For ‘Gégène’ – the name given to him by his comrades – it was all in the day’s work, but a good job nevertheless. This plumber from Pantin was of a retiring nature, at least with regard to his superiors. In the course of the two years that he had spent in the ranks of the LVF nothing had been said of him, save as an example of discipline and application to the service. As a combatant, he had advanced slowly, no doubt with the encouragement of SS-Lieutenant Weber in the Company of Honour then in the combat school. On the 26th February, during the fighting at Elsenau in Pomerania, he had destroyed a heavy Josef Stalin tank, and on the 26th April he had added two more tanks to his score in Neukölln, so this was his fourth.
A change in Soviet tactics then took place that was to be repeated during the fighting. The first phase was the ‘cleansing’ of the route by 120 mm mortars, the effectiveness of their bombs being at its maximum in a street. Then guns of the tanks, the 85 mm of the T 34s, or the 122 mm of the Josef Stalins, and the 57 mm anti-tank guns fired their explosive shells directly at the facades of buildings where they had located firers. Under cover of this bombardment, other tanks tried to tow back the wrecks blocking the route. They were to find this more successful under cover of darkness but, for the moment, it was broad daylight. The mounting curls of smoke and the dust suspended in the atmosphere practically blocked out the spring sky. Sticking to the men, it rendered less and less discernible the brown and green flecks on their combat uniforms in which they were nearly all clad. A tenacious smell of burning rubber and decomposing bodies filtered through everywhere. The sounds of battle and the persistent rumblings became less and less perceptible to the ears over accustomed to hearing them.
Fenet resumed: ‘Next morning the general seemed better disposed towards me and the report on the battalion’s activities clearly pleased him. I took advantage of this to say that I was feeling much better, which was true, although I was still in a bit of a stupor, but fit enough to leave with Finck and his ammunition party.’
Krukenberg continued:
Early on the morning of the 28th April, the Soviets succeeded in crossing the canal in the vicinity of the Hallesches Tor with the aid of numerous auxiliary bridges. From then on the fighting developed building by building and in the heaps of rubble.
Casualties increased on either side. They resulted not only as the result of enemy arms, but also by the collapsing of buildings on which the enemy increasingly concentrated their artillery. Despite this, on that day and the following the grenadiers of the Nordland succeeded in holding their set positions against the Soviets with the exception of some local penetrations and breaches. The fighting against their accompanying tanks by self-propelled guns, but above all by the French anti-tank troops, played an important role in the resistance.
Thus Sergeant Eugène Vaulot, having already destroyed two enemy tanks with Panzerfausts within 24 hours in Neukölln, went on to destroy another six Russian tanks in the same manner. On my recommendation, he was awarded the Knight’s Cross of the Iron Cross, which I presented to him by candlelight on the morning of the 29th in my command post in the S-Bahn station in the presence of my staff and his French comrades.
In my short address in French, I said that the personal conduct of this young volunteer was in accordance with what French soldiers were renowned for historically for their bravery on all the world’s fields of battle.
In all, the number of enemy tanks definitely knocked out in our sector mounted to 108, of which at least a half was attributable to the French volunteers. This demonstrates well the severity of the fighting and explains why the Soviets were unable to penetrate the front in our sector.
At the divisional command post it was decided to reinforce the forward positions. SS-Major-General Krukenberg decided to keep Captain Fenet with him at this command post.
The majority of the Storm Battalion’s men remained in reserve in the cellars of the Schauspielhaus, where some of them amused them-selves by donning stage costumes. Some were wounded while collecting rations, for the Soviet artillery and ground-attack aircraft were a constant menace to all movement. Staff-Sergeant Jean Ollivier from the 4th Company had two MG 44s installed in an anti-aircraft role at the entrance to the shelter situated alongside the little public garden next to the French cathedral, and this was how Officer-Cadet Protopopoff, a ‘White Russian’, succeeded in bringing down one of two aircraft flying over the Gendarmenmarkt.
Captain Fenet resumed:
We all left together after visiting Staff-Sergeant Hennecart, who had been wounded and just been brought in. We found him sitting pensively in one of the carriages serving as a first aid post. He had been hit in the leg and knee during a bombardment and was unable to stand upright.
Finck took me along the tunnels as far as Kochstrasse. Access to the firing position was not at all easy. One had to pass through blocks of buildings and climb down a ladder into a yard to finally arrive at the firing line. SS-Lieutenant Weber, the young combat school commander, a man who needs at least one tank for breakfast every morning, took me into a low room from which one had an excellent view of Wilhelmstrasse . He took me by the arm while putting a finger to his lips and led me to the loophole. ‘Look!’
There was a stationary T-34 only three metres away. Its turret bore the mortal wound of a Panzerfaust. Short flames were emerging from the transmission and were gently licking the carcass. ‘Isn’t that a beauty!’ said Weber in a low voice. It surely was, and he was the one responsible for this fine bit of work; yet another one. He then gave me a detailed account of the day’s work; five or six tanks destroyed with Panzerfausts, and numerous infantry attacks repulsed with severe losses for the Reds. However, we were reduced entirely to our own resources; not a tank, gun, mortar, not a single rifle grenade. All we had left were the Panzerfausts, assault rifles and several MG-42 machine guns, not much. On the other hand, the Reds in front of us had tanks in plenty. The more we destroyed, the more they replaced them. They still had anti-tank guns, and a pack of 120mm mortars, an infantryman’s worst enemy in the open. Their infantry, which had been quite timid until then, now appeared to be quite numerous. But what did that matter, we ‘held the Cup’ and our men were fighting mad.
At the battalion command post I was received by yells of joy from the runners, who hastened to relate their latest exploits. Really, their tally was quite considerable, and there was no stopping them. Roger and his acolytes located a big building that the Russians had occupied in strength. They had infiltrated the cellars and set light to them, then left to cover the exits and waited patiently. When the fire reached dangerous proportions, the Reds evacuated precipitately without taking any precautions, only to be met by a fusillade from assault rifle grenades that caused carnage. Those who tried to get into the street or courtyards were immediately cut down by the assault rifles, and those who tried to take shelter in the rooms still intact were tackled with hand-grenades.
They were all killed, one after another. When it was over, they had counted about fifty bodies scattered around the building or in the entrance. The operation had taken place at night in the light of the flames. ‘It was better than the cinema,’ declared Roger.