

attack.

Only at about 2:00 in the afternoon did

the enemy retreat 3 km, but they

constantly intensified their artillery

fire.

The fighting on other sections of the

front took place under similar

conditions and seriously weakened the

German defenses.

The danger of a breakthrough anywhere on

the front around Rostov could not be

ignored, and the command headquarters of

the first tank army understood this

perfectly well.

We were all unanimous that the front

line should be shortened if we wanted to

prevent a catastrophe that under the

circumstances could lead to the collapse

of the entire front.

We had no reserves left. The step was

empty.

Only deep snow drifts and telegraph

poles broke the monotony of the snowy

expanses.

The best option for defense would be the

line along the Muse River to the west of

us. Only there could we hope to stop the

vastly superior Russian forces and

prevent a breakthrough of the front.

Some time ago, advanced guard posts were

sent out to establish points of

departure in the rear. Any retreat had

to have the defensive positions on the

Muse River as its final destination.

They had to be occupied by all personnel

down to the last soldier.

A further retreat across the

snow-covered step would have resulted in

unimaginable losses in manpower and

equipment.

While the heavy fighting on the dawn had

subsided somewhat and the Soviet attacks

had been repelled with heavy losses, the

superior Russian forces resumed their

attacks on the 60th motorized division

and broke through the weak German front

northeast of Rostov.

The Russians also broke through on a

broad front, crushing the left flank of

the first tank army.

The front faltered.

At this time, heavy, stubborn fighting

continued along almost the entire Soviet

German front all the way to Linenrad.

The German army in the east could no

longer successfully resist such an

enormous superior force as the Red Army.

The freezing cold, completely unsuitable

clothing, and terrible losses, as well

as insufficient replenishment of

personnel and combat equipment, made

successful operations simply impossible.

We were fighting for our own lives.

In the afternoon, the third motorized

corps was ordered to leave Rostov and

retreat to a pre-prepared defensive line

on the Muse River.

In fierce fighting, the Libstandarta

division managed to leave Rostov on

November 29th, retreat without heavy

losses, and with the support of the 13th

Panzer Division by the end of December

2nd, secure prepared defensive positions

on the Muse River.

I participated in the retreat together

with the division headquarters.

We were delighted with the order to

withdraw from the city and reduce the

front.

This decision prevented a possible

catastrophe.

Therefore, the order from the Furer's

headquarters not to evacuate Rostov

under any circumstances and to defend

the captured positions to the last

bullet came as a bolt from the blue for

us. It was impossible to carry out this

order. It showed in the most terrible

way that the seriousness of the

situation at the front had not been

properly assessed.

At that very moment, our troops were

marching in the darkness of the night,

barely able to stand on their feet from

the cold.

Deep snow drifts, a bitter east wind,

and a feeling of utter isolation made

the German soldiers lives a torture.

How could such an order have been

issued? It was a mystery to me.

The order was ignored, and the retreat

to the Mias continued.

Field Marshall von Runet, General Von

Mackinson, and others deserved the

gratitude of the military units.

With their decision to continue the

retreat, they saved the lives of many

soldiers and prevented the collapse of

the army group south front.

It should also be mentioned that Sept

Dietrich condemned the Furer's fanatical

order in the strongest terms and

defended the decision of the army group

south command to retreat the third

motorized corps as the only possible

option.

I think I am right in saying that he

clearly sided with Field Marshall Von

Hunstead in that difficult hour.

However, Field Marshal Von Hunstead was

nevertheless removed from command of

Army Group South and replaced by Field

Marshall Vonriken. Now,

Russian divisions attacked our defensive

positions with relentless force. The

breakthroughs could only be eliminated

by making extraordinary efforts.

My battalion was on the left flank of

the Leeb Standarta division and

maintained contact with the 60th

motorized division.

The units managed to hold their

positions interacting with each other

during the battle and create strong

points with the help of Russian

volunteers.

The combat effectiveness of our units

had weakened so much that commanders

even began to use anti-Bolleshevik

Russians in frontline units.

Therefore, I was not surprised when

visiting my soldiers at their positions,

I sometimes encountered almost more

Russians than Germans.

The volunteers were mainly from either

the North Caucasus or Ukraine.

Their enthusiasm was boundless at the

time, and it was for this reason that

they were accepted by our soldiers.

In December, during a hurricane of

artillery fire, I lost one of my best

comrades.

Our wonderful interpreter, the brave

Hines Dresser, was one of the most

gifted officers in the battalion.

He was always an example to others, both

in life and in battle. He found his

final resting place on a railway

embankment in Tagenrog.

Shortly before Christmas, I was

incredibly lucky. I received permission

to fly home. I flew out of Tagenrog with

several comrades on a transport plane.

We flew via Oman to Lviv where I boarded

a train.

18 hours later, I was standing miserable

and bedraggled at the Friedrich Straasa

railway station talking to my family on

the phone for the first time in so long.

It is a pity that this happy time passed

too quickly and the moment of parting

came very quickly.

On December 30th, I received an order to

report to Hitler on January 1st. The

invitation was delivered to me from the

Reich Chancellery.

A piercing cold prevailed in Germany at

that time. I said goodbye to my wife at

the Zoo Railway Station in Berlin and

climbed into the freezing cold train

carriage.

My traveling companion was the Japanese

ambassador, who was also going to East

Prussia, and who, based on previous

experience traveling on special trains,

had stocked up on cognac.

It wasn't long before we were trying to

warm ourselves with the hot drink.

There I was met by comrades who escorted

me through a thick forest to the furer's

headquarters.

We were checked at several posts and

reported by telephone at the last post.

Security duties here were performed by

personnel from the SS Motorized

Grenadier Division, Great Germany.

The headquarters consisted of several

reinforced concrete bunkers and ordinary

wooden barracks, excellently

camouflaged. They were hidden behind

tall trees.

The accommodation and food were

appropriate for the circumstances.

Undoubtedly, practicality and simplicity

were the guiding principles in the

construction of the Furer's

headquarters.

SS Halperm Furer Feifer received me and

informed me of the reason for my summons

here. From his words, I concluded that

Adolf Hitler was concerned about the

situation at the front and would like to

receive information, so to speak,

firsthand.

Adolf Hitler struck me as a simple and

energetic man.

I was surprised that he was well-versed

in weapons and was accurately informed

about the advantages and disadvantages

of various types of tanks and armored

vehicles.

However, what struck me most was that he

was familiar with my battalion's combat

operations and wanted answers to

questions about tactics.

Given the battalion's previous

successes, it was reinforced with a

grenadier company of light armored

vehicles and a fire platoon of heavy

infantry guns.

I did not mince words when talking about

the combat operations near Rostoff and

reported on the excessive demands that

were placed on the units and formations.

I particularly emphasized the inadequacy

of reinforcements.

General Yodel supported me and referred

to reports from other units. From the

conversation, I got the impression that

the situation with the troops in the

east was very troubling to Adolf Hitler

and that he was concerned about how to

help the cause.

On January 3rd, together with Colonel

Zitler, I flew back to Marupople.

In Marupople, I transferred to another

plane that was to take me to Tagenrog.

Soon we flew over the smoking wreckage

of a downed transport plane. To shorten

my journey to division headquarters, the

pilot landed the light aircraft within

sight of the command post, and I boarded

a horsedrawn sleigh that was passing by.

Frozen through, I arrived back at my

unit after a 16-day absence.

That same night, I replaced Hugo Cross,

who had been temporarily acting as

battalion commander. And in the gray

morning twilight, for the first time

after such a long break, I trudged

through the positions of my unit.

From the beginning of the Russian

campaign until December 15th, 1941,

my battalion suffered the following

losses.

Killed six officers, nine

non-commissioned officers, 79 enlisted

men.

Wounded 20 officers, 33 non-commissioned

officers,

38 enlisted men.

Missing in action, one officer, two

non-commissioned officers, seven

enlisted men.

Reinforcements received 11 officers, one

non-commissioned officer,

180 enlisted men.

During the same period, the First SS

Reconnaissance Battalion captured 112

commanders and 10,12

Red Army soldiers.

Our defensive position ran right through

the village, located on the front slope

of a long ridge.

Flooded meadows stretched out before us,

their icy cover interrupted only here

and there by small thickets of willow.

The Russians occupied their positions

opposite us. In some places, they were

only a 100 meters away. The front had

calmed down. Apart from reconnaissance

and artillery fire, there was no other

combat activity.

In the current situation, I considered

patrolling unnecessary, and as a result,

I had no casualties for weeks.

The positions continued to be thoroughly

equipped. Particular importance was

attached to the installation of deeply

echelon minefields.

Earthworks were carried out with the

help of the local population.

The troops provided the local residents

with food and medical assistance.

I refused to forcibly remove people from

their homes and hunt them down across

the snowy expanses.

This could have resulted in inevitable

losses.

The respect we showed led to the

population helping us for the sake of

good relations between them and the

military.

So it was no surprise that after a short

time our battalion had the best equipped

defensive positions and we were visited

by officers from neighboring units and

divisions. Our dugouts and bunkers were

almost as comfortable as home.

At the beginning of the year, I learned

something that I don't want to hide from

the reader.

One day, my driver, Max Bournehe, placed

a plate of small pieces of meat in front

of me, explaining that they were pigeon

thighs, which he had obtained thanks to

his good connections in Tagenrog.

When I started eating this delicacy, I

had my doubts. I told Max that although

it was all very tasty, none of the

thighs had ever flown through the air

like a pigeon.

But Max didn't keep me guessing for

long. He said rather dryly, "No, they

didn't fly. They jumped. You're eating

frog legs."

After the frosts ended, a period of

impassible mud set in, which made

supplying the troops almost impossible

and hindered offensive operations.

How should the war continue?

This question aroused our keen interest.

A defensive option was unthinkable, but

the German troops on the Eastern Front

lacked the strength for a large-scale

offensive.

The divisions that could be used for an

offensive were still in their positions.

Although the personnel were only

sufficient for rest and replenishment,

we feared that one day we would be

driven from our positions and forced to

attack with hastily assembled units.

After the first tank army and part of

the 17th army destroyed the Russian

troops that had broken through south of

Karkov, we were withdrawn from our

winter positions and transferred to the

Daetsk area at the end of May.

It was there that new units formed over

the winter reinforced our division and

new recruits joined the ranks of the

veterans. Exercises at the shooting

range quickly restored my battalion to

excellent combat form. It was better

armed than in 1941,

and with the experience of previous

battles behind it, it once again became

a worthy opponent for any enemy.

The morale of the unit was high.

Servicemen of all ranks firmly believed

in their own strength and in their

officers. Above all, thanks to their

superhuman abilities demonstrated in

combat operations both in attack and in

defense and their ability to withstand

superior enemy forces.

Quite unexpectedly in early June 1942,

the Liebstandard Division was withdrawn

from the forces preparing for a major

offensive in the south of the Eastern

Front and transferred to France in

anticipation of a possible landing by

Allied forces.

My battalion was transferred to the area

around the city of Kha and the

headquarters was stationed in Bretville

Sule.

A short time passed and Normandy held no

more secrets for us.

All possible situations were rehearsed,

both with and without troops, and as a

result, we achieved a level of

preparedness that could confidently

rival the best peacetime military units.

In the fall, we were preparing to be

sent to North Africa, but fate decided

otherwise.

The tragedy of the Sixth Army at

Stalenrad called us back to Russia.

Only luck saved our division from defeat

at Stalenrad.

The divisions that fought alongside us

went into their last battle here. Others

were waiting for our help. We left

France at top speed and headed east

again. Our destination was the front

east of Karkov.

On November 19th, 1942,

the largest offensive since the

beginning of the war organized by the

Soviet high command began. The offensive

at Stalenrad.

The overall situation was as follows.

The enemy deployed a large number of

troops and equipment, especially tanks,

which had not been seen before.

Judging by the data from the German

command and based on a general analysis

of the situation based on intelligence

reports, the offensive was massive and

systematic

in terms of its precision and phased

deployment. The Soviet offensive

resembled the work of a clockwork

mechanism.

A breakthrough to the Dawn River near

the village of Saraphimovich.

a simultaneous breakthrough near the

village of Kasnor Mesque south of

Stalenrad.

As a result, two Romanian armies were

destroyed and the sixth army near

Stalenrad was completely surrounded in a

short time and subsequently eliminated.

This was followed by an offensive to the

west by two army groups concentrated to

the west and northwest of Stalenrad.

As a result, Soviet troops of the

southern front advanced from both sides

of the dawn, advancing in the direction

of the Rosttov area.

Along the way, communication lines

through Rostov to German troops in the

north Caucasus were cut off. The Soviet

southwestern front then began to develop

an offensive between the railway lines.

It was aimed at the severki donets.

The eighth Italian and second Hungarian

armies northwest of the first

breakthrough point on the dawn were

threatened by Russian attacks from the

flank and rear.

As a result of these threats, both

armies abandoned their fortified

positions without offering any

significant resistance.

Their avoidance of combat contact with

the enemy was ultimately tantamount to

flight.

Units of the Soviet southwestern Front

crossed the Dawn River northwest of

Stalenrad on a broad front.

After the troops of the Soviet Southern

Front reached the lower reaches of the

Dawn and the southwestern front group

reached the Oscll, the southern wing of

the Verones front also joined the

offensive to the west.

The defensive sector of the seventh and

13th army corps, which protruded far to

the east, was caught in an attacking

pinsir movement on the northern and

southern flanks after the Hungarian army

withdrew.

Two German cores were surrounded after

two Soviet offensive groups joined

forces near the town of Castoro.

As a result, the entire Soviet Vores

front went on the offensive to the west.

Its troops broke through the positions

on the Tim River which had been hastily

established by the command of the second

German army.

In the course of further offensive

operations in the western direction,

Soviet troops captured Kursk and Rielsk.

The southern wing of the Briansk front

advanced from the Livy area, threatening

the right flank of the second tank army

which was retreating.

The central group of the front advanced

from the area southeast of Orel,

attacking Orel itself.

The strategic goal of the Russian winter

offensive and its phased nature were

quite obvious.

The advance of the strike groups was

synchronized so that the German line of

defense, which stretched mainly from

south to northwest, was attacked from

the flanks, broken, and cut off in parts

by each of the strike groups.

In accordance with the plan, the

operation was carried out in the

territory south of Stalenrad to the

highlands near Orel.

The results were not long in coming.

Following the defeat of the sixth

German, third and fourth Romanian,

eighth Italian, and second Hungarian

armies, the German front to the

northwest, more than 500 km wide between

Slavansk and the area north of Kursk,

was also broken.

The armies of two Soviet army groups

advanced steadily westward.

The objective of the operation, the

collapse of the German Eastern front,

seemed to have been achieved in its

southern sector.

The Russian high command announced that

the next target of the offensive would

be the Neeper.

They did not take into account the

exhaustion of the troops, the growing

supply problems, or the losses suffered

during the offensive.

It seemed that the Russian command was

not particularly concerned that only

part of their artillery was able to keep

up with the rapid advance and that the

rifle units consisted almost entirely of

newly mobilized civilians.

Artillery was hardly used and the units

were manned by mobilized conscripts who

were untrained and poorly armed.

On the other hand, the Red Army's

significant numerical superiority was

achieved as a result of the German

command's loss of five German and allied

armies.

It was assumed that the large mass of

advancing Soviet troops would prevail

over the much smaller remnants of German

troops defending the southern section of

the Soviet German front.

However, the decisive factor was that

the Soviet command missed the climax of

its offensive and it apparently came on

the Severki Donets.

The rear support units and ground

services of the Red Army's air force

were forced to give way in the face of

the enormous distances involved in the

winter campaign. The combat power of the

strike groups was squandered in

offensive battles several hundred km

deep.

The superiority of the German command

and control system as well as the

superiority of the German combat units

could therefore be decisive despite the

enemy's large numerical superiority.

The SS motorized corps consisting of the

first SS motorized grenadier division

Liebstandarda Adolf Hitler, the second

SS motorized grenadier division Reich

and the third SS motorized division

Totenov played a major role at this

decisive moment.

By the end of January 1943,

the Russians had reached the line of the

Severki Donets and its tributaries.

They were pulling up their units for a

further advance to the west. As for our

forces, the 320th Infantry Division was

in Svato. The 292nd Infantry Division,

after being severely battered during the

retreat, was being replenished in

Cupansk.

Units of the Great Germany Motorized

Grenadier Division were defending west

of the village of Valuyek. And in the

area of the village of Korochi, Kramer's

special purpose corps was gathering the

remnants of the battered German and

Hungarian troops retreating from the

upper dawn.

Huge gaps had formed between the German

units. A German general was appointed to

command the remnants of the eighth

Italian army.

By this time, the SS motorized corps

with its units, the main forces of the

SS Reich motorized grenadier division

and the assault units of the first

motorized grenadier division,

Liebstandarda Adolf Hitler, had already

arrived in the Karkov area. The

Liebstandarda division was positioned on

both sides of Chuggev on the Severki

Donets River.

The decision of the high command of the

armed forces to deploy the SS motorized

corps in a massive counterattack after

its regrouping was thwarted by the rapid

advance of Soviet troops.

First, it was necessary to prevent a

breakthrough in the core's area of

deployment.

Units of the Reich motorized Grenadier

Division were moved forward to cover the

area west of Valuki.

Deep snow drifts and severe frost

hindered the advance of the units.

We disembarked east of Karkov and the

battalion was ordered to establish a

bridge head near the village of Chuggev

and make contact with the 298th Infantry

Division.

Over many years, we had developed a

habit of not discussing orders that

seemed impossible to carry out and not

taking into account the superior forces

of the enemy.

The usual standards for waging this war

were no longer applicable.

German soldiers were expected to display

truly phenomenal abilities.

We were not surprised when it was

assumed that the lie danda would have to

defend a 90 km wide front and repel the

offensive of the sixth Russian army.

Thick planks creaked under the weight of

armored vehicles moving cautiously

across a long wooden bridge over the

Severki Donets River near Chuggev.

I led my battalion to the old Russian

positions of the winter battles of 1941.

They stretched along the river, and I

thus spared my soldiers the need to dig

new trenches in the frozen ground.

Groups of remnants of defeated Italian

units periodically approached us across

the snowy expanses.

From the direction of Kupansk, separate

units of the German supply train came

out to the river with wounded German

soldiers and half-starved horses.

The retreating soldiers silently dragged

themselves across the bridge. They were

no longer fit for combat.

The battalion was supposed to cover a

front about 10 km wide and in addition

two companies were supposed to help the

298th infantry division in Kupansk

withdraw from the battle.

This infantry division fought

desperately against the superior Russian

forces and retreated through the city.

The second company of the first SS

reconnaissance battalion commanded by SS

Oberumfurer Visor was fighting north of

Kupansk and was currently breaking

through to Kupansk.

The continuous line of the German front

no longer existed. The situation

continued to deteriorate inexurably.

The strongholds created by the Germans

were surrounded on the flanks and cut

off from communications by the superior

forces of the Russians.

Snowdrifts on the rugged terrain made

combat operations almost impossible and

forced German troops to move along the

few passable roads.

Artillery got stuck on the slopes. It

was impossible to pull them with

tractors or horses. The icy roads were

as slippery as glass.

After studying the situation on the map

and visiting the units of the 298th

Infantry Division on site, I came to the

conclusion that the division's position

had become unprotected and would be

crushed in 24 hours at the latest.

And in a few days, the Russians would

attack my battalion and try to capture

the crossing at Chuggev.

Can's company remained with the infantry

division. It was to conduct rear guard

actions using its armored vehicles on

the road and then returned to its

battalion at positions east of the

Severki Donets.

I returned to the battalion at dusk and

found many German soldiers who had

fallen behind their units. They were

extremely pleased to be able to join the

German unit. The situation became even

more threatening. Soviet troops were

pushing forward toward the Severki

Donets, threatening to cut off the units

that were fighting east of the river. I

was very concerned about Canid's

company, which was still with the

infantry division.

In the meantime, we used all the means

at our disposal to improve our positions

and equip them for circular defense.

By a stroke of luck, our arsenal was

also replenished with new systems. A

dozen anti-tank guns and six heavy

infantry guns were delivered to us from

the railway access roads. The shortage

of personnel was made up for by soldiers

who had fallen behind their units. The

third company of the first SS

reconnaissance battalion managed to

break away from the Soviet troops on the

Kupanskv road and arrive at the

battalion without serious losses.

The 298th Infantry Division continued to

fight, pushing westward through snow

drifts and icy winds on rough terrain

south of the road, having lost all its

artillery in the open, snow-covered

spaces.

At that moment, all communication with

the division was lost.

I was moving towards Kupansk with two

armored escort vehicles to assess the

situation with regard to the enemy.

A fierce snowstorm was blowing in our

faces when I saw a sleigh pulled by oxen

a few kilometers ahead.

We slowly approached them.

The two armored vehicles stopped and

provided cover. Was the sleigh a trap?

It turned out to be SS Untormfur

Krueger, who despite his injury had

managed to limp to the sleigh and escape

from the Russians.

I learned from Krueger that there were

still soldiers from the infantry

division in the vicinity.

Half an hour later, on the vast

snowcovered planes on both sides of the

road, we found about 20 soldiers from

this division.

I have rarely seen such gratitude as

that of these soldiers. After all, they

had almost lost their lives.

Overnight, endless snow drifts would

have buried them here forever.

We watched the vague outlines of Russian

tanks slowly making their way westward

on the left and right sides of the road.

The tanks avoided driving on the road,

maneuvering across the rugged terrain,

obviously trying to encircle our bridge

head and crush it with their armored

jaws.

As a result of my observations, our

anti-tank defenses were appropriately

echeloned, and the tank destroyers

prepared to meet the enemy.

The clash was to take place within the

next 24 hours.

Would we be able to withstand the

onslaught of the Soviet troops? Or would

we succumb to the superior forces of the

enemy?

Intoxicated by their victories, the Red

Army soldiers were preparing to deliver

a death sentence to us.

My soldiers studied the situation in

minute detail and learned how to conduct

combat operations.

I intended to deliver a crushing blow to

the Soviet troops without exposing my

own to great risk.

While anti-tank guns took up positions

on both sides of the road, nimble tank

destroyers and assault guns were

positioned on the flanks of the

battalion.

I maintained contact with all units

either by radio or by telephone.

The units responded in a split second

and were confident in their abilities.

They were not afraid of the advancing

Russians.

At dawn the next day, the white snowy

expanses still lay sparkling before our

positions, and the sun promised a

wonderful winter day.

The terrain rose gently in front of us

for about 1,500 m, which made it

impossible for the attackers to take

cover or camouflage themselves.

Woe to the attackers if they acted as I

expected and sent their infantry down

both sides of the road. In that case,

the long slope would be fatal for the

advancing Russian soldiers.

We were positioned under tall trees and

could only be seen at the last moment.

To ensure complete success, I gave the

order not to rush into opening fire and

to do so only on my command.

Well prepared, we awaited the start of

the battle.

From an observation point high above the

western right bank of the river, I had

already been informed of the approach of

the Russian vanguard.

Our artillery remained silent.

It was assumed that the Soviet troops

would believe that they had destroyed

the last German combat ready unit east

of the Donets and that only weak forces

of this division were in the area of the

bridge.

Around noon, the Russians moved towards

our bridge head, advancing to the left

of the road. At first, they stopped on

the ridge, looking down on the Severki

Donets and its wooded banks. Then they

moved on again and advanced in attack

formation.

On the far right flank of the Soviet

troops, I saw two KV tanks, which if

they did not change direction, would

fall straight into the net of anti-tank

guns. Their fate was already sealed.

The leading attacking unit hesitantly

approached our positions.

At this point, we had not fired a single

shot. Everything was calm.

I was unable to observe Bremer's

section, but I was kept constantly

informed of what was happening in his

company.

More and more Russians were crossing the

ridge and walking down the slope. The

entire slope was covered with small

black dots.

Every now and then, the leading unit

would stop and listen carefully.

Hearing nothing and seeing no movement

at our positions, the advancing Russian

soldiers resumed their march westward.

And how were things with us? My soldiers

crouched in their trenches and waited

for the order to fire, which would force

them to act.

They were freezing. They had been in the

cold for a long time, lying on the ice

and snow, clutching their weapons with

numb fingers.

In the next few seconds, they would

engage in battle with Soviet troops.

I heard the distance countdown from the

left flank in my telephone receiver. The

telephone was working all the time. The

artillery reported the coordinates of

the targets. Boore radioed. Another 500

m.

In a few minutes, only 200 m separated

the Russians from the first company of

the first SS Reconnaissance Battalion.

The company requested permission to open

fire. I forbade it. Both Russian tanks

were moving down the slope to catch up

with the lead attacking unit.

Boore's voice, acting as commander of

the first company of the first SS

Reconnaissance Battalion, was heard on

the receiver.

Another 100 meters.

His voice became anxious because I still

did not respond.

The tanks advanced to a point about 150

m from our positions when, after my

command, fire. Death fell upon the chain

of Soviet soldiers, and one of the tanks

was hit by an assault gun. The death

toll was horrific.

The rear guard units of the Russian

troops soon ceased all movement. They

had fallen into a deadly trap. The slope

became fatal for them.

However, what was the point of our

successful defensive actions east of

Chugev when the front was unstable for

several hundred km?

On February 8th, the crisis was already

developing on both flanks of our

defensive front near Karkov.

Two Russian armies were closing the

encirclement from the flanks

south of the 320th Infantry Division.

The order to retreat came too late and

from February 5th it had to slowly fight

its way westward.

The Russians probed the Livestand Darta

from the front and bypassed the southern

flank. There was a 40 km gap between our

flank and the flank of the 320th

Infantry Division.

The Russian advance west of ZME

threatened the southern defensive line

near Kkefe.

Task Force Kemp with tanks from the

Libstand Darta was sent to block the

Russians road to Kkefe.

Our northern flank was also under

threat. German troops were fighting

northeast of Belgar and had already been

outflanked.

The Russian operation to encircle and

storm Karkov had already begun and there

were no forces that could prevent it.

At the same time, the Soviet high

command was preparing an offensive on

the Donets basin.

In addition to an offensive across the

entire front from Belgar to Karov, our

enemy intended to launch a surprise

attack to cut off the Germans defending

the Donbass, striking from Slavansk to

the Sea of Azov.

The Russians then hoped to destroy the

Germans surrounded in Donbass.

This deadly blow was to be delivered in

the direction of Lzovva, Pavlod,

Denipro, Petetrosk, Zaparisia.

Five tank and three rifle cores were

concentrated north of Slavansk to carry

out this operation.

After taking, the first Soviet guard's

army would move southwest without

encountering any resistance.

The Sixth Soviet Guard's Army would join

the offensive on the right flank after

the 320th Infantry Division was cut off.

If this operation is successful, Army

Group South will be cut off from its

lines of communication. The Russians

will reach the Deniper and the road to

Western Ukraine will be open to them.

After repelling the Russian attack, we

managed to establish contact with the

remnants of the 298th Infantry Division,

and the survivors were fed across the

river. The mood among the troops on the

bridge head was gloomy. It was obvious

that our position was threatened by the

enemy's penetration into our rear and

that we would have to retreat beyond the

Severki Donets.

The enemy had reached the Severki Donets

on a broad front. It was advancing

between the right flank of the Liebstand

Darta and the 320th Infantry Division

with such overwhelming forces that

desperate action was required.

The situation forced us either to attack

the enemy forces that were preparing to

encircle Karkov from the south, which

would have led to the evacuation of our

troops, or to concentrate all our forces

around the city for a circular defense,

which would have been tantamount to

encirclement.

On February 9th, the battalion received

orders to withdraw from the Severki

Donets and prepare for an attack south

of Karkov.

The withdrawal from the battle went

without losses or difficulties.

We were glad to be on the march again

and to hear the sound of engines

running. We moved westward along

carefully cleared forest roads, through

deep snow, and over half-destroyed

bridges, reaching the Marfa area at

midnight.

Only there did I learn of the

seriousness of the situation and that

the SS motorized corps was in danger of

being completely surrounded if it

carried out Hitler's order to defend

Karkov to the last bullet.

Carrying out the order would mean the

destruction of the core and moreover

would allow the Russians to reach the

Deniper.

There was no other unit like the SS

motorized corps that could be thrown

into battle against the rapidly

advancing Russians.

To eliminate the threat to our right

flank and prevent Karkov from being

surrounded from the south, core

commander General Howser decided to move

south, attacking with three combat

groups.

Deep snow hampered the advance to the

line of attack, but by the early morning

hours, everything was ready.

My combat group was positioned on the

right flank and had orders to advance in

the direction of Alexa.

This task meant that we had to break

through 70 kilometers of enemy held

territory and launch a counterattack

against one of the main advancing groups

of Russian troops.

I said goodbye to the division

headquarters, caught up with our leading

units, and quickly briefed the battalion

on its task.

Every soldier knew what was expected of

us and that we had difficult days ahead.

My soldiers listened intently to my

every word as I outlined the extremely

critical situation and told them about

the dangerous counterattack we were

about to launch.

I expected to see worried faces, but no

one seemed particularly surprised by the

assignment.

My young soldiers stood before me with

flushed faces and their hands deep in

their pockets.

I knew all the officers, including those

from the units assigned to us, most of

them for more than a year. The

non-commissioned officers and enlisted

men of the young soldiers were loyal to

me, and the young recruits formed a

close-knit community. With such a combat

group, I could go on such a raid through

the Russian hordes without hesitation.

Our strongest weapon was our combat

brotherhood and absolute trust which

bound us together and at the same time

made us confident.

The combat group positioned itself for

attack on the snowcovered road south of

Morfa.

The road in front of us gradually sloped

down and disappeared after a few hundred

meters between the houses of the

village.

there. Two damaged amphibious vehicles

from the SS Reich's second motorized

Grenadier Division were visible.

Obviously, they were left behind by the

division's reconnaissance patrol, which

had been destroyed by the Russians.

There was no movement to be seen.

A strip of forest stretched along the

road, disappearing to the right behind

the village. There was no sign of anyone

there either.

Next to me was the commander of the

vanguard, SS Obermfur Schultz, who had

participated with me in the attack on

Rostoff.

SS Oberm Furer von Ribbentrop was the

commander of the first armored vehicle.

We did not dare to advance in scattered

formations. The deep snow cover made any

maneuvers on rough terrain almost

impossible and timeconuming

and fuel consumption would have

skyrocketed to unimaginable levels. We

had to stay on the road, maintain our

pace, and use the element of surprise.

Schultz received orders to move through

the village under the cover of armored

vehicle fire and wait for the battalion

at a small forest.

Under no circumstances was he to wait

for us in the village or even less

engage in combat there. I wanted to

confuse the enemy with a quick attack by

the vanguard platoon and lead my combat

group south at breakneck speed.

Schultz climbed into the sidecar of a

motorcycle and raised his hand. He waved

to me and shouted to the driver, "Let's

go." In a matter of seconds, the first

section disappeared between the houses

and the rest of the platoon rushed

behind the lead section.

Max Wartinger, my new driver, had heard

about our latest operations and burst

into the village. The entire combat

group followed right behind us. At that

moment, everything came to life.

Soviet soldiers ran out of their houses

in panic and fell under our marching

column, but only a few opened fire.

The bulk of the Red Army soldiers tried

to reach a small forest.

To our left was a Soviet anti-tank gun

with a crew ready to open fire. It came

under fire from our column.

Around the next bend, we saw SS Oberm

Fiora Schultz lying in the snow.

Despite my warning, he jumped off his

motorcycle and returned fire at the

Soviet soldiers.

A bullet to the chest ended his life.

SS Oberan Fura Zander picked up the body

of his fallen platoon commander.

Later, a grave was dug for him in the

frozen ground with the help of an

explosion.

Our dive bombers circled above us and

flew off in a westerly direction. They

had taken off from the airfield in

Karkov.

They waved their wings in solidarity and

fired at enemy columns with their

onboard weapons.

We learned from a prisoner's testimony

that we had wedged ourselves into the

vanguard of the sixth guard's cavalry

corps and were moving straight through

the core's position. We plunged like a

dagger into its leading columns,

advancing westward.

In the afternoon of February 11th, a

heavy snowstorm began.

Snow drips made any forward movement

impossible.

We had to clear the way with shovels.

The blizzard held us in its grip with

terrible force. Our vehicles were

literally bumperto- bumper. Overtaking

was impossible.

The road became a deep trench in the

snow. The armored vehicles plowed

through the snow like snow plows. Meter

by meter, we advanced through the

sparkling white wall.

The enemy appeared only in vague

outlines.

Both sides fought against the almighty

weather. At dusk, we found ourselves in

front of a wide land. I wondered whether

we should risk leading the combat group

into the snow-covered valley.

According to the map, the valley was

supposed to be 1,000 m wide and 50 m

lower than the surrounding terrain.

On the other side of this barrier was a

village. We had to get there if we

didn't want to be completely snowed in.

Several men on skis were sent out on

reconnaissance.

Vuna and I waited for the reconnaissance

team to return with our advanced guard.

When they returned, we would know

whether we could move through the snowy

valley.

hiding behind snow drifts. We moved

forward when a sentry suddenly pointed

straight ahead excitedly and whispered,

"Tank."

He was right. Then we heard the dull

roar of an engine. The tank had to climb

several hundred meters up the slope

right in front of us. Our lead tank was

immediately alerted. The gunner kept his

hand on the trigger, ready to fire. We

waited silently for the Soviet tank.

There it was. I could see it. It was

slowly crawling up the slope. Max Vuncha

whispered, "Jesus Christ, he's turning

his turret right at us. Can't you see

the gun?"

Suddenly, the guard laughed loudly.

In front of us was a huge bull whose

head we mistook for a tank turret and

whose horns we mistook for a gun barrel.

The blizzard had played a funny joke on

us. Despite the bitter cold, we laughed

heartily.

An hour later, we drove the Red Army

soldiers out of their warm dwellings and

occupied the village. It was only 6:00

in the evening, but a very dark night

had fallen upon us, preventing us from

distinguishing friend from foe. The

vehicles and tanks advanced slowly.

The darkness made it impossible to get

our bearings. We were stuck among units

of the sixth Russian Guard's cavalry

corps. Our artillery and supply train

were cut off from the main forces of the

combat group. The enemy, which had

wedged itself in between us, split the

marching column into two halves.

The artillery took up a circular

defensive position. I learned via radio

communication that the attacking enemy

units were already 25 km west of us and

were advancing on Krasnograd.

Troops from the SS Tulle motorized

grenadier regiment of the SS Death's

Head Division were already in Krnograd.

They had been hastily thrown into the

breach to prevent the enemy's advance.

The main forces of this division were

still traveling in echelons by rail

between France and the Deniper.

Two reinforced regimental combat groups

were engaged in heavy fighting east of

Karkov.

The German forces defending the village

of Zme could not compete with the large

masses of attacking Russians who were

supported by heavy artillery.

Our own shallowly echelon defense at

Roani east of Karkov held back the

extraordinarily powerful Russian attacks

supported by ever new forces constantly

being brought to the battlefield.

There was nothing human left in this

battle. It was brutal and the most

inhuman methods were used. Soviet troops

committed horrific acts of violence

against captured soldiers at the Roani

airfield.

After the German counterattack, 50 dead

SS men were found here. 10 of them had

their eyes gouged out and one had his

genitals cut off. With rare exceptions,

their bodies were covered with terrible

burns.

10 people were completely burned and

charred.

Following the capture of Belgar, the

enemy army also advanced into the area

northwest of Karkov.

By February 13th, the left flank of

Karkov's defenses stretched from Ruski

Tishki to the northern part of Ruskaya

Loava to the Yimpsov Fesky railway

station.

The motorized infantry battalion on

armored personnel carriers SPW of the

Leestandard under the command of Yokan

Piper managed to establish contact with

the 320th Infantry Division east of ZME

and destroy the enemy groups that had

broken through to the south. The

remnants of the 320th Infantry Division

were completely exhausted and left a

pitiful impression.

More than 1,500 wounded soldiers

survived the grueling march through a

terrible blizzard and were immediately

transported to the rear where they were

cared for. The long starved division, or

rather what was left of it, was fed at

Leestandard.

The avalanche of advancing Soviet troops

rolled further and further west and

approached Dinro Petrofsk.

The entire front of the German army

group south was under threat. As a

result of these developments, I received

an order to move in the direction of

Alexavka and block the path of the enemy

advancing westward.

The blizzard on the Karkov front was

still raging, covering the optical

devices of our tanks with snow.

Russian troops and my combat group were

moving past each other. In the middle of

the day, a reconnaissance plane circled

above us and dropped a message attached

to a smoke flare. We were surrounded by

advancing Soviet troops.

24 hours later, we reached Alexavka and

switched to a circular defense.

At that moment, we were the easternmost

unit on the Karkov front. Would the

combat group be able to accomplish its

mission? It was left to its own devices

with almost no artillery, tanks or

supply trains.

The village was quite large, stretching

out on both sides of the road.

Meanwhile, while reconoitering the area,

we stumbled upon a Russian patrol and

opened fire from a distance of no more

than 5 m.

The blizzard made visibility zero.

SS Obush Fura von Ribentrop collapsed a

few steps to my right.

A bullet that pierced his lung knocked

him to the ground. But the next morning,

Kentrop was in good condition. He

refused to be evacuated to safety on the

storch until there was at least one

wounded soldier left in the cauldron.

Soviet troops poured past us on both

sides of the village. I was glad to hear

Mox Vinc's report on the situation. He

was making his way to us with armored

vehicles, artillery, and a supply train.

We hoped he would arrive in time. We

urgently needed fuel and ammunition.

On the morning of February 13th, the SS

motorized corps received orders from the

fuver to hold Karkov at all costs.

Following this, during the night of

February 13th, in order to free up at

least some reserves, the defensive front

around the city was further reduced.

The new line of defense for Karkov ran

along the Lizo Gubovka Bulshaya

Danilovka line. However, by the evening

of February 13th, the core headquarters

reported that the new line could only be

held until February 14th as the city was

already surrounded.

At midnight, orders were given to blow

up all warehouses, military facilities,

and anything else that could be used for

military purposes.

In the morning, Soviet troops managed to

break through our shallowly echelon line

of defense north of Zaticia.

An attack by 40 enemy tanks near Roani

also led to a breakthrough. There were

also fears of an attack on the tractor

factory area. We also lost Oshani

northwest of Kkefe.

This allowed the Russians to keep the

main supply line, the railway and

highway from Pava to Karkov under fire.

Soviet troops continuously attacked the

southern and easternmost points of the

Karkov defense line and threatened to

overrun us in Alexievka.

We knocked out several anti-tank guns

and inflicted heavy losses on the enemy

infantry during a counterattack in the

direction of the village of Berka north

of Alexvka. But our ranks were also

depleted.

SS Hopster Fura Nitl, commander of a

mobile patrol company, was wounded for

the fourth time in these battles. The

Russians night attacks were especially

dangerous because we couldn't see the

enemy sneaking up on us and had to save

our ammo.

The enemy broke through to Alexievka on

the night of February 13th to 14th and

pushed us back to the center of the

village. The battle reached its climax.

The soldiers fought with a courage born

of desperation, but it soon became clear

that there was nowhere to retreat. In

this hopeless situation, events unfolded

rapidly.

Positioned close to each other, our

armored vehicles opened heavy fire,

shelling the attacking Soviet troops

with explosive shells. Houses with

thatched roofs burst into flames. We

were in the middle of a ring of fire and

fired in the darkness at the brightly

lit rows of Russians. Their attack was

thwarted. With our counterattack, we

pushed them back from Alexiefa and

returned to our previous positions.

At about the same time, Wit's regiment

attempted to make contact with our

combat group by breaking through from

the north. However, north of Bereki, Wit

encountered such strong resistance from

Soviet troops that he was unable to

break through to Alexvka.

At dawn, we saw new preparations by the

Red Army to the east and west of the

village. If both attacks were launched

simultaneously,

our fate would be sealed. I walked

around the position and talked to almost

every soldier. Everyone huddled

together, forming a stronghold.

Machine guns surrounded the anti-tank

guns in a ring. My young soldiers

responded jokingly to my greeting. We

did not feel defeated in any way. The

superiority of the Russians hardly

bothered us, but the lack of fuel, the

loss of mobility, and the noticeable

shortage of ammunition brought us to the

brink of despair. We had been promised a

supply drop within the past 48 hours,

but I had not yet seen a single one of

our planes. Weather conditions made such

supplies impossible. I sent another

report on the situation and demanded

urgent delivery of ammunition.

At the same time, Vuncha's group was

getting closer and closer to Alexievka.

Would Vunch make it in time?

I was shocked as I stood in the

classroom of the local school among my

wounded soldiers. They knew what was

happening and begged me not to let them

fall into Russian hands. We remembered

the terrible end of the German field

hospital in Fodoshia in Crimea.

It had fallen into the hands of Soviet

soldiers who landed in the city from the

sea in January 1942.

The wounded were thrown out of windows

naked and then dowsted with water. More

than 300 frozen bodies were found in the

hospital courtyard after it was

recaptured during the German

counteroffensive.

This is the consequence.

The author does not mention the cause.

In the summer and autumn of 1941,

most of the Red Army soldiers who were

taken prisoner at that time were starved

to death, died of epidemics, or were

shot by the Germans. More than 1 million

people died.

Only a year later did the Germans begin

to treat prisoners more tolerantly, so

to speak, using them for hard labor and

later in rear services.

Dr. Gathering shrugged, shook his head,

and turned away. The voices of my

soldiers tore at my heart. What was I to

do? The young soldiers looked at me with

relief when I ordered that the wounded

be given pistols.

I was ready to stand in the fire of the

burning building rather than have

another conversation of this kind. The

clouds hung low in the sky. We heard the

roar of engines.

From the sound of the engines, we could

guess that they were looking for us.

Suddenly, we noticed the shadow of a

Hankl 111. Would it bring us salvation?

A few minutes later, the shadow was

above us again. The plane was flying

directly over Alexvka.

Soon, containers of ammunition and fuel

were falling from the sky, but

unfortunately, only a few remained

intact.

Most of them exploded on impact with the

ground. At that moment, I lost all hope.

The fuel that remained intact was

immediately distributed among

self-propelled guns, tanks, and armored

vehicles.

If we were doomed to die, we wanted to

die in battle, breaking through the step

in our combat vehicles so that the

Russians would have a hard time. We

would not surrender to them without a

fight. Having finished writing a report

on the situation in which I reported on

the imminent destruction of the combat

group, I said goodbye to the soldiers

who were walking with me toward our

fate. I looked at the faces of my

soldiers with some amazement.

Their relaxed expressions seemed to

reveal curiosity.

There was not a single face distorted by

fanaticism.

They listened seriously to my words.

I determined the target of the attack

and climbed into my armored vehicle.

Were we all going together on our last

attack?

We slowly moved out of the center of the

village, past the ruins and graves of

our comrades toward the outskirts of the

village.

A few hundred meters ahead of us, Red

Army soldiers were scurrying back and

forth.

they could afford such freedom of

movement because we had almost no

artillery at our disposal and were short

of ammunition.

It seemed that the Soviet troops did not

believe in the possibility of our

counterattack.

Meanwhile, noon had arrived. The

blizzard had subsided. A few timid rays

of sunlight slipped overhead.

What would the Russians do in our rear

when we attacked in the eastern

direction?

Our armored vehicles were on the road

that led straight through the middle of

the Russian troop concentration.

I intended to race along this stretch of

road at full speed and strike the Soviet

troops, directing our armored vehicles

straight into the center of the enemy's

positions.

We could only succeed if we delivered a

lightning strike against the Soviet

troops and gained at least a day for

ourselves.

I hoped that during that day I would be

able to deal with the Russians west of

Alexevka

and I believed that Vuncha would be able

to break through by then.

My little Kasac, a Russian volunteer who

had accompanied me from Rostov and was

loyal to me, pointed to a group of

Soviet soldiers behind us.

Dark spots were visible everywhere.

We were figuratively speaking up to our

ears in

Only a few seconds separated us from the

start of our journey into the unknown.

My driver pressed the accelerator

lightly, released the clutch, and the

armored car slowly started moving.

Assault guns rushed forward on both

sides of the road, leaving behind the

ruins of village houses. Our speed

increased.

Armored personnel carriers with

motorized infantry and armored vehicles

raced ahead of self-propelled guns which

covered them with fire.

Our armored vehicle was in the lead.

Speed was our weapon against the

Russians. Bullets fired from machine

guns pelted the armor like hail. I saw

only an endless road ahead and tried to

increase our speed.

The tracks of the armored personnel

carriers and self-propelled guns kicked

up columns of snow dust that resembled

the spray from the bow of a destroyer

cutting through the waves.

Forming a wedge, we crashed into the

waves of attacking Russians, deeply

wedging ourselves into their ranks.

Fire from Russian heavy mortars covered

the road ahead of us. Forward and only

forward. There could be no stopping at

this moment. We had to destroy the

attacking formations or we would all

meet the devil. A particularly strong

blow to the armor forced me to tense the

muscles in my entire body. The smell of

burning hit my nostrils.

A second blow which struck the armored

car with incredible force brought it to

a halt. Our driver SS Rotenfuder

Nebulong was screaming wildly.

Flames rose around my body. I jumped out

of the turret and lay down in a deep

track rut with Casc Michelle. The

screams from the armored car were

driving me crazy. I crawled along the

track, intending to help our driver. He

must have gotten caught on something

inside the vehicle with his thick winter

clothes because his hatch was open.

Suddenly, I was grabbed tightly by the

leg. Michelle pulled me back and

shouted, "Back. The commander is more

important to the unit. back. I'll get my

comrade."

The casac jumped into the burning

vehicle, pulled out the driver, and

rolled him in the snow.

At that moment, we came under mortar and

machine gun fire. Pressing ourselves

tightly to the ground, we crawled back

along the track.

We were picked up by advancing soldiers.

Only then did I realize that we had

broken the attacking lines of the Soviet

troops and that the Soviet infantry was

scattering in all directions.

Unfortunately, we were unable to build

on this success because we were running

out of fuel and another assault group of

Soviet troops had taken up positions to

attack from the opposite side.

After we returned to Alexavka, we

discovered that Michelle had been hit in

the back of the neck by shrapnel, while

our driver had not been seriously

injured, only suffering minor burns.

The noise of battle west of Alexavka

filled us with joyful excitement.

This noise could only mean that Max

Vinch's offensive had been successful.

And so it was. The tank battalion broke

through the dense enemy lines,

delivering a large amount of ammunition

and fuel to us. We were once again a

fully combat ready unit, and on orders

from the division, we broke out of the

encirclement the next morning.

As we fought our way west, we

encountered a new phase of this inhuman

war.

It was impossible to distinguish Soviet

soldiers from harmless civilians.

For the first time, enemy soldiers were

setting up ambushes in cities and rural

areas where it was impossible to

identify regular military units.

We became nervous.

Local residents did not dare to betray

Red Army soldiers disguised as

civilians.

The enthusiasm of the advancing Soviet

troops and the attitude towards them and

towards us of the population required

special vigilance on our part.

My old comrade, Fritz Montag, who had

been assigned to perform the duties of a

staff company commander, stepped on a

mine and had both legs blown off below

the knee. When he was brought to me on a

motorcycle with a sidec car, he was

still fully conscious.

A few days later, he died and was buried

in Pava next to General Von Briten.

The fighting became treacherous.

Meanwhile, the situation around Karkov

became catastrophic.

Contrary to all common sense, the city

was ordered to be held.

Since the requests of the SS motorized

corps to leave the city were rejected

with reference to the furer's order of

February 13th, the commander of the

corps, General Howser, decided to issue

his own order to withdraw the troops in

order to prevent them from being

surrounded and to give them freedom of

maneuver for the necessary

counteroffensive.

Enemy units that had broken through the

eastern sector of the front from the

southeast reached the northeastern

outskirts of Karkov on February 14th.

Piper's motorized infantry battalion

which launched an immediate

counterattack engaged in fierce night

fighting with the Russians. Unable to

clear the area of the constantly

reinforcing enemy forces

in the city itself, residents began to

assist the advancing Russians.

As our columns moved forward, they came

under fire from houses.

In this situation, the strike group of

the SS motorized corps was ordered to

halt the attack in the southern

direction and hold the occupied

territory.

The core was to withdraw the troops

defending Karkov and send a tank unit to

the northwest to recapture Oshani which

had been occupied by the enemy.

This order could not be carried out

because given the condition of the

roads, it would have taken 2 days just

to concentrate and advance the troops.

That evening, core commander General

Howser once again outlined the situation

in order to obtain an order to leave

Karkov.

On the night of February 14th to 15th,

the enemy broke through our battle lines

in the northwestern and southeastern

parts of the city. The tank battalion of

the second SS motorized grenadier

division, Reich, was able to inflict

heavy losses on the attackers during a

counterattack in the northwestern

direction. The enemy's advance was

temporarily halted. The command of the

SS motorized corps once again reported

to the army command on the seriousness

of the situation.

By noon on February 15th, no decision

had yet been made.

Seizing his last chance, at 12:50 p.m.

on February 15th, Core Commander General

Howser ordered the Second Reich

motorized Grenadier Division to abandon

its positions and fight its way to the

northern part of the city in order to

prevent the encirclement of one and a

half German divisions there.

With the support of the Reich Division's

armored vehicles, these units managed to

break out of the encirclement and fight

their way through the city and further

south.

This decision was reported to the

headquarters of Army Group South and the

Army headquarters at 100 p.m. General

Howser joined the fighting units. At

16:30, another order came demanding that

the defense be held at all costs.

General Hower's response was as follows.

The matter is settled. The troops are

being evacuated from Karkov.

Thanks to General Hower's decision,

thousands of people remained alive or

avoided years of captivity.

Moreover, it allowed for the creation of

a more or less solid front line of

defense southwest of Karkov.

The rear guard of the second company of

the SS motorized grenadier division

Reich fought its way through the city on

February 16th.

Counter offensive.

The operation could be considered

successful if only because the

encirclement of one and a half divisions

was prevented by leaving Karkov and we

could now hold our defenses along a much

shorter front line.

The decisive significance of our retreat

from Karkov was that most of the SS

motorized corps could now be freed up

for an attack in the southern direction

to join the counterattacking troops of

army group south to which we now

belonged.

The situation on the northern edge of

the Donbos developed as follows.

The enemy flanked army group south near

Slavansk with large forces of General

Papov's tank and rifle units and

steadily advanced toward the Deniper

through Pavlod and Novam Moskovsk.

The enemy's advanced units had already

advanced almost to Denipropsk and

Zaparisia and on the left flank of the

offensive to Krasnormis.

We had almost no combat ready units left

on the Deniper.

Steinbau's group whose personnel

consisted of vacationers and the

remnants of defeated combat units was

transferred from Denipropsk to

Novoskovsk and covered the western

outskirts of the latter.

The enemy had already occupied the

eastern part of the city. The 15th

infantry division was unloaded in

Denropovsk and sent a regimenal task

force to cover Selnikov.

The left wing of the Russian Sixth Army,

whose strong units had taken up

positions opposite the front line of the

Liebstandarda Adolf Hitler Division, had

already begun to encircle the SS

motorized corps.

The Russian vanguard had already crossed

the Kasnograd Novamoskovsk road leading

south.

The troops of this group were pushing

westward. Other Russian forces were

targeting the Nepropet.

Immediate counter measures were a matter

of life and death for Army Group South.

Following the retreat from Karkov, two

SS divisions were able to be redeployed.

The second SS motorized grenadier

division, Reich, concentrated on the

right flank of the core in the Kronograd

area and on February 19th moved

northeast to counter the enemy's

advance.

During the gradual withdrawal of its

left flank, the first SS motorized

grenadier division, Liebstandard Adolf

Hitler, remained on the previously

established front line, supporting

Rouse's army corps. It provided indirect

support to the Reich in its offensive,

conducting local attacks on its section

of the front and drawing Russian forces

toward itself.

Our troops found a second wind.

Finally, the days of retreat were over,

and the time for a counteroffensive had

come. The seriousness of the situation

and the importance of the upcoming

battle were clear to every soldier. My

combat group received orders to replace

the motorized infantry battalion on

Piper armored personnel carriers near

Yedvka and to prevent any further

advance of Soviet troops there. We

advanced through positions held by

Kraz's battalion.

It had entrenched itself in strong

points widely scattered along the front

line. The battalion was to hold a

defensive strip at least 5 km wide.

We solved the problem by destroying the

Soviet units that had broken through

these strong points during the day. And

in the evening, we set up wire barriers

between the strong points covered by

fire.

Together with Yohim Piper, I occupied 10

kilometers of the actual front line.

Piper captured the village of Yedavka

after a fierce battle and was supposed

to hand over to me the forward bastion

of our defense that had been formed as a

result of his attack.

Several damaged T34 tanks served as

protection from the wind in the cold

blizzard that constantly swept in from

the east onto our forward posts.

Yoan Piper briefly outlined the

situation to me and drew my attention to

the active movement of troops east of

Yedavka.

It seemed that the Soviet troops were

preparing for an attack.

In the freezing cold, we turned Yedavka

into a real stronghold.

From here, I was going to lead units of

tanks and armored vehicles from the

combat group in lightning raids against

the advancing Soviet troops.

We discovered strong Russian units and

formations moving south of our position

in the direction of Kograd, leaving only

weak defenses against us.

From our forward observation posts, we

could follow the route of the Russian

columns in detail.

A reinforced Russian regiment passed us

and rushed towards Kashnograd.

It left only a weak guard against us.

This was a direct challenge to us. We

had to attack.

The next day, as soon as dawn broke, the

combat group moved south, leaving only

artillery, supply troops, and tank

destroyers at the strong point. We left

the stronghold unnoticed by the enemy.

The cloudy weather favored our

intentions. Our artillery covered the

known positions east of Yedavka with

diversionary fire to mislead the enemy

about our true intentions. Our column

was barely visible in the snowy expanse.

Each vehicle was covered with white

camouflage paint and the soldiers wore

white camouflage coats or white winter

uniforms.

We moved quickly like a snake across the

rough terrain.

The combat group stopped at a small

hill. Enemy columns were moving steadily

westward.

The village stretching along the road

swallowed up another column of Soviet

troops, and it disappeared from view.

About 1,000 m still separated us from

the Soviet troops.

Should we take advantage of this and

launch an attack on this slightly

sloping road? The Red Army soldiers had

been marching westward for almost 24

hours. Would their superiority be too

great? Would we run for cover behind our

anti-tank guns?

I stood at the forefront of the combat

group with Vuncha, the tank battalion

commander, and the company commanders of

the first SS reconnaissance battalion,

choosing the best way to attack.

Considering speed to be our best weapon,

as I had done in other situations

before, I intended to wedge the company

of the first SS Reconnaissance Battalion

into the thick of the Soviet forces.

Several tanks would cover the company

with fire. The company would cut off

half of the Soviet column and drive it

westward.

The amphibious vehicle unit volunteered

to act as the lead unit. The young

soldiers knew what they were getting

into. It was almost certain that the

flanks of the enemy column were covered

by mines.

In a few minutes, everyone was ready to

attack.

The wheels and tracks spun in the snow,

caught hold of the ground, and the

vehicles roared at full speed toward the

edge of the village. They had to cross

the open space at such a speed that the

enemy would not have time to take

counter measures. The combat vehicles

rushed down the slope like an avalanche

from the mountains. Tanks moved to the

left and right of the road and fired at

Soviet troops.

Heavy mortar fire reinforced the effect

of the tanks.

I was in the lead company when the first

amphibious vehicle was blown up and the

soldiers in it fell to the ground with

their limbs torn off and shattered.

The second amphibious vehicle took the

lead in the column without hesitation or

delay. It too was literally blown to

pieces almost immediately.

The company flew through the explosion

sites. Our comrades literally paved the

way for us and we broke through the

minefield.

Both amphibious vehicle drivers with

their limbs torn off lay in the snow

along with less seriously wounded

machine gunners.

Their platoon commander also lost both

legs. We couldn't help the wounded, but

the company following behind took care

of them.

Soviet troops left the village street in

great haste and rushed into houses or

sought refuge in flight.

Our machine guns mowed them down in the

white snow-covered fields.

Their supporting artillery was crushed

by our tanks, thrown aside or knocked

into a heap. The defeat was

indescribable.

Several tanks fired shell after shell at

the column marching westward. They

turned its soldiers into a disorderly

retreat.

The column was crushed by the attacking

tanks like a giant fist.

Once again, speed proved to be a

terrible force.

There were almost no Russian anti-tank

guns left that could retreat and change

position.

Most of them were crushed by the

crushing tracks of heavy tanks.

We raced through the long village in a

matter of minutes, and the path of the

enemy's advance turned into a road of

suffering.

Broken steel mixed with the flesh of the

oxen that served as draft animals for

the anti-tank guns.

The pursuit continued beyond the

outskirts of the village. The Soviet

troops were taken by surprise.

They did not understand how a deadly

blow could have been dealt to them from

behind.

The column of Soviet troops fell victim

to our unexpected frenzied attack.

A damaged German tank stood between the

last few houses in the village. It had

been hit by a Russian anti-tank gun

located no more than 150 m away in an

orchard.

The infantry was already busy destroying

the gun when a burst of machine gun fire

swept between us. In the blink of an

eye, we took cover behind the tank.

However, Fron Roth, the ubiquitous war

correspondent, did not have time to do

so. A bullet hit him in the chest. We

dragged him to cover and took him to a

small hut where Dr. Gathering

immediately began treating him.

Roth died a few days later in a field

hospital. He was one of our best

correspondents.

The next village was set ablaze by our

tracer shells. The Red Army soldiers

fled for their lives and were killed by

machine gun fire.

The pursuit continued to the next

village where we also put the Soviet

troops to flight. The combat equipment

and weapons of the defeated columns were

reduced to a pile of rubble. The danger

to our southern flank was temporarily

eliminated.

As darkness fell, we returned exhausted

to our base.

The destruction of the Russian marching

column cost us two dead and several

wounded soldiers.

The speed of the operation, the use of

maneuverability and firepower, brought

us complete success.

However, observers informed us that new

enemy forces had taken up positions east

of Uravka.

We had to believe that they would attack

very soon.

Meanwhile, the second SS motorized

grenadier division, Reich, struck in a

southerntherly direction. It inflicted

heavy losses on enemy troops south of

Krasnograd.

The division's advanced tank units

continued to advance southward during

the night.

The units and formations pursuing the

retreating enemy replaced each other

until the division's advance units

reached Nova Moskovsk at 1400 hours on

February 20th.

There they made contact with the guard

units of Steinbower's group. The

Luftvafa supported the attacking groups

with dive bomber raids on pockets of

enemy resistance, inflicting heavy

losses on the Russian troops. They had

already advanced west of the Krasnograd

Novamoskovsk road but sensing the threat

of encirclement began to retreat.

Pavlod became the next target of the

second Reich motorized grenadier

division.

The reason for this was the advance of

large Soviet forces in the direction of

the Deniper Bend south of Denpropsk

through Selnikovo.

After heavy fighting, the division

joined forces with the 47th tank corps,

fourth tank army, which was advancing on

the Russian wedge from the south, east

of Pavlod.

Regardless of what was happening south

of Yedameka, the time had come to

advance to the areas where Soviet troops

were concentrated near Orurelka and

launch a preemptive strike against them.

I had some comments when I briefed the

unit commanders.

I intended to move the VCA tank

battalion northward together with a

mobile patrol company and two motorized

infantry companies.

These units would then turn east and

break through to the areas where Soviet

troops were concentrated from the rear.

A reconnaissance platoon was already

conducting reconnaissance and mapping

out the route. The movement was to be

organized in such a way that we would

appear behind enemy lines at dawn.

At that time, all the drivers of the

supply vehicles and the infantry

supported by artillery would launch a

faint attack and distract the Russians

attention to the west.

Late at night, vehicle after vehicle

lined up behind each other, waiting for

the lead units to start moving. We

slowly drove off, moving in complete

darkness.

Armored vehicles stopped at turns,

indicating the direction to the main

column and providing cover at the same

time.

Due to the high snow drifts, the roar of

the tank engines was barely audible.

The column, like a giant snake, crept

forward toward its goal, as if on a

thousand cat's paws.

We were moving too fast. so fast that

between two villages we had to wait for

the right moment. The tanks stopped.

Parking the combat vehicles close

together, we waited for dawn to break.

Had we chosen the right position? What

if we had made a mistake somewhere and

got lost? Had the enemy spotted us? A

multitude of whatifs tormented me all

this time. Finally, I thought I could

make out the outline of a tank following

us.

The tank was 100 m behind the front

units. This meant that there was already

enough light to launch a surprise

attack.

So the moment had come. The radio

communication was turned on. I ordered

the artillery men in Yetvka to open fire

and everyone waited tensely for the

first shots.

The explosions of the shells would

indicate whether we had reached the

right place.

Yes, that's right. Our howitzer covered

the Russian positions to our right.

Dazzling flashes flickered over the

snow. 20 mm tracer shells from the

automatic cannons of our armored

vehicles marked the targets.

Machine guns rattled and rifle shots

rang out across the front and mortars

boomed dullly in the village.

The forward artillery observer monitored

the concentration of fire and directed

it to the site of the planned

breakthrough.

We aimed at the area where the shells

were exploding and could clearly see the

effect they were having. We determined

the location of the enemy artillery by

the flashes from its barrels.

The batteries were no more than 400 m

away. The Soviet troops had not yet

noticed us. And then the moment came.

The tanks wedged themselves deep into

the flanks of our enemy across a wide

front and opened fire from very close

range.

The enemy's anti-tank guns were unable

to return fire. They were deeply

echeloned and directed towards Yedvka.

Why were they turned in this direction?

The Soviet commander who was in charge

of setting up the anti-tank gun

positions did not think about the rear

and flanks and did not equip reserve

positions.

German infantry jumped out of their

vehicles and rushed into houses,

dragging out Soviet soldiers who had

been caught off guard.

Several trucks carrying Stalin's organs,

Katushias, were destroyed by tank fire

at pointblank range.

Dangerous fireworks demonstrators flew

up into the sky. The trucks literally

blew to pieces. Small pieces of them

rained down on us. A tank company was

conducting reconnaissance in the eastern

direction and stumbled upon the enemy's

heavy artillery.

Sappers blew up the guns.

Street fighting and house-to-house

fighting were short and painless.

The Soviet troops seemed paralyzed. They

did not expect our attack. The Soviet

division commander was killed while

fleeing. His remains were found in an

orchard.

We fought our way forward from house to

house. Suddenly, Obermurer Boore,

Bremer's chief of staff, collapsed a few

meters in front of me. A Russian bullet

had hit him in the stomach and knocked

him to the ground.

A soldier who had broken into a larger

house warned us about snipers who were

shooting at us from atticss through

thatched roofs.

A loyal soldier who dived through the

door collapsed with a bullet through his

head. The house caught fire. We

immediately captured a staff officer. He

was the chief of staff of a Soviet

division. Within half an hour, the

village was ours. Our artillery

performed remarkably well. A wall of

fire crashed down in front of us like a

crushing fist. Not surprisingly, we were

grateful to the forward artillery

observer for this, but as a result, he

found himself in the thick of the

retreating enemy. We broke through about

2 km into enemy positions and completely

scattered the enemy. Black dots

scattered in disorder across the vast

snow-covered fields.

The anti-tank guns were crushed by our

tanks. All Soviet guns were aimed west

towards Yedamevka,

and the deadly blow fell on them from

the east. Thick, suffocating smoke hung

over the village as the last shells

whistled through the air, ending the

battle. The field hospital vehicles

rolled westward.

Our comrades, who had fallen in battle,

lay before me on raincoats.

We said goodbye to them. Then they were

placed on tanks. None of them were left

behind. Their peace will not be

disturbed.

We had already discovered that after our

departure, the Russians had ransacked

and destroyed German graves.

The Russian staff officer made a good

impression on us. We had to leave the

house in a hurry because the thatched

roof had caught fire and was burning

like a torch.

The lieutenant colonel willingly

answered all questions that were not

directly related to the current

operation.

He had been sent to the front just a few

days ago after graduating from the

Frun's Academy in Moscow.

Before sending the captured Russian

officer to the division, each of us said

goodbye to him and he said, "We will win

the war against Germany with American

help. You are losing the war now, but

one day we will be friends. Together, we

will continue the fight and achieve

ultimate victory.

Around 300 p.m., the last tank returned

to Yedvka.

Deeply shaken, I said goodbye to the

mortally wounded SS Oberm Furer Boore.

The mark of death was already on his

face when he asked me, "Can I return to

the battalion?"

On the way to the field hospital, Boore

left us forever.

The bitter cold forced us to huddle

together in the few remaining houses,

and only the centuries had to endure the

harsh conditions of the Russian winter

outside.

My soldiers suddenly gave vent to their

jubilation and surrounded me, shouting

like savages.

My hand achd from their handshakes.

To my utter amazement, I learned that I

had been awarded the Knight's Cross with

oak leaves. After my initial

astonishment, I left the house and began

to search for my fallen comrades.

There was not a sound to be heard. The

front was quiet. Only in the distance

were bright flashes visible. I could

barely make out the fresh graves. There

were no crosses or stones marking their

final resting places.

The snow was tightly packed and barely

stood out against the surrounding

landscape.

Our comrades should not be disturbed. We

wanted to protect them from vandals.

Snowflakes fell from the sky and covered

the graves which looked like deep

wounds. The gloomy place disappeared.

The merciful Lord covered the scars. I

did not feel relieved by this

transformation.

The soldier who had warned me about the

Russian snipers that morning was also

buried here. Without his warning, I

would probably be lying next to him now.

I was summoned to the Furer's

headquarters and 24 hours later, I was

already flying from Pava to Venita.

The headquarters was distinguished by

its simplicity. The first thing I did

was ask to call my wife in Berlin. The

call was made in a few minutes, and I

felt immense joy at being able to talk

to my wife and our children. After the

phone call, I was taken to Adolf Hitler,

who welcomed me warmly, presented me

with an award, and invited me to sit

down. For over an hour, I listened to

him talk about the efforts being made

behind the lines and on the

battlefields.

The tragedy of Stalenrad, it seemed to

me, weighed heavily on the furer, but I

noted with relief that returning to the

events surrounding the destruction of

the Sixth Army, Hitler did not condemn a

single officer who fought at Stalenrad.

The Furer was seriously concerned about

the incessant air raids on Germany, and

I had the feeling that he was

particularly distressed by the suffering

of the German civilian population.

Hitler gave the impression of being a

physically strong man. His voice was

calm, and his assessments of the

situation at the front were realistic

and very pertinent.

He made no predictions, but he knew that

the war would last a long time.

He considered Churchill his most bitter

enemy.

For an hour, no one disturbed us, and I

had the opportunity to give him

unvarnished information from the front.

At the same time, I pointed out the

shortage of weapons and military

equipment.

Adolf Hitler did not interrupt me. He

listened patiently, occasionally taking

notes.

After a communal meal, I sat with

General Stiff and several other

officers, discussing the course of the

war and how to proceed.

A few weeks later, Stiff asked me to

visit him, apparently to discuss certain

issues.

I was unable to comply with his request

at that time as I had already been

assigned to tank school.

General Stiff was later hanged in

connection with the conspiracy of July

20th, 1944.

I returned to Pava after only 48 hours

and boarded the Storch, which took me

directly to division headquarters.

Meanwhile, the fighting took a more

favorable turn for us. During the

advance of the second SS motorized

grenadier division Reich from Krnograd

south to Pavlodrad, we defeated large

enemy forces, especially the leading

units.

However, significant Russian forces

remained in positions east of the

Krnograd Novamuskovsk road.

To eliminate this enemy threat and

establish contact with the Liebstandarda

Adolf Hitler division northeast of

Kranograd, we needed fresh forces.

For this purpose, the SS motorized corps

was reinforced with the long awaited

third SS motorized division Toten which

was being unloaded from trains in the

Paba area.

The Russians were also bringing fresh

forces to the area in front of the

lieanda.

The units and formations of Popov's

group, General MM Popov's mobile group,

consisting of four tank cores, the third

and fourth guards, 10th and 18th, had

only 137 tanks at the beginning of

February, had already been cut off by

the first army, which was operating to

our right. However, five Russian tank

cores were still advancing westward on

the front of the fourth tank army.

The mild weather that set in by February

20th was favorable for offensive

operations.

Most of the roads were cleared of snow,

which significantly increased the

mobility of German tank and motorized

units in formations.

It was important not to allow the enemy

forces retreating to the northeast to

escape encirclement.

They had to be stopped and defeated.

The attacking German divisions took

advantage of the narrow front and

provided strong flank cover for the

advancing groups.

These attacks were carried out with the

active support of the Luftvafa.

The enemy's main route of advance to the

southwest was cut off and its units and

formations that had broken through found

themselves in a difficult position. Our

units took Loavva at 1,400 hours.

Despite this, our lines of

communication, and accordingly, the left

flank of the army remained under threat

from those battered enemy forces that

had been cut off from their own supply

lines in the areas of the Samara and

Oral Rivers.

These enemy units received orders to

retreat and regroup in the area of

Ourela, Loavva, and Pyutino,

and were now breaking through to the

east and northeast in small groups

reinforced with armored vehicles.

Other enemy units and formations from

the area south of Pavlod began to break

through to the north. The next day,

one of these formations supported by

armored vehicles struck the core command

post near Urivka on February 28th.

Shortly thereafter, another large

formation attacked the command post of

the 15th Infantry Division near Ourela.

On February 27th, we achieved our first

goal. Popov's attacking mobile group was

thwarted and prevented from achieving

its objectives.

Meanwhile, the lieanda division

fulfilled its defensive mission. Despite

the large width of the division's

defensive sector, its assault groups

inflicted heavy damage on the enemy with

constant attacks. First on one flank,

then on the other, the division stopped

the enemy's advance on Pava.

From February 28th, the enemy regrouped

its forces in front of the right flank

of the Liebstandarda division. The

Russians brought up two tank corps and

three rifle divisions of their third

tank army from the area between the

towns of Luboten and Valky in order to

throw them against the SS motorized

corps. And we have not yet established

the area of their concentration.

Now we were faced with offensive tasks.

The main strike was directed to the

northeast with the first target being

the line of hills between Bara and

Ephramovka.

The Liebstandarda Adolf Hitler division

advanced together with units of the Kemp

operational group. The second SS

motorized division Reich advanced on

March 1st along the road north of

Krosnograd.

The division continued its advance on

March 2nd in the direction of the high

ground near Stovarovka.

To the right, the 38th tank corps

advanced, taking Bara on March 2nd. The

third SS motorized division, Toten COP,

moved north despite the great

difficulties caused by the condition of

the roads. Then on March 2nd, it turned

northeast to destroy enemy units

reported to be located there.

Balm's combat group encountered fierce

resistance from the Russians here.

Reports from March 2nd and 3rd indicated

that the division's left flank east of

Yedvka had encountered enemy forces

advancing into the area from the north.

It became clear that the enemy had

failed to determine the direction of our

advance.

He directed his regrouped units directly

between the formations of the attacking

SS motorized corps and the front of the

lieandartha Adolf Hitler division.

As a result, the right flank of the

third SS motorized division Totenov was

turned inward.

The division attacked the enemy while it

was still concentrating its forces.

The enemy attempted to avoid being

caught in a pinsir movement by launching

powerful counterattacks to the southeast

and northeast.

This was unsuccessful.

The main enemy forces were defeated by

the third SS motorized division Totenov,

the southern wing of the Liebstandarda,

which attacked in an easterly direction,

and units of the second grenadier

motorized division, Reich.

Three divisions carried out concentric

attacks during three days of heavy

fighting.

U82A

dive bombers provided us with air

support and inflicted heavy damage on

the enemy.

The retreating enemy columns were

destroyed during the pursuit.

They continued to pose a certain threat

to our rear for several more days.

The Soviet general commanding the 16th

Guards Corps was found dead just a few

hundred meters from the command post of

the SS motorized corps.

Taranovka and Okot Skoya were taken by

the second SS motorized grenadier

division Reich by the evening of March

4th after a fierce battle.

The Liebstand Darta division joined the

offensive from its positions northwest

of Stoovka and linked up with the second

SS motorized grenadier division Reich.

The third SS motorized division,

Totenkop, completed the destruction of

the encircled enemy on March 5th.

The enemy's personnel losses were high,

and the cauldron was filled with a large

number of weapons and vehicles.

Overall, two tank cores and three rifle

divisions could be considered destroyed.

As a result of this battle, the Russian

Third Tank Army was significantly

weakened.

The first SS motorized grenadier

division, Liebstandarda,

which was again attached to the SS

motorized corps, closed its battle lines

at the achieved line after capturing the

village of Stanichi and regrouped for

the offensive.

By March 5th, it had taken up positions

near the second SS motorized grenadier

division Reich at Karavansky.

It secured its position on the Stanichi

Vinyukov Nikoskoya Crutaya Balka line.

On the same day, the third SS motorized

division Totenov was also released and

reassigned to the core.

The road conditions, which had been

favorable for the attack, had

deteriorated significantly, and the snow

cover in the northern part of the area

we had reached was still deep, hindering

the rapid conduct of the operation.

Should the offensive continue? Should

Karkov be recaptured, or should the

destruction of enemy forces in front of

Kemp's operational group continue?

The next target was to be the Mazah

River line. On March 6th, the SS

motorized corps began its advance

towards the Mazaha with the second SS

motorized grenadier division Reich on

the right. The first SS motorized

grenadier division liandarta on the left

and the third SS motorized division

Totenf behind the left flank.

After heavy fighting, the second SS

motorized grenadier division, Reich,

drove the enemy out of Nova Vodilaga.

The SS Livstandarda motorized Grenadier

Division reached the Moscal Sovo Leakov

Gabriilovka line and one of its

battalions broke through to the northern

bank of the Mazah River.

The rugged terrain delayed our neighbor

on the right, who nevertheless secured

his right flank behind Tanovka and

captured Bori.

On the night of March 7th, the second

motorized grenadier division, Reich,

reached the Mazzah River line, and the

motorized grenadier division, Libstand

Darta, expanded its bridge head on the

northern bank.

The weather warmed up and the night

frosts were no longer strong enough to

keep the ground frozen.

The condition of the roads became even

more critical as a result of the mixture

of snow and mud.

Soldiers and military equipment were

forced to operate at the limit of their

capabilities.

On the other hand, the Russians showed

signs of weakness. They suffered heavy

losses in the battles between the Donets

and Deniper rivers. They tried to

counterattack the advancing SS motorized

corps, but they did not have enough

strength to do so. Our command faced a

dilemma. Should we attack in a

northwesterly direction, helping the

advance of Kemp's task force, or should

we attack Karkov?

It was decided to continue the attacks

to the north. On the morning of March

6th, I was with my combat group on the

left flank of the Lives Darte Division,

where I received an order to attack in a

northeasterly direction and at the same

time cover the left flank of the

division.

Deep snow made any advance difficult.

The road was not visible because of the

snow, and sometimes we could only guess

where it was.

We slowly crawled up a small hill from

which there should have been a good view

to the northeast.

A wide snowy field stretched out before

us. A small village defended by Soviet

troops was 500 m to the right. We could

see Red Army soldiers going about their

business there, unaware of our location.

In the distance, we saw the low-lying

houses of another village, and I decided

to make this village the first target of

our attack. It was about 10 km away. I

ordered a group of tanks from the Vuncha

Battalion to destroy the first village.

They were accompanied by motorized

infantry.

The tanks would rush toward the village

under cover of artillery fire and

eliminate the threat to the flank of the

task force.

With my main forces, I wanted to attack

the distant village, thus breaking

through to the rear of the Soviet

troops.

The unit commanders informed the

soldiers about the situation and our

intentions.

The artillery and mortar battalions

reported that they were ready to open

fire. My soldiers scanned the horizon

with and without binoculars for enemy

troop movements.

I leaned over to the radiator and warmed

my hands on the engine. The hands of my

watch moved slowly forward.

We put out our cigarette butts. The tank

hatches slammed shut and I heard ready

in my ears.

Only seconds separated us from the start

of the artillery preparation.

I raised my hand and glanced at the

companies once more, then lowered my

hand, and the first shots rang out.

Our tank company moved slowly, heavily,

and clankingly toward the village and

attacked the enemy to the howling of our

dive bombers.

One after another, the planes struck

their targets from low altitude.

Under a hail of bombs and fire from

cannons and machine guns, the enemy was

forced into open terrain.

When the last bomb fell, our first tank

was already entering the village.

Meanwhile, the combat group also began

to move, trying to reach the target at

full speed.

However, the snow proved to be a much

more serious obstacle than the enemy

defending the distant village.

Huge snow drifts towered in front of the

tank tracks. The tanks struggled to move

forward.

After a short time, when the

self-propelled artillery units and

amphibious vehicles got stuck in the

snow, I realized that we were without

infantry support. The vehicles climbed

up the compacted snow and sat on the

bottom, which threatened to disrupt our

attack plan. My armored car was wedged

between two Tigers and we were advancing

very slowly. For a while, we had to stop

in a small depression and wait for the

infantry to catch up. The soldiers

climbed onto the tanks because the light

reconnaissance vehicles couldn't handle

the snow drifts. And then we started

again. To our left and behind us, the

Russians defending the first village

were retreating, coming under deadly

fire from our weapons.

When we got close to the second village,

our leading units were stopped by

anti-tank fire, but the Tigers, with

their powerful 88 mm guns, quickly dealt

with the enemy's anti-tank guns.

The tank company under Jurgensson's

command, covered by several orchards,

approached the village from the right

flank. Our armored car was hit by a 45

mm gun which however missed.

Unfortunately, we were unable to locate

its firing position.

We were now 200 m from the village and

looking for a place to cross.

Machine gun fire rattled the armor of my

armored car. The lead Tiger tank hit an

anti-tank mine and came to a halt with a

broken track.

A Russian T34 tank appeared and entered

the battle, but we had to enter the

village.

Suddenly, there was a terrible explosion

in my armored vehicle. And when I came

to, I found myself lying in the snow in

a rut, looking at my driver, who was

sitting behind the wheel without his

head. A direct hit had blown a huge hole

in the armor.

SS Unterm Furer Albert Andre stunned

staggered away to take cover. I was

horrified to see that he had only one

arm. In place of his other arm was a

mess of torn flesh and broken bones.

Bremer's company entered the village and

fought its way down the street.

Suddenly, we came across a Russian tank.

It was set on fire with a backpack

flamethrower.

Only now did I notice that I had taken

SS Overstrom Furer Xander's submachine

gun. My own was left in the armored

vehicle, which had been torn apart by a

Russian shell.

Xander gratefully took back his weapon,

and I used the Soviet rifle.

The village became ours within an hour,

and we immediately set up portable wire

barriers around the entire perimeter.

The short day inclined me to spend the

night here. At dusk, we buried my

driver, Ernst Nebulong.

Liaison officers from the Great Germany

Motorized Grenadier Division reported to

me on the actions of their division to

our left. I was glad that a battleh

hardardened unit was operating north of

us.

Something remarkable happened that night

with SS Obush Donfur Bugles.

Good old Fritz felt the call of nature

and accordingly looked for a suitable

place.

Satisfied that he had found a corner of

the house sheltered from the wind, he

set about his important business.

But man proposes, and Fritz was not

alone.

Opposite him sat a Russian lieutenant

who silently pointed his machine gun at

him and watched the matter of state

importance for some time.

Suddenly, we heard a scream of horror,

and in the beams of our flashlights was

Fritz with his trousers down to his

ankles.

Excitedly, but silently, he pointed at

his opponent.

We rarely laughed so hard. It is also

possible that the Russian had never

tried a cigarette as delicious as the

one Fritz Bugleac had offered him.

The next morning, we attacked the

village of Valky, which was 10 km from

where we had spent the night. Russian

tanks and anti-tank guns tried to hold

back our advance, but we flanked these

pockets of resistance and destroyed them

with an attack from the rear.

During the attack on the last stronghold

in Valkyrie, SS Obertormfura Rimling's

combat vehicle was hit directly.

Rhymling had been awarded the Knights

Cross just a few days earlier. We lost

brave comrades and his crew.

After several fierce battles, I reached

the Maha River near Valky while serving

in Visor's company. The bridge across

the river was intact, but I did not

trust the Russians and ordered an attack

across the ice. The bridge was surely

mined. The company took up position

behind small houses and barns and held

close to the riverbank preparing for the

attack.

From time to time, I noticed the head of

a Russian soldier on the other side of

the river. Our tanks were behind us and

were supposed to cover our advance

across the ice with fire.

Bremer's company lagged behind and

trailed behind. I feverishly thought

about how best to get to the other side

and take Valkyrie without bringing

artillery and mortars into the battle.

The clanking of tank tracks could be

heard from the other side. The Russians

were pulling up their T34s.

My young soldiers looked at me as if to

say, "Listen, buddy. You're getting us

into trouble again. Then you'd better

think about how to get us out of it

again."

I think they found it amusing that I was

lying there like a big dog on a chain,

unable to reach the bone and licking my

lips helplessly.

But then I knew what to do.

The company moved across the river on

the ice as fast as lightning, as if

fired from a cannon, and took the other

bank. I rushed forward across the ice

with the headquarters company. The

crossing was almost effortless.

The Russians didn't fire a shot, but sat

frozen with their weapons and gave way.

What prompted us to make such a rapid

dash? Well, something like this.

Attention. The first to reach the other

side will get three weeks leave forward.

Never before or since have I seen such a

united start.

Then everything happened with lightning

speed. Our tanks crossed the bridge,

which by then was safe to cross. They

advanced through the streets and with

the support of the infantry, drove out

the remaining Russians.

We overthrew the enemy's artillery

battalion while it was still in firing

position and captured several hundred

men.

A few kilometers east of Valky, we

encountered Piper's motorized armored

personnel carrier battalion.

Company reconnaissance discovered the

mangled bodies of four of our comrades.

They had been laid out in a row and

deliberately crushed by tank tracks.

While my battalion rushed north, Piper

reached the Schlak railway junction

where we reunited on March 8th. On the

same day, the Lie Darta division

advanced to the western outskirts of

Karkov.

Despite the enemy's anti-tank defenses

and counterattacks, our advance was

unstoppable.

We wanted to recapture Karkov.

The third motorized division, Toten Cop,

which was advancing to our left, took

Stari Merch, and its reconnaissance unit

reached Olan.

The advance of the second grenadier

motorized division Reich on the right

was seriously hampered by the rugged

terrain.

In addition, the threat to its flank

from large enemy forces east of the

Rakitnol Luboten line forced it to

withdraw significant forces of the

division to the east.

On March 9th, we reached the Udi River

and took Oshani.

Task Force Kim also advanced rapidly on

its right flank. The final decision was

dictated by the development of the

situation.

There was only one goal. Karkov.

That evening, the vanguard of the

Leeband division had already reached the

settlements of Perisetchnaya on the Udi

River and Puliva on the Lan River. It

was decided to attack the city on March

10th with the forces of the SS motorized

corps. The final orders were given on

the evening of March 9th. The attack was

to be carried out in three directions

with Leebstandard attacking from the

north and northeast while the Reich

division would strike from the west at

the same time. The Leebstandard was

tasked with blocking the road to

Chuggev. The third motorized division,

Totenov, was to cover us from enemy

attacks from the northwest from the

front of the KM operational group while

simultaneously advancing north and

preventing the approach of enemy

reserves.

During the offensive, Wit's regiment

reached the Karkov Belgarod road and

advanced to the northern passage to

Karkov, where it encountered fierce

resistance at the airfield.

The enemy used the civilian population

to build defensive structures.

I contacted Fritz Wit on the road and

learned that he intended to attack the

airfield and then move on to the central

square of the city. To the right of Wit,

the second SS motorized infantry

regiment of the Leeb Standard Division

commanded by SS Standartenfurer Vish was

advancing.

He was also successful. I suggested in

cooperation with Wit to send a combat

group through the forests north of

Karkov and block the Karkov lipsy road.

Bremer's company was again in the lead.

We drove several kilometers in the

direction of Belgar and turned east into

the forests which were buried in deep

snow.

The country road ended at a collective

farm and we noticed a Russian patrol

heading east. There was no question of

turning back. I wanted to go through the

forest and thus penetrate the eastern

part of the city unexpectedly for the

enemy.

The forest road ran through a forest of

tall, slender trees. It ran past a small

lake and then turned east.

The scouts soon discovered several sleds

pulled by draft docken which were

pulling anti-tank and other weapons.

We no longer had any doubts. If sleds

could pass here, then tanks and other

combat vehicles must be able to pass as

well. I ordered Bremer to move east and

await further orders at the edge of the

forest. The advanced guard, commanded by

SS Untorm Furtol, disappeared among the

fur trees, leaving behind a trail of

snow dust.

Two self-propelled guns followed, but

soon got stuck on the slope. They slid

from side to side and could have slid

onto the ice of the frozen lake. With

the help of the company's soldiers, they

managed to get past this dangerous spot

with great difficulty.

To avoid such risks in the future, the

forest road had to be repaired as

quickly as possible.

Within a few minutes, hundreds of

motorcyclists, infantrymen, and tankers

were already clearing a path around the

dangerous section.

They broke through the frozen, hardened

ground with shovels, crowbars, and axes.

And we succeeded.

Soon the marching column was on its way

again.

Bremer followed the advanced guard.

Enemy cavalrymen watched us from behind

snow-covered trees. The forest road was

getting narrower and narrower. My

armored vehicle made its way straight

through young fur and birch trees. An

eight- wheeled armored vehicle followed

us. The deeper we went into the forest,

the more doubts I had. Maybe I was

putting the combat group in a hopeless

situation again. We could only move

east. None of the vehicles could turn

around.

We were surrounded by thick forest on

all sides. I remembered Greece and the

crossing to Patric, the attacks on the

southern section of the Eastern front,

and the fierce battles we had fought

over the past few weeks.

Despite the almost hopeless situations,

we continued to fight, which ultimately

allowed us to win no matter what. And so

it was on that day. No one would

seriously consider that a motorized unit

should advance through snow-covered

forests.

An academy student who proposed such a

solution in peace time would be expelled

and sent back to serve. The decision

seemed absurd.

Despite this, I believed in our victory.

As it turned out, I was able to

literally grab the Soviet troops by the

throat when they were completely

unprepared to repel the attack.

Frederick the Great used to say in such

cases, "The more tricks and ruses you

use, the greater your advantage over the

enemy will be." Max Veringer could only

slowly drive our armored car forward

along the narrow passage. Snow fell into

the car even after the slightest touch

of the branches. It was not the most

pleasant ride. It was beginning to get

light ahead. We passed through the

forest and reached an open space which

allowed us to leave the narrow forest

road. To my amazement, I saw that Bremer

had turned his vehicles around and gone

into the forest. I crept up to Bremer

and instinctively pressed myself to the

ground as soon as I glanced at the slope

in front of us. Infantry, artillery, and

several tanks were moving in the

direction of Belgar.

What I saw before me was not a unit in

panic. On the contrary, it was a

wellorganized unit performing a tactical

maneuver.

It would be more than an hour before our

entire task force passed through the

forest and was ready for combat.

We should be satisfied that we had not

yet been discovered.

An attack by Soviet troops in such a

situation would have resulted in the

destruction of our combat group. Our

advantage in offensive and firepower

could not be realized.

However, as already mentioned, there

could be no question of turning back.

Our unit had to lie low and wait for a

favorable moment to enter the battle.

Perhaps the next day would bring a

better opportunity for this. In any

case, it would be dark in an hour.

At that moment, our forces consisted of

four amphibious vehicles, a light

armored car, and an eight- wheeled

armored vehicle.

We had a total of 23 soldiers with four

machine guns and personal pistols and

rifles.

This group of German soldiers observed

the Russian marching column from a

distance of about 800 m. The column

consisted of hundreds, if not more,

Soviet soldiers with all kinds of

weapons.

The terrain sloped slightly down toward

the road and then gradually rose on the

other side.

While the slope on our side was covered

with forest, the far slope was a snowy

expanse stretching eastward where there

was no cover.

We stood motionless in our positions.

Suddenly, we heard the growing roar of

diving U87 Stukoka bombers. We couldn't

see the planes yet, but they were

approaching from the west, which meant

they were carrying a full bomb load.

Would they attack the Russian column

moving in front of us? To our left was

the village of Bulshia Danilovka.

The roar of engines was now above us.

Shadows ran across the snowy expanse.

We emerged from behind the trees and

stood like spectators in a theater who

had been offered a particularly

interesting performance.

The Stookas flew over the column,

described a large ark to gain altitude,

and then dove from the south. Their

bombs rained down, sowing death and

destruction.

Horsedrawn sleds raced up the slope, and

tanks exploded when bombs hit them

directly.

Any semblance of order disappeared in a

matter of seconds. Horsedrawn sleds

disappeared into the wilderness, and the

entire distant slope was dotted with

countless black dots. Infantry fleeing

for their lives.

The Soviet military unit was no longer

under the control of its commanders.

As if electrified, I stared at the

disorderly crowd, took out a flare gun,

and fired a red flare into the air.

Bremer immediately understood

everything.

Stole's unit jumped into their vehicles

and raced down the slope. The machine

guns of the armored communication

vehicles fired at the Soviet troops and

covered us with their fire.

We raced down the dirt road with shouts

and screams contrary to all the accepted

rules of warfare.

Our horns and sirens created a hellish

noise.

We attacked the demoralized column.

Red flashes still soared high into the

sky. The dive bombers recognized us.

They waved their wings and swooped down

on the fleeing crowd, clearing the way

for us with their guns.

We reached the road. The Red Army

soldiers threw down their weapons. U87s

flew a few meters above our heads and

circled around us in a continuous chain.

They took us under their protection,

covering us with fire.

They roared along the road again and

again, preventing the Russians from

bringing up their troops.

But then our armored vehicle appeared at

the edge of the forest, and its shells

flew north with a whistle.

Now Stole's platoon was moving forward

with the first tank. Three more tanks

and Max Vunch reached the road. At that

moment, we were advancing on both sides.

The Russians must have thought that this

was a planned, well-thoughtout attack.

We couldn't let them recover.

Soon, hundreds of captured Soviet

soldiers were gathered in the garden. We

couldn't stop there. On the contrary, we

had to take advantage of the effect of

the dive bombers attacks and continue

the offensive in the direction of

Karkov.

Stole's detachment, armored

communication vehicles, and several

liaison officers on motorcycles roared

south toward the location of the Soviet

units. The offensive was covered by two

tanks, one on each side of the road.

Our friends, the U87s, had withdrawn.

They had run out of ammunition.

Now the full consequences of our wild

raid were apparent. The sky was calm

again, and the nerve-wracking roar of

aircraft no longer hung over us. We

broke through the Soviet column in a

couple of ridiculous armored vehicles.

Shells fired from our tanks whistled

overhead and exploded to the south.

The Russians, who were trying to regroup

on the road after the bombers had flown

away, came under our machine gun fire.

The Soviet troops fled again.

The enemy's radio station remained on

the road and the radio operators came

under our fire. The officers fled to the

cover of a peasants's house and we

destroyed their communications vehicle

with hand grenades.

Fire and smoke showed us the way.

Forward and only forward. I was afraid

to stop. All our strength was in motion.

Our extremely high speed, the lethal

power of our machine guns, grenades

thrown on the run, and the roar of our

tank guns caused the Soviet troops to

hastily clear the road, retreating south

toward the city.

Our advancing columns stopped at a brick

wall on the northern outskirts of

Karkov.

I noticed at least five or six tanks in

the gardens on both sides of the road.

To our left, the crew of a Russian tank

was busy removing the camouflage cover

from their T34.

Machine gun fire forced the tankers to

lie down. The shooting drove the other

tank crews out of their houses. No one

expected the Germans to attack at this

location.

Despite this, the situation was becoming

dangerous for us. Stole barely had time

to jump into another vehicle when his

vehicle stopped.

I saw Stole's driver disappear into a

haystack.

The first Russian tanks were moving into

firing positions. We had to retreat. We

had to get out of there as quickly as

possible, otherwise we would have come

under fire from the Soviet tanks.

Before that, we had driven more than 7

km to the south. Behind me sat a Russian

major who had been wounded in the

stomach. I admired this man during the

entire return trip. I did not hear a

single word of complaint from him about

his pain. Dr. Gathering gave him his

first bandage.

When we returned to Bulshaya Danilofka,

we found many prisoners who were being

guarded by only a few of our soldiers.

None of the prisoners attempted to

escape. It seemed to me that they were

happy with their lot.

By midnight, a significant part of the

combat group was still missing, but

within a few hours of darkness, it had

caught up in small, separate units. The

entire unit was assembled by 5:00 a.m.,

and the combat group was once again

ready for action.

As soon as the first faint light of the

new day dawned, we were already

advancing south again in the direction

of Karkov.

However, this time the advance was not

so rapid. We rolled south, carefully

examining the surrounding area. In the

distance to the right, we saw Soviet

troops attacking the airfield. They were

acting against Wit's regiment. Ahead of

us, we noticed attacking Soviet infantry

who were lying flat on the ground,

pinned down by machine gun fire.

Soon we approached the brick wall again

and found Stole's driver unharmed.

Bruno Prager had slept all night in a

haystack.

The enemy tanks were still in firing

position. Five T34s fell victim to our

tanks and soon burst into flames.

A T4 was hit directly and exploded,

flying into pieces.

The enemy tank that destroyed it fired a

direct shot at my vehicle from a

distance of less than 50 m. My driver,

Max Winger, was instantly killed by a

Russian shell. The commander of our

communications platoon, Hines Vestfall,

was also killed by a shell. Helmut

Belelka was wounded and I lay unharmed

under Max Wordinger's body. The Russian

tank disappeared.

We fought our way forward, taking house

after house. The crew of the Russian

anti-tank gun was killed by a fallen

lamp post. Our tanks dominated the

battlefield.

Towards evening on March 11th, we were

in the eastern part of Karkov, having

reached the road to Star Saltov.

At the moment of our victory, a

dangerous crisis arose. Our tanks had

only a small amount of fuel left and

they could no longer be thrown into

battle. The tanks were gathered in a

large cemetery where they took up a

circular defensive position forming a

kind of bastion in the center of Karkov.

From there, we sent our scouts along the

Karkov Chuguv road and tried to block

this main route of retreat for the

Russians from Karkov.

For several hours, I had no report from

the second company of the first SS

Reconnaissance Battalion. It was cut off

by the enemy in the area of the

Riverport in Karkov.

Bremer's company fought for its life

while Buddha repelled enemy attacks from

the east. At the cemetery, we had to

defend ourselves against Soviet troops

trying to break through.

As darkness fell, SS Halpirman

managed to deliver fuel for tanks and

armored vehicles. But at the same time,

he reported that the road was blocked by

enemy troops.

A few days later, they were destroyed by

units of the third motorized division,

Toten.

Wit's regiment broke through into the

city with a surprise attack from the

north. During heavy street fighting, it

made its way to the central square of

the city and took up defensive positions

there for the night. On March 12th, the

task force bypassed several blocks and

then blocked the road to Chuggev.

Then it was the Soviet troops turn to

attack us. They wanted to overrun us. We

concentrated in a small area. Two

platoon of Visor's company located on

the second floor of the school were cut

off and defended themselves desperately,

holding back the onslaught of the

attacking Russian troops who had broken

through to the first floor.

An immediate counterattack under the

command of Vuncha destroyed the Russians

who were advancing.

Once again, the entire combat group was

surrounded and engaged in a desperate

battle.

The circle of burning buildings clearly

indicated our location in this sector of

the city. As night fell, I no longer had

much hope that we would be able to hold

out until the next morning.

The enemy was within throwing distance

of a hand grenade.

Passing through our positions, we

suddenly noticed a Russian tank

approaching and stopping in front of the

school building.

We were less than 20 m away from it when

the tank commander leaned out of the

hatch trying to make contact with the

Russian infantry men. He was killed by a

shot from Visor's pistol.

The tank drove away, its tracks clanking

with the dead commander's body hanging

limply from the turret, half sticking

out of it.

On the night of March 12th, the second

rife motorized grenadier division broke

through the anti-tank ditch on the

western outskirts of Karkov, thus paving

the way into the city.

During the day, the division made its

way to the railway station. The enemy

tried to break out of the encirclement.

They put up stubborn resistance

everywhere and attacked us from the

northeast of the city.

Yoken Piper made his way to us in two

motorized infantry armored personnel

carriers to establish contact with the

main forces of the division.

One of the armored personnel carriers

was hit by a shot from a T34 tank, but

Piper managed to get the men out. We

fought fiercely and stubbornly for every

house until March 14th.

At about 6:00 p.m., we captured the last

two sectors of the city in the east and

southeast.

The tractor factory was captured on

March 15th.

That same morning, the third SS

motorized division Toten reached the

narrow passes near Chuggev and blocked

them after successful tank battles north

of Roani.

The cordon had to be held for several

more days, holding back enemy attempts

to break through and counterattack from

the east.

We managed to destroy most of the

manpower and equipment of the encircled

enemy. Thus, the decisive

counteroffensive in response to the

Russian winter offensive was completed.

The front and the army group south

sector stabilized.

Russian offensive power was

significantly undermined and the

remnants of their forces were severely

depleted.

In pursuit of the enemy retreating to

the east and north, German troops

reached the severki donets river in the

following days and completing the

offensive of the SS motorized corps.

Yoken Piper took Belgrad on March 18th.

near Belgarod. They joined forces with

units of the Great Germany Motorized

Division advancing to the west.

Over the past few days in a fierce tank

battle near Graveron, it destroyed up to

150 Soviet tanks. The battle for Karkov

was victoriously completed despite

significant losses.

In a major battle between the Donets and

Neper rivers, German grenaders emerged

victorious over the eastern hordes.

Shortly before the summer offensive,

Operation Citadel, I had to say goodbye

forever to the loyal grenaders I had

commanded for many years.

I will never forget parting with my

comrades.

I was seconded to a tank school and then

transferred to the 12th SS Panzer

Division Hitler Yugand.

The 12th SS Panzer Division Hitler

Youth. It was destined to become a

unique phenomenon in the history of

warfare when a division, especially one

as complex as a modern tank division,

was to consist entirely of young men

aged 17 and 18, with the exception of

officers and non-commissioned officers.

Anyone in Germany who knew anything

about military affairs, trained young

people or commanded them believed that

the use of such a unit in combat could

only lead to disaster in the first few

days.

It was believed that such young soldiers

would not be able to withstand the

physical and moral stresses of modern

warfare for long.

This opinion was even more strongly

shared by our enemies at the time. And

this was not just wartime enemy

propaganda when leaflets and radio

broadcasts spoke of a children's

division whose emblem was to be a bottle

of baby food.

But the way these young people proved

themselves in battle and the way the

12th tank division operated debunked the

critics.

Therefore, I think it is important to

briefly touch on how the division was

created.

This is necessary to satisfy the

reader's interest both in general terms

and in terms of specific historical

details.

When after the disaster at Stalenrad,

Gerbles declared total war, a plan was

put forward to create a volunteer

division of young men fit for military

service.

They were to become a symbol of the

German youth's willingness to make

sacrifices and an expression of their

will to do so.

These 17 and 18year-old boys were ready

for service thanks to accelerated

military training. Proving its worth,

such a division would, among other

things, help attract young people of

this age to other German divisions in

order to compensate for the huge losses

in personnel suffered in the Russian

campaign, as well as to significantly

increase German military power.

The former commanders of these young

people who had carried out their

military training in the Hitler youth

believed that the usual methods used in

training soldiers were not suitable for

them. Therefore, they wanted to try out

their new methods in this special

division.

Following discussions on this issue

between Reichkes Yugenfura Axman and

Adolf Hitler, the relevant orders were

issued by Hitler in June 1943.

The Hitler Youth Organization was to

appeal for volunteers and train them in

military training camps. They were then

to be transferred to the newly created

Vafan SS division.

The first motorized actually a tank

division called the tank division from

October 1943 onwards. Division

Libandarta

was tasked with supplying command

personnel for the new division

together with the lieandarda adolf

Hitler Division. This new division which

came to be called the Hitler Youth

Grenadier Tank Division was to form the

first SS tank corps.

The formation of the Hitler Youth

Division was to begin immediately.

While recruitment for the Hitler Youth

was underway and training of its

personnel had begun, the Liearta

division was selecting command personnel

for the new division.

The Liearta division suffered heavy

losses in the battles during the retreat

from Karkov and the subsequent recapture

of the city.

It was preparing for operation citadel,

the aim of which was to destroy Russian

troops on the front line near Kursk.

Command of the new division was

entrusted to the commander of the first

SS Panzer Grenadier Regiment,

35-year-old SSandartenfura

Vit, who had been awarded the Knights

Cross with oak leaves.

He took several officers from his

regiment with him. Their places were

taken by officers from the second SS

Panzer Grenadier Regiment.

Other units of the Livesandarta Division

were to provide personnel from their own

ranks for transfer to the new division

in a similar manner. The transferred

servicemen, the core of the Hitler Youth

Division, formed only an incomplete

framework.

The new division was desperately short

of company commanders, platoon

commanders, and squad commanders.

Young platoon commanders often had to be

entrusted with commanding companies.

Later, about 50 officers from the

regular army who had once been leaders

of the Hitler Youth Organization were

transferred to the division of the same

name.

In order to make up for the shortage of

squad leaders, the selected young men

were sent to the non-commissioned

officer school in Lowenberg immediately

after completing their training in

military camps.

A few weeks after the start of basic

training, suitable young men were

selected to undergo a three-month

training course for non-commissioned

officers in the division itself.

When the first 10,000 young men arrived

at the camp of the newly formed division

in Belgium in July and August, not

everything was ready for them yet. In

particular, they could not be issued

uniforms immediately.

Nevertheless, combat training began

immediately.

Gradually, separate units were formed in

accordance with the schedule for their

organization and equipping with combat

equipment.

All appointments to officer and

non-commissioned officer positions were

completed during September.

As a result of great efforts, the

training unit was transformed into a

tank division.

By this time the 12th SS tank regiment,

the core of the 12th SS Panzer Division,

Hitler Yugand, which was being formed in

May near Reams, had four T4 and four Tf

Panther tanks for training purposes.

Half of them were secretly obtained from

the Eastern Front.

The 12th SS Artillery Regiment, part of

the division, had only a few light field

howitzers at its disposal.

There were almost no transport vehicles.

In November and December 1943,

Italian vehicles appeared. The vehicle

fleet then made up 80% of the officially

approved number.

At the same time, the first tractors and

armored vehicles arrived.

Cooperation between the division's

command and control was difficult. In

terms of training, the division was

under the jurisdiction of General Guyire

von Schwepenberg, commander of the tank

forces in the west.

Tactically, it was subordinate to the

15th Army.

After the basic military training of the

personnel was largely completed, combat

training began in early 1944 under

conditions close to combat.

After the 12th SS Panzer Regiment was

transferred to the Hassel area in

Belgium, larger exercises involving

tanks took place there. The emphasis was

on operations involving various branches

of the armed forces.

In February 1944,

the first battalion of the 25th SS

Panzer Grenadier Regiment took part in

exercises with live ammunition in the

presence of the Chief Inspector of

Armored Forces, Colonel General

Gudderion.

In March, Field Marshall von Runstead,

commander-in-chief of the forces in the

West, attended exercises involving

various branches of the armed forces.

In both cases, the level of training in

the division was improved. The

coordination of the staff's work was

tested in numerous radio communication

sessions.

One of them was conducted under the

leadership of the core command in the

DEP area.

During the exercises, there were so many

difficulties with Italian vehicles,

which were completely unsuitable for us,

that in the end, the high command gave

instructions to replace them with German

military vehicles.

Most of the young men came to our

division with all the enthusiasm

characteristic of youth. They were eager

to prove themselves in action.

Enthusiasm and inspiration had to be

maintained as core values. and where

they were lacking, they had to be

awakened.

Since young people were still

developing, the principles and forms of

training had to be somewhat different

from those used in the training and

education of other recruits.

Many of the generally accepted

principles of military training were

replaced by new ones, which when all was

said and done, were born out of the

German youth movement that emerged at

the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries.

There was no obvious superior

subordinate relationship that recognized

only orders and unconditional obedience.

The relationships between officers,

sergeants, and other ranks developed as

relationships between older, more

experienced soldiers and green recruits.

An officer's authority lay in being a

role model and mentor for young

soldiers.

Officers tried to recreate relationships

similar to those found in a family as

far as possible in wartime conditions.

Young people were taught to take

responsibility,

be ready to sacrifice themselves, not be

afraid to make decisions, be

disciplined, and instilled with a sense

of collectivism and comradly mutual

assistance.

If officers saw that their young

subordinates already possessed these

qualities, they were taught further.

The division's leadership was convinced

that young soldiers would achieve more

if they understood the importance of

completing the task at hand and

correctly understood their role in it.

Thus, it became standard operating

procedure to analyze orders received

based on a comprehensive assessment of

the situation.

During the training of personnel, drills

and ceremonies were avoided.

Everything was focused on teaching

combat operations and this process took

place in conditions as close as possible

to those of real combat. Physical

training was achieved through sports

activities. Forced marches were not

approved and were considered unnecessary

and harmful

based on the instructions of general of

tank forces G vonberg.

The art of accurate shooting was

perfected.

These classes were held exclusively in

field conditions.

No training shooting was conducted at

regular garrison shooting ranges.

On the instructions of Chief Inspector

of Tank Forces Gudderion,

representatives of our division

participated together with officers from

the tank forces school in Bergen in the

development of new techniques for

artillery fire by grenaders of motorized

units which appeared in the spring of

1944.

The infantry inspectorate rejected them.

Based on the instructions of General Von

Schwepenberg of the tank forces, special

emphasis was placed on camouflage and

silent movement as well as ensuring

secure communications and maintaining

secrecy.

Most importantly, combat training was to

be conducted day and night in conditions

close to combat and included in

particular the practice of close combat

techniques

to intercept enemy radio communications.

The division received a reconnaissance

communications platoon.

Later this platoon proved itself during

combat operations.

Based on the guidelines of General von

Schwepenberg of the armored forces,

tactical exercises on troop command were

used to practice actions in a wide

variety of situations involving

offensive operations and actions against

enemy airborne troops.

Since the young men were still growing

and were not eating well at home due to

the war, they were given extra rations

in addition to the standard army food

ration. As a result, they developed well

physically in the division.

Those under the age of 18 were not

allowed to smoke cigarettes. Instead,

they were given candy.

There is no reason to believe that the

division had any privileges in terms of

its armament and combat equipment. This

should already be clear from the above.

Everything had to be fought for with

great difficulty.

The organization of the division, like

all Waffen SS tank divisions, differed

from army tank divisions only in that

our tank regiment had three tank

battalions instead of two.

Unlike the tank training division, it

had only one motorized infantry

battalion on armored personnel carriers

based on the training and instructions

they received in accordance with the

fundamental principles outlined here. Of

course, the book does not go into all

the details. Our soldiers went into

battle inspired by the idea that their

participation in the fighting would be

decisive for the defense of Germany and

its ultimate victory.

They were imbued with the belief that

Germany's cause was just and that

justice was on its side.

The young soldiers went to war

excellently prepared.

Few divisions were trained to such a

high standard.

Thus, their participation in the

fighting was entirely justified.

The Allied invasion.

On June 6th at around 700 a.m., the

Hitler Youth Division received an order

from the SS Tank Corps headquarters to

participate in combat operations.

It was transferred to the operational

control of Army Group B under the

command of Field Marshal Raml.

We were instructed to concentrate in the

Lazu area east of Cain. Before that, the

division was to report directly to the

81st Army Corps in Ruin.

This order had a disastrous effect.

The approach routes that had been

prepared beforehand were not used. The

only thing that mattered now was to get

the division closer to the coast as

quickly as possible.

It was also unclear how to integrate the

division into combat operations.

All this required a great deal of time

compared to the previously planned rapid

advance from the division's

concentration areas to the combat zone.

We failed in our attempt to change the

new orders at the primary level in the

core to which our division was attached.

There was no telephone communication

with Army Group B. The order to march,

including the assembly areas, was

prepared immediately at the division

headquarters and reached the units

between 9:30 and 10:00.

The reinforced 25th SS Grenadier

Regiment set out at around 10:00 a.m.

The reinforced 26th SS Grenadier

Regiment set out at around 11:00 a.m.

both of them as well as the 25th SS

Grenadier Regiment which operated

together with the second battalion of

the 12th SS Panzer Regiment and the 26th

SS Grenadier Regiment which operated

together with the first battalion of the

12th SS Panzer Regiment were to be

redeployed to the area east of Lzu.

At that time the divisional headquarters

was located east of Tier Sur or where

radio communication had been

established.

Only the reporting point was set up in

Lzu.

At around 1500 hours, the division

received an order by telephone from Army

Group B via the first SS Panzer Corps to

concentrate in the area east of Caine

and prepare for an attack.

The division was first transferred to

the operational control of the 84th Army

Corps in St. Low, Western Normandy, and

later to the SS1 tank corps.

At 1600 hours, 16 hours after the first

report of the enemy, the reinforced 25th

SS Grenadier Regiment received orders to

engage in combat.

The regiment was to attack the area west

of the Carpay Verson Louuvier line.

On its left flank, the reinforced 26th

Grenadier Regiment was to concentrate in

the area of Samuray Cristo Fontineil

Pestnel Sho.

The 12th SS Tank Engineer Battalion was

to attack in the Esk area and the 12th

SS Reconnaissance Battalion in TA Susen.

Support units were to remain east of the

Orin River in the area of F de Grimos

and F de Queibi, moving west only after

nightfall.

The division headquarters was relocated

to the northern edge of F de Grimos.

The time had come. The soldiers got into

their vehicles. Messengers on

motorcycles roared down the streets. The

engines of combat vehicles roared.

How often had we experienced such

moments of departure

in Poland, Central Europe, the Balkans,

Russia, and now again in Central Europe.

We, the old soldiers, looked to the

future with concern.

We knew what lay ahead of us. In

contrast, our wonderful young soldiers

looked at us with smiling eyes. They

felt no fear. They were confident in us.

They believed in their strength and

their will to win.

How would these young people prove

themselves?

Enemy attack aircraft flew overhead.

They dove at the marching column,

tearing the flowers of life to pieces.

Tanks raced through treacherous

intersections.

Fonbutner's reconnaissance company was

far ahead. I waited for his reports.

So far everything was shrouded in fog.

My experienced driver drove the car

forward as always cautiously.

Clouds were rising in the west. Ka, the

city from which William the Conqueror

began his victorious march across the

English Channel in 1066

was destroyed.

More than 10,000 men and women were

buried under the smoldering rubble.

The city had been turned into a giant

cemetery.

On the road from K to FileZ, we came

across French refugees. The bus was

engulfed in flames.

Heart-rening cries greeted us. We

couldn't help. The door was jammed and

the exit to freedom was blocked.

Mutilated bodies hung out of broken

windows, blocking the exit for those

still inside.

What horror!

Why were civilians on fire?

But we couldn't afford to mess up our

schedule. We couldn't stop. We had to

push forward, continuing the offensive.

The forest drew us in like a magnet.

More and more Allied attack aircraft

flew overhead. We were being

relentlessly pursued, but we couldn't

afford to take cover. The march had to

continue.

A string of Spitfire aircraft attacked

the last platoon of the 15th Company of

the 25th SS Grenadier Regiment. Rockets

and other weapons reaped a harvest of

death here. The platoon was moving

through a narrow pass. It was impossible

to deviate from the route. An old French

woman ran towards us, shouting,

"Murderers!

Murderers!"

Our soldier lay on the road, blood

gushing from his throat. A shrapnel

fragment had severed his artery and he

died in our arms. With a terrible roar,

the ammunition in the amphibious vehicle

exploded, sending fire high into the sky

and tearing the vehicle apart.

But after a couple of minutes, the

debris had been pushed aside. We

couldn't stop. We had to keep moving.

Darkness fell. The 15th company of the

25th SS Grenadier Regiment crossed the

Canva Boukage Road. I eagerly awaited

the first battalion of the 25th SS

Grenadier Regiment.

Continuous air attacks slowed our

progress considerably.

Finally, Va Müller reported the

battalion's arrival, and I was informed

that the air raids had not resulted in

significant losses.

Around 11 p.m. I was contacted by a

liaison officer from the 21st Panzer

Division. This division was fighting

near Trrowarn, east of K and north of K.

The division commander, Lieutenant

General Foyinger, was waiting for me at

the command post of the 716th Infantry

Division. I set off immediately.

German bombers were flying low across

the road. As soon as they reached the

area of the expected Allied invasion,

they were met with intense barrage fire.

Several of our trucks were burning on

the road. It was a hellishly difficult

journey.

The city of K was a sea of fire.

Agitated people wandered among the

ruins. The streets were blocked and

smoke billowed over the burning city.

Beautiful old churches were reduced to

piles of rubble and the work of many

generations was turned into a sea of

ashes and ruins.

All this happened despite the fact that

there was not a single German military

unit in the city. Allied coalition

bombers killed French citizens and

irretrievably destroyed cultural sites.

From a military point of view, the

destruction of Khan was a gross mistake.

The bunker was located in a quarry. It

went deep into the ground. The moans of

wounded soldiers from the 716th Infantry

Division and the 21st Tank Division

could be heard in the passageway.

Doctors and medics worked feverishly

loading the wounded into ambulances to

send them to the rear.

At midnight, I stood before the

commander of the 716th Infantry

Division, Lieutenant General Richtor.

This division had experienced the fiery

onslaught of the attacking forces of the

Allied coalition and within 24 hours had

effectively ceased to exist as a combat

unit.

Although the division was still holding

its defensive positions, communication

between the regimental, battalion, and

divisional command posts no longer

existed.

Nothing was known about which positions

had been captured by the enemy. The

division commander briefly informed me

of the situation.

The pause was interrupted by a phone

call.

One of the regimental commanders,

Colonel Krug, reported from his bunker,

asking for further instructions. He

reported, "The enemy is above the

bunker. I have no means of resisting

him, nor do I have any communication

with my units. What should I do?"

A deathly silence fell over our bunker.

Everyone looked at the division

commander. His response was shocking.

I cannot give you further orders. Do

what you must do. Goodbye.

The 716th Infantry Division was

destroyed in the full sense of the word.

It no longer existed.

It fought bravely, but the enemy's

superiority and manpower and equipment

was too great. The 716th Infantry

Division was attacked by British

aircraft on the night of June 5th to 6th

from 11:00 p.m. until dawn.

Following this, the entire eighth US Air

Force based at an airfield in England

was thrown into the division's sector.

More than 1,000 American aircraft

attacked defensive positions on the

coast half an hour before the Allied

landing.

After the British and Americans had

finished bombing, the Navy began

shelling the coast. Five battleships,

two monitors, 19 cruisers, 77

destroyers, and two gunboats fired with

all their guns.

As soon as the invasion forces landed,

their artillery joined in the

bombardment of our positions.

Finally, missile ships added their

volleys to this hell.

Despite the monstrous destructive fire

of the ship's guns and the bombing, many

pillboxes held out until evening. But

the human spirit was powerless against

such an avalanche of steel and lead. The

soldiers had to yield under the

onslaught of such frenzied shelling,

bombing, and attacks.

The section of the 716th Infantry

Division turned into a lunar landscape

with only a few defenders of the line of

defense escaping death in the fiery

whirlwind.

After the dramatic dialogue we heard in

the bunker of the 716th Infantry

Division, the commander of the 21st

Panzer Division briefly reported on its

deployment. He noted, "I did not know

about the invasion until I heard a

report shortly after midnight on June

6th that Allied, airborne, and

amphibious troops had engaged in combat

in the vicinity of Trrowarn.

Since I had received orders not to

advance, I had no choice but to order

the division to remain in place. I

waited impatiently for orders all night,

but not a single order was received from

higher headquarters.

Since I was sure that my tank division

was closest to the enemy's combat zone,

I finally came to the conclusion at 6:00

a.m. that I had to do something. I

ordered my tanks to attack the sixth

British Airborne Division, which had

established a bridge head behind the OR.

I believed that this was the most

immediate threat to the German

positions.

Immediately after I made my decision, I

was informed by Army Group B that I was

being assigned to the seventh army.

Finally, at 10:00 a.m., I received my

combat orders. I had to parry the attack

of the tanks assigned to the Sixth

British Airborne Division and turn west

to support the German troops defending

Khan.

After crossing the OR, I moved north

towards the coast. By that time, the

enemy consisting of three British and

three Canadian divisions had

successfully advanced and captured a

strip of coastline about 10 km deep.

11 of my tanks were put out of action by

Allied anti-tank guns immediately after

I set out.

My task force managed to destroy these

guns and reach the coast at Leon

Surmeare by 700 p.m.

The combat capability of the 21st Tank

Division, the only tank unit ready for

immediate deployment that could have had

a decisive impact on the course of the

invasion was undermined at the very

beginning of the battle.

Instead of rushing like lightning at the

concentration of enemy forces that had

landed, the division was doomed to be

smashed to smithetheriness.

It remained passive in the Khan area

until 6:30 a.m. attacking only the

division that had landed at Trrowarn.

However, the enemy's main efforts were

directed not at Trrow, but north of

Cain.

Units in formations of the 21st Panzer

Division were not engaged north of Cain

until the second half of the day. In the

hands of an experienced tank commander

such as Raml in 1940 and many commanders

after him, the 21st Panzer Division

could have created a difficult situation

for the Allied coalition if the

commander had gone on a frontal attack,

advancing in his tank. Gudderion's

golden rule, strike while the iron is

hot, was blatantly disregarded.

The command post of the 21st Panzer

Division was still in St. Pierre Surdiv,

about 30 km from the coast. On the night

of June 6th to 7th, the division

commander had no contact with his units.

Shortly after midnight, he informed us

that the Allies had probably already

reached the airfield in Carpik.

However, he did not have any specific

information.

The 25th SS Grenadier Regiment

immediately conducted a reconnaissance

in force. At 1300, it was reported that

there were no enemy forces in Karpik Row

or Biron.

Bourne was held by scattered units of

the 716th Infantry Division. Lebisong

was occupied by Allied troops. The left

flank of the 21st Panzer Division

stretched along the railway to Apr.

There were no German units west of Apron

at that moment. The western suburbs of

Cain and the airfield at Karpik were

unprotected.

The unit that was supposed to defend the

airfield abandoned its welle equipped

position in panic on June 6th. It

consisted of Luftvafa ground crew. The

reinforced 25th Grenadier Regiment was

moving along the Vair Bokage Kain Road.

The regiment was aware of the situation

from reports by liaison officers.

Battalion commanders were ordered to

report to the temporary regimenal

command post just west of Cain at the

intersection of the railway and highway.

The mood in the divisional bunker was

pessimistic. It was time to leave.

I was about to leave the bunker when I

was called to the phone. Our division

commander, Vafen SS Major General,

Brigadier General Wit, was at the

command post of the 21st Panzer Division

near St. Pierre SD and asked me to

report on the situation.

I explained the situation as I had been

informed by the commanders of the 716th

Infantry Division and the 21st Panzer

Division.

The division commander did not interrupt

me, but at the end he said, "The

situation urgently requires swift

action. First of all, the enemy must not

be allowed to reach Khan and the

airfield at Carp.

It can be assumed that the enemy units

and formations are currently preparing

for defense as they are not yet ready

for a further offensive.

Therefore, it would be a mistake to

engage our division's units in battle as

they arrive.

The only possible option is to launch an

attack in cooperation with the 21st Tank

Division.

In this way, the division will attack

the enemy together with the 21st Tank

Division and drive them into the sea.

The attack will be launched tomorrow at

12 noon. I quickly said goodbye to the

two commanders and left the bunker with

my escort.

There were still a number of wounded in

the passageway, but most had been

evacuated.

There was not a soul on the streets of

Khan. No soldiers or civilians in sight.

Only sappers could be seen and places

where rubble blocked the roads.

Apart from the sappers at work, we saw

no other signs of life. Khan was a dead

city. The suffocating smell of burning

filled the streets. Burning houses lit

our way. We were calm. No one said a

word. We were thinking about the fires

in our rear in Germany.

Above us, individual planes flew by,

carrying parachute mounted illumination

bombs dropped by the Allies for aerial

photography, filling the deserted

streets with bright light.

My god, where was our Luftvafa?

Our command post was located behind the

motorway. It was housed in a small

village house surrounded by tall old

trees which provided camouflage during

air raids.

This was a necessary condition if you

wanted to live to see the next day.

The house was in disarray.

The Luftvafa troops must have left it in

a matter of minutes.

They probably belong to the unit

defending the airfield which had left

the area so quickly.

The commander of the first battalion of

the 25th Grenadier Regiment arrived and

was briefly informed of the situation.

A brief handshake spoke volumes.

We had a long journey ahead of us. The

battalion dismounted and their vehicles

disappeared into the darkness.

None of the vehicles went through the

city. They all turned south.

Battalion after battalion arrived.

Meanwhile, day broke. The sky came alive

again. There was no point in hiding from

the planes that were constantly hovering

overhead. The soldiers waved to me. They

marched forward calmly to their baptism

of fire. They showed no pity for

themselves. They were determined to

prove themselves. Our route was fiercely

attacked by fighter bombers and shelled

by naval guns. Nevertheless, we reached

the assembly areas on time. I set up our

forward command post in a monastery in

our dens. My driver, Eric, had already

exchanged our KFZ15 all-terrain vehicle

based on a Mercedes-Benz 340 chassis,

Ed, for a lighter Volkswagen so as not

to make it too conspicuous a target. But

this precaution was of little use. As

soon as we started moving, we ended up

in a ditch. Machine gun fire from

fighter planes acting as attack aircraft

tore up the ground around us. We got

back in the car, and after a couple of

hundred meters, we were back in the

ditch. It was driving us crazy, but Eric

soon figured out what to do. He would

take off like lightning and as soon as

an Allied fighter began to dive, my

driver would slam on the brakes so hard

that the car almost overturned.

That's how Eric got me to the monastery.

I was glad to be surrounded by thick

walls now. The monastery was an old ruin

with a large garden surrounded by high

walls of solid stone. Two monastery

towers dominated the area providing a

magnificent view.

One of the towers had already become an

observation point for a heavy artillery

battalion. Bartling reported that the

artillery was ready to open fire.

Soldiers from motorized infantry units

took up their positions. Directly in

front of me was the second battalion of

the 25th SS motorized grenadier

regiment. I saw the combat

reconnaissance group disappear into the

thickets.

Heavy infantry weapons were set up in

firing positions while machine guns and

20 mm anti-aircraft guns fired at enemy

bombers, fighters, and attack aircraft.

Everything was ready. But where were the

tanks? Would they be able to reach the

front? Was it crazy to expect tanks when

the Allied Air Force completely

dominated the skies? However, instead of

the muchneeded tanks we were expecting,

I heard a report from the mortar

battalion commander.

I was glad to hear that he had quite a

lot of ammunition.

The battalion took up positions on the

northern outskirts of Kana.

Meanwhile, it was 10:00 a.m. and the

first tanks appeared. Relentless attacks

by Allied ground attack aircraft and

bombers greatly hindered their approach.

The tank battalion commander reported

that 50 T4 tanks were ready for battle.

The rest were on their way and would

arrive during the night. Now I felt much

better. Without tank support, our attack

was inevitably doomed to failure.

If only it were possible to suppress

that damn naval gunfire.

Heavy shells up to 380 mm, the main

caliber of British battleships, whizzed

over our heads like express trains,

plunging into the ruins of the city.

Stormtroopers and bombers hardly

bothered us anymore. We knew that this

junk would hang over us constantly in

the future.

I climbed the tower to survey the

surroundings. I thought I would be able

to see the shore. What a surprise.

The area all the way to the shore lay

before me like a sandbox at a military

exercise.

There was lively activity on the shore.

Bobbing on the waves one after another,

more and more Allied ships and countless

barrage balloons protected this armada

from air attacks.

The latter was unnecessary as the

Luftvafa in northern France seemed to no

longer exist.

To the west of the town of Duvé de Liv,

enemy tank units were lining up. The

whole area resembled an antill. And what

was behind us? Smoking ruins, empty

roads, and burning cars.

The K fillet's road was straight as an

arrow for many kilometers, but there was

no sign of German combat units on it.

They waited out the daylight hours

somewhere in shelters or camouflaged,

daring to move forward only at night.

The attack aircraft bombed the monastery

without causing us any harm. The

soldiers cursed these locusts of Allied

fighter planes, which due to the absence

of our own air force were bombing

everything on the ground. But what was

that? Was I imagining things? An enemy

tank was breaking through the Ki

Gardens. Then it stopped. The tank

commander opened the hatch and began to

survey the area. Was he blind?

Didn't he understand that he was only

200 m away from the second battalion of

the 25th SS motorized grenadier regiment

and that the barrels of our anti-tank

guns were aimed at him? Obviously not.

He calmly lit a cigarette and watched

the smoke. We didn't fire a single shot.

The battalion maintained perfect fire

discipline.

Then I understood what was happening.

Everything became clear. The tank had

been sent forward to provide flank

cover. The enemy tanks were moving

towards OD from Buren. My god, what an

opportunity. The tanks were moving right

across the front of the second battalion

of the 25th SS Motorized Grenadier

Regiment. The enemy unit was exposing

its unprotected flank to us. I gave the

order to all battalions, artillery, and

tanks. Do not open fire. Fire only on my

command.

The commander of the 12th SS Tank

Regiment positioned his command vehicle

in the monastery garden. Contact was

immediately established with the tank

and the enemy's position was relayed

from the command tank's turret to all

the other tanks.

One company of the tank regiment was

located on the monastery grounds and

another on the opposite slope south of

Franville.

The enemy commander seemed to be

concerned only with the airfield which

was directly in front of him. In

principle, the enemy tanks could already

cover the airfield with their fire. But

their commander did not realize that

defeat awaited him on the opposite slope

of the hill. As soon as the enemy tanks

crossed the Kambayou road, they would

encounter the second battalion of the

12th SS tank regiment. Only a few meters

separated the iron monsters from each

other. We watched this spectacle as if

spellbound.

The commander of the 12th SS Panzer

Regiment, Vuncha, calmly reported on the

enemy tanks maneuvers.

No one dared to speak loudly. I

remembered Gudderian's principle. If

you're going to strike, strike hard. And

the divisional attack plan, but in this

situation, I had to show my own

initiative.

The 26th SS motorized Grenadier Regiment

was still east of OR and the first

battalion of the 12th SS Panzer Regiment

could not move due to a lack of fuel. It

was 30 km from Or

could not be delivered due to intense

air raids.

My decision. As soon as the first enemy

tanks pass Frankil, the third battalion

of the 25th SS Grenadier Regiment will

attack them with the support of our

tanks on the opposite slope.

As soon as the battalion reaches OT, the

other battalions will join the battle.

The goal, the coast.

The commander of the 21st Panzer

Division was briefly informed of the

situation. An unbearable burden fell on

our shoulders at that moment. The

enemy's leading units had already passed

Franville and were crossing the road. I

gave Vuncha the signal to begin the

attack. The last thing I heard was,

"Attention, tanks, forward."

The tension evaporated.

There were reports of flashes of gunfire

near Franville.

An enemy tank ahead caught fire and I

watched as the crew climbed out.

New enemy tanks were blown to pieces

with loud explosions.

Suddenly, our T4 tank caught fire.

Flames burst out of the hatches. The

Canadian infantry tried to reach OT and

continue the battle from there, but to

no avail.

The soldiers of the third battalion of

the 25th SS Grenadier Regiment tried

with all their might to prevent the

enemy tanks from gaining the upper hand.

Supported by infantry, the enemy tanks

attempted to break into OT.

No sooner had they succeeded than the

first and second battalions of the 25th

SS motorized regiment launched their

attack. With energetic offensive

actions, we took Franville and OT.

Conte and Bureau were to follow. The

enemy seemed completely discouraged.

By this point, neither side had opened

artillery fire. The attack proceeded

quickly. Prisoners were rounded up and

sent to the rear with their hands

raised.

The third battalion of the 25th SS

Motorized Grenadier Regiment advanced on

Bureau. The second battalion of this

regiment had already passed through

Conte and was fighting enemy tanks.

I jumped on a motorcycle and rode to the

third battalion of the 25th regiment. On

the way, I encountered the first

wounded. They were being taken to the

infirmary in the monastery.

About 50 Canadians were standing with

their hands up in the garden of Cusi,

guarded by several of our soldiers.

I allowed them to lower their hands and

ordered them to be taken to the

monastery immediately.

The shadow of death hung over the

village of Cusi, but just beyond the

last farm, it was livelier than I would

have liked.

As soon as I reached the open space,

Canadian greetings began to fly over my

head. Enemy tanks on the southern

outskirts of Burren had opened fire, but

it wasn't easy to hit me. I was racing

across the field at lightning speed and

yet they got me. I don't remember how I

ended up lying next to a Canadian

soldier. Smoke and explosions surrounded

me and there was no end to it. We stayed

close to the edge of the crater, keeping

an eye on each other. We were in the

very center of the place that had

already come under artillery fire from

the sea, and we crouched down,

especially low, when heavy shells from

ship guns whistled over our heads.

My motorcycle lay in the field, reduced

to a pile of wreckage.

I don't remember how long I lay in that

damn crater. However, I noticed that

soldiers from our motorized units were

just about to enter Burine. Tanks were

burning on both sides of the village. I

couldn't stay in that hole forever. I

climbed out and raced to the third

battalion of the 25th SS motorized

grenadier regiment. The Canadian

disappeared in the direction of Cuse. At

that moment, Buren was under enemy

artillery fire. A liaison officer rode

up on a roaring motorcycle. He

recognized me, stopped, and we both took

off.

Between Burren and Odie, I met Milius.

He proudly reported that his battalion

had shown high morale. At that moment,

his losses were insignificant.

Then Burren came under heavy fire. The

village was unrecognizable.

Only smoke, explosions, and fire marked

its location.

The enemy artillery concentrated all its

firepower on Burine, unleashing a

monstrous avalanche of steel and fire

upon it. Never before had I encountered

such concentrated artillery fire. I

remembered what I had read about Verdon

and what I had seen there with my own

eyes. 24 years after the battles of

1916,

one company of the third battalion of

the 25th SS Grenadier Regiment found

itself in the very center of this

concentrated artillery fire. The

remnants of the other companies advanced

in the direction of Bisson.

Millius followed his lead company. I

rode to the second battalion of the 25th

SS Grenadier Regiment on another

motorcycle.

Only light weapons were firing at Conte.

The barrage of enemy artillery fire

remained behind the battalion and the

battalion continued to attack in a

northerly direction.

Battalion commander Scapini, who was

leading his soldiers in the attack, was

killed.

A direct hit from a shell cut short the

life of a true warrior.

When I was already in the first

battalion of the 25th SS Panzer

Grenadier Regiment, I noticed with some

concern that the 21st Panzer Division

was not supporting our attack and that

its tanks were standing idle. As a

result, the right flank of the 25th

Grenadier Regiment was exposed and enemy

tanks were already probing the flank of

the regiment's first battalion.

This battalion found itself at the

epicenter of a dangerous crisis in the

battle.

After hesitating for a moment, the

soldiers of the battalion remained lying

down.

Suddenly, I noticed one, then several,

running back to Melon.

Giving orders would not save the

situation.

Something else had to be done.

I ran after the young soldiers and

pointed in the direction of the enemy.

They stopped, looked at me, and then

returned to their previous positions.

A T4 tank drove into an anti-tank ditch

and got stuck.

Enemy tanks were approaching us, coming

within range of the anti-tank platoon.

The first Sherman stood up, shrouded in

smoke. The next one spun around and was

smashed to pieces in a matter of

seconds.

Then our tanks appeared and finished the

job.

Back to the regimental command post.

150 prisoners gathered in the monastery

courtyard.

They belonged to the 9th Canadian

Brigade, which was part of the Third

Infantry Division.

The prisoners were either natives of

Northern Nova Scotia or from the crews

of the 27th Tank Regiment, Sherbrook

Rifles.

I spoke with several officers and then

climbed the monastery tower again.

Forward observers were constantly

calling in fire on various targets and

adjusting the battery's fire.

I saw no movement on the left flank.

Only a reconnaissance company from the

26th SS Motorized Grenadier Regiment had

arrived in the combat zone.

The battalions were so delayed by air

raids that we could not count on the

26th Grenadier Regiment being brought

into the battle.

The 12th Reconnaissance Battalion had

still not made contact with the enemy on

the left flank of the division. It was

conducting reconnaissance in the

direction of Beayu. While the chief of

artillery, SS Oberm Fur Maitel was

briefing me. We noticed a lot of

activity west of the Moo River. Enemy

tanks were advancing towards Bretville.

The Muse is a small river with thicket

along its banks. Near the town of Row,

its banks become higher, especially on

the right, which creates obstacles for

tanks attacking from west to east.

This section was covered by a battery of

88 mm anti-aircraft guns in the

Franville area. I watched anxiously at

the clouds of dust west of the Moo.

Enemy tanks rolled one after another

across the hill towards Bretville.

There were no German troops in this

sector who could stop the enemy's

advance.

The enemy tank forces, if they continued

along the cannau road, would thus come

directly into the approach area of the

26th SS Motorized Grenadier Regiment.

In Brettville itself, there were only

scattered infantry units of the 716th

Infantry Division.

The way was practically open for the

enemy to penetrate deep into our flanks.

As we later established, the units we

observed were the seventh Canadian

brigade advancing together with infantry

units of the Regina rifles and Canadian

regiments from Nova Scotia. Under the

circumstances, the attack of the 25th SS

motorized Grenadier Regiment had to be

stopped immediately.

It would have been irresponsible to

continue the attack with exposed flanks

and against the monstrous fire of field

and naval artillery.

The attack was cancelled and the first

battalion of the 25th SS Grenadier

Regiment was withdrawn to the positions

of the 21st Panzer Division. The

division received orders to hold their

positions and switched to defense until

reinforcements arrived.

In the monastery garden, medical

personnel cared for the wounded. Our

young soldiers lay side by side and

encouraged each other. Canadians lay

next to German soldiers.

Doctors and medics did not look at whose

uniform was whose. There was no

difference between them here. The only

thing that mattered was saving lives.

It became impossible to evacuate the

wounded. Allied fighters attacked every

ambulance. The regimental doctors

reported to me that the medical company

attached to the regiment was no longer

fully operational.

Fighters attacked the medical company on

the march and destroyed several vehicles

carrying medical equipment.

Unfortunately, several medics were

killed. The Red Cross no longer provided

protection. To make the ambulances even

more visible, they were all painted snow

white. But even this measure proved

useless.

With the help of French doctors, a

temporary military hospital was set up.

The French paid special attention to the

seriously wounded Canadians.

Undercover of night, the wounded and

prisoners were finally sent to the rear.

The losses on the first day of fighting

were severe. In addition to the

commander of the second battalion of the

25th SS Motorized Grenadier Regiment,

several company commanders were killed

or wounded.

The third battalion of the 25th regiment

suffered heavy losses from fierce

artillery fire at Bon.

The tank battalion lost six T4 tanks,

two of which were completely destroyed,

burned, or exploded.

The enemy's losses were significantly

greater. According to Colonel General

Mel Gordon, the 27th Canadian Tank

Regiment lost 28 Shermans and the

Highlanders of Northern Nova Scotia lost

a total of 245 men killed, wounded, and

captured.

The attack by the 25th SS Grenadier

Motorized Regiment stopped the enemy's

advance on Can. Unfortunately, it was

not possible to continue our offensive

on June 7th. A wellplanned joint attack

by the 12th and 21st tank divisions on

June 7th would certainly have been

successful and the bridge head north of

KN would have been destroyed if the

attack had been entrusted to skilled

unit commanders.

However, these divisions were held in

reserve and could only be deployed after

approval by the Vermacht High Command.

Both divisions could have operated

together north of K as early as June

6th.

During the night, the 26th Motorized

Grenadier Regiment arrived at its

sector. The threat to our flanks was

finally over. The first battalion of the

26th SS Motorized Grenadier Regiment was

stopped when it attacked Nor and was

unable to advance further.

The attack by the first company of this

regiment on the right bank of the Muse

River, which was supposed to establish

contact with the 25th SS Motorized

Grenadier Regiment, was stifled by

flanking fire from Noir.

The attack by the second battalion of

the 26th SS Motorized Grenadier Regiment

led to the encirclement and destruction

of three companies of the Royal Winnipeg

Rifles in Pwam Besson.

The Canadian regiment from Nova Scotia

received orders to counterattack from

the 9inth Canadian Brigade.

Suffering heavy losses, it pushed the

second battalion of the 26th SS

Motorized Grenadier Regiment back to a

position south of Puam Besson.

The third battalion of the 26th SS

Motorized Grenadier Regiment occupied

defensive positions along the railway

embankment at Bronn.

The training tank division under the

command of Lieutenant General Berlin

arrived at the front near Tiier on June

8th. The division had already suffered

heavy losses during the approach march.

More than 40 armored vehicles carrying

fuel and 90 trucks were destroyed.

Five tanks, four tractors, and four

self-propelled artillery units were also

destroyed.

These were serious losses for a unit

that had not yet entered combat.

Shortly after midnight, SS Obermfur von

Ribentrop arrived at the command post

with a report.

Von Ribbentrop had been wounded in the

shoulder by a burst of fire from a

low-flying aircraft two weeks before the

Allied landings. He stood before me with

his arm in a sling. Von Ribentrop had

left the military hospital and was

looking for his tank company.

Since I knew this officer well from

previous combat operations, I did

nothing to send him back to the

hospital.

During the night, I visited the

battalions and checked the individual

positions of the companies.

I was stunned by the positive attitude

and fighting spirit of my young

soldiers.

We, the old soldiers, were frankly

deeply impressed by what had happened

during the day. The enemy's artillery

fire and air raids had an effect on us,

but not on the young soldiers.

For them, it was the baptism of fire

they had been waiting for.

They knew that many difficult days and

weeks lay ahead. Their attitude

commanded respect.

During their inspection of the

battlefield, OT and Franville discovered

important enemy documents.

Communications instructions were

retrieved from the first enemy tank that

had been knocked out. By the evening of

June 8th, Canadian vehicles coming from

Pau were crossing a mined bridge on the

outskirts of Bloun right in front of the

barrels of our anti-tank guns deployed

there. As a result, one of the vehicles

burned down with its passengers and crew

while the other remained intact, but the

senior lieutenant and his driver sitting

in it were dead. An important map was

found in this vehicle. It accurately

marked all enemy positions on both sides

of the Orin River with all the details

down to the individual positions of

mortars and machine guns.

Instead of the actual names of

settlements and landmarks, the map used

the names of animals that began with the

same letter. For example, the Or River

was named Oronokco.

The map marked areas that were

impassible for tanks.

A notebook was found on the dead captain

with notes concerning orders for combat

operations after landing.

The notebook also contained information

on combat operations and rules

concerning the use of the civilian

population.

The call sign codes found among the

captured documents were used by the

enemy for more than 2 days, which

allowed our radio intelligence platoon

to intercept and evaluate the incoming

signals.

On the afternoon of June 8th, I

accompanied the division commander on a

tour of the 25th regiment sector and

then visited the first battalion of the

26th regiment.

Low-flying aircraft were constantly on

our tail. I was glad to bring my

commander back to the command post, safe

and sound.

Then the 25th SS Motorized Grenadier

Regiment received orders to support the

first battalion of the 26th SS Motorized

Grenadier Regiment by striking

Brettville La Hojus from the east.

The attack was to be joined by the newly

arrived tank company of the first

battalion of the 12th SS Panzer Regiment

and the 15th Reconnaissance Company of

the 25th SS Motorized Grenadier

Regiment.

The attack was planned for the following

night. Daytime attacks were impossible

due to Allied air superiority.

RTV Panther tanks advanced from Khan to

Franville to the front line shortly

before nightfall.

Because of this, they moved slowly

toward their assembly point. The tank

commanders were briefed concisely but

thoroughly. The company and platoon

commanders had studied the terrain

before nightfall and knew every contour.

The tank company took up position for a

wedge-shaped attack. The reconnaissance

unit got into their armored vehicles. I

went around the combat vehicles one by

one to say a few words of encouragement

to the young soldiers.

Company commander von Butner, my agitant

for many years, suddenly reminded me of

a promise I had made to the 15th

Reconnaissance Company of the 25th SS

Motorized Grenadier Regiment during

combat training in Belgium.

At that time, I had said to the company,

"Guys, the reconnaissance company always

goes ahead of the regiment. You have a

huge responsibility.

I promise you that I will be with you to

witness your baptism of fire.

That time had come. The company was

going into battle for the first time.

Therefore, I had to accompany them.

My old friend and comrade, Helmouth

Belulka, arrived on a motorcycle with a

sidecar. He had been with me as an

orderly squad leader and platoon leader

since 1939.

He had accompanied me on all the

battlefields.

Dr. Stiff was in the sidec car. I jumped

into the back seat and told Helmouth to

drive to the Con Bay Road. To our right,

tank engines roared. The tankers climbed

into their combat vehicles and

disappeared into the turrets of their

tanks. The young soldiers were waiting

for me. They slapped each other on the

back and probably remembered my promise.

They pointed at my motorcycle and shook

their heads. My transport seemed to

cause them some concern.

The commander of the 12th Tank Regiment,

Max Vinca, wanted to accompany the

Panther Company. He had also fought side

by side with me since 1939.

We knew each other. There was no need

for explanations.

A glance, a signal, and the tanks rolled

into the night.

To the left of the road, a battery of 88

mm guns took up firing positions. A few

minutes later, we left the last outposts

behind. The tanks rolled forward at full

speed along the right side of the road.

There were no obstacles, and the tank

drivers could use the 700 horsepower

engine of the TV Panther tank to its

full potential.

A detachment of motorcyclists and the

vehicle of the forward artillery

observer followed a few hundred meters

behind me. It was time to race. The

speed increased and only silhouettes

were visible. I wanted to drive through

the town of Row before it got completely

dark. This had been agreed with Vinca.

The first houses of Row appeared. The

tanks were moving behind us to the

right. It felt like sitting on a

volcano, but Helmu tirelessly continued

to drive forward. We just held on tight

to the motorcycle so that if necessary,

we could get off the road as quickly as

possible.

At the edge of the village, we waited

for the tanks. They arrived a few

minutes later. The first platoon of the

reconnaissance company dismounted and

surveyed the area. There were no enemies

in the town, and we quickly drove

through Row and onward.

The Panthers also had to pass through

the town, one after another. As soon as

it was behind us, they returned to their

wedge formation.

The Panthers roared toward Brettville,

moving on both sides of the road. In the

darkness, I could only see the red hot

exhausts of the tanks.

Nor was already behind us on the left.

In the next few minutes, we were bound

to encounter Canadian combat patrols.

Brettville was only a few hundred meters

ahead of us. Bang! Bang! The shots

echoed, and I could see fire bursting

from the barrels of the tank guns. The

two leading Panthers fired shell after

shell from their guns.

They cleared the road with their fire

and roared into the town at full speed.

This was how we fought on the eastern

front. But would such a surprise attack

tactic achieve the same result in

Normandy?

Now all the tanks were firing at the

town. An enemy machine gun rattled in

response.

We took up position directly behind the

second Panther.

I felt that the road was becoming

unsafe.

We veered to the right and pushed

forward along the ditch. I stumbled over

the body of a dead Canadian.

A small armored vehicle was smoking on

the road embankment.

As we moved on, I heard someone moaning.

There was a wounded man lying on the

road to our left. Machine gunfire was

rattling down the street. New Panthers

with soldiers on board were storming

into the town.

We advanced along the ditch in short

bursts. I reached the wounded man. He

was lying on his side, moaning in pain.

My god, it was von Butner. The commander

of the reconnaissance company had been

shot in the stomach. I felt the wound

and found that it was serious.

Butner recognized me and shook my hand.

As an old frontline soldier, he knew

that this was his last battle.

Tell my wife that I loved her very much.

His lips moved slowly but clearly.

I knelt beside him while the doctor

bandaged Bner.

Helmet Belulkkey covered us, kneeling a

few meters away. I heard a sound from

the other side of the road, and a shadow

ran across it. Friend or foe? Belely

fired as he fell and hit the Canadian in

the head. Belely himself also fell on

the side of the road. My companion of so

many years did not get up again. Like

Bner, he too had fought his last battle

and was mortally wounded by a shot to

the stomach. I tried to cheer him up,

but he would not listen.

No. No. I know what this means. It's the

end. Please tell my parents.

Grenadier soldiers rushed past us. SS

Obush Dumbban Fioha Zander, Major

Desau's son, shook Helmet's hand. Zander

was also killed in action a few hours

later. Tears rolled down my face. My old

comrades were leaving one after another.

I jumped on my motorcycle to catch up

with our troops. A few seconds later, I

was engulfed in flames. The fuel tank

had been punctured and the motorcycle

was burning like a torch. The soldiers

pulled me off the motorcycle and

extinguished the fire with mud. Fire was

coming from all sides in the village. We

reached the center, but our lead tank

was hit. Nevertheless, we captured the

Ridgeway rifles command post. The

surprise attack was successful, but

where were the soldiers of the 26th SS

Motorized Grenadier Regiment? We

couldn't hold our positions for long,

and we didn't have enough forces to

capture the whole of Bretville.

With a heavy heart, I decided to

withdraw my units to the high ground

east of Row at dawn. The result of the

fighting at that point was that the

British general, later Field Marshall

Montgomery, commander of the Allied

forces that landed in Normandy on June

6th, 1944,

had not achieved his objective.

According to the operational plan, Khan

was to be taken by the Allies on June

6th. Around noon, the first battalion of

the 26th motorized Grenadier Regiment

took up positions at Row. SS Obushroom

Banfa Vinca was wounded during a night

attack and SS Obushroom Fiora Fouse

platoon commander in the reconnaissance

company went missing. Fonbutner's

successor was killed later that evening.

Thus the 15th reconnaissance company of

the 25th SS motorized regiment lost two

company commanders in the last 24 hours.

I met with a divisional intelligence

officer at regimental headquarters. We

both knew that the German high command

had to act much faster in order to

destroy the coalition's bridge head.

Until now, tank divisions had been

thrown into battle as soon as they

reached the combat zone. None of them

could carry out a wellplanned attack.

Virtually all tank units and formations

had already been forced to go on the

defensive, while the infantry divisions

urgently needed here were located east

of the Sen and remained unused.

Day by day, we were getting weaker and

weaker while the allies were getting

stronger and stronger.

In the afternoon, General Guyire von

Schwepenberg, commander of Tank Group

West, arrived at the command post.

The general knew our division quite

well. He often inspected it during

training exercises.

He was aware of our shortcomings and saw

our strengths.

The general spoke highly of everything

we had done. We climbed up to the

observation post in the monastery.

The general asked me to give my opinion

on the situation.

I briefly outlined the situation in my

regiment's sector and expressed my

concern that the outcome of the war

could be decided within the next few

days.

Von Schwepenberg glanced at me and said,

"My dear Mr. Meyer, only politicians can

win this war now."

Vonenberg told me that he had decided to

launch an attack with several tank

divisions. the 21st 12th Hitler Youth

Division and the Training Tank Division.

With these divisions, he wanted to break

through to the coast.

It was assumed that the training tank

division would take the Senuier Puis

Bronier sector and the 26th SS Motorized

Grenadier Regiment, which would be freed

up in the process, would have to wedge

itself into the section east of MO.

The attack was planned for the night of

June 10th to 11th.

I believed that a night attack with such

forces promised to be successful.

In any case, the attack had to be

launched very early so that by dawn we

would already be in enemy positions,

thereby nullifying the fire of heavy

naval guns.

A daytime attack seemed hopeless to me

because of the superiority of the Allied

coalition in artillery and aviation.

Preparations for the planned attack

began immediately, but the difficulties

were incredible.

Ammunition and fuel could only be

delivered at night. For example,

ammunition had to be delivered from

forests north of Paris.

The sector in front of the 25th SS

motorized Grenadier Regiment was quiet.

The enemy was obviously too shaken by

what had happened on June 7th and 8th

and was not ready to launch new attacks

on Ka.

In the sector to our left, offensive and

defensive combat operations continued

unabated.

The training tank division took Milan

and held that section.

I had already been informed at the

beginning of the invasion that the

allies did not particularly adhere to

the Geneva Convention and that the

divisions that had already landed were

taking few prisoners.

On the morning of June 9th, I discovered

a group of German soldiers on the

railroad south of Row.

It was obvious that they had not been

killed in battle as they were lying next

to the road and all had been shot in the

head.

They were soldiers from the 21st Panzer

Division and the 12th SS Panzer Division

Hitler Yugand.

This incident was immediately reported

to the division whose headquarters in

turn reported it to the core.

The commander of the 135th tank

artillery regiment of the Luxembourg

training tank division was captured by

the British along with battalion

commander Major Citler Hupman Grath

vonclaren unulring and six other

non-commissioned officers and privates

on June 8th.

They were captured by units of the

British tank regiment ins of court which

had penetrated the rear of the German

positions.

After the German officers refused to

voluntarily become human shields, the

seriously wounded Colonel Luxembourg was

tied up by two British officers beaten

unconscious and covered in blood tied to

a British tank as a human shield.

On orders from their superiors, the

British tankers opened fire on Major

Citizler Hopman Graph Vanclar Unldringan

and other soldiers who were ordered to

flee.

Hopedman Graph Clari unldringan was

found alive by the SS Zibkin battalion

and taken to the command post.

The British tank to which Colonel

Luxembourg had been tied as a human

shield was hit by a German anti-tank

gun. The colonel died in a military

hospital two days later.

Hman Graph Clari Unulringan was given

first aid by SS medic.

On June 7th, we found a notebook with

notes on the orders given before the

invasion in the possession of a Canadian

captain.

In addition to tactical instructions,

there were also instructions on how to

fight. They stated, "Take no prisoners."

This notebook was handed over on June

8th by the operations officer of the

12th SS Panzer Division to the commander

of the 7th Army, Colonel General Dolman.

Officers and soldiers of the third

Canadian division who were interrogated

in the 12th SS Panzer Division confirmed

that they had received orders from their

superiors not to take prisoners.

One of the soldiers testified during

interrogation that they had been

instructed not to take prisoners if they

interfered with combat operations.

During the trial of Bernhard Zebkin, who

was accused of war crimes in November

1948,

Colonel Meer Deering of the general

staff, an intelligence officer with the

commander-in-chief of German forces in

the West, Field Marshall von Runstead,

noted, "Immediately after the invasion

began, I was twice handed documents

captured in the Canadian Army sector on

the eastern flank of the invasion front,

which indicated that there was no

intention of taking prisoners.

At the same trial, Lieutenant Colonel

Vonzastro of the general staff, who was

an intelligence officer with General

Guyire von Schepenberg's tank group

West, testified that at that time he had

received information about crimes

committed by Allied troops in violation

of the HEG declaration on the conduct of

war on land and the Geneva Convention.

He then recounted one instance in which

a number of captured German soldiers

were shot by Canadian soldiers.

Furthermore, Lieutenant Colonel

Vonzastro testified about a Canadian

captain. This captain had been taken

prisoner during fighting in the SAM area

since he belonged to the same unit where

records of orders not to take prisoners

had been found at the beginning of the

invasion and where specific crimes had

already been committed. Vanzastro

accused the Canadian captain of these

violations of international law. When

the Canadian was asked directly if he

had heard about the shootings of German

prisoners, the captain replied, "I did

not participate in the invasion. I

arrived in this unit with reinforcements

and did not serve there for long.

However, I heard about the atrocities.

But then very strict orders were issued

that if such cases were repeated, the

perpetrators would be punished.

I mention these cases here because they

illustrate how the allies conducted

their military operations and also

because they had a decisive influence on

my own fate. I would like to briefly

touch on the issue of war crimes here

before discussing them further.

Preparations for a systematic attack

were in full swing. We had only a couple

of hours left to deliver a single

crushing blow to the bridge head. If

this blow failed, there would be no

other chance to throw the allies into

the sea. After the attack, all three

tank divisions would be bled dry and

would no longer be able to repeat such

an operation.

After the tank group West received

combat orders in the presence of Field

Marshall Raml, commander of Army Group

B, the training tank division reported

an enemy breakthrough from the west.

Shortly after this report, the

headquarters of the tank group West was

virtually destroyed by carpet bombing.

Tank Group West lost its chief of staff,

General Ritter, and operations officer,

Edler von Davins, as well as several

other officers.

During the attack, we also lost our

communications officer, SS Halpermfur

Vilhelm Beck, who commanded a tank

company. He had participated in all

battles since 1939 and was awarded the

Knight's Cross for his participation in

the battles for the recapture of Karkov.

The Communications Battalion was put out

of action. The general who commanded it,

who was slightly wounded, fled with

several men. As a result, control of

tank group West was disrupted until June

26th.

A coordinated counterattack in the

following days was unsuccessful.

Under pressure from the British tank

divisions, which were growing stronger

by the day, the German tank units were

forced to go on the defensive.

On June 11th, the front came to life on

the left flank of the 25th SS Motorized

Grenadier Regiment.

I immediately went to the first

battalion of the 26th SS motorized

grenadier regiment and found Baronhard

Krauss at his battalion observation

post.

Together we watched the attack on the

positions of the 12th SS Engineer

Battalion located on a hill north of SH.

The battalion's positions were shelled

by guns of all calibers, and within a

couple of minutes turned into a

smoldering, smoking mass.

We saw all this through binoculars, and

no matter how hard we looked, could not

discern any movement.

Then the fire was transferred to the

opposite slope of the hill, and

gradually to the village of SH.

Canadian infantrymen jumped out of their

trenches and bushes and with the support

of tanks attacked the sapper's

positions.

Baronhard Krauss reacted immediately.

In a short time he aimed his heavy

infantry guns at the selected targets

and the fire hit the thickest of the

attackers.

This flanking fire had the desired

effect. The enemy infantry got stuck on

the front slope of the hill and suffered

heavy losses.

Some of the attacking tanks hit the

battalion's minefields and were knocked

out. Her Majesty's Royal Rifles of

Canada and the First Har tank regiment

were forced to retreat to their previous

positions. They did not attack again.

On my way to the command post of the

25th motorized grenadier regiment, I

walked through labor row to take a look

at Brettville and no and meet with SS

Halpermfure Feifer.

Feifer had long been Hitler's agitant

and commanded a company of TV Panther

tanks. His successor in Hitler's

headquarters was then SS Halpstfure Guna

who had previously commanded the third

battalion of the 25th SS motorized

grenadier regiment. Between Samurray and

Row, I came under fire from no. They

tried to hit me with machine guns and

anti-tank guns, but my good old BMW was

a difficult target. I continued to drive

quickly towards row. But what was that

moving towards me? Was it a dream? It

was enemy tanks only 50 m away from me.

Indeed, it was them. Two Shermans slowly

crawled out of the city and stopped on

the left side of the road. Their gun

barrels were aimed straight at my

motorcycle.

Turning back was useless. I couldn't do

it. So, there was nothing left to do but

keep going and squeeze between them. I

picked up speed. Maybe I could slip away

and hide in the woods on the right.

Suddenly, there was a bang to my right

and behind me. I saw the first tank spin

around and one of the tankers jump out

of the hatch as if he had been bitten by

a tarantula.

Following my instincts, I turned right

into a ditch and hid in it. Before I

realized what was happening, the second

tank exploded.

My companion and I immediately rushed

back and took cover again.

Only then did we realize what was really

happening. We had passed the last

advanced guard posts just as they were

about to open fire on two enemy tanks.

Our troops did not have time to warn us.

Good old Feifer was in his TV Panther

about 100 meters from the first enemy

tank. He shot both Shermans, sending

their crews to the other world.

A day later, SS Help Fura Feifer died a

hero's death, receiving a fatal shrapnel

wound.

At the dressing station of the 25th

Motorized Grenadier Regiment, I again

found many wounded soldiers.

The constant influx of wounded in the

absence of actual combat made us all

think

the fighting was mainly going on in such

a way that our tank divisions were

doomed to destruction under the fire of

naval guns, bombs and attack aircraft of

the Allied Air Force which prevented us

from carrying out offensive operations.

This could not go on. Our tank divisions

had to gain freedom of maneuver.

On June 11th, the second battalion of

the 26th motorized Grenadier Regiment

was attacked by Her Majesty's Royal

Rifle Regiment, reinforced by the First

Har Tank Regiment and with powerful

artillery support. The attack was

repelled. Our battalion held its

positions. The enemy lost 12 tanks while

we lost three during these combat

operations.

Units of the eighth Canadian Brigade,

supported by the 46th Commando and

tanks, attacked RORO.

Several enemy tanks were destroyed. The

village was abandoned under pressure

from superior enemy forces.

A threatening situation developed near

Tasur cell on the right flank of the

training tank division. On orders from

the ISS Panzer Corps, the training tank

division was urgently reinforced with

the last reserve of the 12th SS Panzer

Division, a divisional escort company,

which was thrown onto the right flank of

the training tank division, where the

situation then stabilized.

The situation on the front near Kana

became more threatening with each

passing day.

The center of gravity of the fighting

shifted to the positions of our

neighbors on the left, the training tank

division. The enemy managed to break

through Balra to Kumal Levant. The

enemy's seventh tank division was

pushing forward towards Levery. The

encirclement of the first SS Panzer

Corps was becoming increasingly

threatening.

I was ordered to report to the division.

There I met the commander of the first

SS Panzer Corps, Vafen SS Colonel

General Sep Dietrich.

Dietrich outlined the situation on the

invasion front as a whole, frankly

admitting to us that there were no

reserves left and that he no longer

believed in the possibility of a

systematic attack. He complained, "They

want to defend everything, but with

what? Those who defend everything defend

nothing.

This axiom was first formulated by

Frederick II the Great as follows.

Short-sighted people want to defend

everything. Smart people focus on the

main goal.

As nightfell, I walked around the

battalions of the regiment.

Va Müller settled down by the anti-tank

ditch and gloated that all the British

volleys were hitting the village behind

his command post. There were no troops

there.

The soldiers smiled at me as I made my

way through the positions. The forward

posts were set up in damaged enemy

tanks. The boys were unlucky. They could

only be relieved at dawn.

Reconnaissance groups were sent out from

both sides all the time. In front of the

first battalion of the 25th SS motorized

grenadier regiment was the left flank of

the third British division with the

third Canadian division taking up

positions nearby.

By the morning of June 13th, the

vanguard of the enemy's 7th Panzer

Division had reached Hill 213

east of Verair Bokage.

The commander of the second company of

the 101st SS heavy tank battalion, SS

Oberstrom Bonfur, Michael Vitman, who

had already destroyed 119 tanks in

Russia and was awarded the Knights Cross

with oak leaves, moved ahead of his

company to reconoid the area.

Near Hill 213,

he came across a column of enemy tanks.

This was a complete surprise to the

enemy. For a few moments, Vitman

hesitated. Should he retreat or attack

the superior enemy forces?

His unit had suffered heavy losses as a

result of the bombing of the last few

days, and Vitman understood how valuable

each individual tank was now, and that

he could not act rashly.

But in this case, he had to attack.

Otherwise, the vanguard of the enemy's

seventh panzer division would get behind

the training tank division.

This would result in a breakthrough of

the German front and disrupt the defense

of Khan.

Wittmann remained in place when the

enemy's 22nd tank brigade commanded by

Hend entered Valier's Boage without

encountering any resistance.

Due to this unexpected turn of events,

the Allied tank unit carelessly

continued along the road to Cain toward

its objective, Hill 213.

The motorized infantry company following

behind stopped on the road. At that

moment, the roar of an 88 mm tank gun

shattered the morning silence.

The lead Sherman stood engulfed in

flames, and from the forest 100 meters

away, the tiger that had shot the

Sherman rolled out with a roar. In a few

seconds it knocked out three more

Shermans, then turned onto the road,

drove along the line of halftrack

armored vehicles, and set them all on

fire, one after another.

They were followed by about a dozen

armored vehicles from the regiment

headquarters, artillery observers, and a

reconnaissance platoon that was behind a

row of vehicles.

A 75 mm shell fired at point blank range

from a Cromwell tank ricocheted off the

Tiger without causing any damage.

The Cromwell was immediately knocked

out.

Within a few minutes, the road was hell.

25 tanks and armored vehicles were

engulfed in flames. All of them victims

of a single Tiger commanded by Whitman.

Meanwhile, the enemy tanks covering Hill

213 were attacked and destroyed by

Whitman's other Tigers.

Wittman's tank had its tracks knocked

off and was immobilized.

The crew dismounted and made their way

back to the company.

The lear's bokage was abandoned by the

enemy who retreated to livery.

Wittmann was awarded swords in addition

to oak leaves to the knight's cross.

By June 14th, Wittmann had destroyed a

total of 138 tanks and 132 enemy guns.

Units of the British 49th Division

attacked positions on the left flank of

the 12th SS Panzer Division.

The attack was repelled and the

positions held. The division asked the

core for permission to withdraw from the

salient south of Pau and Bron to the

line from S Motto through Fontinea to

TA.

Radio intelligence determined that the

enemy intended to eliminate this salient

by attacking it. However, the core

headquarters refused to give permission

to withdraw.

Allied forces on the bridge head were

growing by the hour. By June 18th,

500,000 soldiers and 77,000 vehicles had

landed in France.

We were still waiting for reinforcements

and the promised support from the

Luftvafa,

but we waited in vain. Our tank

divisions were being bled dry in battles

at defensive positions.

No fundamental decisions were made.

Everything was limited to tactical

patching up holes.

On June 16th, I was asked to urgently

report to the division command post.

On the line was divisional operations

officer Hubert Meyer, who said that the

matter could not be delayed.

I couldn't get any details out of him

and immediately rushed to headquarters.

Tall trees felled by bombs and shells

still blocked the road. The roofs of

houses torn off on both sides of the

road testified to the intensity of the

enemy's naval artillery fire, which had

ceased only about half an hour earlier.

I had a bad feeling.

The headquarters greeted me with a

cacophony of voices. The faces of the

military men told me everything.

The chief of staff stepped forward and

reported. The division commander was

killed half an hour ago. By order of the

core, you have been appointed acting

division commander.

We stood without saying a word, but our

handshakes conveyed a commitment and a

promise. We would fight with even

greater determination in the name of our

comrade, Fritz Wit, and our common

cause.

I found a patch of grass where Fritz's

wit had been laid to rest. I stood

before what had been our comrade.

I could not look at his face. it no

longer existed.

Fritz Wit was killed because he was

convinced that soldiers should be the

first to take their places in the

trenches.

When he decided to do so, an enemy shell

struck the ground just in front of the

trench and killed Wit instantly.

This loss shook us to the core. Fritz

Wit was respected by everyone in the

division, regardless of rank.

He had close friendships with most of

the officers both in peace time and in

wartime.

The death of the commander perhaps

unites the division even more and

further increases its will to fight the

enemy.

SS Obushto Banfilus took command of my

regiment. Prior to that, he had

commanded the third battalion of the

25th SS motorized grenadier regiment.

I handed over his battalion to SS Halp

Fua Fritzstega.

The division command post was moved to

Verso.

Late in the evening, the chief of staff

reported to me in detail on the

situation in the division. The

division's losses were significant and

in some cases irreplaceable.

First and foremost, there were heavy

losses among the officers and

non-commissioned officers. Their numbers

had fallen to a dangerous level.

Most of the company and platoon

commanders had already been killed or

wounded in battle.

Each motorized battalion had an average

combat strength of two companies.

There was no prospect of replenishing

these losses with reinforcements

arriving in the near future.

In such a situation, it was even

possible to calculate the day when the

division would finally cease to exist.

Continuous enemy artillery fire along

with constant raids by attack aircraft

and bombers shook our 12th SS Panzer

Division, which was fighting against the

3rd and 49th British, Third Canadian

Infantry Divisions, and several tank

brigades on its section of the front.

The division's staff officers had no

doubt that in the next day or two, the

enemy would try to pinser the front on

the division's left flank in order to

secure a convenient springboard for a

subsequent offensive.

At dawn, I inspected the positions of

the second and third battalions of the

26th SS Motorized Grenadier Regiment and

the 12th SS Reconnaissance Battalion.

I assigned them new positions.

The soldiers were in good spirits. The

commander of the second battalion,

Bernhard Zipkin, who had lost a finger,

accompanied me on his section.

He did not want to leave the battalion

and did not take the loss of his finger

seriously.

Burning enemy tanks were visible near P

and Bro.

Bremer's reconnaissance battalion

captured several enemy tanks and adapted

them to strengthen their defensive

positions.

The battalion suffered heavy losses and

had to be withdrawn from its positions

as soon as possible.

The core gave the go-ahad for the

division to withdraw to positions south

of Moo.

The 12th SS Reconnaissance Battalion was

withdrawn to the divisional reserve.

The British launched an active offensive

in the training tank division sector.

The 50th British Infantry Division and

several tank brigades fiercely attacked

positions north of Tier Cersen.

Early in the morning of June 18th, the

ground shook on both sides of Christos.

The 49th British Infantry Division had

been thrown at the positions we had

abandoned on the left flank of the 26th

SS Motorized Grenadier Regiment.

I stood next to the commander of the

third battalion of the 26th SS Motorized

Grenadier Regiment and watched as heavy

shells pounded the area we had left the

day before.

We congratulated ourselves on our timely

withdrawal.

The 49th Infantry Division's forces took

Cristo fairly quickly.

Soon the attack on Fontinea continued.

The ground shook. An avalanche of metal

rained down on the 10th Company of the

26th SS Motorized Grenadier Regiment,

which was fighting in front of us. In a

very short time, more than 3,000

artillery shells exploded on its

positions.

The company fought desperately on the

northern edge of Park Deong.

Tall trees were uprooted and fell on the

defensive positions. An armada of tanks

followed the wall of fire. The tanks

fired rapidly, sending shells into the

thicket. The enemy infantry advanced

behind the tanks and the company's

positions were captured.

Some of the company's strong points

continued to fight, but they too were

soon overwhelmed.

Our artillery was not in firing

positions that would have allowed it to

stop the attack. Units of the British

49th Infantry Division broke through to

the southern edge of the forest, but

were stopped there by the 9inth Company

of the 26th SS Motorized Grenadier

Regiment.

Using short fire support from our

artillery, the 9inth company of the 26th

SS Motorized Grenadier Regiment, led by

the battalion commander, attacked the

British.

The company advanced to the northern

edge of the forest, breaking through to

its old positions.

In hand-tohand combat, it pushed the

British back to the north.

This section of the forest was once

again firmly held by the third battalion

of the 26th SS Motorized Grenadier

Regiment, but the victory was

short-lived.

Concentrated heavy artillery fire and

targeted tank fire inflicted heavy

damage on the company. The remnants of

the company were pushed back to the

northern edge of Fontinea.

The division's front line was stable,

but losses had reached a critical level.

There was no question of any divisional

reserves.

Based on radio intercepts, we concluded

that a new attack by large enemy forces

was brewing on the left flank of our

division.

The brave training tank division lost

Tilly Surcell in its sector of defense.

The division had fought for Tilly for

more than a day.

On the morning of June 21st, I left the

division command post and moved to the

sector of the 26th SS Motorized

Grenadier Regiment. At the command post

of the third battalion of the 26th

regiment on a farm north of Fontine, I

met its commander, SSandartenfur

Monka.

The ruins of the farm were surrounded by

a high fence, and behind the earthn

rampart lay the wounded, awaiting

evacuation.

Their fallen comrades were buried in the

garden. A thick fog covered the ground

and enveloped the ruined buildings.

Tanks and anti-tank guns took up firing

positions behind the fence while the

crews were busy camouflaging their

weapons.

The enemy was firing harassing shots

across the entire regiment's sector, but

especially along the Ro Fonten Road.

After a brief consultation, accompanied

by Dr. Stiff, I cautiously approached

Fontine.

The outskirts of the village were

littered with debris, and the acrid

smoke from the fires mingled with the

fog.

Suddenly, two soldiers from the second

battalion of the 26th SS motorized

grenadier regiment appeared in front of

us. They were holding their mess tins

and looking for their unit. We crossed

the main street of the village and made

our way north.

In front of us was a small forest behind

which a fierce battle was raging.

Stepping over the bodies of dead British

soldiers, I reached the positions of the

15th Company of the 26th SS Motorized

Grenadier Regiment.

Soldiers with exhausted faces were

defending their positions in trenches

and craters. There were no officers at

all. They had all been either killed or

wounded.

At night, scouts took the body of the

killed company commander to the rear.

What wonderful relations must have

existed between the company commander

and his soldiers, if even his remains

were not allowed to fall into enemy

hands.

The mood of the young soldiers was

incomprehensible to us. They briefly

told me about the last battle and their

participation in the fighting.

Their heroism in battle was obvious to

them. They spoke of the enemy without

hatred. On the contrary, they constantly

emphasized the enemy's high morale.

There was also a sense of bitterness in

our soldiers assessments when they spoke

of the advantages of the enemy's

military equipment.

Again and again, I heard, "Damn it,

where would we be now if we had the same

military equipment as the enemy?"

We still hadn't seen a single German

plane in the sky. The young soldiers

said it was time for me to leave as dawn

was breaking and the enemy's artillery

fire would grow stronger by the minute.

The barrage caught us in the center of

the village. I jumped behind a stone

staircase and waited for this morning

greeting to end. One of my companions

lay in the street, torn to pieces by a

direct hit. We ran rapidly through the

village, pursued by the hurricane of

artillery fire that had fallen on

Fontaine, and were glad to leave these

ruins behind us.

The section of the third battalion of

the 26th SS motorized grenadier regiment

was also subjected to heavy artillery

fire. Was this the overture to the

expected offensive?

The battalion command post was only 100

m away, but the distance seemed endless.

Finally, running from cover to cover, we

reached it. Meanwhile, day broke, and

the first reports came in. Fontinea was

under attack from the enemy from St.

Pierre and Cristo. Enemy tanks were

moving along the low eastern bank of the

river and began to break through to

Fontinea.

A tank battle began. Our spotted

panthers with their guns far superior to

those of the enemy tanks had the

advantage. The 75mm long-barreled gun of

the TV Panther tank even surpassed the

88 mm gun of the T6 Tiger tank in terms

of armor penetration.

The entire battlefield was littered with

burning enemy tanks. If only we still

had enough ammunition.

Our artillery had to fire sparingly.

resupply had become almost impossible.

Telephone communication with division

headquarters was not interrupted, so the

operations officer was able to inform me

that all was quiet on the division's

right flank.

I remained with the battalion until

almost evening and saw for myself the

remarkably high morale of the unit. All

attacks on Fontinea were repulsed in

fierce fighting. The 49th British

Division was unable to shake our

defenses on the left flank. I returned

to division headquarters at nightfall.

The burning front line presented a

ghostly picture. On the road between Ka

and Verair Boage, the wreckage of

several vehicles was still burning.

These vehicles were supposed to deliver

ammunition to the front. Enemy fighters

relieved them of this responsibility.

The ammunition exploded a few kilometers

from the front line. I saw the worried

faces of my officers. Without saying it

openly, we knew that disaster was

looming. The static nature of the

fighting on the deadly bridge head

northwest of the Or River inevitably led

to the destruction of the tank division

deployed there.

Faced with the overwhelming superiority

of the enemy, supported by fire from the

sea, land, and air, we could predict

where the front would collapse.

The tactical consolidation cost us

bloody battles and irreplaceable losses

of our best soldiers and the destruction

of valuable military equipment.

To date, we have not received any

replacements for our wounded or killed

soldiers, nor a single new tank or

artillery piece.

After a few hours of sleep, the noise of

the front brought us back to reality.

Alarm signals came to the division

headquarters. The British 49th Division,

supported by heavy artillery fire,

attacked the right flank of the training

tank division. The forest west of the

Tessle Brettville line had already been

lost, and the onslaught of the British

49th Division had still not been

stopped.

With a sense of foroding, I went to the

third battalion of the 26th motorized

Grenadier Regiment in Fontinea.

Danger loomed over the left flank of the

division. The entire battalion sector

was under heavy fire.

Fontinea was unrecognizable.

Howling shells tore the last remaining

houses to pieces. Every British attack

on the village had been repelled so far.

Communication with the companies had

been cut off. The smoke from the shell

explosions obscured everything from

view. It was impossible to determine

where the main line of defense was.

The enemy artillery laid down one

barrage after another.

The village resembled a boiling

cauldron. Heavy shells dug deep into the

ground and exploded, leaving behind huge

smoking craters.

Taking the old soldiers saying as a

basis, a shell never hits the same

crater twice. I jumped into a crater and

watched from there as enemy tanks

attacked Fontaine.

Firing incessantly, feeling safe, the

steel monsters slowly moved toward the

ruins of Fontinea.

Our anti-tank guns were destroyed by

fierce enemy artillery fire. Our

soldiers clutched their fa patonin

disposable anti-tank grenade launchers.

Armor penetration up to 200 mm. Firing

range 30 m tightly.

Man against tank. What a contrast and

what a heroic spirit was manifested in

this contrast.

At that moment, the first tank began to

smoke. I saw soldiers jumping into the

vehicles. Enemy artillery shells flew

over our heads. The commander of the

first battalion of the 12th SS Tank

Regiment jumped into my crater and

reported on the counterattack by our

tank company. Its tanks were about 100 m

behind us and were moving forward.

Tank shells whistled over our heads. The

enemy's front tanks were fighting the

grenaders in the ruins while the tanks

following them had not yet noticed our

tanks. The counterattacking company had

to cross the Fontinea show road to take

up better firing positions.

The tank battle began. There were

casualties on both sides. Thick black

smoke from burning tanks covered the

battlefield.

I wanted to see the soldiers in

Fontinea, so I ran after the company

commander tank. The battleweary soldiers

waved at me. They shouted joking

remarks, their eyes shining.

It was a mystery to me where these young

17 and 18year-old soldiers found the

strength to survive in this storm of

fire and metal.

They assured me again and again that

they would defend the ruins to the last

bullet and hold their positions against

anyone. The company commander's tank was

hit. It turned a few meters to the left.

The hatch opened. Smoke poured out of

the turret and the company commander

struggled out of the hatch.

He staggered and stumbled toward us,

then collapsed to the ground. The

soldiers dragged him behind a

half-ruuined wall. Only then did we

realize that SS Obush Fura Ruktell had

lost his arm. The bloody stump was

bandaged and a medic was called. So this

enemy attack was also repelled. The

third battalion of the 26th SS Motorized

Grenadier Regiment held its ground and

prepared for a new British assault. The

battle was also heating up on the

section to our left. By the afternoon,

the enemy's advanced guard was already

in Juveni and had therefore penetrated

deep into our positions on the

division's flank.

No sooner had I arrived in H with the

commander of the 26th SS Motorized

Grenadier Regiment, SS Standard Fura

Munka, than the chief of staff informed

me of the situation in the training tank

division sector and pointed out the

danger of a British breakthrough.

At around 2:00 p.m., an order came from

core headquarters to send one of the

divisions tank battalions into battle to

eliminate the breakthrough on the right

flank of the training tank division. The

Panther Battalion and part of the

reconnaissance battalion immediately

launched a counterattack.

After a short artillery barrage, the

offensive was launched through Tessle

and Bretville towards a forest area 1

and a half km to the west. By nightfall,

we had driven the enemy out of the

forest, but had not reached our previous

main line of defense. The enemy lost

several tanks. The valiant third

battalion of the 26th Motorized

Grenadier Regiment suffered heavy losses

during the day's fighting and was

withdrawn to positions north of Ro.

That same evening, an order was received

from the core to deploy our last tank

battalion the next morning to restore

the situation in this sector. The

training tank division was to be

supported at all costs. I asked in vain

for this order to be cancelled. The

chief of staff's report with a

topographical map of the situation

according to which our reconnaissance

had detected a large concentration of

enemy forces especially armored vehicles

in the sector of the 26th SS motorized

grenadier regiment did not influence the

core commander's decision and he did not

cancel the order.

My remark that an enemy tank attack was

expected at any moment and that the

second battalion of the 12th SS tank

regiment had taken up a very

advantageous defensive position was also

ignored. As a result, on June 26th,

there was not a single tank left in our

division sector. The soldiers of the

26th Motorized Grenadier Regiment,

exhausted by the recent intense

defensive battles, languished in their

trenches all night, waiting for the next

attack.

A thick, damp fog settled over the

barricades and fields. Dawn broke. All

was still quiet.

Max Vinca and I were in roar, watching

the last tank move into its springboard

position.

It was getting lighter and lighter. It

wouldn't be long before the dance of

death resumed.

Then the German batteries opened their

barrage fire.

British planes roared overhead at low

altitude and fired their rockets at

roar.

The devilish war of extermination had

begun.

Our first tanks moved forward with a

roar, their tracks clanking.

The attack initially allowed us to

occupy the area, but was stopped by a

British counterattack.

A fierce tank duel began. Rows of

impenetrable anti-tank barriers

prevented our tanks from using the long

range advantage of their guns.

The lack of infantry proved to be a

particularly serious disadvantage.

The enemy's intense artillery fire made

coordination extremely difficult, making

effective command and control virtually

impossible.

No sounds reached us from the area east

of Roar. The entire battle had shifted

to the west, where tanks stubbornly

fought each other. Eloquent columns of

smoke from burning fuel and oil hung in

the sky again.

Each column marked another tank grave.

But I was particularly uneasy about the

situation in the sector of the 26th SS

Motorized Grenadier Regiment.

Not a single artillery strike was

delivered to the right of Roar.

Thank God it started to rain.

This meant that we were protected from

air raids. But then what happened?

The earth seemed to split open and

swallow us all.

All hell broke loose.

All that remained of roar were the ruins

of shattered trees and houses.

I lay down in a ditch at the side of the

road, listening to the noise of the

battle. The enemy artillery's barrage of

fire continued unabated.

Everything was covered in fog mixed with

smoke from exploding shells.

I couldn't see anything.

All telephone lines were down and

communication with the division

headquarters and units on the front line

was lost. A messenger from the second

battalion of the 26th motorized

grenadier regiment ran up to me and

shouted, "Tanks on the right flank of

the battalion."

His words were drowned out by the roar

of exploding shells. I listened intently

to make out the sounds of battle, but

all I could hear was a continuous

whistling, crackling, and cannon of

exploding shells accompanied by the

clanking of tank tracks.

This was the attack I had been

expecting. The cornerstone of the German

front in Normandy was shaking. Khan, as

the target of the attack, would be

suffocated by the encirclement.

Khan was to be Montgomery's prize for

organizing the collapse of the German

front. We all watched the deadly

spectacle as if spellbound.

The hot metal of large caliber shells

whizzed noisily over us and plunged into

the ground. I called Vuncha. The

messengers ran across the road and

disappeared behind the green hedge. Vuna

stayed with me for a while longer. I

didn't need to give long explanations to

this experienced soldier. We had been

side by side too often. He knew me and

knew what I wanted. I briefly outlined

my assessment of the situation to

Vuncha.

The enemy is attempting to break through

the 26th SS motorized grenadier regiment

sector with a large tank force in order

to capture Khan. The attack on Juveni

must be called off immediately.

Roar must be held at all costs as it is

also a cornerstone of the defense.

Vuna is responsible for roar.

I moved again in the direction of

Fontinea and after a few hundred meters

came across units of the third battalion

of the 26th SS motorized grenadier

regiment.

The road was being fired upon by enemy

tanks.

It was impossible to move further north,

but I had no need to advance any

further.

The battlefield stretched out before me

like the palm of my hand.

Everything was clear to me, and I found

confirmation of my assessments.

It was the expected offensive.

Enemy tanks and halftrack armored

personnel carriers were advancing on the

26th motorized Grenadier Regiment.

The enemy artillery's barrage of fire

leveled our positions like a giant steel

roller crushing all living things.

Only occasionally did I see the brave

grenadier soldiers moving. They

stubbornly held their positions,

fighting with desperate courage.

Dazzling flashes from explosions and

roar were visible. These were the

advancing tanks firing.

British tanks were burning north of

Roar.

Right in front of us, two Tommy soldiers

lay on the ground, having run too far

during their attack. They were disarmed

and ordered to get into my vehicle

quickly.

The wounded Tommy was taken to a

dressing station and roar.

I raced like mad in the direction of

Versailles.

My place was at the divisional command

post. Concentrated enemy artillery fire

was shifting southward with increasing

intensity.

The Coleville area was already under

fire. Our artillery was pounding the

attackers fiercely. I reached the

division headquarters in a few minutes.

The chief of staff was still holding the

telephone receiver and reported, "That

was our last conversation with the

commander of the engineer battalion."

The commander of the engineer battalion

reported, "The enemy artillery destroyed

my anti-tank defenses. British tanks are

breaking through the battalion's

positions. Individual positions are

still being held in and around show.

Enemy tanks are trying to crush my

dugout. Where are our tanks? I need a

counterattack from row. At that moment,

the connection was lost. Radio

communication was also disrupted. There

was also an urgent report from the first

battalion of the 26th SS motorized

grenadier regiment. The battalion was

under attack by large forces. All

attacks on Samoré had been repelled by

that time. New reports came in one after

another. The entire front line was in

turmoil. At that moment, there was

nothing we could do but concentrate our

artillery fire on the enemy units that

had broken through. The only combat

ready units in the division were the

divisional escort company and the

depleted reconnaissance company of the

25th motorized grenadier regiment. I

concentrated all my forces and resources

on the defense of Verson.

From intercepted radio communications

and prisoner testimony, we learned that

a tank division and two enemy infantry

divisions, each reinforced by a tank

brigade, had launched an attack 5 km

from the front. These units had not yet

been engaged in combat, and were

completely fresh. These three fresh

divisions, with approximately 600 tanks,

attacked three of our battalions with

limited combat capability.

The enemy's main strength lay in its

enormous artillery reserves and mass of

armored vehicles.

The danger of a breakthrough was

obvious.

My chief of staff was in despair,

pointing out the hopelessness of the

situation.

The core gave only one answer. The

positions must be defended to the last

bullet. We need to buy time. The second

SS Panzer Corps is on its way to the

front.

As had often been the case in the past,

command and control were exercised from

a tactical perspective rather than

strategic considerations.

No important decisions were made. Mobile

defense was forgotten.

We had no choice but to sell our lives

dearly.

The skies seemed to have adapted to what

was happening on the ground. Torrential

rain accompanied our every step.

Northeast of Versailles, I saw many

British tanks passing the positions of

the Divisional Escort Company. They were

advancing in the direction of Grenville.

The front had been broken, and only

isolated pockets of resistance were

hindering the enemy's advance.

My god, the division had to stop the

attack. Now it had to prevent the

British tanks from breaking through and

buy time for the German high command.

I rushed back to the divisional command

post and tried to get through to Vincia.

It worked. Our brave signalmen had just

restored the line. How often these guys

went through hell. What nameless heroism

is hidden behind the expression, "The

dogs work of a signalman."

Max Vinc reported large enemy tank units

on both sides of Rora.

Every attack on Rora had so far been

repelled with heavy losses for the

enemy. The backbone of the division

remained unbroken.

A few minutes later, I returned to the

escort company. All command and control

had become impossible.

At that moment, I could only be a

soldier among soldiers.

The grenadier's eyes lit up when they

saw me walking from platoon to platoon.

These soldiers could not be broken. They

were unshakable and would not yield to

the enemy.

Soon there was not a single patch of

ground left untouched by enemy artillery

shells.

Shells from attacking enemy tanks were

already exploding at our positions.

Our defense area was fortified with only

two tanks and an anti-tank gun. We

clutched the few remaining FA platonin

tightly to ourselves.

Then our T4 tank exploded and two

Shermans were burning right in front of

us. The masses of enemy armored vehicles

made me nervous. Wasn't it bordering on

madness to try to stop this avalanche of

steel with a handful of soldiers and a

couple of guns?

It was too late to think about it. There

was only one thing left to do. fight.

Two Shermans approached, following a

narrow passage. Several soldiers with

bazookas lay nervously waiting behind

blackberry bushes. They seem to blend in

with the ground. I held my breath, and

the explosions of enemy shells suddenly

ceased to inspire fear.

Mesmerized, we watched the soldiers

preparing to jump. The lead tank moved

further and further forward along the

sunken road with the second tank slowly

following behind.

They drove past this spot, the second

tank already level with our soldiers.

The barrels of the tank guns were aimed

at Versen, but they would no longer

fire.

The soldier jumped onto the second tank

like an arrow shot from a wellstrung

bow. While still in midair, he fired his

FA patrona, which struck the side of the

Sherman. The tank rolled a few more

meters and stopped, smoking. The front

tank also came to a halt. It had lost

its tracks after hitting mines.

Two tankers surrendered. We breathed a

sigh of relief for a moment. We were

elated at the sight of these steel

giants being destroyed thanks to the

personal courage of one soldier.

However, a few seconds later, the

incident with the two tanks was

forgotten.

The reconnaissance company was fighting

for its life to my right. I could no

longer determine its location.

Fierce artillery fire sent dirty earth

flying high into the air. The anti-tank

gun was still in position, firing shell

after shell at the tank column of the

British 11th Armored Division. Another

barrage of fire turned the gun into a

pile of metal. We had no more

serviceable anti-tank guns. Tank shells

crushed the company. The first line of

trenches was taken. Here and there.

Soldiers tried unsuccessfully to destroy

the tanks with bazookas, but to no

avail. The British infantry accompanying

the tanks thwarted all attempts to do

so. I tried in vain to get artillery

support. The spectre of ammunition

shortages had been haunting us for a

long time. A few shells from the German

artillery were not enough to stop the

frenzied attack. The British tanks

continued their assault.

For the first time, I felt a burning

emptiness in my heart and cursed this

endless slaughter.

What was happening at that moment had

nothing to do with war. It was outright

murder.

I knew each of these young soldiers. The

oldest was barely 18. These boys had not

yet learned how to live, but my god,

they already knew how to die.

The clanking tracks of British tanks cut

short their young lives. Tears streamed

down my face. I began to hate war.

The rain lashed down incessantly.

Heavy clouds raced across the ravaged

land. Meanwhile, British tanks rolled

toward our positions. It was useless to

run. We had to stay. We clutched our

bazookas in our hands. We did not want

to die without putting up a fight.

Suddenly, a new sound joined the

infernal concert. A lone tiger tank gave

us some respit. Its 88 mm shells gave

the Shermans an eloquent command to

stop. The British turned back. They

called off their attack on Muan.

Upon returning to the division command

post, we discovered two British tanks.

Our liaison officers had destroyed them

with their bazookas.

The burnedout tanks were less than 200 m

from the command post. The personnel dug

in, forming a circular defense.

The heavy fighting led to irreplaceable

losses. The breakthrough could not be

prevented without fresh troops. The core

gave us hope that reinforcements from

the second SS Panzer Corps were expected

the next day. The core insisted that the

command post be moved further to the

rear. I objected. Hubert Meyer supported

me. In such a critical situation, the

commander's place is on the front line.

I was informed that the first battalion

of the 26th motorized Grenadier Regiment

had been under continuous attack since

morning and that the battalion's combat

power was almost completely destroyed.

Under cover of night, the remnants of

the battalion fought their way back to

the Carpic airfield.

Young SS Untormfur Emil Dur destroyed

two enemy tanks with cumulative charges

during the night. The tanks were

standing in the garden of the chateau.

When the cumulative charge rebounded

from the second tank, he returned to the

tank and held the charge with the

detonator in place with his hands.

The tank was destroyed and Emil Durr

himself was fatally wounded. He was

postumously awarded the Knight's Cross.

Durr's actions cleared the way for the

retreating battalion.

The British continued to advance.

I heard our tanks firing from Grenville

side. A company of T4 tanks under the

command of SS Hopstam Fura Zagel covered

the second battalion of the 12th SS

artillery regiment as it changed

position.

The British broke through to the battery

positions. Artillery battalion commander

Mula was killed in hand-to-hand combat.

Time lost its meaning for us. We worked

with an operational map by the

flickering light of a candle and

prepared new defensive positions.

I eagerly awaited reinforcements.

At midnight, a pleasant surprise awaited

me. Michelle, my faithful casac,

suddenly appeared before me, smiling

broadly.

I had given him a few days leave. He

brought me a letter from my wife, who

wrote that we were expecting our fifth

child. Michelle had been stopped at the

checkpoint. They suspected he was

Russian, but who could stop my wonderful

Michelle?

When I asked him how he got here, he

replied that he had run away.

At dawn, the enemy resumed its attack

with infantry and armored vehicles in

the direction of Grenville.

By 9:00 a.m., Seagull's company had

repelled four attacks.

Several burning enemy tanks littered the

area.

Unfortunately, Seagull's tank was hit

and he suffered severe burns to his face

and hands.

The advance of our tanks towards SH

failed due to the enemy's powerful

anti-tank barrier.

Although the attack was unsuccessful, a

group of 20 men from the 12th SS

Engineer Battalion under the command of

SS Sternbonfurer Mueller was pulled out

by our forward units and saved from

certain capture.

That was all that remained of the

battalion.

A few minutes later, Mueller was

standing in front of me. His tired,

sunken eyes said it all. There was not a

single piece of undamaged fabric on his

uniform.

His knees were bloody and scraped. His

face was almost unrecognizable under a

layer of dust.

One arm was in a makeshift bandage.

He recounted the drama of his battalion

in a few short words.

After a barrage of artillery fire from

600 guns on the left flank of the

division, the battalion was crushed by

tanks of the second British tank

division.

The battalion fought until it was

destroyed.

Only a handful of men survived the

deadly battle.

Mueller personally defended his command

post from all infantry attacks, but he

was powerless against the massive tank

attack.

By noon, Mueller and a few other

soldiers were surrounded at the command

post.

Some tanks fired at his dugout while

others tried to crush it, but without

success.

Military engineers had built an

excellent bunker that resisted all

attempts to destroy it.

Finally, a captured German sapper was

sent to the dugout to persuade his

comrades to surrender.

The sapper chose to remain there and

share the fate of his comrades.

The attackers continued to advance and

bypassed the command post after

attempting to blow it up. The dugout was

severely shaken by the explosions and

now looked like a mass grave.

The soldiers who survived in the dugout

finally fought their way to our

positions around midnight.

They were found completely exhausted at

Lot Dubau where they had decided to take

a short rest.

During the day was surrendered. The

second battalion of the 12th SS

artillery regiment had used up its

ammunition.

In the afternoon, the enemy managed to

establish a bridge head across the Odon

River at Buhon. Our radio intelligence

intercepted a message. Do you still

insist on conducting a quick operation

against Versailles?

Obviously, the enemy was well informed

about the location of the division's

command post. We did not hear a

response.

Everyone from our division headquarters

who was able to participate in the

fighting at Fontinea did so. When I

entered the divisional command post, a

stranger approached me. He introduced

himself as an employee of the Imperial

Ministry of Foreign Affairs and asked me

to provide detailed information about

the situation.

Minister Ribentrop cannot understand why

troops are constantly being withdrawn.

Before I could briefly describe the

situation, tank shells shook our ruins.

Enemy tanks were again in front of our

command post. Our command post was

instantly emptied. Everyone crawled into

the trenches with their bazookas,

waiting for further surprises.

I never saw the so-called envoy from the

Imperial Foreign Ministry again. What

could he have reported to his superiors?

The situation was becoming more critical

with every passing hour.

The British managed to establish another

bridge headed Garis. The enemy was

slowly but surely advancing south. By

this point, we had only managed to bring

the advanced units of the 12th SS Panzer

Regiment and reconnaissance groups of

the 12th SS Panzer Division's

Reconnaissance Battalion into the fight.

Two enemy tanks were destroyed at close

range by a battery of six barrel rocket

mortars when they attempted to break

through the positions of the rocket

artillery division assigned to us.

It was obvious that Montgomery intended

to force the Or River at San Andre and

then probably advance towards the FileZ

Kong road. The city of Kong, which was

the scene of fierce fighting, would fall

into his hands like a ripe plum thanks

to this maneuver. We hoped to thwart his

plan. We had to hold out for a few more

days. The second SS Panzer Corps was on

its way. It had been withdrawn from the

Eastern Front.

The 12th SS Panzer Regiment received

orders to occupy Hill 112 and prevent a

breakthrough to the bridges across the

OR. A battered tank company was all that

was available to carry out this task.

Several tanks and the remnants of the

15th Reconnaissance Company of the 25th

SS motorized regiment secured the area

near Fontine.

The division's command post was moved

from Versailles to Ken. The sector

facing Versailles, Hill 112 and every

was taken over by the second SS Panzer

Corps on June 28th.

At this point, we had four SS tank

divisions at our disposal.

However, they were only called

divisions.

None of them had the combat power of a

division.

The 9inth and 10th SS Panzer divisions

received orders to transfer to Normandy

on June 11th while in Poland as a

reserve to repel a possible Russian

offensive.

This offensive, which began on June

23rd, led to the defeat of Army Group

Center. From June 23rd to August 29th,

our troops advanced from Orcha and

Mgalev to the Vistula River, reaching

Warsaw.

The first SS Panzer Division

Liebstandarda Adolf Hitler reached the

front on June 28th.

This division was also a shadow of its

former power. It had been withdrawn from

Russia two weeks earlier and was

supposed to rest and replenish its ranks

in Belgium.

The Liebstandarda division was not fully

equipped with either combat vehicles or

personnel.

The commander of the second SS Panzer

Corps, SS Oberg Groupenfurer Paul Howser

was supposed to launch a counterattack

with these forces on June 29th.

During the night, the divisions advanced

to their assembly areas. The sector of

the 12th SS Panzer Division was quiet.

The positions around Carpike were

reinforced by the surviving soldiers of

the first battalion of the 26th SS

Motorized Grenadier Regiment.

We were awakened by heavy artillery fire

from the battleships on the morning of

June 29th.

Khan was under fire again. Fighters

buzzed like hornets in the clear sky and

dove down on every vehicle.

Around 7:00 a.m. when I was stuck on the

road to Versois, a fighter attacked a

self-propelled artillery unit and

exploding shells flew in all directions.

The street was too narrow to drive

around and we had to wait for the combat

vehicle to burn out. If only we could

get out of this backwater.

We sat like rats in a trap, trapped by

the ancient walls of the town. An

ambulance caught fire. We were unable to

save the wounded inside. They burned

alive before our eyes.

Enemy artillery shelled the area between

Verson and Hill 112.

Shortly thereafter, heavy fire also hit

Hill 112.

Would the British figure out our plans

and attack us before we attacked them?

With a heavy heart, I watched as the

tanks of the British 11th Armored

Division climbed the slope south of the

Odon River and surrounded Hill 112.

The top of hill 112 was already

indistinguishable.

The Normandy soil rose meter by meter

from the blows of heavy artillery.

Now there was no doubt the British had

launched a preemptive attack. Our tank

divisions in the concentration areas

were subjected to heavy artillery fire

and aerial bombardment from the enemy.

The second SS Panzer Corps left Hill

112.

The tanks of the 11th British Tank

Division took up a key position for

further operations against the bridges

over the Or River. The entire area was

clearly visible from Hill 112.

No movement could now be hidden from the

British.

A short time later, we spotted a fire

control center at the top of the hill. A

heavy artillery battalion of the 12th SS

Artillery Regiment was firing at British

forward positions on the hill.

We also had an excellent view. We were

north of hill 112 and could see the

entire slope from the Odon River to the

top. The area in front of the 12th SS

Panzer Division was remarkably quiet.

Only the naval guns were firing at the

crossroads as usual. A shell hit the

tank accompanying me. The explosion of a

second 380 mm shell killed the military

doctor.

As evening approached, it became clear

that the planned attack by the second SS

Panzer Corps was failing. It was

impossible to capture the territory

under superior artillery fire, not to

mention the absolute superiority of the

allies in the air. The attack was doomed

to failure because it was impossible to

meet the requirements with the means at

our disposal.

During the night, we prepared for a

circular defense to protect Ka. We

anticipated a British breakthrough in

the western part of the city. In the

midst of these preparations, an order

was received from the second SS Panzer

Corps to resume the attack on Hill 112

and the 7th British Armored Division.

Nothing surprised us anymore. Max Vuna

immediately joined me and received the

order to attack. his tanks and the

remnants of the 12th SS motorized

reconnaissance battalion had to carry

out the attack. We began to treat our

tanks as if they were made of crystal.

We still had not received any tank

reinforcements, and our forces were

dwindling by the day. The constant use

of incremental tactics infuriated me.

Had this ever happened in the days of

major tank offensives?

Concentrated fire hit 112 at dawn.

In the morning mist, our tanks

approached the hill and took cover

before the final assault. It would begin

in a few minutes. Vuna and I smoked our

last cigarettes, a handshake, and the

dance began.

In accordance with standard practice,

the tanks advanced on the once

treecovered hill, firing fragmentation

shells. The enemy artillery tried to

suppress our assault with intense fire.

But they failed and the hill was once

again in our hands.

Soon we reached the top and cut off the

British company's retreat and their

machine gun armored personnel carriers.

They were taken prisoner. Burning tanks

stood on both sides of Hill 112.

Not a single square meter of land on

this hill remained untouched by shells

and bombs.

The capture of Hill 112 gave the second

SS Panzer Corps some breathing space.

Most importantly, it eliminated the

possibility of adjusting and directing

artillery fire from this height. During

the final battles with the troops of the

British Eighth Corps, consisting of the

15th Scottish, 43rd, and 49th British

Infantry Divisions, and the 11th Tank

Division, the 12th SS Panzer Division

suffered enormous losses.

The combat power of the 26th motorized

Grenadier Regiment was reduced to that

of a weak battalion.

The 12th Tank Regiment also suffered

heavy losses. The 12th Reconnaissance

Motorized Battalion had only a mixed

company left at its disposal, and the

12th Motorized Engineer Battalion ceased

to exist altogether.

As a result of heavy naval gunfire and

constant attacks by ground attack

aircraft, the division lost one

battalion of its artillery regiment. Our

12th SS Panzer Division could no longer

be considered fully combat ready. At

best, what remained of it was comparable

to a task force. However, despite the

tremendous strain and heavy losses of

the recent battles, the unit was

considered a fully combat ready Panzer

Division, which was tasked with

defending Kong. The British 7th Corps

concentrated its forces on the flank of

the 12th SS Panzer Division.

Montgomery's plan to take our troops in

a Pinsir movement was clear. Even to an

amateur, it was obvious that Kong would

be the next target of the Allied attack.

To avoid the risk of being cut off from

the division, the divisional command

post was moved to the center of the

city. I wanted to share the fate of my

soldiers.

The chief of staff and I had no

illusions. We knew that carrying out the

fa's order, calm must be defended to the

last bullet, meant the end of the

division. We wanted to fight. We were

prepared to give our lives, but the

battle had to have a purpose. I was

enraged at the thought of my young

soldiers bleeding to death in the ruins

of the city. The division had to be

preserved for a more flexible way of

conducting operations.

There was only minor activity in the

division sector, but Canadian tactical

reconnaissance was very noticeable.

Enemy reconnaissance groups were

constantly probing Karpi and the western

edge of the airfield.

The division had the impression that the

Canadians were planning to attack Karpi

in order to break through the front

north of K.

Karpi was an old Norman peasant village

with houses made of Hume stone. The

village blended into the surrounding

countryside and formed a long passageway

bounded by the calm bio railway on one

side and the airfield on the other. The

entire village was visible from the

observation post at the monastery in

Arden.

I went to the defenders of Karpik.

The streets and houses were deserted.

The roads were still passable with only

a few debris blocking the passage.

The empty village looked ominous.

I found the defenders on the western

outskirts.

About 50 soldiers from motorized units

had taken cover in several trenches and

crevices dug by the former defenders of

the airfield.

These 50 men were all that remained of

the first battalion of the 26th SS

Motorized Grenadier Regiment. The

remnants of this battalion occupied the

far end of the airfield. In total, 150

to 200 soldiers held the defense here.

Those defending Karpik now had no

anti-tank weapons at their disposal.

The battalion's anti-tank guns had been

destroyed a few days earlier. However,

there were minefields in front of

Karpik.

The Grenadier soldiers knew their task.

The platoon commander and his soldiers

were to withdraw and conduct

diversionary combat operations on the

eastern outskirts of Karpi, forcing the

attacking Canadians to enter the

village. To the east of Karpik, 88 mm

guns were placed in ambush.

In addition, the outskirts of the

village were within the firing range of

tanks deployed in firing positions.

After the previous battles and losses,

there was nothing to replenish the

infantry in this area. The only option

for defense was to concentrate all

remaining heavy weapons.

Our artillery and mortars had already

targeted the village. After returning to

the command post, I was informed of

lively radio communications from the

enemy. Their assessment led to the

conclusion that the enemy had

concentrated its forces in Nor and St.

Muvie.

Radio communications increased

significantly on July 3rd. Taking

advantage of this favorable opportunity

to disrupt the enemy's preparations for

an attack, or at least inflict heavy

losses on their units, which were

clearly concentrated in a limited area.

At 6:00 a.m., the area was covered with

concentrated fire from our artillery.

Our strike on the concentration area

proved to be very effective. While the

rocket mines from our six barrel mortars

flew over the airfield with a whistle,

leaving behind a long, spectacular

trail, I made my way through the ruins

of the airfield buildings to find

Bernhard Krauss.

Krauss had chosen a bomb shelter as his

command post. From here, he could survey

the airfield in Carique.

In the bomb shelter bunker, I met the

artillery's forward observer.

At a distance of 75 to 100 m in front of

us were several grenadier soldiers.

Five tanks had taken up positions among

the ruins of the destroyed airfield

buildings. They were well camouflaged.

Enemy attack aircraft were very active

in this area. No sooner had Bernhard

Krauss begun to report to me on the

progress of the fighting for St. Moray.

Then there was a loud roar and piercing

screams around us. When 380 mm and 406

mm shells from battleships exploded

nearby, the bunker shook violently.

The third Canadian Infantry Division

advanced to attack. Its targets were

Karpik and the airfield.

What an enormous expenditure of force

and resources the enemy needed to

destroy a handful of our soldiers.

The enemy's concentrated artillery fire

suppressed all efforts of the defenders.

Several artillery regiments were

probably involved. Entire hangers were

blown into the air by heavy shells from

naval guns. The village was

unrecognizable at that moment. Thick

clouds of smoke spread out and drifted

westward.

Above our heads, enemy Hawker Typhoon

fighter bombers searched for their

victims.

The explosions of their rockets were

barely audible amid the bursts of heavy

artillery shells.

The forward observers who were directing

the artillery fire seemed unaffected by

this and remained at their binoculars.

They requested the last covering fire.

The eighth Canadian brigade, reinforced

by the Winnipeg rifles and supported by

the Fort Gary Horse tank regiment,

rushed at the remnants of Krauss's

battalion.

The enemy's artillery fire was directed

deep into our defenses.

My comrades looked at me. Their faces

were pale.

No one said a word. Only the voices of

the artillery spotters could be heard.

Enemy tanks rolled forward from

Marseilles.

The fog was very thick.

Our artillery shells fell between the

advancing tanks, but it seemed that our

artillery fire hardly bothered them.

The tanks slowly crept in our direction.

The grenaders in their bomb shelters

waited for the order to take up their

firing positions. As everyone was in

cover during the heavy shelling,

the first enemy infantrymen appeared

from the forest.

Our artillery covered the edge of the

forest with fire, inflicting heavy

damage on the Winnipeg rifles.

We were still crouching in our shelters,

and only our tanks returned fire.

They were almost indistinguishable among

the ruins and airfield buildings.

The tension that gripped us became

almost unbearable when we heard the

noise of battle and waited for the first

bursts of machine gun fire from our

forward machine gun nests.

I noticed enemy flamethrowers joining

the offensive on the western edge of the

village. Climbing onto light tanks, they

advanced under the cover of Sherman

tanks.

One of them hit a minefield and burst

into flames.

50 of our soldiers at Carpek were

attacked by three enemy infantry

battalions supported by tanks.

The battle in the village was fierce.

The advance of enemy tanks was hampered

by the debris of houses.

The tank attack across the airfield

failed because our well- camouflaged

tanks and a battery of 88 mm guns were

there.

Only a few minutes passed. The Winnipeg

rifles advanced hesitantly, clearly

distrustful of the deceptive emptiness

of the battlefield.

They slowly moved toward the first

airfield building.

At that moment, they were still about

150 m away from it. The Canadians

emerged from the cover of the forest and

found themselves in the open space of

the airfield.

Then we heard the long awaited voice.

Tata.

It was our MG42 machine gun mowing down

the enemy. I jumped into a corner.

Soldiers were jumping out of the bunker.

Not a word was spoken. They all rushed

to take up their former positions.

Now it was time for the infantry to

fight.

With their sleeves rolled up and their

eyes fixed on the enemy, the young

soldiers loaded their weapons and fired

automatically.

The attackers had obviously suffered

heavy losses. Their attack had been

disrupted, and their tanks were now

seeking cover. Krauss's battalion had

also suffered casualties. The wounded

were dragged into the bunkers and cared

for. Not everything was going well at

the far end of the airfield. The

Canadians had advanced here and the

battle was already raging in the center

of the village. Our artillery fire was

concentrated on the western part of the

village. I contacted the chief of staff

by telephone and prepared him for the

fact that Carpike was lost, but that I

had no concerns about the southern part

of the airfield.

The remnants of the first battalion of

the 26th SS Motorized Grenadier Regiment

would be able to hold their positions

here.

The battalion commander was once again,

as had often been the case in the past,

the backbone of the defense.

Baronhard Krauss was the chief grenadier

of his battalion. With a low, calm

voice, he gave orders to his soldiers

and was like a father to them. No

unpleasant surprises were expected on

this section of the front line.

I said goodbye and began to make my way

to the blownup hangers on the eastern

edge of the airfield.

Eric Holston was waiting for me there. A

few minutes later, we were back at the

division command post and breathed a

sigh of relief.

It wasn't very pleasant to drive a

Volkswagen under enemy artillery fire.

Our radio reconnaissance unit worked

excellently. These guys deserved praise.

As a result of their radio

interceptions, we were well informed

about the enemy's movements.

This was especially true in the battle

for Carpik.

The commander of the Delesier regiment

reported by radio to his brigade

headquarters that he had taken the

village while still there. He was

ordered to return, but artillery and

mortar fire hampered his movements.

Every time he announced his departure,

we would open fire again. Only about 20

of the grenaders who had so stubbornly

defended Carpick were still combat

ready.

All of the non-commissioned officers

were killed. The surviving soldiers took

on the duties of guarding the 88 mm

battery deployed directly east of

Carpek.

The SS Videnhaled Battalion attempted to

counterattack the enemy in Carpek on the

night of July 4th to 5th, but was

unsuccessful.

The enemy in Carpick suffered heavy

losses as a result of several of our

hurricane bargages with high explosive

and incendiary shells.

Even during the offensive launched on

July 8th on Can the enemy and Carpek

remained on the defensive.

We held the airfield until July 8th.

After the enemy failed to expand its

bridge head on the Odon River and break

through to the Orin River, its attack

from the west to capture the airfield

also failed.

Therefore, we decided that it would now

try to break the cornerstone of the

German defense with a frontal attack,

after which it would break through deep

into Normandy.

We prepared for a decisive battle for

KN.

After visiting all units at their

positions over the past few days, and

having detailed conversations with

enlisted men, non-commissioned officers,

and officers about the ongoing defense

of KN, I became convinced that the city

would become a tomb for our brave

division.

It was impossible to continue defending

the town. The balance of forces was too

uneven. The weakened German forces were

unable to hold a deep defense here and

there were no reserves ready for battle

at hand. An alarming and unambiguous

message was sent from the division to

the core headquarters.

It stated that the exhausted forces of

the division were insufficient to hold

the territory and repel the attacks of

the vastly superior enemy forces.

However, the core could not allocate any

additional forces to us. We made all the

necessary preparations to meet the

expected enemy attack as effectively as

possible. But we had no answer to the

question of what would happen if

airborne troops were dropped behind the

division and entered the unprotected

part of the city.

The division was confident that the

attack on KN would begin with an

airborne operation south of the city

accompanied by a simultaneous attack

from the Odon bridge head across the OR

towards the can files road.

It would be impossible to prevent a

breakthrough of the German front line to

its full depth and then the road to

Paris would be open.

On the evening of July 7th, we realized

that the next 24 hours would decide the

fate of Can.

Late in the evening, about 500 British

Lancaster and Halifax bombers dropped

2,500 tons of bombs on the northern

outskirts of the city.

A small number of aircraft were shot

down by our anti-aircraft fire, but no

losses were reported on our side.

Combat units were almost unaffected by

the bombing. However, the streets of K

were blocked and once again, as terrible

as it was, the civilian population was

sacrificed.

Hospitals were overflowing.

It should be noted here that friendly

relations and mutual assistance had been

established between the German troops

and the local French population.

Until then, there had been no signs of

hostility or malice on the part of the

French. They looked in confusion at the

ruins of their homes and shook their

heads, unable to comprehend the fact

that their city had been destroyed.

They knew that on that day, as on June

6th, there was not a single German

military unit within the city limits.

During all the fighting, our military

units did not need to assign a single

soldier to maintain security in the

city. The French themselves took care of

maintaining discipline and order here.

The British air raid seemed like a

prelude to the main assault.

Everyone down to the last soldier was on

alert. The artillery was waiting for the

order to open barrage fire to cover our

positions. The phones were silent.

We stared intently into the darkness of

the night, waiting for the enemy

infantry and tanks to appear so we could

open fire.

Minutes passed and nothing broke the

silence.

It was incomprehensible,

but that was how it was. The allies made

no attempt to capitalize on the results

of their devastating bombing raids.

I met with the commanders again to

personally assess the effect of the

Lancaster and Halifax air raids and was

surprised to discover that I had greatly

overestimated their impact on the morale

of our soldiers.

The troops hated fighter attacks more

than the massive bombing by clumsy

monsters.

In fact, the front line was so sparssely

populated by our troops that the area

bombing could not cause them much harm.

2,500

tons of bombs could only knock over a

few self-propelled artillery

installations.

The troops were expecting a major attack

and were preparing for the inevitable.

We had no false hopes for the outcome of

the battle.

As dawn broke, I overcome with foroding

waited for the onset of a difficult day.

Hubert Meyer fell asleep at the table

with a map spread out on it.

What a wonderful chief of staff my

comrade turned out to be.

Artillery fire of incredible intensity,

both from land and sea forces, rained

down on the front line of the 12th SS

Panzer Division.

Our underground bunker shook in every

corner.

Plaster and dust covered the map, lit by

candle light. Our artillery and

sixbarreled rocket mortars opened

barrage fire for the last time.

Day after day, we struggled to get

ammunition, trying to provide as much

tangible assistance as possible to our

infantry, which was engaged in heavy

fighting.

Enemy fighters attacked our artillery

positions from the air and attacked

every vehicle on the roads. The bridges

over the Or River were also under

constant attack from the air. The first

reports came in.

All our battalions were engaged in heavy

defensive fighting. The enemy attacked

across the entire front with strong tank

support.

Our neighbor on the right, the 16th

Airfield Division. These divisions were

organizationally part of the Air Force

until October 31st, 1943.

On November 1st, 1943, they were

transferred to the ground forces. was

not suited to the task assigned to it.

It had been battered by renewed bombing,

and the division's will to resist was

broken under the weight of the enemy's

offensive power.

The Third British Infantry Division

broke through the positions of the 16th

Airfield Division, and soon threatened a

deep breakthrough and encirclement of

our division's flank. Our division's

sector of defense was held by four

half-deped battalions while the enemy

attacked here with units of the 59th

British and third Canadian divisions

reinforced by tank brigades.

The main attack seemed to be directed at

the sector of the first battalion of the

25th motorized grenadier regiment by

forces of the 59th Infantry Division.

Moreover, this battalion was also

attacked by units of the third Canadian

Infantry Division.

Within the first hour of the battle, the

battalion lost almost all of its company

commanders.

SSMban Fio Vald Mueller, the battalion

commander, was among the soldiers of his

unit and was the heart of its

resistance.

The first company of the 25th motorized

grenadier regiment covered the right

flank and its fire prevented any

possibility of a relatively easy advance

by the third Canadian infantry division

on the section of the doomed 16th

airfield division.

The valiant first battalion of the 25th

motorized grenadier regiment stood on

the battlefield like a breakwater in a

raging sea. Remaining unshakable despite

the enemy's enormous superiority in

manpower and equipment, it repelled all

attacks.

The enemy was unable to crush the

battalion during this first assault. The

second battalion of the 25th SS

Motorized Grenadier Regiment also put up

heroic resistance.

Its anti-tank guns had long since been

destroyed by enemy artillery fire. The

soldiers had only fousted patronin at

their disposal.

All company commanders were also killed.

SS Halpterm Fura Dr. Tre personally

destroyed three Sherman tanks and was

killed while trying to destroy the crew

of a fourth.

The third battalion of the 25th SS

motorized grenadier regiment was

attacked by the third Canadian Infantry

Division. It fought among the ruins of

Biron and Oti where the battle became

particularly fierce and bloody.

The Canadians had not forgotten that

their offensive at Biron and Oti had

already been stopped on July 7th, and

that they had paid dearly for it with

blood.

The grenaders of our battalion held

their ground in the ruins, fighting

fiercely for every inch of land.

I did not understand why the Canadians

did not continue their attack from

Karpi.

Opposite Karpi, which had been captured

by the enemy, we had only a battery of

88 mm guns and the remnants of the first

battalion of the 26th SS Motorized

Grenadier Regiment.

This battalion had been practically

wiped out in previous battles.

An energetic enemy attack from Karpike

towards the bridge over the Or and K

would have decided the fate of the 12th

SS Panzer Division within a few hours.

Our only combat ready reserve was a

newly arrived tank company with 15

Panthers.

Urgent reports from the front line began

to arrive one after another. It seemed

that the 16th Airfield Division had been

wiped off the face of the earth. Our

division immediately sent part of the

second battalion of the 12th tank

regiment and a divisional escort company

to cover the area northeast of Khan near

Cabaret.

The first battalion of the 12th tank

regiment fought on the northern

outskirts of the city.

Enemy fighters continuously attacked the

bridges over the and the access roads

south of Khan.

All movement in the direction of Khan

became impossible.

We could not evacuate our wounded or

obtain the necessary supplies.

The roads had become deadly dangerous.

Bombers from the north roared across the

sky again, targeting the city.

We could hardly believe that this

long-suffering city was to experience

the horrors of bombing once more.

The number of enemy troops and equipment

involved in the assault on the city was

almost beyond imagination.

Only God knows why this city, which had

not yet been occupied by enemy troops,

was raised to the ground by massive

bombing.

With the exception of the headquarters

of the 12th SS Panzer Division, which

had only been there for the last couple

of days, there were no military

formations in the city.

The first wave of bombers attacking the

bridges caused fires south of the Orin

River.

The city center was again subjected to

carpet bombing.

Khan was engulfed in fire, smoke, and

ash.

Suddenly, we saw the last wave of

bombers heading for the garrison church

and dropping their bombs.

I jumped through the entrance to the

basement, which served as our command

post, and hid in the farthest corner.

A terrible roar shook the basement, and

the candles went out.

I was suffocating.

I could hardly see my hand in front of

my eyes because of the thick cloud of

dust.

Hubert Meyer called out to me and I

heard the voices of others.

Suddenly, a soldier shouted, "We're

buried alive."

The young soldier was difficult to calm

down. He had been thrown into the open

basement door by the blast wave.

The garrison church just 50 m from the

command post was completely destroyed.

All we saw in its place was a huge

crater.

The explosion had thrown chunks of stone

into the air and they fell on the

camouflage net under which our mobile

radio stations were located, thus

depriving us of all radio communication.

We soon overcame this problem by

restoring the interrupted communication

system.

Once again, there were many casualties

among the civilian population.

A few minutes after the bombing, the

commander of the fifth Panzer Army,

General Aberbach, arrived at the

division command post.

General Eberbach was the successor to

General G vonberg.

Aberbach managed to take advantage of

the lull between bomber raids on the

bridges across the Or.

The commander appreciated the actions of

the division.

He was not yet aware of the disaster

that had befallen the 16th airfield

division.

General Abberbach immediately understood

the seriousness of the situation and

ordered the 21st Tank Division to be

sent to the section of the front

occupied by the 16th Airfield Division.

However, only a reinforced battalion of

the 21st Tank Division managed to cross

the AI that day. While the commander was

still with us, alarming reports came in.

The enemy had broken through at the

junction of the second and third

battalions of the 25th SS motorized

grenadier regiment, namely between

Galanch and Burr. They had taken Conte

and controlled the approaches to the

monastery in Arden.

The second battalion of the 12th tank

regiment, with the exception of units

fighting east of the railway on the

former 16th airfield division sector,

was immediately thrown into a

counterattack.

It pushed back the enemy, but was unable

to recapture Conte.

Thanks to its superiority in tanks, the

enemy stopped our counterattack.

General Aberbach of the tank forces said

goodbye to us. I was sure that he would

do everything possible to prevent

further loss of life in the ruins of Ka.

The battle continued with the same

intensity.

It was a mystery to me why the Canadians

and British were advancing so

hesitantly.

Their overwhelming superiority in tanks

was hardly being used.

Instead of quickly and deeply wedging

their tank formations into our defenses

and creating a bridge head behind the

OR, they used tanks only to support

their infantry.

With the exception of extremely mobile

and well-ontrolled artillery, the

attackers lacked control and initiative

on the battlefield, and the enemy

stormed the canes, guided by tactical

principles used in World War I.

It was possible to conduct combat

operations in this manner if you were

facing an already weakened enemy.

Lieutenant General Severs, commander of

the 16th Airfield Division, appeared at

the command post of the 12th SS Panzer

Division and asked for a brief update on

the situation.

He had been out of contact with his

units for several hours. The report came

as a heavy blow to him. He immediately

went to the northeastern outskirts of

Cain to assess the situation personally.

He tried to reassemble the remnants of

his division which had been scattered by

the enemy and restore a stable front.

However, the morale of his troops had

fallen so low that this was impossible.

The overwhelming force continued to

advance.

Slowly but surely, the battlefield was

turning into a lunar landscape.

In the afternoon, the enemy took Grushi.

After a long and bloody battle, the 16th

sapper company of the 25th SS motorized

grenadier regiment defending it was

completely destroyed.

The brave engineer company under the

command of SS Oberm Fur Verer was wiped

out. The only one I saw later from that

company was the liaison officer. The

engineers died at their positions.

After battles with varying success, Oti

and Francil were lost.

During the counterattack, the commander

of the third battalion of the first SS

motorized grenadier regiment, Oberm

Furer Videnhaled, was wounded. The

battalion still managed to stop the

enemy attack north of Arden.

The division's situation was extremely

serious.

Three battalions of the 25th motorized

grenadier regiment were left to their

own devices, almost surrounded and

fought fierce battles in Melon, Galmana,

and Burau.

Wire communications were disrupted. The

only means of communication left was

radio. The division's front was

stretched to the limit, and there were

no reserves left.

Only 15 panthers from von Ribentrop's

company were standing on the reverse

slope of the hill north of the city. I

couldn't take it anymore. I wanted to

see the situation for myself and make

the necessary decisions in the heat of

battle. The furer's order not to

surrender Cologne was impossible to

carry out. We could hold out for another

couple of hours perhaps, but then there

would be no one left alive in the

division.

I was opposed to sacrificing the

division.

Hubert Meyer supported my intention to

leave the ruined city to the allies

without a fight and withdraw the

division to the eastern bank of the

Eric Holston mounted his fast horse. Our

trusty Volkswagen was ready to go.

Michelle, my faithful Casac, was already

sitting in it when I approached.

We knew that a wild race awaited us

ahead.

In a few minutes, we reached von

Ribentrop's Panther Company. Its front

tanks were already engaged against the

Shermans in Conte. In front of us was a

monastery in our dens. The entire

complex had been subjected to artillery

fire, and the tall towers no longer

existed.

Their ruins stared reproachfully at the

sky.

On the opposite slope of the hill, I

suddenly felt uneasy and took the wheel.

In this situation, it was impossible to

stop or turn.

Craters from bombs and shells covered

the entire battlefield.

As soon as we left the last hill behind

us, shells began to fall and explode

around us. Enemy tanks and Conte covered

us with their fire. Cold sweat ran down

my back as the car sped through this

area.

If only there weren't that wild chirping

of enemy machine guns.

Only a few meters separated us from the

ruins. We did it. Direct fire could no

longer reach us. The monastery garden

looked like a garden in hell. Shells

exploded one after another in front of

the regimental command post. We

hesitated for a few seconds before

making our final dash.

Taking advantage of a pause in the

artillery fire, we rushed towards the

building. The bodies of dead soldiers

lay all around the headquarters.

Jumping out of the vehicle, I recognized

one of the dead as the commander of the

headquarters company. He had been killed

by shrapnel.

Stumbling and catching our breath, we

rushed into the old building and found

the commander of the 25th SS motorized

grenadier regiment in the basement.

He was wounded and talking to the

commander of the third battalion of his

regiment, SS Hopsterfur Stagger.

The radio was the only means of

communication with the battalions.

The ceiling above us seemed to be moving

even though the monastery basement was

deep underground and supported by huge

arches. We heard a continuous rumbling.

I spoke with Helpdom Fioga in Bjan. He

reported that most of his battalion had

been killed in battle and that enemy

tanks were already outside the village.

He requested immediate support.

All available tanks were sent to Bjan to

break through the encirclement of the

remnants of Stagger's battalion. The

attack failed. From the church tower, I

watched the tank battle which was going

with varying success.

Both sides suffered heavy losses. Enemy

tanks from Oti rushed towards Arden. Von

Ribbenthrop's tank company destroyed

three tanks while defending the

regimental command post. The burning

tanks were located 100 m west of our

den.

That's all for today. If you like the

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