Not all were so fortunate. Luftwaffe Gunner Josef Stefanski:
On 29 March I was once more deployed as an infantryman on the Island near the Reichsgarten pub, opposite the Kattewall. On the same day came the order to withdraw from Küstrin. I was in the last group that left the positions around the Artillery Barracks late evening in darkness and crossed the Vorflut Canal by the railway bridge. Shortly afterwards the bridge was blown. We had not come very far when we came under heavy fire from all sides and had to flee to the lunette off the dyke leading to Kuhbrücken. As I had had no sleep over the past days, I was totally exhausted. I did not care. I only wanted to sleep. So I stayed the night in this lunette with about 30 comrades. There was also the crew of a Tiger tank that had run out of fuel.
Next morning the Russians appeared and took us prisoner.[19]
Officer Cadet Corporal Fritz Kohlase’s attempt to break out was less successfuclass="underline"
On the morning of Maundy Thursday the Soviet firing resumed and lasted until late afternoon. Then followed the Russian attack that we had been waiting for for hours. The dyke road near the spider’s web of tracks was crossed with jubilant cries of ‘Urrah!’ making a breach in the last German lines. But the resistance stiffened, growing more and more like the tension of a spring under frightful pressure. Beyond the dyke road there were only 300 metres to the Vorflut Canal and the Oder. It developed into close-quarter fighting, in which the members of the Küstrin Volkssturm and their District Leader joined in on the German side.
At this point the German ammunition was finished. One went into the cellars and pleaded for every cartridge and hand grenade from the wounded. The forward artillery observer in Kuhbrücken had our heavy ‘fortress artillery’ in the Seelow area firing on the grid, firing within 100 metres. The heavy shells bellowed down on us, but were all duds! A runner panted up from the battalion commander: ‘Hold on until dark; then we will be saved!’
The jubilant ‘Urrahs’ of the Russians had lessened, mixed more and more with rifle and pistol shots and bursts from sub-machine guns, the explosions of hand grenades and Panzerfausts with the cries of the wounded and shouted commands, and above all with the shouts of ‘Hurrah’ from the defence that grew ever louder and finally replaced the others. Yet again the determined German defence was stronger and threw the attackers back, partly even to the other side of the dyke. And then the sounds of fighting broke off as suddenly as they had begun.
Manninger came down the steps with his section and slumped completely exhausted into a corner. The wounded had their wounds dressed as well as was possible. Not much was said for it was clear to everyone that the next attack could not be repelled for lack of ammunition.
Somewhat later a second lieutenant appeared with a doctor. They took Manninger’s section with them and every man that could hold a weapon. Then an SS officer came into the cellar with the same objective. I was one of those that remained in the cellar, together with Heinz Buder, another officer cadet from Wandern who had been wounded that day. Together we waited for nightfall.
Among those wounded that afternoon was my company commander, Lieutenant von Burgsdorf, who had been hit by three bullets. My machine-gunner had been killed. Fischer, the Alsatian, who had always said that he would not fall in this war and that he would not die, had been shot in the head.
Both sides were so exhausted from the close-quarter fighting that they now waited for darkness and did nothing although they were only the width of the dyke apart. At night came suddenly: ‘All out for the breakout!’ It was pitch black. We quickly destroyed all our papers, including our pay-books and removed our officer cadet flashes while others removed their rank insignia and decorations. Everything superfluous was left behind.
Before the still-mobile remains of the fortress garrison had finished assembling behind the Vorflut dyke our engineers blew the Kietz railway bridge and with the explosion we lost the element of surprise. The enemy immediately noticed that the Germans were forming up for a breakout on the dyke road and began a constant barrage, mainly with mortars. At the pond both Heinz Buder and myself were wounded again. Shell splinters hit his shoulder and the back of my left knee. There was no time to bandage them, so we tried forcibly to move shoulder and foot and they worked.
Our first attack had resulted in the Russians becoming aware of the breakout attempt and was beaten back. While the beaten spearheads wanted to go back, those coming from the Kietz bridge and from Kuhbrücken pushed forward. The narrow bank of the Vorflut Canal was limited by a minefield. Only a trench running along the dyke offered any cover for those in it. All the others remained exposed to the murderous fire. When the mortars fired, up to five men lay on top of each other in the trench. The individual units had tried to keep together when they assembled, but now everything was lost. The confusion increased when some of our own mines exploded. The calclass="underline" ‘Officers forward!’ was answered by only a few.
When Heinz Buder and I reached the breakout assembly point, the second breakout attempt had already failed and increased the panicky confusion on our side. We realised that it was highly dangerous to remain in this leaderless mass. We therefore decided to hide ourselves in the ruins of the Dammvorstadt and to try to reach our main front line 24 hours later, by which time the inner enclosing ring would no longer exist.
We worked our way across the Kietz railway bridge. Several men had already sought shelter behind the bridge pillars. When even more bombs hit the dyke, a rough voice said in the darkness: ‘So perishes the Third Reich with fire and the sword.’ At this moment I too realised that everything was lost.
Once we had completed the necessary bandaging of each other, Heinz Buder and I climbed over the blown bridge to the Dammvorstadt. At the station we encountered the lightly wounded Klaus Kothe, who convinced us that hiding on the peninsula would be more promising than in the buildings. We crossed the mine belt with thumping hearts across the entrance to the peninsula. But it offered no cover. One could hide in the light undergrowth on the riverbank, but there was only enough room for two persons and we were one too many. Heinz Buder decided to return to the Dammvorstadt. We shook hands in parting for the last time.
Heinz Buder had reminded me beforehand that this was Good Friday, 30 March, and that we had now been soldiers for exactly one year.
Meanwhile further German attempts to break out had succeeded. The last one went well and we could hear the fighting some distance away.
Our hiding place was wretched. It was on a sandbank overgrown with bushes on the bank of the peninsula and consisted of a hollow of a man’s length and about 30 centimetres deep. We could get in with our arms either stretched alongside our bodies or tucked under our chests. We dared not move, as the bushes were so meagre that they only offered scanty protection from enemy sight. Apart from this, the hollow was half full of water and we would have to lie in it.
We took our places when it became light. All was quiet for a long time. Only a rising lark sang. Then came the first loud guttural shouts, occasionally broken by a shot or burst of fire. The Red Army was taking over the last German positions in Küstrin, including the important railway and road bridges over the Oder, even if they had been destroyed. All the while the trilling of the larks could be heard.
Russian could be heard everywhere: from the Dammvorstadt, from the other bank of the Vorflut Canal and from Kuhbrücken.
Uninterrupted sounds of work could be heard coming from the Kietz railway bridge. The crossing was being restored and at about noon the first truck slowly crossed the bridge that had been blown the night before.