throw a hand-grenade at the flash, and take a row of empty dustbins in my stride. They go clattering away into the night.
A figure whirls up into the air, and seems to hang for a moment on the top of the flame from an explosion.
We throw ourselves flat, as their artillery lays a carpet of fire over the large park.
With fear gripping at my entrails I press myself down into a small stream, without knowing how I have got there. I don’t even feel the coldness of the water, or hear the ice cracking under me. Huge shells fall behind me. A burning house crashes in on itself.
I realize I must get away from the stream. The artillery will centre in on the burning row of houses behind which I am lying.
Immediately after the next rain of shells I jump to my feet and rush straight across the road through the park. I throw myself down, senselesly, into a shell-hole which still stinks of iron and powder smoke. The shelling rises to a furious crescendo. It is as if the entire world is being turned inside out.
They are using everything they’ve got. Field-guns, howitzers, mortars, tank and infantry weapons. The mortars are the worst. They come almost silently and explode with a wicked sound. I am so frightened I feel like screaming, and running away as fast as my legs can carry me. But I have been long enough in this filthy war to know it would be certain death if I did. I force myself further down into the narrow shell-hole, making myself as small as possible. I rest my chin on the butt of my machine-pistol.
A shell falls not far away from me. My steel helmet is pushed back by the blast. I am unconscious for a second. The helmet strap has almost strangled me. My brain feels empty. My hands are cold as ice. It seems an eternity before life flows slowly back into me.
Now the tanks come. They are not far from my shell-hole. I hear the rattle of their tracks. T-34s and the enormous KW-2s speed through the park. The screams of men dying under their treads cut through the noise.
I hear German machine-guns firing madly, sending glowing lines of tracer through the darkness.
Five or six flares explode in the heavens, and turn the night to a ghostly, pale sort of day.
I look up cautiously and catch sight of the T-34s on their way through the park, alongside the path. Infantrymen can be clearly seen sitting up behind on the tanks.
Now the anti-tank guns start up. When the 88 mms go off, the sound is that of a huge steel door clanging shut.
A T-34 explodes in a ball of fire; another one goes up.
I hear tracks rattling close to my shell-hole, and the ticking ring of an Otto engine.
A T-34 stops close by, and I feel the warmth of its exhaustblow down over me. It is so close I could put out my hand and touch its tracks.
My heart almost stops beating from fear. Shivering with terror I bore my fingers into the earth and try to get even closer to it. The T-34’s gun goes off, and it feels as if my head is about to burst open. The force of the explosion is impossible to describe. A tank-gun is the devil’s own personal invention.
An Unteroffizier from 3 Section arrives at a run. A machinegun burst from the T-34 rips across his chest. He is smashed over backwards. The LMG flies from his hands, his steel helmet following it.
A Fahnenjunker runs, limping like a winged bird. He stops, and stares in panic at the huge, armoured colossus. The tank-gun flames again. The Junker falls forward like a log.
I think for a moment that he is dead, but there is still life in him. His fingers claw at the earth and he begins to crawl slowly towards my hole.
‘No,’ I whisper. ‘Not here. If the tank sees him, we’re
both
finished!’
Engines howl, and the T-34 begins to move forward slowly, the earth shaking under its steel tracks.
The tracks come slowly towards me, cowering there in my shell-hole. Feverishly I tie two grenades together to make a heavier charge.
The T-34 swivels halfway round. Its tracks throw earth and stones high in the air. They
A figure whirls up into the air, and seems to hang for a moment on the top of the flame from an explosion.
We throw ourselves flat, as their artillery lays a carpet of fire over the large park.
With fear gripping at my entrails I press myself down into a small stream, without knowing how I have got there. I don’t even feel the coldness of the water, or hear the ice cracking under me. Huge shells fall behind me. A burning house crashes in on itself.
I realize I must get away from the stream. The artillery will centre in on the burning row of houses behind which I am lying.
Immediately after the next rain of shells I jump to my feet and rush straight across the road through the park. I throw myself down, senselesly, into a shell-hole which still stinks of iron and powder smoke. The shelling rises to a furious crescendo. It is as if the entire world is being turned inside out.
They are using everything they’ve got. Field-guns, howitzers, mortars, tank and infantry weapons. The mortars are the worst. They come almost silently and explode with a wicked sound. I am so frightened I feel like screaming, and running away as fast as my legs can carry me. But I have been long enough in this filthy war to know it would be certain death if I did. I force myself further down into the narrow shell-hole, making myself as small as possible. I rest my chin on the butt of my machine-pistol.
A shell falls not far away from me. My steel helmet is pushed back by the blast. I am unconscious for a second. The helmet strap has almost strangled me. My brain feels empty. My hands are cold as ice. It seems an eternity before life flows slowly back into me.
Now the tanks come. They are not far from my shell-hole. I hear the rattle of their tracks. T-34s and the enormous KW-2s speed through the park. The screams of men dying under their treads cut through the noise.
I hear German machine-guns firing madly, sending glowing lines of tracer through the darkness.
Five or six flares explode in the heavens, and turn the night to a ghostly, pale sort of day.
I look up cautiously and catch sight of the T-34s on their way through the park, alongside the path. Infantrymen can be clearly seen sitting up behind on the tanks.
Now the anti-tank guns start up. When the 88 mms go off, the sound is that of a huge steel door clanging shut.
A T-34 explodes in a ball of fire; another one goes up.
I hear tracks rattling close to my shell-hole, and the ticking ring of an Otto engine.
A T-34 stops close by, and I feel the warmth of its exhaustblow down over me. It is so close I could put out my hand and touch its tracks.
My heart almost stops beating from fear. Shivering with terror I bore my fingers into the earth and try to get even closer to it. The T-34’s gun goes off, and it feels as if my head is about to burst open. The force of the explosion is impossible to describe. A tank-gun is the devil’s own personal invention.
An Unteroffizier from 3 Section arrives at a run. A machinegun burst from the T-34 rips across his chest. He is smashed over backwards. The LMG flies from his hands, his steel helmet following it.
A Fahnenjunker runs, limping like a winged bird. He stops, and stares in panic at the huge, armoured colossus. The tank-gun flames again. The Junker falls forward like a log.
I think for a moment that he is dead, but there is still life in him. His fingers claw at the earth and he begins to crawl slowly towards my hole.
‘No,’ I whisper. ‘Not here. If the tank sees him, we’re
both
finished!’
Engines howl, and the T-34 begins to move forward slowly, the earth shaking under its steel tracks.
The tracks come slowly towards me, cowering there in my shell-hole. Feverishly I tie two grenades together to make a heavier charge.
The T-34 swivels halfway round. Its tracks throw earth and stones high in the air. They
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