It's been a long long time now ... but I still remember that day as if it was just yesterday.
The hospitalisation ended and so did my active career with Wehrmacht. Having lost the thumb of my left hand was enough of a reson to put me back into reservists or even lower category.
The situation had still not reached the desperate levels as that in 1944 and 1945 where the injured and even the incapacitated were expected to actually fight to the best of their capabilities.
I still remember the first sight of that T-34 ... of which we had only heard till then. Our Mark IV with it's short barrel and low velocity gun was no match for that Russian wolf ... Siberian wolf rather ....
The Mongols say that wolf and deer are their original ancestors ....
And it was as fast as a Siberian wolf too ... it ran rounds around us .... it could travel faster than our turret.
I still remember -
Two of our shots bounced off harmlessly .... and then there was this blinding flash ....
I don't remember much except that there was just pure intense heat and someone was screaming. I think I lost control over my bowels and my consciousness simultaneously.
I woke up in a pure white sanitised atmosphere of the front hospital.
I was lucky that except the thumb of my left hand, all else was intact. But I had fractured my left leg too and there were burns all over.
The others from my crew were no more. I mean no one had found their dead bodies either. They said that our tank had blown up like a balloon.
After spending two months in the front hospital, I was transferred back to Berlin.
Anyway, coming back to that day ....
I was just discharged from the hospital and walked out with my brother Joachim to the coffee shop nearby. He was just 17 years then and thought war was glorious affair ... that dying for fatherland was important.
I was telling him about my experiences on the East Front and at one point said "You know Joachim ... you should never die for your country ... because something worth dying for is certainly more worth living for".
Actually there were Nazi officers and Gestapo around. But I had kept my voice low enough.
And I was startled when suddenly this huge hand fell on my shoulder and said "Well spoken".
I looked back ... terrified ....
There was this HUGE man with a scar all along his face ....
"Something worth dying for is certainly something worth living for ...", he smiled and said "Otto ... Otto Skorzeny" ....
He extended his hand ... and I took it ... not knowing that it was a friendship that would survive the war and last many many years.
Go on please
The (almost) Supermen
Moderator: Commissar D, the Evil
Otto...the friend.......
Well, I happened to met him in a very different, but similar way:
In the last days, just east of berlin, he was directing a column of reinforcements toward Seelow heights (must been the few days before departing for the Alps....) and I was in charge of a Famo 18 ton carrying supplies (mostly panzerfaust) and a few precious gallons of fuel to a Stug battalion somewhere, when I saw him, directin a group of officers and HJ recruits to the front.
Suddenly we were caught in a artillery barrage, and he shouted "Run for your life, take cover!!!" neverthless I knew the ammo and fuel were badly needed at the front and I decide to stay on the Famo and try to steer it away from the main road, were most of the shells were falling.....
After some minutes, that seemed hours, the barrage stopped and everyone left the roadside ditch, and he came straight back to me..I was pissing in my pants, because togehter with him was a bunch of dreaded SD troops, the so called "flying courts" oflast days, and I expected a quick trial and hanging for not obeying a direct order.
Instead He jumped to the Famo and directed me to go back to the road, and ordered me to the front his Kubel and was destroyed and his adjuntant/driver was killed in the barrage (anyway, my beloved Famo was the only vehicle not destroyed by the barrage, beside a few HJ bicycles!!!)
To make a long story short, we talked for about 3 hours and he asked me why I did not left the truck, and I explained him My reasons...he agreed and he liked the way I drove the big Famo too!!!
that is how I became Otto's personal driver fro the rest of the war and afterwards....
Xavier (the spanish volunteer)
In the last days, just east of berlin, he was directing a column of reinforcements toward Seelow heights (must been the few days before departing for the Alps....) and I was in charge of a Famo 18 ton carrying supplies (mostly panzerfaust) and a few precious gallons of fuel to a Stug battalion somewhere, when I saw him, directin a group of officers and HJ recruits to the front.
Suddenly we were caught in a artillery barrage, and he shouted "Run for your life, take cover!!!" neverthless I knew the ammo and fuel were badly needed at the front and I decide to stay on the Famo and try to steer it away from the main road, were most of the shells were falling.....
After some minutes, that seemed hours, the barrage stopped and everyone left the roadside ditch, and he came straight back to me..I was pissing in my pants, because togehter with him was a bunch of dreaded SD troops, the so called "flying courts" oflast days, and I expected a quick trial and hanging for not obeying a direct order.
Instead He jumped to the Famo and directed me to go back to the road, and ordered me to the front his Kubel and was destroyed and his adjuntant/driver was killed in the barrage (anyway, my beloved Famo was the only vehicle not destroyed by the barrage, beside a few HJ bicycles!!!)
To make a long story short, we talked for about 3 hours and he asked me why I did not left the truck, and I explained him My reasons...he agreed and he liked the way I drove the big Famo too!!!
that is how I became Otto's personal driver fro the rest of the war and afterwards....
Xavier (the spanish volunteer)
"Assiduus usus uni rei deditus et ingenium et artem saepe vincit"
Constant practice devoted to one subject often outdues both intelligence and skill:
Cicero
Constant practice devoted to one subject often outdues both intelligence and skill:
Cicero