1942 A. Gütte, German 90th Motorised Regiment

On the northern flank of the Eastern Front...
A. Gütte, Former Sergeant-Major, 5th Company, 90th Motorised Regiment, 20th Infantry (Motorised) Division.
Translated from Der Landser Nr. 1073

It was the middle of January, 1942. With Private Jansen as my driver, I went from Chudovo to Podberez'e, in order to fetch some urgently needed items. Driving along the road southwards, it was quiet and owing to the snow-cover, the visibility was quite good despite the darkness.

A few kilometers north of Spasskaya Polist', there were several lifeless bodies laying along the roadside. We kept our weapons at the ready as we approached the village. The driver kept the engine running. What we found were the bodies of seven dead Red Army soldiers, yet there was no one to be seen anywhere. It was a riddle as to how the Russians had come to be here so far behind the front. The whole thing was quite unsettling and we quickly resumed our drive. Even in the small villages which we passed through there was no one in sight. The reason for this, however, would become clear the following day.

Our stay in Podberez'e lasted a day longer, as we were notified that some replacements were to come with us to the front. We began our journey back early the following morning. Ten soldiers, wrapped in uniforms and blankets, were loaded onto the truck. The temperature was beastly 50 below zero and a strong wind had thrown up snow drifts during the night. Time and again, the men had to get out and pitch a hand in helping the lorry through a snowbank or shovel the wheels free from snow. Matters only improved when we reached the Shimsk-Novgorod road.

We reached Novgorod around noontime. On the northern outskirts of the town, on the road to Chudovo, a barrier had been erected. Military police were stopping all vehicles and ordering them back.
“Where are you heading?”
“To Chudovo, to our unit!”
“The road is closed. Two villages in the area have been captured by the enemy. A counter-attack is underway and I don't know when the road will be opened.”
“Is there a posted bypass route?”
“No. You must look for one yourself”
The police sergeant then turned towards another vehicle.
Jansen drove onto a side road and stopped the truck. The troops, frozen through to their the bones, immediately sprang from the back of the lorry and began hopping wildly.
“What are we to do, Herr Sergeant-Major?”
“I don't know yet. We will have to see.”

Studying the map, there were a number of possibilities: one was straight west over the Luga, north through Gatchina and then south-east via Pushkin. All were significant detours, costing a tremendous amount of time. There was a shorter way, however: through the Volkhov forests to the north-east. After a thorough examination of all the advantages and disadvantages, we chose the shorter route.

After driving some 20 kilometers, we reached a small village, in which a Luftwaffe supply unit was located. It was a welcome opportunity to take a break. With a warm meal and a hot drink, we felt ourselves refreshed. Jansen even managed to fill up the gas tank and received two more petrol canisters in reserve. Our comrades could not provide us any information regarding the road conditions, however, and the maps available to us were of poor quality.

Our lorry embarked once more upon its lonely journey through the vast wooded region. After the Pripet Marshes, this was the largest marsh and forested area in Europe, intersected by small clearings, cuttings and pathways. It was easy to lose one's way among the numerous side roads, forks and intersections, which were barely visible in the snow due to the absence of tracks.

With the onset of dusk, a small hut suddenly came into view. Somewhat in the distance stood the houses and villages of a small village, located in a clearing. We pulled over and entered.
An old woman met us halfway and said: Woijna plokho! (The war is bad!)
Da, da, Babushka...Woijna plokho...Germanski soldat khorosho! (Yes, Grandmother...the war is bad...but the German soldiers are good!).

Jansen looked after the truck and placed it on brushwood blocks to prevent the tires from freezing. The soldiers, meanwhile, gathered straw and hay from a nearby stack and packed it into the lorry. The engine coolant was enriched with thermal oil, obtained from a damaged field kitchen, and was not allowed to drain out. This oil had originally been used to surround the cauldron in a damaged field kitchen to prevent the food from burning. Now, this glycerin-infused oil was being used to prevent the engine coolant from freezing. The Babushka was given the task of making some hot water so that the canteens of frozen coffee could be thawed out. The bread rations were likewise thawed out and toasted. After the sentry arrangements were determined, we turned in for a rest. The Babushka waited on us hand and foot, while we barely spoke.

Our journey already continued before daybreak. We gave the old woman a half-loaf of bread and a roll of candy. We had nothing more to give. It quickly grew light out. The deep snow-covered forest, crackling from the frost, presented an uncanny and sinister appearance. Coming around a corner, Jansen pressed hard on the brakes and brought the truck to a standstill: on the wayside stood a German truck convoy.
“Everyone out and weapons at the ready!”

There were twelve vehicles. They had been abandoned and ransacked, with no trace of either the drivers or the passengers. The column carried no tactical signs and the lorries were entirely covered over with white paint. What had happened? The Russians, who had broken through, must have attacked the column while it was halted. We had been told that the enemy had only captured two villages and that a counter-attack was underway. It seemed, though, much more was going on here. Caution was advised. Despite reservations, our journey continued. Turning around was not an option.

We finally reached the end of great forest around midday. A town and usable airfield became visible. We had reached Lyuban'. Soon we would be driving into Chudovo. Our joy was great, especially among the reinforcements. Indeed, the soldiers had to proceed directly to the Field Hospital for the treatment of frostbite, which they had picked up along the way. The 180 kilometer journey back had taken place under very difficult conditions and without being aware of it, we had witnessed the beginning of the battle of the Volkhov. But what had happened actually?

The enemy had attacked across the Volkhov without any artillery preparation, right at the junction point between the 126th and 215th Infantry Divisions. It then established a bridgehead north-west of Novgorod and broke into the main defensive line. Colonel Hopped barred the way with part of his regiment, but was unable to restore the old defensive line. The next day already saw the Russians in the villages of Yamno and Arefino. The breakthrough was now several kilometers wide and the enemy was throwing strong forces into the gap. The Novgorod-Chudovo motor road was reached and severed. The villages of Lyubtsy, Myasniy Bor, Mostki and Spasskaya Polist' were surrounded. The villages were bitterly defended by the soldiers of the 126th Infantry Division and held out for weeks in the rear of the Soviet forces which had broken through the front.

On January 24th, the Soviets launched a thrust into the deep woods of the Volkhov. The Soviet assault, aimed first at Leningrad and then towards the Estonian border, created a narrow corridor to the north-west in which a great many troops were enclosed. The corridor, however, was too narrow and the flanks much too long. The Russians were unable to provide sufficient cover and protection for it and all attempts to widen the corridor led to heavy losses. Thousands of Red Army soldiers were left laying in the woods and forests of the Volkhov.

General of the Cavalry Lindemann, Commander-in-Chief of of the 18th Army, showed himself to be a true master of improvisation. He defied the enemy, making use of all available forces. The 5th Company remained in its positions along the railway embankment, and was then sent into action against the corridor. The new company command post was easily reached by panje sled. Nearby stood a defective Soviet command snow-sled. First lieutenant Piener would have loved to have had it in operation, but the company mechanic was unable to get it running. The troops were bivouacked in some partially destroyed, Soviet-built wooden bunkers. The earthen bunkers were not much to think of. The existing bunkers – or what was left of them – were reinforced with tree trunks. The defensive position lay around a small clearing and extended somewhat along a fire-break. One morning, the company's defensive positions were attacked by three Soviet aircraft. They flew in a shortly-spaced line along the fire-break. The first aircraft released its bombs. The second aircraft also succeeded in doing so, but the the third one flew straight into the fountain of snow and mud that had been thrown up. It banked steeply and crashed. “Those stupid Ivans, something's not all there with them. They've blown themselves up,” came from the mouths of the troopers.

With the beginning of the spring thaw, all the paths and lanes became quagmires. The time for panje wagons and sleds was over. Columns led by pack animals were organized to maintain the delivery of supplies. The main burden was placed on the Volkhov Express. This narrow-gauge railway had to haul soldiers, munitions, provisions and many other items. Narrow corduroy roads radiated outwards from the station halts to the field positions. Everything had to be carried from these halts. The roads became transformed into waterways. Every step had to be tested beforehand with a stick to escape the danger of falling into bomb craters or shell holes. This was the origin of the legendary “Volkhov mallet”.

General Vlasov took over command of the enemy forces in the Volkhov area. Despite energetic efforts, however, he was unable to improve the situation and avert the impending disaster. The Shock army found itself encircled in the woods. After heavy fighting, the Soviets succeeded in opening up a corridor to the pocket once more. It was dangerously narrow, however, and was only a few kilometers wide. Despite severe hardships, the Russians were able to build two narrow-gauge rail lines to supply and reinforce the pocket. Desperate attempts to widen the corridor failed. German combat groups smashed the Soviet efforts through vigorously led attacks. On May 31st, the pocket was closed for a second and final time. The enemy's fate was now sealed.

The forests grew green and storm clouds darkened the skies. Mosquitoes swarmed over the swamps, tormenting the long-suffering soldiers, and neither gloves nor netting provided relief. With this plague came the almost unbearable nausea occasioned by the decaying flesh of the fallen, laying in the swamps and woods. A last desperate attempt to break out of the encirclement was beaten back by dive-bombers. The pocket was then split in half and the end point arrived. The Russian troops emerged from their hiding places in the hundreds and thousands. Many were wounded. Most of them were half-starving and barely retained the semblance of human beings. On June 27th, it was all over. 21 enemy formations had been smashed. The front newspaper reported on Tuesday, June 30th, 1942: “The Leningrad relief attempt has failed. The Volkhov battle has ended. 33,000 prisoners have been taken, 649 guns and 171 tanks have been captured or destroyed!”

Despite intensive efforts, General Vlasov could not be found. A few weeks later, however, following a lead, he was tracked down to a peasant's hut and taken prisoner. During the frightful time in the pocket he had become a mortal enemy of Stalin's and now offered his services to the Germans. He became the organizer and commander of the so-called Vlasov Army, which fought on the side of the Wehrmacht. Stalins vengeance would come after the war. Vlasov was condemned to death and hanged in Moscow.