“I’ve always thought this. In Tarnopol, I reflected on this balancing on the edge – the balancing that never was because I am the edge. My whole way of being is Beyond the Beyond and Within the Within.”
29
He Remembered a Tank
Arno remembered a tank in cover behind a barn, one of their tanks, lying in ambush. It opened fire on an enemy tank just as it appeared. The enemy vehicle was hit; there was an explosion, flames and smoke. He remembered how the German tank backed away and sought a new firing position amid nearby trees – and how new enemy tanks arrived, and how a group of grenadiers rushed forward with mines and bundle charges – mission, to knock out armoured units in melee fashion – close quarters fighting, like St. George and the dragon, Siegfried and Fafnir, Man against Monster.
He remembered a house with a red plastered façade, situated in a city somewhere on the Eastern Front. Inside the house there were jerry cans with gasoline, barrels of oil and cans with glycol – on the cement floor was the trace of a vehicle, a vehicle had been parked, oil having dripping from the engine, dark stains on the floor – there was a workbench with tools on the wall, spanners, screwdrivers, drills.
He remembered intestines hanging in a tree, like decorations on a Christmas tree – blue-green guts, the remains of a soldier, blown to bits. He remembered blood in the gutter, flies around the mouth of a corpse – he remembered the sight of dried blood on a wall, darkened gore, blackened and congealed. He remembered the smell of it. He remembered water running down a wall, water in a trickle, water flowing straight, branching off, running to the side, then straight down, then down on the floor forming a puddle, then from the puddle running off and disappearing in a crevice, trickling down between two floorboards.
He remembered anti-aircraft guns and electrophones, ammunition boxes made of wood and mortar cases, brass, 40 mm. He remembered a grove with maples, densely growing and at one place leaving an opening, forming a cave – tall maples and medium high ones with the highest forming a roof with their top branches – inside the grove was a strange light, the foliage shutting out the sunlight but it wasn’t dark, it was twilight, it was shade.
He remembered slit trenches and reserves, he remembered artillery tractors, he remembered the walking wounded trudging back. He remembered a wounded man dying in his arms: orderly Kellner in the Hungary operation. Kellner had taken a lung shot, he couldn’t breathe, his lips turned blue and then his whole face turned blue. A stale, solidified gaze, he was dead. The corpse was carried to the BMS. Arno remembered that. And he remembered a village in Ukraine they had been rushing through, MG fire from the right, smoke and Stukas in the sky, supportive aircraft approaching. He remembered a bridge that was blown up, two explosive incisions, each of them one metre from the middle of the bridge. He remembered the formula “one kilogram of explosives per metre of road width,” he remembered the necessity of having two fuses as insurance against one failing. He remembered flat bridge, frame girder bridge and girder bridge.
He remembered an encirclement and a motti – airdrop supplies, parachutes in the sky, canisters of light metal that landed all over the place, canisters with tins of jam, chocolate bars, powdered foods and rice. Canisters with 9 mm ammo, hand grenades and explosives, swabs, dressings, ether and sulfate tablets.
He remembered a patch of woodland which they defended in Ukraine in 1943. After an uncomfortable wait they had got the support of assault guns, they dug emplacements for them in the soft, dark soil; two metres deep to the front, three metres wide and seven metres long. From the trees you looked out over a meadow, you saw a forest edge three kilometres away, you saw billowing cornfields, you saw blue sky with small wads of clouds. You saw a ditch edged with alder and birch, you saw an embankment disappearing into the forest.
He remembered battles. He remembered, for example, how in a given sector they once judged that a frontal attack would be too costly. So they decided to go against the flank and rear instead. For this operation they went along trails, awaiting during 10-minutes of prep fire and then attacking.
He remembered a battle in which the Russians broke into their position – and the enemy bared his own flank as he turned 90 degrees, as he turned to roll up the line – then they threw the regimental reserve against this flank. 8th Company was the reserve.
He remembered how in Kharkov, spring 1943, they retreated from the city – and when Vatutin’s offensive ran out of steam came the order to retake the city. The battalion would board a train and take the city by surprise while an armored battle group attacked along the main road towards the city. Two companies were loaded in the first train and Arno was there for this ride. They went eastward to the city, which was reached without incident. Once at the station they disembarked and then straight into battle to overwhelm the Red force there. Soon after came a train of three companies and anti-tank units – these units completed and consolidated the strongpoint. Then the infantry advanced as the armour came in from the outside. Then it was a cinch.
As for battle anecdotes Arno had, during the war, heard of a battle in the Baltics, it was about a company that held a certain village – then it was thrown out of it by a local attack – but – left in the village was a lone German artillery observer. He had a radio, he could direct fire, he was ordered to stay – and soon the battalion in question got hold of reserves that were passing in another direction, these were stopped and inserted in a counterattack to retake the village. Fire led by the isolated fire controller was an asset in this.
Arno also remembered what he heard someone talk about concerning the fighting in Crete, at the Mavronitis air base. The British were holding on to a certain hill. Then, after heavy fighting, they retreated from the hill. Thus, the resistance was broken; they themselves, the Germans, could continue to ship reserves through the airbase – had the British on the other hand kept the height, the German operation may have completely failed – it hung in the balance there. But the Germans won, they took Mavronitis. Arno thought: hail to the heroism of the British soldier, and even their commander, General Freyberg, he was a staunch fighter, but strategically the island was lost when that hill was abandoned.
Arno Greif remembered a lot. He remembered fragments of battles, like “attacking an AA battery,” “after bridging advancing, surprising enemy armour” and “defence of the bridgehead at the riverbank.” Where, then, was this river? He had forgotten about it right now, the river was nowhere and everywhere, a symbolic river forever flowing in the no-space of the Dreamworld.
He remembered a few things, our friend Arno. Like plans and operations. He had, for example, heard about an incident in the summer of 1941: a fortress, perhaps Brest-Litovsk, was said to dominate a river. But a regiment was sent to keep it in check while another unit crossed the river further south, beyond the reach of the guns. He knew not why he remembered this, it was pointless in itself. But such were his ruminations by this time, coming home from the war and processing his war memories.
As for Operation Barbarossa, the attack on the Soviet Union on June 22, 1941 and thereafter, long distances were logged in the beginning – their tanks could advance up to 80 kilometres in a day – this was probably a record – a more normal rate was 5 to 10 km. But if a Panzer Corps had broken through and achieved operational freedom, then everything was possible. Then you could threaten alternative goals. The Germans experienced the same in reverse when the Russians attacked from 1943 onward. This Arno knew, he had experienced this when fighting in western Ukraine 1943-44, and he also saw it in Belarus during Operation Bagration.