Dear friends, welcome to the channel the Eastern Front! Today we continue
our story about a German corporal. Another part of his memories you
will find in description under this video. So let's start.
June 22, 1941. Suddenly, at about 3 a.m., the first salvo thunders – hundreds of guns of all
calibers are firing. In response, the howl of shells from Stalin's arsenal is heard.
Armageddon has begun. You can't say a word in this thundering hell. Our rear is still
sleeping peacefully, but death is already reaping the harvest. With stone faces,
we crawl along the trenches, counting the minutes until the order to attack the Bug fortifications…
We involuntarily touch soldiers' tokens, take hand grenades, and check our weapons.
At 3.30 o'clock, whistles are heard – we quickly jump out of hiding and
overcome the 20 meters separating us from the boats with all our legs. We do not notice how
we find ourselves on the other shore, where machine-gun bursts meet us. The first losses.
With the help of sappers, we are slowly–too slowly–making our way through barbed wire fences.
A few more steps – and we get close to the first pillbox, keeping in the dead zone of shooting.
The Russians are firing like mad, but they can't get us in any way. The decisive moment is
approaching. An explosive sapper sneaks up to the bunker from behind and throws a bunch of grenades
into the embrasure of the pillbox. Concrete shakes, black smoke billows out of the embrasure.
We continue to advance, and by 10 a.m. the Movniki are in our hands. The Reds are retreating randomly
under the onslaught of our infantrymen. Since our tanks are crossing the river rather slowly,
we have been given the order to clear the village of the Russians remaining there.
We are checking the whole village hut by hut. We see the terrible consequences of our shelling.
But the Russians also did not remain in debt.
Gradually we calm down and get used to the devastation around.
Not far from the customs building, dead bodies of Russians are piled up,
most of them mutilated by shell fragments. There are also several civilians killed in the shelling.
The bodies of a woman and her two young children, mutilated beyond recognition,
lie among the scattered household belongings of their neat house.
We captured the first Russians – snipers and deserters get what they deserve.
As soon as our tanks arrive, we continue the attack, but already supporting it with fire
from hand weapons. We are advancing on Myshev, located about 40 kilometers from
the front line. In one of the villages, we encounter fierce enemy resistance.
Helmut Pfaff with his 14th company barely repels the attack of Russian
tanks. With heavy losses, he is forced to retreat.
According to his calculations, an attack of about 50 heavy Russian tanks is expected.
By sunset, we are occupying a circular defense. Although everyone is exhausted from this first
day of fighting, no one is thinking of sleeping. The night passes restlessly, almost without sleep.
June 23. The morning
begins with the shelling of light artillery. The Russian tanks never left the deployment zone.
We are promised reinforcements by 8.00 – tanks and dive bombers. It really raises our morale.
In the meantime, our friends from the Luftwaffe have prepared
entertainment for us. On the low-level, one after another,
they sweep over our heads. One by one, 9 Russian bombers were shot down. Engulfed in fire,
they fall to the ground and explode. This is the result of the masterful work of fighter pilots.
At noon, the Russians begin a tank attack. Half an hour later,
our counterattack follows. We have never seen anything like this before:
100 tanks have been thrown against us. But the most important thing is not to fear and keep calm.
In a very short time we managed to knock out 4 Russian tanks.
About two dozen dive bombers, Junkers-87,
howl down on Russian tanks. In the afternoon, the outcome of the battle was decided in our favor.
Over 60 tanks set on fire and frozen in immobility are scattered across the field. Most of the enemy
units retreated to Babichi. We follow them around all night, which allows us to then surround them.
June 24. By the end of the day,
it was possible to surround the enemy forces and, despite the desperate resistance of the Russians,
narrow the encirclement ring. By 9.00 the battle reached its culmination.
Fierce repulse of the encircled division worries us. The Russians, as if distraught,
are rushing to our positions. By 10.00 the situation becomes very critical – the Russians
manage to break through the encirclement ring in the southern section of the lowland.
Artillery fire was opened, and a few minutes later shrapnel whistled over our heads. Clouds
of black smoke are billowing into the sky right in front of us. Sometimes white tangles of shrapnel
bursts flash by. The whole lowland is mercilessly watered by shell fragments. We make our way to the
first houses of the Babichs under fire from the Russians firmly entrenched in positions.
Damn mortar mines are exploding one after the other to our right and
above us. Everywhere this howling, whistling is a disgusting, terrible sound of fragments of mines.
With faces distorted with fear, we jump into the trenches of the Russians.
Their fortifications are being hammered with anti-tank shells.
There is crazy chaos around. The Russians are firing shrapnel at us…
And a hail of fragments falls on us from above.
Soviet fighters appear. An air attack. Thank God – there are no losses.
By noon we reach the center of the village. The resistance of
the Russians is broken – an entire Soviet division has been defeated.
The street is littered with the bodies of dead and wounded soldiers.
But our losses are also impressive. And we are so tired that we can barely drag
our feet. But, forgetting about fatigue, we rebuild and continue to advance,
without encountering enemy resistance, to the village of Locachi. We are clearly not
expected to visit there – we are met with fierce machine-gun fire. Damn snipers!
With the help of hand grenades, we clear house after house from the Red Army soldiers who have
settled in them. These fanatics mercilessly pour fire on us from under the collapsed roofs,
which become graves for them. Others try to escape at the last minute, turning into moving targets
for us, they fall dead right there in the streets from bullets or from the bayonets of our soldiers.
An hour later, the village is already burning like a match. Involuntarily you ask yourself,
seeing all this: and how many innocent people from the locals suffered?
A terrible thought. Apparently, I'm not the only one thinking about this.
As soon as the fire engulfs the first hut, we notice the corpses lying on the road. Soldiers
spare no one and nothing, destroy everything they see. Soon a black pall of smoke covers
the horizon. Apparently, in the acts of this senseless cruelty, all the monstrous fatigue
from endless marches and fights with the enemy is taken out. A single sniper shot
brings you back to life, you forget about the devilish heat, and everything in general.
One infantryman once told me: "Understand, I'm just wildly tired, and now I'm like a cucumber.
I feel like a human again!" My stomach is cramping from these words.
June 25. What I wouldn't
give for a few hours of sleep! We still managed to carve out a couple of hours,
but then they lifted us up and ordered us to break through enemy positions
south of Lutsk. Will we be able to force the Styr river without complications?
Our frenzied offensive turns almost against us: only a few meters along the road can be
considered completely cleared of the enemy. There is no time to comb the nearby forests,
and it is there that the enemy is hiding, rebuilding to attack us stealthily.
These skirmishes with scattered groups of Russians in our rear take up a lot of time.
The Russians are attacking and completely destroying our transport vehicles in our
deep rear. Russian planes are pestering us like dazed flies.
It's just a miracle that all their fanatical attacks result in minimal losses.
Around noon we are at the Styr River. The Russians blew up the dam,
a large area was flooded with water, it is pointless to build pontoons. The
enemy is constantly, running fire on our bridgehead. A hard day for me!
Four of my good friends were killed: Walter Wolf, Horace, the eternal merry Muge and Schilke. Many
others were seriously injured. I myself am at the limit of my physical and moral strength!
If you could only see me now, my dear Roselle, dirty, ragged,
dying of thirst… If you looked at me, you would immediately burst into tears.
Our beloved homeland will never understand what kind of campaign fell to our lot here.
It is impossible to imagine this territory, and how we have to move around it,
not to mention the battles in which we participate.
Another attack by a Russian stormtrooper has just ended.
Gruber was killed. And he got married just 8 days ago.
I couldn't close my eyes at night. There is a real hell in the east in the rear.
The sky is blood-red, there is a constant rumble
of explosions in the air – there are strong battles going on around.
Reinforcements arrived – tanks. We were informed about the beginning of the battle for Lutsk.
At sunset, in the direction of the village, we see dark clouds of smoke over the banks of the river.
Dear friends, that's all for today. It was Tim and the Eastern Front channel. And as usual I
wish you peace and health. If you liked the video, then support it with a like,
and the channel with a subscription. See you.