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It's not just Tigre who can post combat accounts (although it normally is).
[January 22nd 1945]
This morning is cloudy and dark. Schönau [Schönau an der Katzbach, fifty-six miles west of Breslau and forty miles southwest of Steinau. Today Swierzawa] simmers like a kettle of boiling water. Some of its last men go with the Volkssturm to the front or are earmarked as a reserve. No-one knows anything precise – no-one realises the gravity of the hour.
Not a single man is missing when the Volkssturm fall in on the Schützenplatz! All have come, without hesitation. Veterans of the World War stand next to men who have never served. The fact that many Party members move out with them has a soothing effect. Nevertheless, there are also shirkers. Perhaps they are ones who are right – cowardice has become a problem of our age. Thinking of a hero’s death is not everyone’s cup of tea. The days of victorious advances are over and again, as in 1918, it those forlorn heaps who repeatedly regroup and confront the enemy. Many Schönau Volkssturm men will perform this sacred duty – like all the Volkssturm in Silesia – until their very last heartbeat. Many of them have never been soldiers, yet here they achieved things in battle which deserve the greatest respect and recognition.
The town wakes up! Beams of light scurry through the darkness. The footsteps of men and groups echo through the streets. Cries and words of farewell accompany the footsteps. Concern for their husbands, for their fathers, stands out in the women’s voices.
All of us are in formation, the old hands from the First World War with the civilians. Our uniforms have become our everyday clothes. For coats we wear those of the SA. Our rucksacks start to rub. Around 6am the company is finally organised. The voice of the company commander echoes around the square. No songs sound today.
The town with all the things we love, with all the daily troubles, lies behind us. Our first objective is Schönau railway station. On this very first day, the Army pulls a long face. We have to wait, wait for the train which is to help us.
It’s probably twenty degrees below this morning. The waiting room and office are tight. The tension which hangs over every man has eased. We pass the time chatting and suddenly it’s time to board. The doors of the carriages are exposed to the elements. So we travel during the day, burden by heavy thoughts. Our homeland lies before us in all its wintry beauty. The expanse of gardens and fields sparkling thanks to the white of the frost.
The platform at Goldberg [Ten miles north of Schönau. Today Zlotoryja.] is filled with the men of 4 Kompanie, Goldberg Volkssturm. We look for friends. What we say doesn’t matter. There’s an oppressive mood in the air. Each man knows, or suspects, the danger which threatens the German homeland. The shrill whistle of the locomotive, the train setting off puts an end to the conversations and musing. Barely is Goldberg behind us than the war is right on our doorstep. The road which follows the railway line is full of people on the move. Horses and carts, on them people wrapped-up with their personal belongings and yet more carts, between them men, women and children on foot, a weary stream of people without a beginning or an end, at the mercy of the bitter easterly wind. These are Germans from the Silesian border region, driven from hearth and home by the war. Nevertheless, they had escaped the war in good order, they were provided with food and drink. They knew nothing of the fear of enemy tanks, of unspeakable misery, hardship, death and rape. A way without mercy.
We reach Liegnitz. People are fleeing here too, the platforms are overcrowded. When we approach Haynau [A dozen miles northwest of Liegnitz. Today Chojnów] and take the line back to Liegnitz, the call to arms does not want to end. The Russians are in our land, the fist of war has also struck our homeland. Ja, how correct were those slogans! As early as the third day, Russian T34 and Stalin tanks were attacking us in the Oder bridgehead.
Evening fell upon the land and still we’re rolling through the Silesian fields. The carriage doors have been closed for a long time. Then the brakes slam on: we’ve reached our destination, Steinau on the Oder. We march through the side streets of the town in closed formation. We regroup under the dim light of the emergency lighting. A tower appears out of the darkness. It is part of Steinau’s town hall – and also its water tower. It becomes our quarters for the night. We are still a company without weapons. We still know nothing about our battalion’s deployment. At first we’re taken by surprise by our accommodation. We’re greeted by the cries of children and a babble of voices. There are already refugees from the Warthegau here. They spend the night here, grouped in families, on thick straw beds. The middle of the hall is set aside for us. Soon we have made our beds. Our rucksacks are our pillows. We wait in vain for food. We were not expected, so there was nothing here. We have a catering staff, but it is no food. I am lost in thought – but do not express them out loud. So we have come here – or rather we were ordered to come here – without weapons, without food, and probably also without instructions for our use. That’s how our battalion enters this war! Falling asleep is difficult.
[…]
[January 23rd 1945]
We have to satiate our hunger using our own rucksacks. The refugees on their straw beds don’t seem to be in a hurry. They feel safe here. Richter, Dr S and I wander into town. There are still columns rolling through the streets, sometimes two abreast. The land beyond the Oder seems empty. The war with its fire, death and physical torture rolls behind it, only no-one knows it yet. We Volkssturm men don’t even know where the front line is. All we see is freezing people passing with their children to escape the approaching disaster. We stand there, lost in thought. The war has invaded our land. Like storm-lashed black clouds Fate approaches and casts a shadow over our lives. We don’t want to believe the impending disaster. If you ask the wandering torrent of humanity about the Russians, no-one knows anything accurate. Only the rumble of war, the thunder of cannon in the distance has completely startled them. Unguarded French prisoners pass with a heavily-laden cart. They act just like the fleeing Germans.
We read a notice by the Kreisleiter: “Remain calm! Don’t listen to rumours! There are troops on the way to protect the town.” The traffic through Steinau this morning is as colourful and swift as on market day, but the backdrop is grey and ominously silent. There are many men in the streets, Volkssturm men from Schönau, Goldberg, Liegnitz and Fraustadt. There are other men with white armbands, but no Wehrmacht soldiers.
We want to buy various things but get a frosty reception from shopkeepers. Did they suspect that during the evening, war would be knocking on the gates of the town and ration cards would no longer be required? Still the sacred system of government is not disrupted. On this winter’s morning, Steinau still seems to be a town where life is safe on the fringes of war. But it’s a game which can end with the death of women, children and old men. The inhabitants help those fleeing on their way. No-one, however, sees or hears of precautions being taken for the inhabitants of the town themselves.
We’ve barely got back from our stroll through the town when orders come to change quarters. We move into a Hitlerjugend home. Around 4pm, it’s digging time. Start entrenching. In the twilight of the fading day we march over the Oder bridge into the land. Mist and a cold wind hang over the fields. Hoes and shovels strike the frozen earth with a clang. To protect the men who are digging, company commander H leads a patrol into the dark. Somewhere there are suddenly two explosions. It’s as if someone’s striking hard wood. The air is as thick as cotton wool, causing the noise of the shooting to quickly fade. We look for – and find – the impact craters on the Oder dyke. Several tanks have penetrated the position of the third platoon of infantry from Jauer. In the ensuing battle, six tanks were destroyed by Panzerfaust and the Russians fell back on Ibsdorf. [Two miles east of Steinau on the right bank of the Oder. Today Iwno.] At this moment, we have no idea about this fighting involving the third platoon. At any rate, we are occupied by our own worries – namely that the enemy is pushing his armoured spearheads to the Oder before we have received enough weapons, ammunition and food. In the evening – at first we don’t believe it – a field kitchen from the Unteroffiziervorschule at Jauer finally arrives with warm food. We are again satisfied, content men, and in the clean straw of our new quarters, we sleep well. How quickly has war arrived! Terribly quickly! The OKW morning communiqué still talks about fighting east of Oppeln, Kalisz and Thorn. Now the enemy is here on the Oder. I can’t sleep. It is too loud in the rooms. The approaching guards clatter through the doors. Then a call from the company commander makes me leap up. Orders! Report to the bridgehead with eight men from the company! It takes some time for me to round up the volunteers. With a Gewehr 98 which I’d brought with me from Schönau and equipped with Panzerfaust we set off. Pioneers are still working on their explosive boxes on the bridge. The Oder carries broken ice – the well-known ‘Brieg geese’ The half moon casts its pale light over the land, clouds hurry across the sky and the wind is biting. Nothing moves, only the bumping of the ice floes disturbs the silence.
[…]
[January 24th 1945]
The Oder has now become the front line. The battalion’s leadership has finally got going. There are weapons, but no food. The battalion’s adjutant, R, issues Panzerfaust to the company commander in a restaurant in the Ring. Ten men haul them to the Hitlerjugend home. In the evening fifty rifles, mainly Italian, are issued to the 2 Volkssturm Kompanie. The staff of the infantry unit hands them to the company commander as it wants to clear off to a quieter spot in the rear. Cartridges are also handed out. If a man receives more than ten, he can call himself lucky. It is grim and depressing for the fighting capacity of our men if we have to withstand the enemy with such wretched equipment... And yet Volkssturm companies repeatedly demonstrated that, when deployed as a cohesive unit, they were always ready for action and never failed in their duty.
It’s evening. Light infantry fire chatters on the Oder. 2 Volkssturm Kompanie must improve the anti-tank defences in the town. So two groups are divided among five defensive positions. Guards with Panzerfaust are posted on the streets leading from the Oder to The Ring. Company commander H briefs us everywhere. We often have to force front doors open to get into the houses. The first floor is set up as a guard post. The moon rises late tonight and the frost is extremely noticeable. The day was eventful for 2 Kompanie, but passed without losses. The daily communiqué reported, inter alia: “A Soviet unit sent across the Oder at Steinau with thirty tanks was thrown back after twenty-four tanks had been shot up.” We have turned into gypsies in Steinau. By day – or by night – we often have to change our quarters.
As a result, our field kitchen always misses us. We run around the area with this hunger and so we can’t keep the grumbling at bay. The company commander spends the day searching for several men from his company. The missing little black sleep remain missing, although I bumped into them in the diary outside the town after the tank attack. The shock caused by the Russian tanks, the hunger in their stomachs, became too much for them. Their legs became homesick and we never saw them again on the banks of the Oder. When they got home, they merely exacerbated the anxiety our women felt for their husbands. Ja, so now we have to stand watch for tanks in the town from Wednesday evening until Thursday. It probably won’t be as dangerous as it was this morning in the bridgehead with the Russian tanks. There was nothing more in front of us except the enemy – we were alone with only our cocky courage as our companion. Now we have to block the roads leading to the Oder. Defensive positions one to three are in Winzigerstrasse. Positions four and five are in the road running parallel to it...
We occupy one window each on the first floor. The Panzerfaust lie on chairs which have been drawn up. The company commander does the rounds and hands out pastries from a small parcel sent from home. There’s also some dextrogen. With our restless existence and little sleep, we can use that. The wind toys with the curtains and the cold winter breeze comes in through the windows which are wide open. There’s an eerie silence over the town. Not one shot can be heard on the Oder front here. For a few hours, the clear winter sky has smothered the war. We take it in turns to sleep, dressed as we are, in the white beds.
It must be past midnight already. A bright flash, a thunderous blow, the walls around us rumble. A thick cloud of dust deprives us of any view. Everyone is terrified. My left hand is bleeding. Shouting, we make sure all of us are alive. The bombardment of Steinau has begun.
[…]
[January 25th 1945]
It’s now 2am. Shells have also landed over there on the other side and torn down the gable end. There’s a fire in the courtyard. We put the fire out. There were several hits from a Stalin organ. The barrage continued until dawn. Only once did it land near us. At daylight we examine the damage. As the two of us saw from the window, the wall is pockmarked with large and small holes from shrapnel. Things can easily go wrong. I search the kitchen, find some eggs and, miracle of miracles, half a bottle of methylated spirits. The eggs are quickly broken in a pan. H brings butter from the house opposite. He found four pounds of butter there and 30,000 Reichsmarks in an unlocked casket. The butter was shared fairly and the money pushed under a closet. The flight from the town must have been somewhat hurried. A few old women have stayed behind. Deep down, these old dears have staunch faith in the fighting strength and power of the Wehrmacht, something which strongly shook us. They cling on to their homes so doggedly that will willingly go through anything. They refuse to accept the terrible seriousness of their plight.
Our quarters are an extremely clean and tidy apartment. Each room is tidy. The closet is full of clean, properly stacked washing. On the lower shelf there are ten pairs of spick and span shoes. My thoughts immediately turn to home. How are things there? In the brisk morning wind I inspect the various anti-tank posts. Inspector T surprises me with a pail of fresh milk. For lunch there are pork chops. This food from the land has a wonderful effect. A full stomach makes for contented men. The brothers K are also in a small house where they are cooking and roasting. H and Dr S are royally accommodated. They’re in a corner house on The Ring with Dr Seh. Wistfully we go through rooms which are well looked after. When will the precious crystal in the display cases crash to the floor? When will the valuable paintings on the walls be destroyed? H puts the gramophone in the children’s bedroom on. He flops into an armchair. A large suitcase has been left in the middle of the room. It’s tightly packed. A belated Christmas goose lies ready-plucked ready on top of it. War seems so senseless when you walk through an abandoned and deserted town. It is a terrible selling off of our homeland.
[…]
[February 4th 1945]
The final days in the convent were almost painful – the penetration by German armour brought no relief for the defenders. Many Volkssturm men had hoped they would be saved, but they had to continue to stick it out in hell. Conditions in the hospital – 200 wounded were in the cellar – grew worse and worse. There were no bandages and medicine left, no vials to fight off tetanus. On Sunday February 4th, the commander of the Liegnitz Volkssturm therefore decided to surrender the convent. There are men of the Wehrmacht and Volkssturm from Liegnitz, Fraustadt and Goldberg, who leave their final defensive position here. Many Russian soldiers give the defenders cigarettes, others beat the defenceless men wildly. Many Russians stagger around the square drunk. The column of prisoners marches via towards Niederdammer... The effective strength of 2 Kompanie was 116 Volkssturm men. The company had lost: twenty-two men missing (two to the Wehrmacht), two men dead, two men wounded, twenty-five men (of whom two died and four men went missing in captivity), one man died in Steinau, ten men deserted in the face of the enemy and returned home, fifty-four men returned prematurely. In the Volkssturm fought men who for the most part had received their baptism of fire in the First World War. But in its ranks there were also men who were disabled, men who had received no military training. Some of these men were expected to acquire soldierly virtues – in a rough and ready fashion – in just eight mornings’ training.
On February 4th 1945, Steinau capitulated after a bitter defence. During this fighting, 2 Kompanie Volkssturmbataillon Goldberg and many other Volkssturm men were honourably involved.
Many men struggled with the rights and wrongs of this hopeless struggle on the Oder. They carried the hopelessness in their hearts.
[Curt Kunkel, ‘Der Kampf um Steinau: Schicksal und Einsatz des Schönauer Volkssturms’]
[February 4th 1945]
Not far from Steinau our panzers and half-tracks fanned out for a pincer movement to take the town. There was not a single shot. The ground had frozen solid. About one kilometre outside Steinau our motorised Abteilung grouped up to drive in a column on the road which lead into Steinau from the west and crossed the railway line. Not a single shot! After unloading and as it was trying to leave the town, the truck was hit by Russian mortar fire on the level crossing, preventing it from returning. The majority of our panzers disappeared up driveways in the town. The rest of the panzers took up positions in the courtyard of Steinau’s convent facing the Oder. On the way here from Liegnitz, our unit had not had any contact with Germans in other sectors. No radio contact with the outside world. No German aircraft in sight.
The men’s suspicion – ‘we’ve been betrayed here’ – was confirmed around 5am on February 4th when someone said: “Show the white flag, surrender to the Russians!” The officers had run off.
That same day our walk into Russian captivity began. We left behind forty panzers, six half-tracks and five trucks carrying fuel.
I have never read anything about this chapter of the war near Steinau either in a book or in a newspaper. [Kurt Walter, born in Breslau in 1908]
. Cheers. Raúl M 
.