Ft. McCoy 2005
Excerpts form the diary of Moritz Bergmaun:
Oktober 1944
It was the first good night’s sleep I had in a while. After successive defensive actions in the outskirts of the French border, we were treated to a hot meal, a cold shower, and housing in barns along the countryside. Among bails of straw, scores of exhausted soldaten lay about, huddled from the Oktober frost. Soon it will be snowing, and the icy sting of winter would bear down on us once again. But for now, however, we basked in the simple comforts not often found on the front. After all, they never last long, and this time was no exception.
We were told we were headed to Germany for refitting, but our train was diverted at the last moment. A battalion of the 2nd SS, stationed at an airstrip several hundred kilometers from Warsaw, was cut off from command by Polish resistance. Our orders were to clear the roadway to the airstrip, reinforce the 2nd SS and secure defensive perimeters around the strip.
We were told that the quicker we secured the strip, the sooner we would return to Germany to join the remainder of the battalions. As such, the mood of the men, long thinned by the rigors of combat, strengthened from the desire of seeing our families again. It was all the men could talk about as we crossed into Poland, but as the trains pulled to a stop, talk ceased and the only words spoken were of the mission at hand.
Just before dawn, we departed the train and were greeted with crates of ammunition and rations. Absent was our armored support, which was delayed due to mechanical problems with the convoy. Nonetheless, Untersturmfuhrer Cornell partitioned the men into squads under the direct command of Obersturmfuhrer Templar, and we set out for the airstrip. The road to the airstrip was nothing more than a dirt path through a heavily wooded area. Our truppe, led by Rottenfuhrer Mueller, was ordered to take point about 100 meters into the woods along the right of the road. Mueller, the consummate leader, moved us quickly through the thick brush and trees, stopping intermittently to confirm our position with the rear command.
We struggled through the thicket for some time before we came upon a small nest of what appeared to be uniformed Polish resistance. As we had not been noticed by the enemy, Mueller quickly positioned us along their right flank. Once in position, he signaled us to open fire, and we did so, killing two of the unsuspecting Poles and wounding a third. The rest, unaware of our meager numbers, began a fighting retreat. From the sound of gunfire along our left, it seems that the rest of the battalion met with equal resistance. Moving forward, we came upon the nest to discover that these soldiers were not in fact Poles, but Russian regulars. No one expected the Russians to have advanced this far into Poland so quickly, and the news was not a welcome one. However, the objective was none the less imperative, as not even the 2nd SS could withstand constant assaults from Russian troops without reinforcements for long. So, for the next several hours, we fought a continuous battle against these troops, steadily advancing a few meters between firefights.
As we neared the end of the road, the fighting seemed to lessen. Then, just as our hopes were lifted by the thought of completing our mission, the screech of whistles range out, and Russians poured through the woods in a final, desperate attempt to stem our advance. But just as the assault looked to succeed, our long delayed armored column, lead by Haupsturmfuhrer Graebe, stormed through the northern pass and attacked the enemy from its flank. Somehow, by some Herculean effort no less, he had managed to repair the convoy and cut across enemy lines to offer much needed support. Unable to hold the assault, most of the Russians retreated, only to be cut down by the fixed positions of the 2nd SS along outskirts of the airstrip.
Once the area was finally secured, I was sent in advance of the battalion to establish contact with the 2nd SS. As I approached, I noticed that the men of the 2nd SS stared at me blankly, as if I were only an illusion. They were dazed from continuous combat, and probably thought they had been left to fend for themselves. But as the rest of the battalion walked out from the woods, the weary soldaten broke out in cheers. It was with great joy that I announced to their commanding officer that the 1st SS had broken through and was there in support of our fellow SS-Mann. After formal introductions, the men were stationed defensively along the airstrip, in anticipation of an assault that was never to be. Within hours of arriving at the airstrip, we were all ordered to abandon it and return to the trains. We did so happily.
We returned to the trains and departed Poland for Germany, but again our plans changed. We returned back to the French border, this time with the 2nd SS, and were ordered to support the rear line of the Wehrmacht, who were stationed at the front. Though the men were exhausted, no one griped about the assignment as it was a vast improvement from front line duty. Ahead of us, we could hear the near constant gunfire of German rifles, a clear sign that though the enemy was ever present, he remained outside our reach. We set upon entrenching ourselves in our positions and waited for anything. We didn't need to wait long.
It seems that the Wehrmacht had left their flanks exposed, allowing small squads of Amerikan to pass through unfettered. Unfettered, that is, until they walked right into our fixed defenses. Meuller spotted them first, and signaled us to remain in our positions. Given the heavy terrain, we could not hold the Amerikans down from a distance without compromising our flanks as well. So, as the Amerikans advanced, we waited. It wasn’t until they were almost on top of us that Meuller opened fire. We followed, killing several Amerikans and sending the rest scrambling for cover. However, as the element of surprise faded, so did our hopes of maintaining our positions.
After almost an hour of holding our ground, the Amerikans began pushing through with wave after wave of soldiers. Ammunition began to run low and the number of wounded rose. Then, as Amerikan grenades began to rain down upon our position, Meuller ordered a fighting retreat. I leapt up, firing two rounds into the grey silhouettes of soldiers in a smoky mist, and ran for the tree line. To my left, I could hear the order to “fix bayonets” from Sturman Krause. But as I reached for my bayonet, a round pierced my right leg, dropping me to the ground. Though the wound was far from fatal, I was bleeding profusely. I called for the sanitater, who dressed my wound and helped me back to the rear, under fire the entire time. By the time I was able support my own weight, retreat had been called, and we were again pulling back.
For what seemed hours, I stared at the long convoy of soldats pulling back from the front. Few were wounded, though all seemed exhausted, burdened by the weight of their gear and the rigors of combat. Finally, as we approached a crossroads, Obersharfuhrer Templar looked us over and asked for volunteers. He said that the Amerikans were in pursuit, and that a hurried defense must be made, to ensure the withdrawal of the rest. The wounded pooled their remaining ammunition and shared it with the men who remained... those few brave souls who thought more of their own brethren than themselves. As we pulled away, those who stayed scurried into the woods to bring the fight once more to the enemy.
For hours, we could hear the distant sound of battle to our rear. Then, almost as suddenly as the battle began, it was silenced, giving way to the grinding of gears and tread. We were going home again. This time for certain, or so we hoped. In war, the only certainty is death, though how and when it comes is a mystery until it arrives. Until then, all you could do was what you had to, for your country, your family, and for your fellow soldaten. All else, would come in its own time.