This battle involved considerably more than that. There was blood and guts, black bile, vomit and screaming. There were dressings and painkillers, reinforced concrete and earth, clouds of dust, damp heat and grass, mist and sand. It was rifle grenades, machine gun magazine, shaft grenade and the Iron Cross’ red-black-white stripe, applied in a buttonhole. It was cutting the uniform off a wounded man, a belt that was applied to stop bleeding, bandages and send him to the rear.
After hours of battle, among the barbed wire and bunkers, hidden passageways and infantry shields, Arno lost contact with his units. He crawled up a brushy hillside, looking for his men; the line was supposed to be somewhere up here, but where was it then…?
He ran into a soldier who lay moaning while blood pulsed out of a stomach wound. Arno was about to produce a first aid bandage and dress the wound. The next moment he looked at the man he was dead, blank eyes in a pale face. Arno continued up the hill. Once at the top he saw their three StuGs standing 200 metres off in a sunken road, motors running on idle. The central part of the wood had been taken with the support of 1st Platoon, their reserve. Captain Wistinghausen had emerged from out of nowhere and thrown his force into the fray as well. So the FAA had been taken. Another mission accomplished.
At dawn on March 6 the major attack started, Operation Spring Awakening finally being executed. For the main force in the western column, Peiper’s Panzers, it all started near Komorn where the Leibstandarte had its Forward Assembly Area. On the first day of the operation the Russian forward positions were taken. Then the attack went forward for a few days.
As for Battle Group M it also got going on its particular front, starting in its proper FAA and attacking over Woxa Forest and south to Kerenyi and the Puszta. Battalion Wolf was in reserve on D-Day, March 6, with Battalions Weiss and Rot getting the task of storming and breaking through the Russian main line with heavy support. Then there was advance along three to four parallel roads for some days: snowy woods, the sound of machine gun fire, harassing artillery and black Dornier 217s in the sky; these were the symbols of this phase.
On March 8, a fine task awaited BGM. This day Battalion Wolf would be transported with trucks to a secondary line in Woxa Forest that must be broken through. Battalion Wolf would take the lead, followed by the Battalions Weiss and Rot. When this line had been broken through, the battle Group would be free to push on for the Puszta, with the village of Kerenyi only 15 km away. This was the rendezvous point for the meet up with Peiper’s Panzers.
The battalion would break through the line with each of the Companies in separate locations. This sounded like madness, Arno thought. Instead they should amass their force on one point and roll up the line from there. But what did he know; maybe Major Mahler had some ulterior motive for this strategy? For 8th Company the day started with Wistinghausen giving orders. Then Arno went to his strongpoint and gathered his Squad Leaders, Lenz, Bauer and Weissbart. He produced his sketch map, pointed at it and said:
“The target, the enemy position, is four kilometres to the south. After lorry transport to Point Y we’ll advance in single file through the forest, crossing a boundary line and then going on through more woodland. At the ridge here, we’ll be able to see the target, the enemy defensive line on the next rise in front. Our platoon will take the lead in the ensuing attack, being vanguard for the company. The other two companies of the battalion will break in at other points, to the right of us, that is, to the west.”
Then they had chow, ersatz coffee, hardtack and turnip marmalade. This on a patch of flat gravel next to a road junction. The Company waited for the truck transportation while they ate. Arno sat and sipped at his steaming coffee while his orderly, Kellner, asked:
“So what’s going to happen now? Are we encircled, sitting in a Kessel?”
The soldier scratched his forehead, took off his backpack, unslung his StG and sat down on the ground. Kellner was a good orderly, but he was fairly new to the combat zone. Arno blew on the drink in his pan lid and said:
“We’re not encircled. Where did you get that idea from? We’ll continue the attack. But first I’ll finish this.”
This Arno did, sitting on an ammo box, slurping and saying “ahh” in between sips. In front of him was a backpack and an StG. The sky arched yellow over the waiting, fidgeting soldiers, the platoon and company gathered at an anonymous crossroads in a forest they’d never heard of. Men ate or lay down and waited, using their backpacks as pillows. You could hear the roar of low-flying FW 189s and distant explosions. Heaven greyish yellow, temperature zero Celsius, a mild March day in the bosom of Hungary in the middle of nowhere.
They would continue the attack, break out onto the great plain, smash their way to Budapest, retake the city and stabilise the southern part of the Eastern Front. It was six o’clock in the morning and they had waited for an hour, but Arno didn’t mind it. He took a bread slice out of a pocket, dipped it into the brew and brought it into his mouth. A tasty, well baked piece of bread, in truth…! He was satisfied with little, being something of a warrior monk. “You should rejoice in small things; why else do you think the microscope was invented?” as a wise man said.
Strange birds were singing in a tree nearby. It sounded like a requiem on flute. A happy elegy. Macabre.
“But what will happen today?” Kellner said where he sat cross-legged on the ground opposite Arno, gun in lap. Arno thought: He reminds me of my cousin back home, Gustav Nilsson. Energetic and inquisitive.
Arno finished his meal, put away the pan lid and said:
“Well, we ain’t encircled, I can tell you that. We’ll attack the enemy defensive line ahead. This we will break through like nothing on earth. Just follow me and you’ll do fine. That’s the task of the orderly. How hard can it be?”
“How far away is it? The enemy line?”
“Four kilometres.”
“That’s far.”
“Far? It ain’t far. Infantrymen can go anywhere. Besides, we’re getting transport today.”
As if on cue engine noise was heard and an Opel Blitz drove onto the gravel. Bonnet, wings and roof were painted in steel grey and had a matching tarpaulin over the bed. The vehicle was followed by eight more. They stood in a circle, ready for the men to board. Arno put the pan lid on his mess tin, buckled it together, put it all in his backpack, slung it on his shoulder, picked up his StG and gave the order to mount up. When the whole company was seated the trek south to Point Y began – the unloading site.
The Company travelled, being transported the four kilometres to Point Y. The march went slowly because of hostile air presence, Russian fighter-bombers buzzing in the sky. Oddly enough they didn’t attack. Once at Point Y the Company unloaded. The backpacks were left on the trucks. Arno trudged off in the lead with his 20 men, Kellner and Lenz close to him. The platoon leader has to have the MGs close by, that’s a surefire way to success.
It was nine o’clock. The sky was now pale green and pink. They advanced through the leafless deciduous forest, crossed the boundary, a three metre broad ride through the woods, a path for foxes and rabbits with so many woodsmen gone to the war. The Germans went straight into the next area of woodland, a mixture of birch and spruce. The snow layer was thin, way thinner than in Norrbotten 1940, Arno thought.