Fortress Germany 2005
Excerpts from the Diary of Moritz Bergmaun
January 18
It was early in the evening when I arrived at the Einrich farm, which is nestled in the tail of the Ardennes Forest. Separated from my zug some four nights before, I made my way through frozen trails back to where it all began. The old barn served as a launching point just a month before, and as the Wacht am Rhein came to a close, I knew many lost soldats would make their way to it for refuge. I was not disappointed. There, under the dim light of scattered lanterns, were my brothers in arms. All veterans of a battle to never to be forgotten, but still soldiers on the ready for the next battle to be remembered for.
Several hours later, I was reunited with others from my gruppe, lead by Unterscharführer Bauman. Though the week’s snowfall was great, he and the rest had made it back to the barn for resupplying. It was a joyful reunion but one with bitter news. The Americans had pushed further along the lines in the past days than anticipated, and were right at our doorsteps. Tomorrow would bring another battle, though we were not within reach tonight.
Now, numbering short of twenty able-bodied men, we set in for the night. The first full night’s sleep many of us had had in same time.
January 19
Shortly before sunrise, I woke to the sound of treads shirting along ice and snow. I knew what it was the second I heard it. For unlike the horrible churning and squeals of American tanks, our 251 halftracks roared as they made their way along the frozen roads. Even happier were we to see that they carried many of our brothers back from the front, along with ammunition, winter supplies, food and a couple of Mg-42s.
Among my fellow SS were several Wehrmacht and Fallschirmjäger, who like me were scattered like seeds during the prior week’s battle. SS-Untersturmführer Cornell, who arrived with the convoy of 251s in a schwimmwägen, took quick command of this motley group. Under his leadership, we were able to set our lines several kilometers within the forest and away from the farm (which was quickly converted to a medic station for those suffering from wounds and frostbite). By 08:00, we had secured our parameter and were ready for the inevitable fray.
Using a scope left in the barn a month prior, my gruppe set out to establish an observation post some meters ahead of the line. There, we identified two squads of Americans traveling west towards us. Noting their unit patches and formation, a messenger was sent to Untersturmführer Cornell to reform the lines to our rear and along the road to the farmhouse. Given that our orders were to observe until within range of fire, we established a thin line on the hill for some time and rotated sentries to ward off frostbite.
After several rotations, it was my turn to take the point along the edge of the hill where the treeline began. Unable to see much further than a few meters due to the snow and tree cover, I was ordered to advance a bit further north along the treeline to a shallow clearing. It was there when I noticed several dark outlines in the distance moving towards the observation post. Quickly, I ran along the treeline back to the hill and signaled by hand the presence of Americans. It was then when a shot range out from behind me, jolting me forward and bringing me to the ground.
An American, who must have also been at point, saw me through the trees and shot. Luckily, the hound was a poor shot and struck my rifle instead. Weaponless, I crawled back to the observation post as the battle ensued. Plucking a rifle from the frostbitten Sturman Stan, I began to return fire on the now advancing Americans. At first, we were able to hold the Americans along at the treeline. However, as the rest of their troops came to their aid, they were able to advance into the crevice of the frozen creek below us. As more of my brothers fell to enemy fire, Unterscharführer Bauman ordered all noninjured soldats to fall back to the lines.
Unwilling to leave our brothers to the Americans, several of us pleaded to stay and continue in the fray. But before we could finish our requests, the buzz of an Mg-42 rang out, cutting through several Americans as they ran for the protection of the creek. It seems that a support squad had been sent to provide cover for our withdrawal. Quickly, we carried off those wounded who could not walk and withdrew back behind our defensive lines.
When we reached the lines, those that were able to fight were set along the road. However, to our surprise, the Americans did not advance on our position. I can only assume that they held back after the ferocious counterattack levied against them by the Mg.
At around noon, Untersturmführer Cornell assembled a small squad in an attempt to flank the Americans along the south. The mission was risky, but if successful would drive the Americans to where we were most heavily concentrated. Once again, I was among the unlucky few as we boarded one of the halftracks and set off. For some time, we traveled the adjacent road. We were not certain how spread out they were until we stopped along a hill and noticed figures lying in the distance. Not only had we found the Americans, but we had passed them. Quickly, we deployed from the 251 and fired on the position.
At first, most of them scattered from their positions, seeking any type of shelter from the assault. However, it was not long before they began to return fire and the assault resulted in a stalemate. Knowing that reinforcements would soon arrive, we pulled back under the uplifting hammering of our 251’s Mg.
When we returned to the line, we discovered that our assault was at least partially successful. Fearing a much heavier assault, one of the American squads took our bait and pressed forward. The battle ensued and heavy casualties were taken on both sides. However, the Americans were now scattered and unable to form any solid counterattacks. In the end, they retreated into the safety of the woods. We succeeded in defending the western edge of the wood, and more importantly, the farmhouse now teaming with injured soldats.
By nightfall, all firing had ceased and the farmhouse was secure. Since I was one of the few not wounded, I remained on post outside the barn most of the night. Still, it was better to be cold and whole then warm and numbered among the wounded. Throughout the night, several soldats, lost or left behind from the morning’s battle, slowly walked out of the treeline like ghost through the fog. For them, and for all the wounded, we did what we could with what little we had.