The Tanz Platoon had broken out of the encirclement together with the Company, this in turn with the Battalion. Then the Platoon had been separated from the Company, had lost contact. So it made the remaining hefty 10 km home as an individual 14-man unit, marching through the wilderness.
As mentioned above Arno was now head of 2nd Squad of Tanz’ Platoon. Indeed, right there in the wilds he was appointed Private First Class, Gefreiter, by Lieutenant Tanz. Formalities such as salary and insignia would follow later, Tanz said, when the Platoon came back to their own lines. They were isolated in limbo right now, a mobile 360-degree defensive position advancing through enemy country.
Arno’s Squad only consisted of five men, Koch, König, Lange, Schulz and Nishinsky. The two other groups of the Platoon consisted of three and five men each. With Tanz as Platoon Leader that made 14 men. On the evening of the 21st they spent the night in a barn. Tanz himself for some reason chose to sleep on spruce branches in the open, the needles of the branches making this a soft and warm bedding. He said it was as it should be. A soldier gave him his Russian padded coat for extra protection against the cold. Sentries weren’t posted. In this respect Tanz lived on hope, which was unusual for a soldier.
The day dawned on February 22. A champagne-coloured sky arched over the forest. Arno rose from his sleeping spot in the barn, went out to find Tanz and eventually spotted the man, covered by his topcoat and with scarf and field cap M/43 on his head. Newly awakened Tanz said:
“I dreamed that I was a hero in an archaic world. I dreamed that I sought an emerald with a bright red centre.”
“You’re not alone,” Arno said truthfully. “I also dream fairytale dreams.”
Arno glanced at his Platoon Leader: a scarred face beneath the peak of his cap. His eyes betrayed a certain resignation. Arno understood that Tanz and the others in the Platoon were dissatisfied with the course of the war. The Red Army hadn’t been defeated despite the massive ambitions of Unternehmen Barbarossa. But Arno himself was still in fighting spirits. Not that he believed in ultimate victory; staunch anti-Bolshevik as he was, he also was a realist as for the outcome of the war. But he liked being at the front. He liked being at war. Some of his other comrades felt the same way: while in the battle zone, battle. Doubts have to wait until later.
They returned to the barn. The men drank water and ate the slices of bread they had. Then they moved out to an embankment, a railroad track running through the forest. As they followed the track, the men spotted around them in every direction for signs of enemy activity. They intended to make it through enemy territory and return to their own lines.
Tanz and Arno took the lead. Tanz said, apropos of nothing:
“I see cities floating in the sky, I see the blue flowers, I see dwarves and gnomes enter a frisky dance. I see my mother and my father, I see the Rhine floating away in the twilight between green hills. I see vineyards, I see grapes, I see roses. I see the beginning and the end, one and zero, black and white, right and wrong, and then back to zero again.”
Unmoved Arno listened and said:
“Have you gone mad?”
“Probably,” Tanz said. “I see a horse on a road, I hear the leaves of the linden sighing. I see a jerry can, a ribbon tie, the Iron Cross. I see myself, I know myself: I am God.”
Rambles from a shell shocked…? Not necessarily. Combat zone existence could put a man in a sort of trance.
The soldiers moved along the embankment, through a leafless deciduous forest, under a red sky, with the scent of earth acids in the thawing, humid land.
The men were apprehensively trudging along through No Man’s Land. Their plan was to avoid trouble, hope for the best and sing a happy refrain if they made it through. They migrated as a combat ready organism: it was an armed amoeba oozing across the wasteland, a wandering Kessel circumventing the obstacles as best it could, moving through the landscape with saurian instinct. In one place – a blue forest with sickly, bile green grass on the ground – the platoon ran into the enemy. It ended with a melee, during which Arno got a hand grenade shrapnel wound to his forehead. It bled all over the place, but that’s normal for facial wounds even if they’re not serious; it’s much worse if you’re injured in a vital organ or in the abdomen or the chest.
In any case, he had little time to think about it. Seconds later, Arno was attacked by an enemy jumping out from the bushes. At once he drew his melee knife and killed the Russian. Hand-to-hand.
Platoon Leader Tanz got them by firing rifle grenades at a stand of trees, throwing smoke grenades in another direction and slipping out through a third. Once they were in the clear, Arno’s wounds were dressed. He didn’t look beautiful. He looked downright awful, with all the blood that had poured down the face. But it was all cleaned up by a first aider in the platoon who also wrapped bandages round Arno’s head. The fragments were picked out later.
They were still out in No Man’s Land. Then, after moving without incident along trails and through hardwood copses, past ridges and over a brook, they reached their own front. They sent liaison men in advance, a line of approach was agreed on and the unit was then able to cross a snow-covered field and reach a friendly sentry post. That’s how they seeped through the front. They were home, and they could rest.
They had made it through the hostile cordon, out of the encirclement, the Kessel. 4th Company in general, led by Schwarz, had also come through as well as another company of the battalion, the 5th. The third Company, 6th, was never heard of again; in the process it had encountered resistance, been fought to a standstill and taken captive.
As for Tanz’ Platoon it got replacements, soon brought up to strength with 24 men and three Squads. Arno was allowed to continue as squad leader. He was now formally promoted to Obergefreiter. He was, within reasonable limits, proud of that. He was at the front and he had withstood the hardships. The days of Stalingrad, he felt, was the pre-school while his effort in the Kharkov breakout was the graduation. True, there was still much to learn, this Arno realised. In the German Army leadership spirit of “up, ever up,” he thought: now, I have to be prepared to be platoon leader, should the current one fall. But one thing at a time. It’s all hunky dory, I can do what I can do, know what I know and hallelujah. I’m humbled by my fate but I also know that I have the ability to lead people in battle, affecting Reality with my Will. The time back home spent playing football and working as a chef has paid off. Leading people, taking charge.
Such was Arno’s train of thought on those days in late February, 1943. He eventually got the shrapnel in his forehead taken out at the Battalion Medical Station. He was not hospitalised. He was only ordered to take it easy for a few days. That is to say, everything as usual.
The 50th Regiment for its part was incorporated in the defence of central Ukraine. By this time Field Marshal von Manstein had stabilised the front which had been disrupted by the Vatutin offensive. Further, Manstein planned a counterstrike.
4
Kursk
As previously told, the Russians had encircled Stalingrad, then they had obliterated and eradicated the huge pocket of trapped men. This was in January 1943. The broken remnants of the German 6th Army, 91,000 men, trudged off in endless, freezing columns to the prison camps.