Hans Von Luck - Panzer Commander Page 4

  In Florence we met a lady who invited us to her house for a meal. She led us into a narrow alley and *e stopped in front of a house with a grubby facade.

  “Ecco, we're there. Please come in.” We felt a little uneasy. But we then came into the inner courtyard, and the house that from the outside looked so sad turned out to be a Palazzo with many art treasures and a dreamlike garden. It was the town house of a principessa. We spent a wonderful day in those lovely surroundings.

  Rome, with its seven hills, the Villa Borghese, the Piazza Colonna, and St. Peter's Cathedral left us Prussians in endless amazement at so much beauty.

  I traveled to Switzerland because we had relations there, the Zeppelins. A particular attraction was skiing. In those days one still used the Kandahar binding, which was equally suitable for climbing with skis and for the downward run. There were no skilifts as yet. One climbed for hours, then descended to the valley in an hour through the untouched powdery snow. The experiences we had on our ski tours were unique; they often lasted days and were broken only by the night's rest in little mountain huts. At that time one could still enjoy the peace and beauty of the mountain world, for there were hardly any tourists. At the beginning of August 1939, I was once again, to my complete surprise, granted 14 days' leave in Switzerland, although there i were already rumors of possible war and complications with the i Poles. Perhaps the authorities wanted to show the Swiss and the i international public that if an officer on active service was actually allowed to travel abroad there could be no question of war. The two weeks were not up before I was recalled. My division was on alert; all those on leave had to return at once to their garrisons. “Now there'll be war,” said my friends. My attempts to reassure them were unsuccessful. So I drove back to my garrison in Kissingen by the quickest route. There everyone was in high spirits.

  Although we did not believe Josef Goebbels's propaganda that the Poles were about to attack us, we wanted the corridor and Danzig returned to Germany. We scarcely believed the Poles would resist; we anticipated easy going, as had been the case in Czechoslovakia a year earlier. We were not hungry for war, as the Wehrmacht was not yet ready, and our senior officers all remembered 1918. But we did not believe the British and French would come to Poland's defense.

  Blitzkrieg: Poland, 1939 The autumn sun shone warmly as our 2nd Light Division under General Stumme moved out of its garrisons. Among its elements was our 7th Armored Reconnaissance Regiment with its two battalions. From a hilltop our eyes strayed back again toward Bad Kissingen and the mountains of the Rhoen, where we used to go skiing.

  Officially we were to take part in 'grand maneuvers under combat conditions." Although live ammunition was being carried, we were issued only blanks' Morale of the men was good, my relations with the company excellent. On our eastward march we went through the Sudetenland and continued past Prague in the direction of the Reich frontier in the region of Gleiwitz. Local people greeted us everywhere with flowers and drinks.

  “Are you going to Poland?” we were asked.

  “Of course not,” we replied, “we're going on maneuvers.” On 26 August 1939, we reached the frontier surreptitiously and took up position in a plantation. Suddenly the blank cartridges were exchanged for live ammunition. Now there was no longer any doubt: we were going to invade.

  Now I had to show what I had learned, namely, how to defeat our opponent with as little loss to ourselves as possible. I hardly knew what to expect. We still had the feeling of being on maneuvers, and comforted ourselves finally with the thought that we had no need to fear the Poles, since their army was not of great fighting strength or as well-equipped as ours.

  In the assembly area I went to each of my men and joked with them. They expressed great confidence in me and believed that their “boss” would see to it that no unnecessary sacrifice would be demanded.

  On 31 August came the order. We would attack on the morning of I September at 0450 hours.

  Our heavy. machine-guns were placed in a garden that belonged to a Heff Augustin, who had been living there for some time.

  His parents owned a textile factory in Lodz, in the middle of Poland.

  “Wouldn't you like to come with us?” I asked him. “You speak fluent Polish and could be of great service to us as an interpreter in the questioning of prisoners and to vouch for the proper treatment of the civilian population.” He agreed. No doubt he also hoped by this means to see his parents again. We dressed him in a Wehrmacht uniform; an armband proclaimed him to be a “Voluntary Interpreter.” At daybreak, our air force flew over the frontier, to surprise the Polish air force on the ground, as we were told, and as far as possible dispose of it. This gave us moral support. We heard that our navy was shelling the port of Danzig and that troops were being landed.

  We fell in with the armored reconnaissance regiment. The frontier was manned by a single customs official. As one of our soldiers approached him, the terrified man opened the barrier.

  Without resistance we marched into Poland. Far and wide there was not a single Polish soldier in sight, although they were supposed to have been preparing for an “invasion” of Germany.

  I spread my company out. We advanced on foot along a wide front and came to the first Polish village. Still no Polish soldiers to be seen. In the marketplace we were greeted in friendly fashion by the inhabitants, even given refreshments.

  Where were the Polish troops?

  We still had the feeling of being on maneuvers although we were 15 kilometers inside Poland. Vigilant reconnaissance patrols on motorcycles with sidecars tried to make headway through the thickly wooded terrain, to spy out the land. I had the armored cars follow and continued the advance.

  Late on the evening of I September we came up against our first opposition. In front of us lay an open, rising tract of land, at the end of which was a village and a forest. Here the Poles had set up a line of resistance on a hill, and opened a heavy fire from machine guns and mortars. Shell splinters hissed through the trees. Branches broke off and fell on our heads.

  Our stomachs now felt distinctly uneasy. We had often practiced under combat conditions, of course, and had been able thereby to get used to the firing and the landing of artillery shells, as well as the sharp hammering of machine-guns. But that had always been at a safe distance or from bunkers under cover.

  Now, we were directly ex to enemy fire. We could find no cover, nor could we dig ourselves in, since we were supposed to attack.

  We formed up for the assault. Armored scout cars moved Blitzkrieg: Poland, 1934) 29 forward, as far and as well as the terrain allowed, so as to give us covering fire from the MG24S.

  Suddenly a round of machine-gun fire hit Private Uhl, not far from me. He was dead at once. He was the first casualty in my company, and many of my men saw it. Now we were all afraid.

  Which of us would be the next? This was no longer a maneuver; it was war.

  “No. I and No.2 platoons attack,” I shouted, “No.3 platoon in reserve, the heavy platoon to give fire-cover.” No one stirred. Everyone was afraid of being the next to die.

  Including me. Anyone who says he was never afraid in his first P&Agment is a liar.

  It was up to me, the CO to set the example. “Everyone follow me,” I shouted, and rushed forward with my machine-pistol.

  The training prevailed, and they all followed. We gained a little ground, but were then forced to take cover by fire from machineguns and artillery.

  The division worked out a new plan of attack: antiaircraft searchlights lit up the hill during the night. Our scout cars shot at recognized positions with their 2cm tracer bullets. The artillery took up the fire. It was a lurid scene.

  At daybreak on 2 September we attacked anew and reached the village and the enemy hill. Tle Poles had withdrawn. Before us was an image of horror. Lying about in the abandoned positions were dead men and the cadavers of horses. The abandoned houses were still burning. This sight gave us a first impression of the meaning of War. It took some effort to
come to terms with the reality.

  We pushed forward. The thickly wooded terrain was trackless and made the operations of our scout cars and tanks almost impossible. For two days we had to do without our field kitchens. 'ne vehicles could not get through along the bad roads and in the thick woods.

  On our march through villages and small towns we were again presented with the same terrible picture. The air force had done quite a job and deeply demoralized the Poles. In spite of that the Polish divisions fought heroically.

  As my orderly Erich Beck later wrote, “We admired our opponents for their national pride and commitment. They demanded our respect. We heard that a Polish cavalry regiment had mounted an attack against our tanks. They had been told that the German tanks were only wooden dummies.” All the bridges had been blown. Our army engineers did a superhuman job of throwing up new ones. Polish snipers had lodged themselves in haystacks and under thatched roofs and now had to be smoked out with tracer bullets. There were fires everywhere.

  The cities of Kielce, Radom, and Lodz were our targets in the next few days. The first pockets were formed through pincer movements. We heard from division that the advance along a wide front, from Upper Silesia to the Baltic, was making rapid headway.

  On 6 September we eventually came up against strong resistance near a village on the edge of the Lysa Gory. After fierce fighting with few losses we overcame our opponents, whose strength now seemed to be finally broken. Cracow fell on the same day. Powerful units were advancing on Warsaw from the west and northwest. in Lodz, which was hardly contested any more, Augustin met his parents. I accompanied him. It was a moving reunion. Since the heightened tension they had heard no more of each other.

  Now the parents had their son back, forever, they hoped. We visited the family textile factory and then went to a caf6 in the marketplace. We had coffee and plain cakes, both for us a great pleasure after the first hard days. West Prussia and the ancient city of Danzig were not, it seemed, the only objective.

  The whole of Poland was apparently to be occupied and wiped out, with the participation, moreover, of the Russians, with whom Hitler had just signed a treaty of nonaggression. We were amazed at how quickly Goebbels's propaganda could change people's minds 180 degrees. Now Russia was our ally!

  We were given orders to clear the woods, secure the territory gained, and then hold ourselves ready for the decisive advance on Warsaw.

  While searching for a suitable command post for the company, my advance picket found a large country house in the middle of the woods. It had been left untouched by the war. I went there and was greeted by a charming old gentleman who spoke fluent German and English. He had been the Polish ambassador in London and had now retired to his country estate. His house was full of guests. A well-known pianist and other artists had fled there from Warsaw at the outbreak of war in the hope of finding safety. The butler led me to a guest room and asked-a macabre toucb-about my luggage.

  After I had given the necessary orders to my company and made my report to division, the master of the house invited me to take a little walk.

  Blitzkrieg: Poland, 1939 31 “Now look,” he said, “there's a good friend of mine who lives about twenty miles from here and is married to a German from Silesia. I'm worried about them. Can you find out how they are?” During our further conversation it turned out that the German woman was a distant relative of mine. It struck me how senseless the war was, and yet there was no escape from it. I promised to find out about his friends.

  My host led me to his kennels, where he showed me a litter of young Irish setters. He had brought the mother back with him from England. He picked up one of the puppies and said, “May I give you this to cheer you up in a sad time?” I took it with pleasure and christened it "Boy.,, Then in the evening we all sat around the fireplace in the great hall, which extended to the roof. While the pianist played Chopin, we could hear sporadic gunfire in the distance. There I was sitting among friendly people in a pleasant atmosphere in a country that we had invaded.

  I discovered that Poland's most famous animal painter lived in the next town and arranged to visit him the following day. I was very fond of his work and asked him for one of his watercolors that reflected the spirit of Poland. Next evening he brought me the painting. I was enchanted. It portrayed a shepherd in a typical Polish landscape leading a long-suffering little panye horse on a halter. The painting survived the war and still hangs in my house today, reminding me of heavy hours, but also of pleasant ones.

  That same evening a patrol came and reported that our host's friends were all right. He was visibly relieved.

  My commanding officer gave orders during the evening for the further advance on Warsaw. The following morning I left that oasis with my watercolor and Irish setter.

  At the briefing for the next advance, my battalion commander told me that on 3 September, France and Britain had declared war on Germany. So far, however, contrary to our fears, they had not attacked. The daily Army Bulletin had merely reported some artillery duels and increased aerial reconnaissance. We were relieved. Hitler seemed to have judged both countfiescorrectly.

  The British, as far as we knew, had not even sent an expeditionary force to the mainland.

  We now marched on Warsaw. In the eastern part of Poland no operations were carried out by our side. Clearly there were certain agreements here with the Russians. South of Warsaw the two armored reconnaissance battalions took up their positions in a fruit plantation.

  On 9 September-after nine days of war-the greater part of Poland, insofar as it belonged to the German sphere of influence, was occupied and in our hands. Only in Warsaw was there still fighting. The remaining, still available elements if the Polish army had withdrawn there to defend their capital after undergoing two weeks of heavy bombing and artillery fire.

  On 27 September, Warsaw was finally taken. We had seen no further action. Poland seemed unable to offer any more resistance. We were used merely to mop up the territory gained.

  On one of my reconnaissance trips, which I made in my crosscountry car with my driver Fink and an orderly, I discovered near a village a young Polish woman in uniform. She pointed a machinepistol at us, but before she could fire we overpowered her.

  “Do you belong to a women's battalion, or are you a partisan?” I asked her in French.

  Her eyes were full of hate; snudl wonder after the war imposed on Poland. She led us to a house in which her husband, a Polish officer, lay wounded. I put them both in my car and handed them over to our medical squad, where her husband was immediately taken rare of. She then thanked us.

  “It's all so sad and hopeless. Why can't you let us live in peace? Now the Russians will come, your allies, and hated by us. But Poland is not lost yet.” Her final words, as Augustin told me, were those of the Polish national anthem.

  On 17 September, the Russians had marched into eastern Poland.

  A demarcation line was fixed by German and Russian delegations.

  One of the interpreters was Boris von Karzov, whom I was to meet later in Russian captivity. Poland was partitioned anew; the bitter history of the country took its course. On 5 October came the victory parade in Warsaw in Hitler's presence. Our division did not have to take part. Among those on the platform next to Hitler was Rommel, at that time still the commander of the units for Hitler's personal protection. During the fighting, however, he had constantly visited the troops and had been fascinated, as he said later, by the use of tank units under General Guderian. Soon after, Rommel managed to persuade Hitler to let him take over a panzer division.

  The Polish war was over for us. A few of my men received the Iron Cross II Class, among them the brave leader of the heavy Blitzkrieg: Poland, 1939 33 machine-gun platoon. He was promoted shortly after to staff-sergeant.

  I was particularly proud of the award to our company tailor. In Bad Kissingen he had always been teased as “our little tailor.” Yet during engagements this insignificant man surpassed himself.

 
He was employed, like the company cobbler, as a runner and conveyer of orders between our rear sections and the units in action. Under heavy fire, in which we had to take cover, “our little tailor” came forward with reports and orders at the risk of his life. It was a new discovery for us that the stalwart and robust-seeming men often lost their nerve under combatconditions, while the supposedly weak proved to be strong and kept their heads at precarious moments.

  The losses suffered in the nine days of war were comparatively light. Of my platoon leaders, Lieutenant von Fuerstenberg was out of action for a long time with a severe stomach wound. As for our dead, we were able to bury them with dignity and to some extent with military honors.

  The ensuing days of rest did us good. I had time to thank all the men in my company. “rt was a good thing you made us dig in quickly,” they told me. “There's no doubt the hard training saved the lives of a lot of us.” Morale was first class. No one thought here, just outside Warsaw, about how things might go later.

  I received permission to travel into Warsaw, which I would be seeing again after many years. The outer and industrial districts had suffered badly from the air attacks, but the center had remained to a large extent untouched. There life was returning to normal. The Poles knew how to come to terms, again and again, with the blows of fate. In the caf6 of the largest hotel in the center I obtained my drink as though nothing had happened. One felt that as occupiers we Germans were still more welcome to the Poles than the Russians. Unfortunately, that was soon to change.

  At the end of September the division was transferred back to its garrisons in Germany. We marched once more through the Sudetenland to Bad Kissingen.

  Interim, 1939-1940 our reception in Bad Kissingen was overwhelming. The Kissingers thronged the roadside and showered us with flowers.

  Opposite the Kurhaus, already closed, stood our commander, to lead the marchpast of our battalion. There was much laughter when my Irish setter, Boy, on the cover of a truck, barked loudly at the band. The civic dignitaries naturally turned up for the reception. These Nazi functionaries sunned themselves in our success, as though the achievement had been theirs.