World War II: The Autobiography

by Jon E. Lewis

  Yours,

  Ray

  Part Four

  Barbarossa

  The German Invasion of Russia, June 1941–February 1943

  INTRODUCTION

  Operation Barbarossa, Hitler’s invasion of Russia launched on 22 June 1941, was a three-pronged attack: one offensive under General von Leeb drove through the Baltic states towards Leningrad; the main offensive, under von Bock, headed towards Moscow; and the third, under von Rundstedt, headed through southern Poland towards the Black Sea. It was not to be a war of conquest, but of destruction; the annihilation of a sub-human people whose land would eventually be colonised by Teutons. To this end, Hitler committed three million German soldiers – plus 43 divisions from pro-Nazi countries, principally Finland, Rumania and Italy – to Barbarossa. The Soviet Union had 170 divisions along its front line, but these suffered from poor leadership (Stalin had purged many senior army officers) and worse communications. The Russians were also taken by surprise because Stalin refused to believe that his erstwhile ally Hitler, with whom he had happily carved up Poland, would turn against him.

  OPERATION BARBAROSSA: INVASION OF THE SOVIET UNION, 22 JUNE 1941

  Colonel-General Heinz Guderian, Panzer Group 2

  Guderian commanded Panzer Group 2, subordinated to Army Group Centre under von Bock, in the invasion.

  After Hitler’s speech to the generals on June 14th I flew to Warsaw, on the 15th, where my staff was quartered. The days until the opening of the attack on June 22nd I spent visiting the troops and their jumping-off places and also the neighbouring units in order to ensure full co-operation. The march to the assembly areas and the final preparations for the attack passed smoothly enough. On June 17th I examined the course of the River Bug, which was our front line. On the 19th I visited General von Mackensen’s III Army Corps, which was immediately to the right of my Panzer Group. On the 20th and 21st I visited the forward units of my corps to make sure that all preparations for the attack were satisfactorily completed. Detailed study of the behaviour of the Russians convinced me that they knew nothing of our intentions. We had observation of the courtyard of Brest-Litovsk citadel and could see them drilling by platoons to the music of a military band. The strong points along their bank of the Bug were unoccupied. They had made scarcely any noticeable progress in strengthening their fortified positions during the past few weeks. So the prospects of our attack achieving surprise were good and the question therefore arose whether the one hour’s artillery preparation which had been planned was now necessary after all. I finally decided not to cancel it; this was simply a precaution lest unexpected Russian counter-measures cause us avoidable casualties.

  On the fateful day of June 22nd, 1941, I went at 02.10 hrs. to my Group command post which was located in an observation tower south of Bohukaly, 9 miles north-west of Brest-Litovsk. It was still dark when I arrived there at 03.10 hrs. At 03.15 hrs. our artillery opened up. At 03.40 hrs. the first dive-bomber attack went in. At 04.15 hrs. advance units of the 17th and 18th Panzer Divisions began to cross the Bug. At 04.45 hrs. the leading tanks of the 18th Panzer Division forded the river. For this they were equipped with the waterproofing that had been tested for Operation Sea-lion, which enabled them to move through 13 feet of water.

  At 06.50 hrs. I crossed the Bug in an assault boat in the neighbourhood of Kolodno. My command staff, consisting of two armoured wireless trucks, a number of cross-country vehicles and some motor-cyclists, followed at 08.30 hrs. I began by following the tank tracks of 18th Panzer Division and soon reached the bridge over the Lesna, whose capture was important for the advance of XLVII Panzer Corps; there I found nobody except some Russian pickets. The Russians took to their heels when they saw my vehicles. Two of my orderly officers set off after them, against my wishes; unfortunately they both lost their lives as a result.

  At 10.25 hrs. the leading tank company reached the Lesna and crossed the bridge. Next to arrive was the divisional commander, General Nehring. I accompanied the 18th Panzer Division in their advance until mid-afternoon. At 16.30 hrs. I returned to the bridgehead at Kolodno and from there I went at 18.30 hrs. to my command post.

  We had managed to take the enemy by surprise along the entire Panzer Group front. To the south of Brest-Litovsk the XXIV Panzer Corps had captured the bridges over the Bug intact. To the north-west of the fortress our bridges were being built according to plan. The enemy, however, soon recovered from his initial surprise and put up a tough defence in his prepared positions. The important citadel of Brest-Litovsk held out with remarkable stubbornness for several days, thus depriving us of the use of the road and rail communications across the Bug and Muchaviec.

  In the evening the Panzer Group was fighting around Maloryta, Kobryn, Brest-Litovsk, and Pruzana. At the last-named place the 18th Panzer Division became involved in the first tank battle of the campaign.

  “WE’RE GOING TO SHOW THOSE BOLSHEVIK BUMS WHO’S WHO”: A GERMAN TANK GUNNER WRITES HOME, 25 JUNE 1941

  Sergeant Karl Fuchs, 25 Panzer Regiment

  Eastern Front

  25 June 1941

  My dearest wife, my dear little Horsti,

  After three days of heavy fighting we were finally granted a well-deserved day of rest. Unfortunately there is some maintenance work that has to be done.

  How are you, my two loved ones? Since I received your postcard several days ago, I haven’t heard from you. I suppose it’s because of the postal delivery which, because of the huge distances now, only comes to us every three or four days. I myself am fine and healthy and today I received my first war decoration from our commander, namely, the tank assault medal. I wear it proudly and hope you are proud of me.

  Up to now, all of the troops have had to accomplish quite a bit. The same goes for our machines and tanks. But, nevertheless, we’re going to show those Bolshevik bums who’s who around here! They fight like hired hands – not like soldiers, no matter if they are men, women or children on the front lines. They’re all no better than a bunch of scoundrels. By now, half of Europe is mobilized. The entry of Spain and Hungary on our side against this Bolshevik archenemy of the world overjoyed us all. Yes, Europe stands under the leadership of our beloved Führer Adolph Hitler, and he’ll reshape it for a better future. The entry of all these volunteer armies into this war will cause the war to be over soon.

  The impressions that the battles have left on me will be with me forever . . .

  Your Korri

  Sergeant Fuchs was killed in action in November 1941.

  THE WEHRMACHT ADVANCES INTO RUSSIA, JULY 1941

  General Blumentritt, Wehrmacht

  At the start of Barbarossa, some German units were advancing 50 miles a day and Hitler declared that he hoped to seize the Caucasus before the end of 1941. His more prescient generals, however, already understood that the Wehrmacht was in trouble.

  The infantry had a hard time keeping up. Marches of twenty-five miles in the course of a day were by no means exceptional, and that over the most atrocious roads. A vivid picture which remains of these weeks is the great clouds of yellow dust kicked up by the Russian columns attempting to retreat and by our infantry hastening in pursuit. The heat was tremendous, though interspersed with sudden showers which quickly turned the roads to mud before the sun reappeared and as quickly baked them into crumbling clay once again.

  By 2 July the first battle was for all intents and purposes won. The haul was astounding. A hundred and fifty thousand prisoners taken, some 1,200 tanks and 600 guns captured or destroyed. First impressions revealed that the Russian was as tough a fighter as ever. His tanks, however, were not particularly formidable and his air force, so far as we could see, non-existent.

  The conduct of the Russian troops, even in this first battle, was in striking contrast to the behaviour of the Poles and of the Western allies in defeat. Even when encircled, the Russians stood their ground and fought. The vast extent of the country, with its forests and swamps, helped them in this. There were not enough Ger
man troops available completely to seal off a huge encirclement such as that of Bialystok-Slonim. Our motorized forces fought on or near to the roads: in the great trackless spaces between them the Russians were left largely unmolested. This was why the Russians were able not infrequently to break out of our encirclements, whole columns moving by night through the forests that stretched away eastwards. They always attempted to break out to the east, so that the eastern side of each encirclement had to be held by our strongest troops, usually Panzer troops. Nevertheless, our encirclements were seldom entirely successful.

  ONE MAN’S WAR: A MOSCOVITE JOINS THE RED ARMY, JULY 1941

  Zhuravlev Alexander Grigoryevich

  When the war broke out I worked for a Moscow plant producing transformers. I held the post of the head of an experimental shop. We worked three shifts without days off since the beginning of the war against Finland in 1939–1940. We worked so till 1941. Our working day began at 8 o’clock. On the day when the war against Nazi Germany broke out I arrived at the plant as usual. That was an ordinary Sunday day. Some people went to their country houses, others went fishing. Suddenly an official of the manager’s office rushed in crying out: “A war broke out”. One of us responded: “Well, we’ll give it them hot now”.

  Why did he make such reply? We were taught so, we were told that the favourite city was well protected, that we did not want any foreign lands nor would we surrender ours. We were convinced that our leaders knew everything and they would take all necessary measures. It is well to recall here a poster depicting three persons against the background of Russian fields: M.M. Litvinov, the country’s Foreign Minister, N.I Yezhov, the Interior Minister, and the Defense Minister K. Ye. Voroshilov. N.I. Yezhov was portrayed as a ruler with an iron rod who kept in check all his enemies. The poster said: “We know what and whom we should defend, and we have all means of defending these all”. At that time there was continuous talk that our diplomacy was skilful, our army was strong, and we could contain our enemies.

  We, the young, could not relax, militant mood was encouraged among us. We attended clubs of Voroshilov riflemen. We shot in shooting-galleries, we parachuted. One tower for parachute jumps was in the Gorky Recreation Park. I, for one, took part in a cycling race with respirator. There were numerous books about the civil war. Films told us about our border guards who easily detected spies on the border. It is also well to remind here of a patriotic song entitled “If a war breaks out tomorrow” . . . That is why we were convinced that the Red Army will “give it them all hot”.

  Yet quite the opposite happened An old man, a character of “The Alive and the Dead” film, says with bitterness: “Why have not you told us that the army is lacking so many things? We could have economized on everything but we would have given everything to the Red Army.” The army proved to be less strong than we were told. Main troops were deployed at the distance of hundreds of kilometers from the border which was protected by border guards alone. What were they equipped with? Certainly, border guards were getting ready for a war, and some measures had been taken. Later we found out that soldiers slept in their uniform overcoats and officers remained in the barracks. On the second day of the war the newspaper Pravda published an article saying that within previous six months Nazi aircraft violated the border 180 times, or practically every day. Meanwhile, a week before the war broke out TASS published a report claiming that all rumours of a possible Nazi attack should be regarded as provocations.

  A war broke out. The country’s population was taken unawares. The news shocked the Moscow residents. There were still no air raids. At the dawn of the second and the third days we saw a group of aircraft in the sky. There was much shooting. None of the aircraft was shot down.

  We continued to work. On the second day of the war I was told that I would not be recruited for military service at once. Yet on July 10, I received the order to come to the recruiting office in my leisure time. Had I got any leisure time? I left the plant and took the last tram to take me home. When I arrived at the recruiting office I was told not to volunteer for any emergency corps and not to leave the city without the office’s permission. I was to wait to be summoned. On July 17 they phoned to the shop: “Zhuravlev?” – “Yes”. “You should arrive at the recruiting office at once.”

  They were recruiting heavy gunners. A regiment was being formed at the Alabino railway station near Moscow, yet I was not so lucky as to fight in the regiment equipped with Katyusha heavy guns. No sooner that we received uniforms and ammunitions lieutenants, graduates of the Leningrad school, arrived. And we, recruits, were sent to the reserve of the Supreme Command and later to that of the Moscow military district. First we were deployed at the Kolomna railway station near Moscow. Later we received an order to take positions at the closest approaches to Moscow, in the Fili Park. That was Moscow’s last line of defenses. There were no defenders behind us. In December 1941, when Soviet counter-offensive began we saw endless tanks moving at high speed on the Rublevskoye highway at night.

  In January 1942 we were deployed in the Dmitrov region, to the north of Moscow. We stayed there till May. Battles were not intensive. We took one height. We were short of shells. In the beginning of the war we sat in trenches looking in the sky: we wanted our aircraft to appear. Yet there were no Soviet aircraft in the sky.

  STUKAS DIVE-BOMB THE SOVIET FLEET, 21 SEPTEMBER 1941

  Hans Ulrich Rudel, Luftwaffe

  Brilliant blue sky, without a rack of cloud. The same even over the sea. We are already attacked by Russian fighters above the narrow coastal strip; but they cannot deflect us from our objective, there is no question of that. We are flying at 9000 feet; the flak is deadly. About ten miles ahead we see Kronstadt; it seems an infinite distance away. With this intensity of flak one stands a good chance of being hit at any moment. The waiting makes the time long. Dourly, Steen and I keep on our course. We tell ourselves that Ivan is not firing at single aircraft; he is merely putting up a flak barrage at a certain altitude. The others are all over the shop, not only in the squadrons and the flights, but even in the pairs. They think that by varying height and zigzagging they can make the A.A. gunners’ task more difficult. There go the two blue-nosed staff aircraft sweeping through all the formations, even the separate flights. Now one of them loses her bomb. A wild helter-skelter in the sky over Kronstadt; the danger of ramming is great. We are still a few miles from our objective; at an angle ahead of me I can already make out the Marat berthed in the harbour. The guns boom, the shells scream up at us, bursting in flashes of livid colours; the flak forms small fleecy clouds that frolic around us. If it was not in such deadly earnest one might use the phrase: an aerial carnival. I look down on the Marat. Behind her lies the cruiser Kirov. Or is it the Maxim Gorki? These ships have not yet joined in the general bombardment. But it was the same the last time. They do not open up on us until we are diving to the attack. Never has our flight through the defence seemed so slow or so uncomfortable. Will Steen use his diving brakes today or in the face of this opposition will he go in for once “without”? There he goes. He has already used his brakes. I follow suit, throwing a final glance into his cockpit. His grim face wears an expression of concentration. Now we are in a dive, close beside each other. Our diving angle must be between seventy and eighty degrees. I have already picked up the Marat in my sights. We race down towards her; slowly she grows to a gigantic size. All their A.A. guns are now directed at us. Now nothing matters but our target, our objective; if we achieve our task it will save our brothers in arms on the ground much bloodshed. But what is happening? Steen’s aircraft suddenly leaves mine far behind. He is travelling much faster. Has he after all again retracted his diving brakes in order to get down more quickly? So I do the same. I race after his aircraft going all out. I am right on his tail, travelling much too fast and unable to check my speed. Straight ahead of me I see the horrified face of W.O. Lehmann, Steen’s rear-gunner. He expects every second that I shall cut off his tail unit with my propeller a
nd ram him.

  I increase my diving angle with all the strength I have got – it must surely be 90 degrees – sit tight as if I were sitting on a powder-keg. Shall I graze Steen’s aircraft which is right on me or shall I get safely past and down? I streak past him within a hair’s breadth. Is this an omen of success? The ship is centered plumb in the middle of my sights. My Ju 87 keeps perfectly steady as I dive; she does not swerve an inch. I have the feeling that to miss is now impossible. Then I see the Marat large as life in front of me. Sailors are running across the deck, carrying ammunition. Now I press the bomb release switch on my stick and pull with all my strength. Can I still manage to pull out? I doubt it, for I am diving without brakes and the height at which I have released my bomb is not more than 900 feet. The skipper has said when briefing us that the two thousand pounder must not be dropped from lower than 3000 feet as the fragmentation effect of this bomb reaches 3000 feet and to drop it at a lower altitude is to endanger one’s aircraft. But now I have forgotten that! – I am intent on hitting the Marat. I tug at my stick, without feeling, merely exerting all my strength. My acceleration is too great. I see nothing, my sight is blurred in a momentary blackout, a new experience for me. But if it can be managed at all I must pull out. My head has not yet cleared when I hear Scharnovski’s voice:

  “She is blowing up, sir!”

  Now I look out. We are skimming the water at a level often or twelve feet and I bank round a little. Yonder lies the Marat below a cloud of smoke rising up to 1200 feet; apparently the magazine has exploded.