An uncanny silence surrounded me. Hardly anything was recognisable. Any sound raised the question: friend or foe? Suddenly I bumped into three sappers and stayed with them. Later I discovered that one was a sergeant with Eastern Front experience and some knowledge of the Russian language, one a corporal and one a private. The sergeant immediately took command. Without local knowledge or a map, and only armed with a compass, he had to keep going east for safety. We marched until dawn and then hid in a little wood. Once during the day an enemy column passed within 100 metres of us but did not discover us.
But 300 metres further to the west of our hiding place the Russians successfully searched a wood for German soldiers, and the cries that we heard I have never forgotten.
While two men remained on watch, the other two slept. With nightfall we set off north towards Stettin, hoping to reach the front line and German troops within six days, wanting to avoid Soviet captivity at all costs. We checked the provisions we were carrying and divided them up to cover this period.
During the following nights we sought to avoid inhabited areas, roads, tracks, bridges and enemy movement, although it did not always work. Sentries challenging us were answered by our sergeant with a well-known Russian swearword, as our hands grasped our carbines in wary reaction.
Our second worst enemy was the countryside, the Neumark. It continually forced us to make diversions and wade through knee-deep water channels. Whenever the situation allowed, we hid ourselves in daylight in barns and haystacks, where we were able to dry off our clothing a bit.
In one wooded area we found ourselves in an expansive Russian bunker system. Too late we recognised the freshly laid path in the sand as a noise reducer. The sentries must have heard something. We could hear their voices and some shots. We lay still between the rows of bunkers. We erected a small screen out of the undergrowth with our bare hands and had to remain there until dark. A cold day lay ahead of us, only the fear of being discovered keeping us warm.
The strain up to now had weakened me and now hunger was bringing on brief signs of exhaustion. Once the bread and sausage had been consumed, coffee beans that the sappers had brought with them were shared out. About half a handful of chewed coffee beans had to serve as a stimulant. Water for rinsing them down and for thirst there was ample. Only its drinkability was open to doubt from the animal bodies found in the streams.
On the sixth day we stumbled unexpectedly on wide, flowing water that could only be the Oder. We reached a bridge under construction that was about 2 metres high. It was unguarded and we went along it until coming to an abrupt end that obliged us to turn back. Upon leaving the bridge, we suddenly found ourselves standing in front of a T-34 beside a shell store. We could not stay here, and as we could find no boat, we looked for a convenient hiding place near the river.
The building site came to life at daybreak. German farm carts and Russian panje wagons delivered tree trunks. This work continued for about 15 hours. My engineer comrades considered the construction of a raft and we started to work on one in the dark. Careful hammering was done some distance from the unguarded bridge and a raft was constructed out of tree trunks and planks. Despite the noise, we remained undisturbed. When we then poled ourselves off from the east bank, we were only able to avoid capsizing by constant balancing. This journey was to last two nights.
After the first night’s journey we first had to check the raft, which was driving a bit downriver. We punted for hours until a pontoon bridge offered a place to halt, as it was supported by a tree trunk rammed upright between two pontoons. After a careful landing and reconnaissance, we discovered a sentry sleeping in a large metal drum. We did not disturb his sleep, but noted that there was a boat fastened to the bridge that we could use the following night.
This time we sought accommodation in a barn. Here we were not alone, for from time to time one could hear Morse code-like sounds. This did not disturb us, but increased our alertness.
Next night we took possession of the boat, despite the sleeping sentry, and were able to move faster on the Oder. Our attempt to go over to the left bank immediately failed, as sentries were posted at regular intervals, who fortunately revealed themselves with the lighting or glow of cigarettes. Actually we wanted to go north as far as possible to reach the front line, which showed itself even more clearly before dawn with flares and the noise of fighting.
At this juncture we approached a bridge that was still under construction in the middle of the stream. It was higher, presumably to take greater weights, and partly lit. [This was the 60-ton capacity bridge at Zellin.] The alert sentries opened fire on us at long range. In order to get out of enemy sight we had to turn around and thus reached the west bank. There was little cover on the flanks and it could not be far from the front line.
The decisive moment now lay before us. With our last strength and an inner surge we had to break through to our lines. The coming daylight drove us on. Haystacks, barns or woods for hiding in were not to be seen.
From a geographical point of view, we were in the Oderbruch. Our way on land led us directly past an enemy mortar position. Our sergeant said to the Russian sentry: ‘Come with us to Berlin!’ We breathed out as we were allowed past. Next we crossed an unoccupied communication trench, but in the next, the foremost in the Soviet system, were two shaven-headed soldiers occupied in trench construction, who recognised us as Germans, hurried for their weapons and immediately fired at us.
The distance between the Soviet and German trenches was about 500 metres. We raced in zigzags like hares, crossed another water ditch, running bent over and stumbling forwards. The ground was as flat as a plate, and the last running sapper was caught by the Russian bullets. We others dropped as soon as the fire behind us stopped.
In front of the German trenches, the sergeant noticed that we were lying in a minefield, and shots were coming from the trenches. Then came abuse: ‘Traitors!’ ‘Pigs’ ‘Seydlitz-Troops!’ A machine gun was brought up and aimed at us. At the same time rifle bullets whistled close to us. Then we were ordered one by one and with raised hands and well apart to approach the German trenches. We stood up with our carbines slung and carefully watched every step on the earth in front of us.
Pistols were aimed at our breasts. We were taken to be members of the ‘Free Germany’ National Committee, which we later discovered was active here. This dangerous situation first altered when a corporal in the group occupying the trench identified me. We had qualified together at the NCO School in Arnswalde. An odyssey of over nine days and nights ended at about 0700 hours on 21 March 1945.
We had not eaten for days, only chewed coffee beans. The bread offered us was too hard and so we held it in our hands on the way to the platoon command post, during which we came under close bombardment from enemy mortar salvoes, after which the tightly-held bread of a bluish-grey colour tasted better than cake.
After our first interview we were taken under guard to the company command post. The same again, but now more thorough. With our physical condition, our appearance and the description of our experiences and observations, all doubts were put aside. After our first food and warm drinks we were able to climb into bed in the company command post. Although completely exhausted, I could not sleep. My feet hurt under the covers and my stomach rebelled.