In the Fire of the Eastern Front

by Hendrick C. Verton

  Now our radio-operators and commanders listened in too. They now knew at the same time as their counterparts, of the moves being made. They could take countermeasures and with more than enough time. It was the biggest piece of ‘luck’ that fate could have given us, in our time of need.

  Naturally enough, we too used code names for our military operations. They were constantly changed, for we also knew that our radio messages were overheard. We used botanical names, or career, job or profession titles. The sergeant-major was the ‘painter’ and our Regimental commander ‘Mr 22’. The noble residential areas of Breslau equipped us with more than enough exotic and tropical names, or fantasy-based material, not to mention the familiarity of the city’s buildings. The city hall was now the gas-works, the kindergarten the crematorium, or vice-versa. The wounded were called mulatten and the dead, Indianer. The growing numbers of both, mentioned in reports from the front, became more difficult for those working in official departments who wanted to veil the official fighting strength. I was told by one of them, that they adopted the motto, “Even when we lose the war itself, we will have won it on paper!”

  The prophesy that “when the Oder flows with blood then the end of Breslau is near” was one well known to every ‘Breslauer,’ having learned it in their schooldays. The river already tainted, flowed with the blood of many. Marshall Koniev still had to wait before he could withdraw his troops from Breslau. He waited for the rest of April and into May.

  In his headquarters, General Gluzdovski had not reckoned on the endurance of the soldiers or the civilians in the besieged city, not even after the mercilessness of the Easter bombing raids. As if the Soviets wanted to give us time to consider our plight, for the next few days all was unusually quiet. Unbeknown to us there was also another very grave reason on the Russian side. After the Easter attack, the forces of both the 6th Soviet Army and the 1st Ukrainian Front were so depleted, and the remnants so exhausted, that they were unable to recover from their enormous losses.

  In spite of this, our command could not even afford a well-earned rest, for there was a great deal still to do, to think about and to organise. As well as our own losses in soldiers and civilians, there was an extreme shortage of ammunition, so extreme that our artillery were ordered to use their ammunition only in emergency situations. Our legendary FAMO armoured train could only occasionally be used for the same reason.

  Not everyone possessed the same threshold for pain or stress, and many of our own changed sides. They deserted. Those deserters exposed the whereabouts of General Niehoff s HQ, at Liebichshohe. It was instantly under continuous bombardment from artillery and bombs. It was engulfed in smoke as if from a slumbering but puffing volcano, which could be seen from a couple of miles away. Even the move of his HQ to the cellars of the State University Library, on 14 April, was known to the Russians twenty-four hours later. There were with certainty other ‘Tanyas’ at work, who were to be found within the walls of the fortress. They infiltrated resistance groups as well, to form small cells of opposition, and kindle the flame of mutiny among the soldiers, or even to plan the assassination of Niehoff. Therefore, when the suspects were found and arrested, their fate was an instant court martial.

  We had the bitter experience of Germans fighting against Germans in Breslau. That former comrades could fight against their own, and with Russian weapons, was in sharp contrast to the sacrifices made by those not in uniform. As late as 2 May, 80 men of the ‘National Committee for Free Germany’, in German uniform, crept into western Breslau. Their task ended before it had begun, although they did overwhelm the guards of a battalion command post. Their undoing was coming face to face with Waffen SS who recognised their ruse. A former Leutnant, Leutnant Veith, and his deserter accomplices were arrested and shot. Even a group of former Ukrainian Waffen SS tried their luck, but fled.

  After the war, those gullible German hiwis for the Red Army were to receive a short sharp lesson about the Communist character. Radio Moscow reported in a broadcast firstly that the Free Germany Committee had been dissolved, and secondly that the desertion of both Paulus and Seydlitz had been nothing else but ‘war propaganda’ to discredit them. For those who had deserted in following the example of the two ‘gentlemen,’ who had been the epitome of the German soldier for so many men, it brought about the realisation that their sacrifice had been totally worthless.

  Who were Paulus and Seydlitz and what was the Committee for a Free Germany? Friedrich Paulus began his career in an infantry regiment. He was an officer of the General Staff in 1918, and captain within various staff and other units until 1931. In 1935 he was Chief of Staff of the 16th Army Corps, Chief of General Staff in 1939 and General and Commander-in-Chief of the 6th Army in the winter crisis of 1941/42. He was captured by the Russians in January 1943. His army career was brilliant until the siege of Stalingrad, which appeared to be his undoing, for various reasons, one being that this situation was one with which he could not cope. He as Field Marshal joined the already existing Committee for a Free Germany whilst in captivity in the camp for officers, in Lunjewo. One must ask why?

  Only after his death were the memoirs of Walther von Seydlitz-Kurzbach, known as the ‘Stalingrad General’ published. To this day there is a divided school of thought about this man. Was he a traitor, or a patriot who had ‘changed horses in mid-stream’ to become a resistance-fighter in order to save his own skin? He, like Friedrich Paulus, also had a brilliant military career and was the 54th soldier to receive the Knight’s Cross with Oak-leaves from Hitler. He had fought in France. In February 1942, on orders from Hitler, he released 100,000 German soldiers with four divisions and a mountain infantry brigade from the besieged city of Demyansk. He was captured by the Russians in late February 1943. He spent the next four months in a special camp in Krasnagorsk on the outskirts of Moscow, for reasons only known to the Russians. The Generals were separated and given quarters of their own. At the end of June they were transferred to Voikovo.

  On the initiative of the Russian government and German emigrants, the ‘Committee for a Free Germany’ was formed as a propaganda machine on 12 and 13 July 1943. Seydlitz learned of those events from fellow prisoners who could read the Russian newspaper Isvestiya. Reports were read daily about the latest military disasters on the front. Meetings were organised for the Generals to attend. A delegation of officers and men had, at the end of the day, persuaded 12 officers, 13 subordinates and 13 emigrants to be members. The Committee was at first ignored by the German Generals. So on 19 August Seydlitz, together with Generals Korfes and Wulz, was transferred to the same camp as Paulus, which was now overflowing with prisoners, mainly those who had fought in Stalingrad. There were around 70 prisoners in all, officers from General down to Lieutenant.

  Was it co-incidence? Was Stalingrad the basis of their association? Perhaps it was in combination with the realisation, at almost the same time as the ‘Committee for a Free Germany’ was founded, that without the prominent names of the highest ranks of German prisoners, there would be very little success for the Russian government in their propaganda campaign.

  The seeds of that action had not fallen on totally barren ground. Those accustomed to commanding, and who came from aristocratic houses, had military fore bears and backgrounds, were also accustomed to being part of the ruling forces. Seydlitz was one such. Perhaps there were noble intentions from those who knew that the end of the war was near, and that Germany would lose. Perhaps others wanted to end the misery of thousands. It was suggested that they form their own Association of Officers, the Bundes Deutscher Offiziere, the BDO. But that was not without some protest from the original delegation.

  It was founded on 11/12 September. Seydlitz declared that he was prepared to take over the Presidency. The aim of the Association would be to win as many as possible still-loyal soldiers away from Hitler. In other words they would incite desertion. On that day a committee was voted in. 95 officers signed a petition demanding the resignation of Hitler and the German govern
ment. During his internment, Paulus was prepared to send a birthday card to Stalin, on his 70th birthday, to thank him, on behalf of the German prisoners, for the good treatment they received. It annoyed Seydlitz who ignored both of those suggestions, saying that Paulus could not know of individual fates and could not therefore speak for the POWs that he did not know. Perhaps with that affront, he prepared his own death sentence. On 23 May Paulus left the camp and Seydlitz never saw him again. For his sins, Seydlitz was accused and tried for war crimes by the Russians and condemned to death. He was already 62 years of age. This was then changed to 25 years’ imprisonment, upon which Seydlitz demanded to be shot, on the spot. To this the Russians replied, “only the SS do that.”

  In September 1955 and after the visit of Adenauer to Moscow, Seydlitz was released on 4 October. He found himself in the camp for released Russian prisoners of war in Friedland, where his wife was waiting. They had four daughters. Under pressure from former Nazis, she divorced him some time later. He was ostracised by his former friends and comrades. He stayed silent over his behaviour until his death in the 1970s. Then his memoirs, which he had long since writ ten, were released for publication.

  The ancestor of Walther von Seydlitz was none other than Frederick the Great, whose name was a symbol for Prussian soldiery. Seydlitz declared that in his oath he had wasted his faithfulness and his obedience on a ‘criminal’, i.e. Hitler. He became firmly convinced of that after the battle of Stalingrad. Stalingrad was, and still is a name full of meaning, not only to the German and Russian veterans who fought there, but also for every student and would-be student of the Second World War.

  In contrast to those German traitors, there were also the stoic and the patriotic, who even as Russian prisoners of war, found ways to support their brothers-in-arms. In our need and shortage of ammunition, we feverishly collected together Russian ‘duds’ for adaptation. We found a puzzle. Many were not filled with the necessary explosive material, but with sand. It remained a puzzle for some time, until one day a scrap of paper was to be found in the sand with a scribbled message, “more than this, comrade, we could not achieve”. It was then clear that German prisoners of war must be working in a munitions factory and it was their way of deactivating the bombs and shells that they made! Somewhere in those unending ‘steppes of Russia’, were heroes, practically powerless, but who quietly worked away for Germany’s cause and were prepared to lay down their lives, in such dangerous acts, for their still-fighting comrades.

  The psychological terror and persuasion from the Reds now began in strength, urging desertion with rewards. The usual was offered. Feasts for the stomach and girls for one’s pleasure. Both however were still in plenty within the fortress in Breslau, even then. The Reds even went to the expense of printing extra leaflets for the Waffen SS in which they guaranteed the lives of those members of the Besslein Regiment, after being taken prisoner!

  Once more, rumours circulated around Breslau about ‘wonder weapons’ such as the V2 and V3, new planes flying faster than the speed of sound, turbo-jets which rendered Allied bomber flights into scrap metal. It was said that only a few weeks were needed until their usage was possible. Could we hold on until then? It was simply a case that we had to hold on until then, i.e. until the enemy would receive a very nasty surprise.

  The small flame of hope that we had, grew with the death of Franklin D. Roosevelt on 12 April. The news spread that there were disagreements in the Allies’ camp. That ill-fated ‘alliance’ it seemed was about to crumble after all, for we had even heard that the British and Americans were about to march together against the Bolsheviks. Added to that, we were elated to know that moves to free us were about to take place. There was a tangible possibility of relief from outside, in the form of Field Marshal Ferdinand Schorner, who knew about the saga within the fortress walls.

  However, his plan to release a large portion from his army group to come to our relief did not materialise, despite permissions, plans and radio messages bouncing to and fro. All too often, ‘General Chaos’ had taken command, but the successes from him were few and far between. So our release from Breslau remained a rumour. We still held on to our hope of a ‘miracle’.

  We had survived the worst attack on the city, which had not ended in capitulation. We may have taken a beating, but were still in the ring and on our feet. What more would the Reds do? They could still lose many a tooth by biting on the bone called Breslau, the ultimate target being the defence of Silesia’s city until it had earned the name of ‘unconquerable’. In the last few weeks, every soldier had interpreted for himself the term, ‘fighting to the last man’. That expression had its roots in Stalingrad, but Stalingrad was not the only example in the previous few months. General Otto Lasch, had also fought almost to his ‘last man’ in East Prussia, in Königsberg, capitulating only on 9 April. Despite defeat, those actions had deterred the strongest of Russian troops on their advance to the west. Perhaps, unbeknown to us, it had saved the lives of thousands of refugees on the move. We would do the same, come what may.

  We lay like a lonely island in the middle of the Russian flood. Each new day ran its course in the fortress, as it had done yesterday and the day before. Daily, thousands suffered physically in military and civilian hospitals. Endless sacrifices were made by the civilians in that bloody warfare. By day and by night, hour upon hour was spent in the cellars, by the old, the women, the children and the sick.

  It was 20 April, Hitler’s birthday. As was usual, we received a birthday present from the Führer in the form of a bottle of wine which was presented to us by a NSFO i.e. Nationalsozialistischer Führungs Offizier, responsible for Party propaganda. Even under those circumstances tradition was not for got ten, although the duty of that officer could not have been comfortable for him, or the speech that he gave. One could really not wish to have to perform his duties on that day. The position that he held had been a part of the Nazi structure since 1944. It gave him the duty of administering a psychological dose of patriotism, stoicism and illusion, to keep ‘everyone’s finger on the trigger of his gun’. His speech was a mixture of hollow pathos and words of victory. We listened politely, but with scepticism, because he wore the Gold Close-combat Clasp for ‘over fifty’ recognised actions.

  It could not have been easy to uphold the illusion of a still-determined and steadfast Hitler, on the 56th birthday of the man. He was surrounded on all sides, in his bunker deep in the bowels of the Reichskanzlei, in what not only seemed to be a hopeless situation, but would prove to be so. But he did his best. We heard that our commander-in-chief was holding fast in a heroic fight against Bolshevism. Whether or not he won a victory, or if he suffered a defeat, his name would be added to the annals of history. The Russians were not to be left out of the birthday celebrations. They chose their 112th Division to deliver the fireworks against the Wehrmacht Regiment Mohr that was to be found on a small sector of the front.

  It was no coincidence that this very small sector was chosen for a victory. It was confirmed by the Polish military historians, Rysyard Majewski and Teresa Sozanska, in the book, The Battle for Breslau. They reported that the ‘Hitlerites’ of this unit, the battalion commander, two company leaders and 70% of the men, paid their penalties inside an hour’s battle. This book written, of course, from the Russian point of view, quoted that Colonel Schavoshkin had taken care that Hitler’s birthday had been a very noisy celebration. Not for the first time, we were sent to relieve the now-depleted Regiment Mohr, for they were transferred to the southern sector, which appeared to be quiet, for the moment.

  The weather on 20 April, was ‘royal’ weather which helped the growth of the plants, shrubs and tree blossom in the desecrated gardens of the city. It was 25° in the shade and spring was not going to be deterred from presenting her blooms and blossom, albeit somewhat early in the year. The lilac was in bloom, spreading its perfume into air polluted with smoke and gunpowder. The flowers forced their way through the raped earth together with the weeds. The s
hrubs in the gardens were now a blaze of colour, red, white and apricot, forcing their faces through the rubble to the sun. It did the soul good to stick one’s nose into the lushness of blossom and perfume, freely offered, forgetting if only for a minute, the odour of war.

  Since the middle of April, our battalion had been engaged in the sector of the Andersen, Steinover and West End streets, in very tough fighting. From the Kipke brewery in the south-west, we were ordered to Striegauer Platz. There is a report about the defence of this section of the city, also from a Polish author, from whom we were to learn many years later that our opponent was the Soviet Lieutenant-Colonel Malinin and his unit. The author quoted from Malinin’s own vastly exaggerated description of his engagement with “a very strong company of tough Waffen SS”, who were “equipped with the very best of weapons, i.e. hand-grenades and bazookas”. That version of events appeared in their 6th Army ‘front’ newspaper. Either the exaggeration was deliberate, or his memory a little foggy. I remember very well who the better equipped were. The mass of new equipment, left behind after their withdrawal, showed that for every new and shining brass shell-case, still warm to the touch, there were just as many empty vodka bottles, the backbone of every good Russian soldier. Perhaps one was his. But the well-equipped were most certainly not us. This made the success of our counter-attack even more surprising for us.

  Only minutes later, our opponents had re formed once more, just a street further on. They were hiding behind broken walls and in bombed cellars, waiting to ward off a further advance from us. We, the 11th Company were the spearhead for the battalion and we dug in waiting for further orders. Darkness fell, and suddenly the ‘fortress-brides’ appeared with canisters of hot soup and a brew of coffee. They appeared, smiling proudly, their unkempt hair tucked under steel helmets and, far from elegant, dressed in military trousers which were much too wide for most of them. But they were happy that they had found us. At the risk of losing their lives, those Amazons had followed us at a distance and impressed us by their show of guts, loyalty and comradeship. They showed that they were made of much stronger stuff, than being there for a flirt or two. It gave us courage and it pained us at the same time when thinking of their personal fates if or when we suffered defeat.