Brothers in Arms: The Graf Story Part 3

THE SUN WAS bright, the sand hot, and the breeze nonexistent. My uniform was soaked and my cap was already beginning to fade from a dark kaki to a white tan color. I poked my head out of the turret looking out along the field in front of our tank. Nothing but sand and more sand. I turn my head to look behind us at the port where our unit, the 501st Heavy Panzer Battalion, had just been offloaded. I can’t believe this is it, I am finally getting to fight in the war and under Rommel none the less.

I spoke into my throat mike, “Take us ahead at half speed Wulff, we need to get to the staging point by nightfall." The driver just grunts in reply as our Tiger begins to lurch forward, engine roaring and sand spraying out behind us.

My crew is an interesting group. They all have been together since the beginning of the Afrika campaign. They had spent many months chasing the British across the desert in a Mark IV before taking a shell through the front of the turret. The shell took out their commander, a man who had spent his life training to be tank commander and was a brother to these men. Now here they are under the command of a green recruit, straight out of tank school. These men have known each other for well over a year, men who have seen the horrors of war together, while I have spent only a few weeks learning the Tiger I with them.

My driver is a Feldwebel from Munich named Alexander Wulff. He is a skilled master of maneuvering but often keeps to himself. Kurt says that he was a happy go lucky kid until the news of his brother’s death at Leningrad reached him. Unterfeldwebel Kurt Guhr is the gunner. The kid is very good at getting on target and hitting the enemy at range. He comes from the Rhine where his mother is French and his father a retired Cavalry colonel whom lost his leg in the final weeks of the Great War. His best friend is our loader, Unterfeldwebel Alvin Schroeder. They both grew up together and enlisted together. Alvin is often talking about going to university and his love for books and stories. He also happens to be the smallest 22 year old I know. However, the one man that intrigues me the most is our radio operator, Stabsfeldwebel Rudolf Lebeck. Rudolf is a married man and also the oldest of the crew at 25. He’s often critical and cynical about everything. He is often talking bad about our Fuhrer and the leaders yet worships the ground that Rommel walks on. I almost reported him for his blasphemy until I learned that his Brother, Brother in law, and his Father had all been killed on the Eastern Front. All within the week of each other. My brothers are fighting and I would be devastated if they were to fall. I hope to never feel his pain, I do hope that he does come around and understands that their sacrifice was not in vain though, we will win this war. Germany will be great again.

Upon reaching the staging point I had Wulff shut down our Tiger. I pulled myself up on the turret and climbed down. Guhr and Schroeder rotated the turret 30 degrees and opened the side hatch. They had to begin the ammunition loading. As the supply truck began backing up to the side of the tank I looked up at Guhr.

“Unterfeldwebel Guhr, see if you can’t get this thing loaded quickly. Tell Stabsfeldwebel Lebeck to get out here and join me, we need to go to head to the operations tent for the briefing."

“Jawohl Herr Leutnant," Guhr replied.

Five minutes later Lebeck appeared, climbing down the turret onto the sandy floor of Tunisia. His face is etched with lines, eyes hollow and distant. We begin walking toward the operations tent passing by Hauptmann Lukas Schneider’s Tiger. His crew is relaxing on the tank smoking and drinking their nerves away.

Hauptmann Schneider laughs and shouts “Look at this little piece of shite. Tank commanders are getting younger and more stupid as this war drags on. Go home and get milk from your mother and leave the war to real men!”

I stop in mid stride and begin to turn when I feel a rough shove from behind me.

Lebeck whispers forcibly, “Keep walking, if you want to live through this war, you’re going to need Schneider to be on the battlefield with you. Don’t screw up now you f’n rekrut," and continues walking toward the operations tent.

TODAY BEGINS OUR counterattack on the Allies. We have been organized into a Kampfgruppe with another Tiger and 10 Panzer III’s. Schneider was appointed Kampfgruppe leader and me as his second. The goal was to relieve our forces on the front struggling with the American and British forces trying to make a push toward the sea. Schneider informed us that out group was going to flank and hit the Allied front on the southern end. The plan was to attack in an inverted wedge, Tigers supporting as the Panzer III’s scouted and hit the enemy in two different positions out on the flank. Schneider made it clear that his crew would focus enemy tanks while I was to have my crew focus fire the AT guns. I was comfortable with this because it meant that the attack should go smoothly and that there would not be wasted shots from the 8.8cm guns because both tanks decided to target the same target. The night before I had stayed up late studying the maps and terrain. I was excited yet nervous at the same time. This would be my first true combat experience and not a training exercise.

0400 came and went. My crew and I made our inspections of the Tiger and began to get ready.

“Wulff, start it up,” I said into the intercom.

With that Wulff turned the started and the roar of the engines came to life. I popped my head out of the turret and lowered my goggles into place.

I spoke into the intercom, “Wulff, move a half speed, follow behind Schneider’s tank."

As we began to get underway a message came through over the radio from Schneider. “Graf, rotate your turret 15 degrees to your left and cover Grote’s Panzer III’s."

“Guhr, rotate 15 degrees left, set range 2,000 meters. I want to hit the bastards before they have a chance to close on our column.” The turret began to move slowly.

“Range set, load HE,” Guhr replied.

Schroeder opened the breach. He rotated his body and gapped a HE shell off the rack to his right. Our ammunition is stored on racks over the tracks. He then slid the shell onto the loading mechanism and slid it into the breech and slammed in closed.

“HE Loaded,” he shouted as he then tapped Guhr’s shoulder.

We were 2 minutes out from the ridge line that was between our column and the allies. The Panzer III’s began to break into a skirmish formation on both sides of the Tigers. Upon reaching the small ridge they put their tanks into full gear and sped up and over the ridge. Guns began to go off all along the front from both sides. Smoke was discharged from the lead Panzer III’s screening their approach as well as our own. I quickly pulled my head back into the tank. I buttoned the hatch and got on the telescope. We rolled up and over the hill and immediately there was a load thud. Something had just drilled out front hull. I scanned to our left and there saw an American AT gun. I eagerly shouted into the intercom, “AT gun left 5 degrees, range 800 meters.”

Wulff slowed the tank to almost a complete craw and angled it to the one-thirty o’clock position. Guhr turned the turret. With a loud piercing thud, another round from the gun drilled our side glancing off into the sand. Guhr shouted “Target acquired, firing HE,” he fired the gun and the tank rocked back as the 8.8cm gun’s recoil sucked the air out of my lungs. I watch the shell then exploded near the crew of the AT gun but with no affect.

“Require target, fire 1 round HE,” I shouted.

Rudolf was in his seat next to the driver firing his MG trying to keep the crew pinned down as Schroeder began to load another round. Upon closing the breach he tapped Guhr’s shoulder and Guhr fired again. The Tiger rocked back and the 8.8 roared. I watched the AT gun’s gun shield get drilled and men all around fall down. Their screams and cry’s drowned out by the sounds of the ensuing battler around them.

“Wulff, get us closer to the fight. Schroeder load AP,” I yelled.

We began to move at full speed down to towards the desert road that leads into a town about 5km behind the front. As we approached the road we noticed a Panzer III not moving and flames pouring out the engine hatch. The turret was popped up a bit and the gun completely out of the tank. On the ground lay a comrade, his body still smoldering from the flames. I could not hold my stomach and puked into my helmet which lay near my feet. Wulff let out some expletives, both Guhr and Schroeder looked quietly at each other and then back to what they were doing. Rudolf never took his eyes off in front of us, his finger on the trigger of the bow mg and his mind clearly listening to the radio. After a few seconds he spoke. “That was Grote’s tank. They took a round to their ammunition stowage.”

We kept moving. About a km past the initial attack point we came upon two Panzer III’s parked behind a small dune. To our right I could see Panzer’s and Schneider’s Tiger pushing forward and engaged heavily with some allied forces. I had Wulff stop us next to the Panzer III’s and I quickly hopped out and ran over to speak with the lead Panzer III’s commander.

“What are you idiots doing stopped here? We need to keep moving!” I screamed at the Unteroffizier that poked his head out of the turret.

“Sir, we cannot engage those Sherman’s up ahead! They are on the crest of the hill and we can’t get our guns on them! I will not sacrifice my crew for some god damn piece of shitty Afrikan ground” he shouted back.

I became enraged and replied in kind, “Get off your arse and follow me Unteroffizier, or so help me I’ll have you court-martialed for treason!”

He climbed down into his tank and slammed the hatch. I ran back to my Tiger and climbed in. Closed the hatch and put my headset back on.

“Wulff, hit the gas we need to get back into the fight. Guhr there are 2 Sherman’s sitting on the crest of the dune about half a km in front of this dune. We need to put a rounds into them.”

“Jawohl,” he replied.

Our Tiger began to roll forward and then slide to the left around the edge of the dune. I looked through the telescope and saw 2 Sherman’s on top of the crest. They were semi hull down with the upper front plate and turrets the only thing showing. Guhr aimed at the one to the right and fired. The shell hit the dirt. Both Sherman’s had yet to fire. We reloaded the 8.8 and Guhr took aim again and fired. The shell drilled the upper front plate of the Sherman but the angle was at the right degree that it deflected off and kept traveling.

“Shite, Wulff stop us,” I yelled.

We were angled to a 45 against the Sherman on the right but that meant that the degree with was less steep for the second Sherman which meant that it we could easier find ourselves destroyed. My fears were numerous. My mind was frantic. I looked behind us and saw only one other Panzer III had followed us. I saw sand explode near it and knew that the Sherman’s were focusing him and not us. This worried me. The Panzer III cannot take hits like we can and if we lose our Panzer III we become susceptible to being flanked. Our tank cannot rotate its turret or hull as fast as a Sherman. I had to make a decision fast. I shouted into the intercom for Wulff to go full speed at the neared Sherman.

Our engine whined under the strain. The tracks were clanking away and sweat was pouring off my brow.
I looked at Guhr, “Hold the shot until we are upon them and then I want you to pump an AP into their side and the other into their turret ring.”

Guhr looked quickly at me and smirked, “I’ll show those shites what an 8.8 can do.”

We approached the first Sherman and it began to turn its turret toward us. “Get ready to take some hits boys,” I yelled.

Not a second after my warning there was a load shutter as a round drilled the hatch right above me. I heard the bang and then blacked out for a second. The concussion wave of the hit had slammed my head against the side of the turret. Blood was dripping down my face. I placed my hand to the side of my head and felt the red sticky substance. My head was pounding, I could not think straight. Another resounding thud echoed in the Tiger as another round slammed in to the mantlet, taking out gun sight by melting the glass. Guhr cursed and let off a round. I couldn’t see anything but Rudolf said it was a direct hit on the Sherman’s Driver hatch. The Sherman began to drive forward and into a slight right turn exposing the side of the tank.

“Guhr get that shot off NOW,” screamed Rudolf, as he peppered the turret of the Sherman with MG fire, trying to get distract them.

Guhr and Schroeder frantically hand cranked the turret trying to get the gun on target. Finally after a few seconds the 8.8 shuddered and the Tiger recoiled with the fire. I looked through the telescope and saw the Sherman explode into flames. Men began to crawl out the hatches, their bodies on fire. Wulff slammed on the throttle backing us up away from the flaming Sherman as I frantically scanned for the other Sherman. I then spotted it to our right. It had flanked all the way around behind us and was engaged with the Panzer III. Wulff maneuvered the Tiger trying to angle our front toward it. With a thud we came to a stop.

“Shite! We have lost a track,” Wulff shouted into the intercom.

This was not a good situation. Our supporting Panzer III was taking heavy fire and was now no longer returning fire upon the Sherman; furthermore, our track had been blown off. Our last hope was to crank our turret and hope the Sherman does not notice. I helped Guhr and Schroeder rotate the turret. Our hydraulics had given out on our turret. We finally had the Sherman near our sights. The Sherman began to then race toward us hoping to close the gap and make use helpless as they could run circles around us pumping us full of shells. Guhr got behind his sights and aimed. The Sherman still running at us, firing on the move drilling our sides. One round penetrated, its tip puncturing right beneath my feet. But by some miracle it stopped, refusing to go any further. I looked at Guhr wide eyed. I could see his shoulders tense and the sweat of his face. He fired. A loud boom filled the air, I blinked with recoil. The shell left the barrel traveling at full speed ripping into the front of the Sherman, tearing it like butter. Then there was a puff of dust as the shell kept going slamming into the ground meters behind the Sherman. Our round had passed through the entire tank at a range of only 200 meters. The Sherman stopped, its engine no longer existing. Hell knows what happened to that crew. I finally gasped for breath, not realizing I had been holding it for the past 30 seconds.

My mind ran rampant. This had been my baptism by fire, I had witnessed death and the looming fate of closing my eyes never to open them again. War is nothing like what is talked about back home. God I hate it.

AFTER TWO MONTHS of continued combat I was finally allowed to get my crew a chance to relax and be released from the strain of constant combat. For the past several weeks we had been in continued combat with the British and Americans. Our Tiger had managed to knock out 17 tanks (mostly Stuarts and a handful of Shermans) and a handful of AT guns. 11 of our Tigers were operational when we launched an attack two days ago. The attack had progressed well until I witnessed the first penetration of the mighty Tiger armor. It was a sad thing to witness, the tank lit up like a firework. I saw men climb out, burning, desperately trying to douse the flames. They were rolling in the sand. Swatting themselves and screaming horrendously. I had seen my enemy burn but this was something of a different nature. These were my fellow comrades, sons of Germany. Dying in the worst way possible.

The attacked stalled out after that. We suffered from slow progress through countless amounts of anti-tank obstacles and anti-tank fire. Not to mention the damn minefields all over the place. God I am glad to take a break from this. War is nothing anyone should be eager to get involved with. Death is ever constant. The only guarantee in life is death. War seems to bring forth and establish that guarantee.

I GOT THE ORDER for our tiger to join up with five others for we are being attached to the 10th Panzer Division. Rumor is we are to put on the offensive against the Americans. The crew is anxious but Rudolf said he is damn happy to be fighting the Americans, the British have gotten experienced and seem harder to deal with anymore. I am inclined to agree with him. We have been ordered to move under cover of darkness as our target seems to be Faid Pass. We are to spearhead a breakthrough.

I FIND MYSELF enjoying the company of the beautiful Fraulein Hanna. She comes by each hour to check on my wounds as well as look after Rudolf. However, Rudolf and I have spoken only once, I think he is shaken by the loss of Guhr and Shroeder much more than I am.

Every time I close my eyes I remember the events of their deaths. I smell death, gun powder, and the sweat of each and every man inside the tank desperately trying to overcome lady death and achieve victory for the great fatherland. I close my eyes...

It had been sunny. The day warm and within minutes sweat would begin to develop on the brow.
Guhr spoke up over the roar of the engine, “This heat is god awful. I can’t wait to be home and feel the crisp cold air of winter!”

We all cracked smiles knowing full well the Guhr was trying to break the nervous tension we all felt before battle. Besides Guhr hates the cold and snow in general. Personally I would love to enjoy the cold compared to this ungodly heat. To feel the snow beneath my feet would be joyous. I would love to be on holiday with my brothers, enjoying skiing and hunting, better yet enjoying the company of our girls and the great fire of the ski lodge. A part of me, however, knows that what once was shall never be again. We have all changed, I have changed.

My mind snaps back to the moment we first began the engagement with the enemy. It had been a normal attack, spearheaded by the Tigers with support from Infantry and Panzer III’s. We not so much as blinked and we had overrun the front line American positions. Their at guns did little to the tiger’s armor and with ease me and my crew took out M3 Stuarts and Sherman’s one right after another. I would sight a target and call it out...

“Sherman, traverse gun right 18 degrees. Load AP.”

“Traversing right,” replied Guhr.

“Breech open, loading,” shouted Schroeder. Then there was a distinct and resounding metallic slap as he rammed the breech closed. “Loaded.”

Guhr then replied over the intercom “Target Marked”. I then looked through the scope and responded with the range. Guhr would then set the range and repeat it to me.

“Fire when ready,” I said.

“Round out...” Guhr yelled right before the tank shifted under the weight and power of the 8.8 recoil. I watched through the periscope as the round drilled the side of the Sherman. The pure power of the 8.8 lifted the side of the Sherman a meter off the ground before it slammed back down. It no longer was moving or firing.

“Target hit, destroyed. Nice shot Guhr,” I said.

The day continued on. Our unit shot up more and more American tanks. At one point I remember we arrived at a small hut surrounded by littered equipment and American prisoners. Across from the hut was an American M3 Halftrack. Our fellow countrymen were climbing in and out of the back carrying arm full of items. Next to the Halftrack was Hauptmann Schneider and his Tiger. The crew is eating fresh hot food. I told Wulff to have us pull up near Schneider’s Tiger.

We stopped and Wulff killed the engine.

I jumped down and walked over to Schneider, “What are you doing, should we not keep pressing?”

Schneider replied with a smirk, “What for? They are on the run, My men and I liberated this food transport and want a good meal... night’s sleep before we continue racking up our kill count. I see you took your time getting here, have fun cleaning up after me? Go have your crew rest, we shall press on in the morning.”

With that he turned and walked toward the Infantry sections command halftrack.

I managed to fumble out a, “Jawohl,” through my rage as I then turned to head back my tank. I could see Wulff with his head outside the drivers hatch while Guhr and Schroeder were by the Halftrack stuffing their faces and talking to a rifleman.

Time began to fly by after that, with each day we would attempt to press forward and with each night the enemy would do the same. Time became a blur, places began to all look the same. I was told that the day I became wounded was when we launched an offensive to continue on the momentum of our victory at Kasserine Pass. My tiger had avoided the many artillery shells that landed amongst us only to then hit a mine.

We had been driving through a mud field. Schneider was leading our formation. We had just been shelled and taken no damage. We were a bit raddled but other than that just fine. We started to come under light anti-tank fire and machine gun fire. The rounds pounded the tanks but acted as if bugs splattering on a car windshield. Our Panzer III’s and Panzer IV’s began to return fire with their smaller caliber guns and with HE shells, hoping to cause enough deterrence to allow our column to continue unmolested. That’s when my world changed. I was watching through the periscope with my eyes ahead and my ears listening to radio communication that Rudolf was receiving when there was a loud and forceful concussion. Our tiger shuddered and then stopped. Wulff gunned the engine be we just began to dig into the mud. He turned back toward me and said, “We hit a mine, we are not going anywhere.” That’s when hell broke loose. Artillery like I have never seen began to rain down and bigger AT weapons began to fire. I saw British tanks on the ridge to our left.

“Rudolf get word to Schnieder we have enemy on the left and our tank is disabled!!” I then looked at Guhr, “I want you to get our gun into the fight, we need to support the formation.”

I then crawled down and yelled “Wulff, I want you to crawl out the emergency hatch and assess if we can make a track repair and get the hell out of here.”

Wulff then made his way outside the tank with Rudolf following him. I climbed down to the driver’s seat and grabbed 2 MP40s. I was about to go back to my seat when there was a thunderous sound and my head was through against the side of the tank. After that everything went dark. The next thing I remember is waking up on a stretcher being loaded onto a half-track by a medic. Rudolf had his head wrapped and was sitting on a bench near the back of the half-track. I looked down and saw my leg wrapped in what was once a white bandage but now a bloody mess. My head throbbed and my eyes burnt. It was later on at the port waiting to be loaded onto the hospital ship that I learned what had happened from Rudolf.

Rudolf began “Me and Wulff made it out of the hatch. We crawled through the mud to the rear of the tiger. Once we were behind the tank Wulff peeked out to survey the current state of the battlefield. It was a mess. Shells were exploding everywhere. Mud in the air, a fine mist from the blasts of shells. There was constant thud sounds coming from the ridge along with the rattle of the enemy’s .30 caliber machine guns. Wulff looked back down at me and nodded his head. We both bolted to the front of the tank and through ourselves at the ground, I was right behind Wulff as he laid next to the track and inspected it. From what I could see the entire front drive wheel was shattered as well as a hand full of torsion bars. There was no repairing this tank without a recovery crew coming and getting it. Wulff made the call. We needed to let you know that it was time to abandon the tank and make it back to our lines. Wulff crouched and began moving back toward the closest command halftrack while I was to crawl back in and tell you. I remember making it in and the rest of you begin to move. We made it to the rear of the tank.”

Rudolf began to choke up, his words got softer and his eyes teared up.

“You told me to go first and that we would leave in intervals of 10 seconds. I crouched over and began to move. You sent Guhr after me. He made it about 10 meters when he fell. He had been hit by a machine gun bullet in the leg. Schroeder ran after him, jumping down beside him. Your face went white and you began to run in as well. That’s... that’s when it happened. A shell landed right on top of them. You were thrown back by the blast. I screamed your name and went to you. I grabbed your arms and tried dragging you back. Wulff came running to help me. We got you to the halftrack.”

He turned away. I laid there quietly for a bit and then asked “And the others.” Rudolf replied, “There is nothing left of them. They are now nothing more than the mud in which they died upon.”
I closed my eyes and let the tears stream down my face. That was the night I lost my humanity, my will to be anything more than a mechanized machine. There is no point to war, now there was no point in being human.

I SPENT FOUR WEEKS in Sicily before being moved to an hospital in Italy. During that time Rudolf was sent back to Germany to receive further treatment. Wulff was able to come see me once, he brought news of the to destruction of our Afrika Corps. They had all been surrounded and taken prisoner. Wulff got orders to report to a heavy tank battalion being sent to the Eastern Front. That was to be the last time I saw him. I would later learn that he was a part of an massive operation. He died on the fields of Kursk. It is now June and they are going to be sending me home for a bit of rest as I await my next orders... I no longer had a unit, the 501st was no more.

BEING HOME IS awkward and at times uncomfortable. People are not as enthusiastic as they were a year ago. Everyone whispers of the failed battles but do not dare to contradict the news reels in public. I spend every morning at the local cafe. Many other soldiers are on leave and walk around as if they are gods. They are all polished and dressed fancy, I doubt any of them have seen real combat yet. One morning a young, newly commissioned Luetnant was boasting to his friends about how war was going to be a turkey shoot. That he was going to kill commies and brits by the drove. I let it go on until I realized that young boys no more than 13 or 14 were soaking it all up. They would talk about how they cant wait to be a part of this war. My heart broke for them, they would never live a true childhood. I could not let this continue.

After the young Luetnant finished talking one morning I looked at him.

“You know nothing of war. War is not a school holiday, it is not a picnic. It is a mess of death and fear. Its one thing to see the enemy die but it’s a knife to the soul when a fellow brother, a fellow German evaporates into nothing before your eyes. So GROW UP! Or you will die on a piece of ground that holds no meaning and no one will remember you.”

I slammed my cup down and grabbed my cap before heading out on the street. I walked for a few steps before I heard a woman’s voice call for me from a few feet behind me.

“Sir, sir please stop I want to talk to you!” she called.

I stopped and slowly turned around. I had a tear running down my cheek and I attempted to wipe it but couldn’t. My hands were shaking so bad that I quickly shoved them down into my pockets.

“Whaa... Whaa... umm... Yes madam?” I managed to say.

“I heard you in the café. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, where you fighting the Russians?” she said.

“Umm, no I was in Afrika. My brothers are fighting the Russians though.”

I looked down at the ground. She raised her hand and wiped the tear from my face. I looked at her and before I could say a word she said, “Want to go walk in the park? I hear it supposed to be a fantastic day.”

I looked at her hazel eyes and light brown hair, she was beautiful. It was a moment of silence, she broke it with a, “You do know that all you have to say is ‘Yes Ill go for a walk with you Hanna’” and a smirk. I smiled and with that we headed to the park.

IT HAS NOW been a month and a half without any new orders. September is fast approaching. I have spent every waking moment with Hanna and could not be happier. She is the one thing that saved me from pit of despair.

IT IS SEPTEMBER, I have received orders to report to the 501st. It is to be recreated and sent to the east. I will be joining a few others whom were wounded in Afrika, included is Rudolf and I could not be happier.

WE HAVE BEEN training new crew members for months. Rudolf and I have been given a new Tiger with an equally new crew. I miss Hanna, I had asked her to marry me at the train yard and she said yes. My next leave we will be married. Rudolf is ecstatic about it and won’t stop ribbing me. Im fine with it as I keep harassing him about his soon to be born son.

IT IS DECEMBER AND the cold is unbearable in Russia. We have been transferred to the Vitebsk region.

We have engaged the enemy but at great cost. I have almost no time to rest as we are in a constant state of combat with the Russians. We seem to be constantly losing Tigers due to the cold and mechanical breakdowns. I hear my brother Albert was wounded at Kursk where Wulff gave his life. I hope he is doing well, I wrote him hoping he had tips on surviving this blasted cold. Rudolf gave me a German newspaper last night to wipe my ass with. Strangely enough I decided to look through it, knowing quite well it was full of bull shit dreamed up by the higher ups. Low and behold in the paper was a picture of my other brother Ludwig. Apparently he is a hot shot now with the Luft. Then again he had always been the fathers pride and joy, the perfect German, the perfect man. God I hate this war and everything it stands for.

CAN IT GET any colder? The Russians seems to function just fine in this weather while we starve and freeze. Hell, half the time we cannot start our tanks or fire our guns. Wish I would have been able to spend Christmas and New Years with Hanna.

WE HAVE AGAIN lost another Tiger and its crew. We have engaged the Soviets time and time again for no reason other than to keep them from overwhelming our Infantry. With each engagement we lose more and more men, equipment, and tanks. My tank has suffered many hits, none have penetrated though. One evening this past week Rudolf and I were inspecting our radio equipment when we were able to pick up a frequency that had German music playing. It turns out it was just another Soviet propaganda cast but hey, we got to sit and reminisce. I thought of Hanna while from the smile on Rudolf’s face, I could tell he was thinking of his wife and soon to be born son. Oh how I wish this war was over and we could be home.

IT HAS BEEN HELL. Our unit as well as many other German units have had to fall back under the presser of a new soviet offense. It’s now June and the mud fields are beginning to turn to dirt fields. This should allow our tanks to be more effective and engage more often. A prospect I am ok with, we have already racked up 13 tank kills. My crew has been itching at the chance to increase the rings on our barrel. My Tiger and crew have become the most experienced now that all other Tiger crews with prior experience are out of action. With that came my promotion to Kompanie commander. Though it doesn’t mean much on the premise that we don’t have many tanks left at all to even form a full Kompanie.

WE HAVE BEEN pushed back to the Berezina River. The engineers are trying to ferry our Tigers across as the Soviets are pressing in hard. So far only three Tigers have been able to get across. My Tiger is to be the sixth one, until then we are pushed out in a defensive perimeter with several units of infantry and a Tank Hunter unit. We had camouflaged our Tiger with brush and branches. We were on the crest of a very slight knoll that gave a clear advantage out over a massive field. The field was one of only two approaches the Soviets could use. The other approach was guarded by Infantry and a Pak. Currently the engineers were laying mines. I sat on the rim of my hatch and scanned the horizon with my field glasses.

Rudolf then came up and said, “Hey Hans, got some mail for you. Hanna sent you a few letters and your normal letters from your brother, there is also one from some officer.”

I looked down at him and mumbled a thanks as I reached out and got the letters. He then turned and looked out over the field I was still scanning and said, “You think they will come soon?”

I pulled the field glass away from my eyes and replied, “Yes they will come, if not now then soon. We need to get across this river soon or we will all be dead. Our Northern flank is gone and the southern is about to be gone.”

I then began to read my letters, completely ignoring Rudolf as I lost myself in the world of home. I first read my letters from Hanna. They made me miss her even more than I already did. She was now living outside of the city with her mother and father at a friend of the families for again the city was bombed. I am glad she is fine, without her I have nothing. My brother’s letters were as they always were. Full of the glooms of war and the yearnings we all have to be home.

Later that day an Infantry patrol spotted a column of T-34/85s approaching our defensive parameter. There were three T-34/85s. Our tiger gained a sight on the lead tank at about 1400m out. We fired and ripped through its ammo rack as the entire turret popped off and the tank erupted in a ball of flame. The other 2 T-34/85s stopped and reversed out of view. It was then quite for a little while until suddenly shells began exploding around us. Screams of wounded infantry reached our ears inside the tank as we sat there. There was nothing we could do. The shelling stopped after 30 min and it got deathly quiet all along the line. Later that evening an engineer came and let me know we could now be moved across the river. With that we left this worthless and barren bridgehead.

IT HAS BEEN two weeks since I have seen combat. That odd letter was actually my leave paper. I had been in this war for two years and had yet to see leave, other than my medical stay after the Afrika Campaign. I headed home, Hanna and I got married. Her brother was also on leave, he is a jaeger with a Mt. Division and has been in combat with the British in Italy as well as with partisans near Greece. I have two more weeks of leave before I head back to the 501st and my crew.

IT'S AUGUST AND I am with my crew again. Rudolf’s son was born while I was on leave; however, he has been unable to get home. Apparently leaves are being canceled more and more often with the Soviets’ continued offensives. Our tanks were all worn out and trashed. We now have been given Tiger II’s. These tanks are the best of the Wehr and I couldn’t be more proud of my posting and my crew. These new tanks were more heavily armored and had an enhanced 8.8cm gun that was superior to the Tiger’s 8.8cm.

ONCE AGAIN I have seen nonstop combat. We have lost several Tiger II’s, almost all of them to mechanical breakdown. We are able to engage the enemy easily yet have learned that our fronts are not holding anywhere. Hope is dwindling among st the group.

IT IS NOW December, Merry Christmas. Our unit has been reassigned to the XXIV Panzer Corps. We are to continue engaging the soviets and to hold them off.

WE HAVE BEGUN an engagement with the Soviets. They were waiting for us. The lead tank was hit in the tracks and became instantly immobilized. Our Tiger began to take heavy fire from the right, anti tank guns peppered our sides and then it hit. There was a resounding thud and our tiger shook. Rudolf screamed as a piece of shrapnel ripped into his neck. My head was spinning, “What the fuck just happened?” our gunner screamed. I looked through the telescope and saw it, an IS-2. It had hit us with an HE round. As of late the Soviets had been using HE against our tigers to knock out the crew. Spalling as it was called was when the explosion rips off metal from the interior part of the armor plating. Rudolf had just suffered from it. As much as I wanted to help him my first job was to get us out of this attack.

“Get us out of here driver, load the gun I want a round on that house 700m out, white walls green shutters,” I shouted. The engine roared and as soon as our gun fired we started to move. I watched as the shell ripped into the house. Russians began to scramble out of it. I had assumed correctly, that was their observation unit calling the shots for the tanks and at guns. I popped the smoke dischargers and 3 smoke shells launched into the air and began to set a screen between us and them. Thud, another HE round slammed into the front of our turret. A metal sliver hit me in the hand and another sliced the ear of our Gunner. Rudolf was passed out on the radio, he was losing blood fast. God I wanted to help him but we still had to get out of the enemies fire. We backed the Tiger across the bridge in which we had used to attack. Our driver quickly turned around and through it into high gear. We took the road back.

We were able to get back along with 2 other Tiger II’s to our initial attack point. Once we were in good position my crew and I helped get Rudolf out of the tank. His uniform was caked in blood, his face ghastly white. I had seen death, and knew it way to well. Rudolf was dying and there was not a damn thing I could do about it. We had no medic and the only trained crew member was in the commanders tank. His tank was missing as well. I knelt down beside Rudolf and held his hand. He looked at me and managed to gurgle out “Hans, please give this to my boy. Promise me you will look after him and help him.” I smiled, eyes full of tears and my throat dry. I couldn’t utter a word. I was breaking down. I fumbled out a, “yes,” and shook my head. Tears streaming down my face. Rudolf then said “Thank yo...” He never finished for the breath of life left his mouth like a steam rises off the wet morning dew. I couldn’t control myself, the tears rushed down and out. I am done. There is no point to living anymore, I have resolved myself to the fact that I will die in this war for nothing. A war has an end politically but for a soldier, the only end to his war is his death and I shall be happy when that comes.

IT IS NOW late March and I am dreading what comes next. After the death of Rudolf we engaged the Soviets again as they tried to surround us. We managed to make it out but I didn’t make it unscathed. I was helping to pull a young boy from his burning PzIV when a round ripped through my thigh and then another round went through my shoulder. My crew managed to get me onto the back of a half track as it went back to our lines. Since then I have been in the hospital. Rumor is the war is about to end. The Americans and British are closing in on the west and the Russians to the east. The Hospital is not that far from the home that Hanna is staying at. I think Ill try and get the doctor to let me go home to her.

I MADE IT HOME. Before I left the hospital another officer informed me that the Americans were rounding up all German officers and processing them before sending them too camps. I took this information and did nothing with it, in hindsight it would have been a good thing to have done. In any case another wounded soldier, whom was going home near where I was headed, decided that he would be my travel partner. We left on a Tuesday and by Thursday were almost home. He bid me farwell in a little village while I continued on, determined to see Rudolf’s before I got home. I looked everywhere for her but was unable to locate her. I wanted to give her the letter that Rudolf had given me before we deployed to Russia. We had made the promise ton one another to deliver these letters incase anything happened. I will never get closure from his death but I wanted her to be able to have it, for the young Carl to be able to read it one day and know whom his father was. Later that day I was picked up by an American patrol, I must have been a sight with a dirty uniform, unwashed and unshaven face, bandages that were in dire need of replacing. I was hulled off to a camp where I was questioned for a number of days. About a week later they started letting men go home, I was let go several weeks later. I noticed thought that men whom had served in the SS were being held separately and we questioned more extensively. It no doubt had to deal with their affiliation to the SS, we had heard the rumors and some had even seen the rumors in action first hand. While at first supportive, I grew in contempt of their actions for they were not as honorable nor where they actions of a true German. Upon making it home, I laid eyes on Hanna and was overjoyed. One thing ate at me though, where are my brothers. More than likely my parents have not gotten word of them, or me for that matter, but then again there had been no German structure at all the last few months of the war. One day it hit me…They never missed the chance to drink and enjoy themselves in one of our favorite hometown bars. If they were to go anywhere it would be there.

I HAVE ARRIVED. I plan on staying in town as long as it takes to wait out my brothers’ return. I am headed down to the bar.