30. März 1945
| GEO & MIL INFO | ||||
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| near Paipas | 
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| OKW situation map April 1945 | 
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| Assuming command of 1st Company | ||||
Swampland Position south of Lake Liepāja
30 March 45. Now it’s time. I take over the 1st company and go to the front tonight. The 2nd company’s catering vehicle gives me a lift. It’s quite a long way. We’ve been travelling for half an hour and are now standing behind a row of hedges reinforced by an artificial screen. We have to wait for dusk here, because from here the path leads over flat, open terrain that the enemy can view. After it had become dark,[2] we continue on our way. At a sharp trot, we cross the plain until, after a while, we reach the edge of a forest where a farmstead is located. We are at the battalion command post. The previous leader of the 1st company, a Saxon first lieutenant, is already waiting for me. He has been detached to the army weapons school in Paulshafen and just wants to hand over the company to me. He will then ride back on the same vehicle I came to the front on. He wants to brief me himself, so we both go to the front.
The battalion command post is still on dry land, on the edge of a huge swamp area. But most of the HKL (main line of resistance) runs right through the swamp. This also applies to my company sector. After a short distance we leave the solid ground, cross a swampy meadow on a winding path and then enter a boardwalk that winds endlessly through bushes and swamp forest, avoiding the enemy’s view as far as possible, but sometimes also leading over open water. Below us is black moor water. It is dark when we step through high swamp forest; it becomes lighter when we cross open water and the sky reflects its twilight in the water. Our steps clatter woodenly over the narrow footbridge. In places, the planks bounce so that we start to sway and have to slow down. The footbridge is half a metre above the surface of the water. In some places, the tips of the marsh grasses are still sticking out of the water. Elsewhere, the water is two metres deep.
After walking about a kilometre, we reach a bunker that stands on a small marsh island. The ground here rises out of the water and is covered with several groups of tall birch and alder trees. We have reached the company command post. My predecessor gives me the necessary explanations and then says goodbye. Now I’m sitting here in the little wooden house at the position plans, trying to get a picture of my new company sector.
We are in a huge swampy area south of Lake Liepāja. My positions in the forward line run along a road, which is an artificially constructed embankment and the only dry path through this marshland. The firing positions and shelters are partially dug into this embankment and are spaced at intervals of forty to fifty metres. In the completely marshy hinterland of this company front there are still a few heavy machine gun and heavy mortar positions on individual island-like dry spots that overlook the entire front line. The ordnance sergeant and his assistant also occupy one of these small islands. My company command post is connected to the front-line positions on the road and the bases on the islands by boardwalks and telephone lines. Here in the company command post, I myself lie together with my entire company squad. There are 2 messengers[3], 2 radio operators, 2 telephone operators, 1 medic and the company squad leader, so 9 men. I sleep on the bench where I sit during the day. Our shelter is a log cabin that stands on the swaying, boggy ground of this tiny forest island. The footbridge leads right past it. On the other side of the footbridge, our predecessors have even built a leaf hut with a bench. It’s like being in a summer retreat. As a further convenience, we also have a proper toilet hut away from the shelter.
It has become dark and I go forward to inspect the positions. The corporal who is supposed to guide me through the positions is already asleep. I have him woken up and hear him rise inside the dugout, ranting. He crawls out grumbling and clearly shows his displeasure at the disturbed night’s sleep. I don’t say anything because I understand him, but I can’t sleep either and I can only come here at night. As I don’t know the man, I don’t want to chide him straight away. But I want to remember this type. When I return to my dugout, everyone is deeply asleep except the sentry.
Good Friday, 30.3.45.[4] The German cities are heaps of rubble. Numerous churches have been destroyed. How many mothers today may look up in the churches spared from the bombing terror in bitter tears for their dead son to the cross, as the Mother of God did then! Black Friday of the German people!
The position has the great advantage that the outpost area is also completely marshy. The water is only knee-deep, but no armoured attacks are to be expected here.
The shelters are all puny little wooden huts. The roofs consist of a layer of boards with a thin layer of sand. This is at most a splinter protection. There is a thin layer of straw on the floor where the Landsers sleep.
My freedom of movement is severely restricted here. The days pass in considerable monotony. During the day, I move about in the small wood around our dugout or in the surrounding area, as far as the walkway allows. Sometimes I also sit in the leaf hut. At nightfall, after receiving the rations, I regularly go to the forward positions or to the islands.
This evening, shortly after the rations have been handed out, a sergeant comes forward snorting with rage and complains about the insufficient rations. As proof, he shows me his cookware, which is actually only a quarter full. As the rations are unloaded in the rear at the battalion, it’s difficult to reach the cookhouse wallah. However, I promise the sergeant that I will check the distribution of rations at the battalion tomorrow evening.
As the position is quiet, I visit the position and go for walks even in broad daylight. I look at the work being done to improve the positions, talk to the men, visit the ordnance sergeant in his beach villa or occasionally descend from the boardwalk in shallow places to have a look at this unique marshland.
There is a melancholy air about this landscape, an oppressive stillness. The shiny, calm water is somewhat eerie. In some places I couldn’t find the bottom even with a very long stick. In other places it is boggy and abysmal. But there are also dry spots with solid ground. The forest is standing in water. It’s all a bit strange. The wildlife and their voices are also different and unfamiliar. In the last glow of the evening sun, the common snipes circle playfully in the air, and their drumming brings an unfamiliar tone to the fabulous strangeness of this landscape. And in the evening, the croaking of millions of frogs fills the air. At first it was all new and interesting to me, but in the long run I feel a little uncomfortable in this swamp, alien in the landscape and confined by the walkway. The wood may alternate with open areas, but there are no fields or meadows between the woodland patches, but rather deceptive areas of water or swamp. There is even water on the forest floor. Perhaps it is due to the melting snow. Rarely solid ground or dry forest patches, only on the footbridge, and even this still sways under every step.
There was a mishap tonight. I wake up to a loud breaking crash, followed by a loud groan. I am up immediately. In the dawning light of day, I see that the upper bunk, occupied by three men, has collapsed, burying the three men underneath. We pull the wailing men out of the wreckage and they soon calm down. They had escaped with a fright. We clear away the rubble and then it’s daylight. We stay up right away. That was a Sunday morning shock!
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- ↑ The map was selected due to its detailed scale of 1:50,000; although it is dated 7 May 45, it may be used as the front had not changed during this time, as a comparison with the (not so detailed) situation map of 30 March 45 proves.
- ↑
at 20:09 sunset,
until 20:48 civil twilight: reading outdoors still possible,
until 21:34 nautical twilight: horizon still recognisable,
until 22:26 astronomical twilight: maximum darkness. - ↑ One of the messengers, senior lance corporal Hans Scheuerlein, wrote the author’s parents an exonerating letter in 1946.
- ↑ in the original “19.4.45”. It was not until the following year that Good Friday fell on this day, 19.4.46; the idea naturally fits both years.