We, about twenty 16-year old boys, pupils of the Robert Schumann School, a high school in Zwickau/Sa, had arrived very early in the morning of this day in the concourse of the main Railway station in Zwickau-Saxonia. Many of the boys were accompanied by their parents. An NCO in the blue-grey uniform of the Luftwaffe with red collar patches met us, and we travelled by rail in reserved compartments in the direction of Berlin. As the train reached the suburbs of the German capital city, we saw the totally burned out rows of houses already in Lankwitz, and the lively talking in the compartment stopped. Stepping out of the City Transit train rail station "Gesundbrunnen", we then caught sight of the giant concrete of the flakturm Humboldthain, before us...in future we are supposed to live there!

Anyhow, first of all we are "allowed" to go up on the elevator, then followed a cursory medical examination, fitting out of uniforms (we also received a metal identity disc like real soldiers), installation in the accommodation, which was equipped with two-tier beds and metal lockers. The view out of the man-high windows, which had thick steel shutters that could be closed, was out over the railway line onto the front of an almost burnt-out row of houses, only one house of which was still partly habitable. Our 17-year-old comrades who had been on duty in the tower since September 1943 informed us that the heavy nightly air-raids of November 1943 had caused this destruction. They greeted us with a mixture of pity and an air of ' This is your tough luck! '...now you are really in it!

From the gun tower in the Humboldthain, Berlin, 1944. The tower was painted grey/green and protruded far out over the old damaged trees of the park. On the surrounding balcony of the tower, 2cm flak weapons were mounted on concrete bases. On the upper platform were four twin-barreled guns of 12.8 cm caliber.

I took up my first duty without a steel helmet because there hadn't been one, of my considerable size, available. The result of this first of all was a bollocking, together with a comment only horses have bigger heads. The NCO, who had picked us up at our hometown railway station, happened to be a grammar school teacher in disguise and was our instructor. So was a second such lance corporal, a Westphalian, was also our instructor, along with a lance corporal R., a master painter from Hamburg who appeared to have stomach problems. "The 2cm Flak 38 as such (shouted as if in a quarrel) will be ruined in...". It consists of the Swiss precision product, 2cm Orliken gun, and it became one of the few delights of my time as an LwH, to take it apart and put it together again. The base of this gun can still be seen today, if one climbs the winding path up the remains of the partially dynamited south side of the G-Tower Humboldthain,and finally arriving through rubble, trees and shrubs, at the level of the 12.8 cm gun platform. (The winding road had only been half blown up and then had rubble poured on it). Otto M. and Hans K. pose on such a gun in a photograph, and there were also specimens with four barrels, the so-called "Vierlinge".

Bomb damage on a 2cm-gun at the fire escape on the second, smaller Radar and Control tower, the "L-Turm" in the Humboldthain in Novenber 1943. Parts of the gun were found next morning between the AEG building, visible in the background. Shortly before impact the crew of the light flak weapons had been ordered to the inside of the tower, therefore there were no losses .

Naturally the chief purpose of the "duty" was to instruct us as soon as possible to be fully trained operating personnel for the weapons. Below in the Humboldthain on a small sport field regular infantry training took place. At first standing at attention and saluting were practiced often, although in this regard, the Hitler Youth supposedly should actually have already trained us! Clearly the duty on the weapons was the favourite, especially as one could demonstrate ones own technical understanding there. More often than not the tone of the superiors was not rough. The usual bellowing at the infantry drills in front of the tower we already knew all about from our service with the Hitler Youth, and we even put up with the aggravating drill practiced here "Entengang - Eeentengang!!"(to march like ducks with bending knees!) and press-ups mostly as unavoidable military training. LWH Hans K. remembers, still with bitterness, the evening acts of punishment, the so-called "fancy-dress-ball" punishment of an NCO, given for any kind of reason. And for similarly vacuous grounds the several hours infantry training with which the entire battery was so "honoured" by the Battery Chief D.It was not only on the weapon-training that we, some of us not yet 16 years old, focused our happy expectations on, we focused also on our next short leave, due about once a month, provided the gun crews left behind were still adequate for combate. One such 'short leave' consisted of two days, and additional two travelling days, so that with clever selection of the railway timetables - we were allowed to use army leave-trains- -one could gain more than 48 hours of "at home" time. On Tuesday morning one had to make sure, under all circumstances, to report for duty. Once in the year a 12 day, plus 2 travelling days, leave was given, but for us beginners this was still far in the future...

More often than not during meals in the cafeteria we also met the LWH out of the Berlin schools, but they did their duty mainly on the big 12.8 cm twin-barrel guns on the top platform. Not only because of that, but also on account of their frequent action at night they looked down upon us Saxons on the surrounding balcony with the light 2cm weapons ; numerous times they addressed us as "stubborn Saxons", with which they probably meant that in comparison to them we were too well-behaved and obedient, and complied with all the rules and regulations, while their view of the whole set-up was clearly more relaxed. But many Saxons were not at all too well-behaved: there were with us for instance, an equal number of students from an other Zwickauer Grammar School who travelled to Berlin, and who then lived in the same accommodation as we pupils from our Robert Schumann School.Amazingly, we found out that their manner of speaking was often peppered with our free and easy expressions critical of the Hitler regime, and they had a considerable fund of the so-called "whisper jokes" at their disposal. Also, two of them liked to play Hitler and Mussolini meeting each other at the Brenner Pass. While one of them, perched up on a two-tier bed, mimicked the Duce with Roman greetings and sticking his chin menacingly to the front, the other stood in front of the bed turned towards him, holding a comb under his nose, and the other hand held up and bent over his shoulder, portrayed the Führer. Another was a master at the imitation of the German Propaganda Minister, while he stepped, limping, in front and spoke with the exact same colourful intonation of the west Rhine: ( Translator's note: The point of the following Dr Goebbels' quotations is his drawled accent regarding his use of the letters "e" and "r" and is totally lost in the translation). " And again we have thrown four tons of four-fruit marmalade on the East Front...". We laughed and were amazed that there was still such humour, 11 years after the seizure of power...as Hitler called it. ER also quoted to us a remark allegedly from Dr Goebbels : " The German woman does not smoke". If one catches someone secretly smoking among us, which for us LwH is really stringently forbidden, the remark becomes , "The German Luftwaffenhelferrrrrr does not smoke!" The "Battery" song, which when marching was bellowed more than sung, began with "High around, on the mountain right under the twinkling stars...", was supposed to be a cover to our gun emplacement about 35 m high above the earth. The song, "Dark brown like a hazelnut", too, we had already sung in the Hitler Youth, rang out among the damaged tree trunks of the Humboldthain on whose sports field we sang, although the type sung about did not correspond just to the blond-blue-eyed ideal type of the Third Reich.

After we had learned the proper salutes, we were allowed for the first time, accompanied by two NCOs, to leave the vicinity of the Tower and march through some streets of the district---a real trip round the world! The devastation brought about up to the winter of 1943/44 was frightening, and made worse whenever a high explosive bomb hit the sewerage system, lifting and tearing up also side streets. A cinema at the corner had remained intact and we were once allowed to go and see the film, "The White Dream"--the film with the song about the balloon:" ...imagine , he flew with you from there...", which rhymed with "illusion". At that time probably many were already quite happy " to fly away from it"--but one did not let that show. And on a Sunday we were taken as spectators to a nearby football stadium, where though, we were rather bored.

	With steel helmet and in the "overcoat" pose, here LwH Otto-F.M. and Hans K. standing on guard on the 2 cm Oerlikon, our gun on the balcony of the G-Tower Humboldthain in February 1944. The crane on which the guns had been hoisted up can be recognized in the background. The base for this gun can still be seen today on the observation platform on the mound of the bunker in the Humboldthain! The iron rods on the left and right were supposed to serve as a guard rails for the gun barrels whenever very heavy firing was in progress so that nearby buildings would not be hit. There was such an guard rail on the flak-tower at the zoo for example, to ensure the golden figure on the victory columns (named "Gold-Else" by the Berliners) would not be hit by the shooting.
	Two LWHs in front of the camera on a Sunday in dress uniform in the Humboldthain, with the hope that no air-raid warning calls them back to the guns, and trying hard to avoid being seen by someone of a rank they'd have to salute. LwH Wolfgang W. appears happy despite his lack of a pass.The other, LwH Otto F., anyhow, seems happy in the spring sun and moreover, that he so frequently gets letters from his girl friend in his native Saxony and is therefore, envied by his comrades. As well-behaved Saxons we are carrying the regulation swastika armbands, and have not removed the Hitler Youth patch from our caps---many LWH had replaced these even with a metal Luftwaffe-eagle!

Finally at the beginning of March, in light driving snow in a nearby park, our age group was solemnly sworn in. We stood in a rectangle lined up around a 2cm quadruple gun. The gun had been brought down for this purpose with the help of a crane installed on the tower, and transported here. Two LwH's each had to lay a hand on the barrel of the gun and had to repeat a text, which I have forgotten. I remember only that I was very cold, especially since we probably wore our dress uniforms, but without our greatcoats.

A teacher from our school was in charge of the students' education and stayed permanently over in L-tower. He instructed the 1927 age group on one morning of the week, and in addition provided us in the 1928 age group with basic education. For this purpose, the entire group walked over to the L-tower, carrying one of the massive wooden stools which served for seating in our accommodation. This was on terrain which had not yet been leveled off, with trees to the left and right damaged by the shrapnel from high explosive bombs, and still eking out an existence. The instruction naturally, could not attain the same goal for our school year as that set under normal conditions at home, especially as teaching was continually interrupted by the warning alarm, even before the sirens screamed outside, as a result of the increased frequency of the airraids even during the day. Upon early warning, class would immediately cut short, and we hurried, stools over our backs for our G-Turm, up one of the four wide spiral staircases,to uncover and prepare our 2cm guns for readyness. We never had a chance to shoot though; from our balcony on which the weapons were positioned we stared in astonishment at the first daylight raid of the US Air Force that began on the 4th and 6th of March 1944. We saw how the bomber groups, seemingly unaffected by the thick black ack-ack bursts and the constantly thundering 12.8 twin-barrel guns on all three G-towers of the city, flew on to their target. Glittering swarms of sticks of incendiaries were seen falling along with some high explosive bombs, and north of us a colossal fire and mushroom cloud of smoke. We observed the shooting down of two or three bombers,but from my position on the side of the G-turm, I saw only a parachute sailing down with a colored soldier as a result of the continuously thundering gun fire. He landed right on the L-Turm , greeted with a great "Hallo".

During the nightly air-raids of November 1943 a high explosive bomb destroyed a single 2cm gun on the L-Turm. Luckily for the soldiers and the LWH's they had been ordered inside just a few minutes before. Their gun had completely disappeared, and the teacher in charge of the group, StR. W., delivered a dramatic description of this event to the hometown school. He had been in a good position to do so, since he had been sitting in his room almost directly under the explosion and his steel shutter, obviously not correctly closed, had been ripped off by the blast.

The big British air-raids at night stopped in the middle of February. But from this time on the fast light-bombers, the "Mosquitos", frequently attacked the sleeping German capital, and naturally each time we had to get out and, quietly cursing, uncover the guns and then idly view the nightly drama high above Berlin. The countless searchlights, which in the clear sky fastened on each individual aircraft with great precision and then passed it on to the next one. The colourfully radiant "Christmas trees" were dropped first, this was probably supposed to feign the beginning of a major air-raid. The powerful loud twin-barrels of the 12.8 cm guns above us produced many twinkling sparks all around the quickly darting silver shining aircraft, that from below appeared like that of our lighter for the gas cooker at home. Nevertheless I never did see a plane shot down, and the bombers disappeared quickly each time after each had dropped its "blockbuster", which came down somewhere with a dreadful roar, followed by a colossal explosion -- once so close, that we, scared out of our wits, went behind the thick protective wall of the balcony for cover.

On the 29th April we experienced the last daylight raid on the Humboldthain Tower and I, already wearing a clog with a bandaged foot, photographed the resulting fires in the south of Berlin, which raged in the distance. A week later I was sent to a sickbay in the Flak tower Friedrichshain, after my wound infection could not be stopped by our first-aid attendant. On the way Berlin housewives expressed, loud and severely, their sorrow as I limped from the underground station to the tower:" Is that not a shame, now they're even killing the young chaps like this...". I lay there then, several weeks on the ground floor and experienced the heavy daylight raids of 7th, 8th, and 19th May on east Berlin in the safe bunker on which a phosphorous bomb fell directly under our steel shutter, which was naturally firmly closed during the air-raid. During my stay in ick bay, numerous wounded who were dug out of the cellar were taken care of in the first-aid dressing room. Our guardian teacher from my own Flak tower, Prof. L., once kindly visited me, and also two friends appeared at my bed and reported about their experiences during the last air-raids. As my foot healed reasonably well I even managed, at my request, to have a few days convalescence leave sanctioned by the friendly medical captain.

Picture caption: When the ominous Radio "Luftlage" announcements began, here in the summer of 1944 in front of the G-Turm at the zoo, the population living in Berlin pouring into the flak towers, which could be regarded as a nearly-totally-safe shelter. At the sound of the siren, the people hurried at the double to the single entrance, many with their emergency baggage and a little folding chair.

On the 20th July 1944, the day of an unsuccsessful attempt upon Hitlers life at his headquarter "Wolfsschanze", around midday, it was ordered first of all, that each LwH, armed with a carbine, was stationed in the stairwell on each floor, without knowing however, at whom we were for instance, to shoot! In my pocket I had my leave pass for my much-longed for home leave (10 days + 2 travelling days!) beginning the next morning, and found out then, much to my annoyance, that a ban on leaves, effective immediately, had been ordered. We did not hear what had happened until late in the night when, while lying on bed listening to a comrade's radio, we heard it through the guttural voice of Hitler himself . I must admit that at that time I had extreme anger towards the assassins, because they had messed up my home leave...! However, on the next morning the ban on leaves had already been lifted. I had in fact, to run from one person to the other in order to gather the necessary signatures for a new leave pass, but on July 22nd I actually travelled from the Anhalter Station home.

Picture caption: For a short leave as well as just a weekend, the LwH received a genuine military ticket which allowed him to travel even with front-line trains. But already in May 1944 these journeys were often interrupted through the daylight raids of the USAF and the trains had to be diverted.

When I finally reported back to the Zoo Flak tower after my leave (my battery had moved here at the beginning of May), the entire troop had set out to Dramburg in Pommernian for shooting exercises. Hans K. celebrated his 16th birthday in a freight car on the journey there in the station at Stargard. He told me later how, with the new 3.7 cm guns, they had shot holes into target airbags, balloons, dummy tanks, and how the tracer ammunition had set the heath in fire. I on the other hand still had a few days more of free time in Berlin, and had to take care of running errands now and then in the great city of Berlin for a senior sergeant. In doing so I was absolutely amazed, that especially in the old centre of the city, much still remained undamaged.

From the Zoo Tower on the 21st June 1944 we saw the massive daylight raid and the region going up in flames, in which the tower of the cathedral burnt with a green copper flame and the sun disappeared behind the cloud of smoke over the city. As always we stood around inactive.On one unique occasion we almost had a chance to shoot: During the daytime raid, as a look out, I saw suddenly several single engine fighter planes skipping over the roof tops in the dirction 2 oclock. I yelled out the alarm in the prescribes manner,and my comrades turned the gun in this direction. Then we heard the reports of gun of the towers Humboldthain and Friedrichshain. While the first fighter went down in a cloude of smoke, we saw four Mustang aircraft of the USAF pull out and climb steeply upwards followed by the explosions of the other 3.7cm guns, but outside the range of our own guns. The somewhat envious enthusiasm over the shooting down was great. When the telephone in our position rang later, I had to get the sergeant for the telephone and he took the announcement with the remark, "Horse manure!", and then said to me: "That was a Focke-Wulf, that came down on the Rosenthaler Platz, not a Mustang. But say nothing further about it to anyone!". Obviously that German fighter, pursued by the Mustangs, tried to land at the Tempelhof aerodrome.

When we received the essay subject, "On what grounds do we base our hopes for victory?", from Prof. L. a week after the invasion, I sat distraught in front of the lined paper and for the first time in my school existence I did not know what I should write. Naturally I received a mark of minus 3 for it ( I was used to receive in composition many "one" marks or at least "Two") and Prof. L. had written in red: "And the 'wonder weapons?". I had not mentioned these, (the first V 1 had not flown to London until the 16th June), really, where were they, the effective "wonder weapons"? But I experienced so to say, one final shock as far as " hopes of victory" were concerned in August, when I had elevator duty. Accompanied by massive chorus of heel-clicking, Field Marshall Goering appeared at the entrance to the elevator at the same time naturally, as the regular elevator girl: "Come on scram, "Hermann" I have to drive myself", that is, up to the prominent sick bay. But I still saw for a number of seconds in his gloomy sagging face, something completely different from that in the newsreel in the summer of 1940, which showed the balcony in front of the jubilant masses at the Reichs Chancellery after the victorious French campaign. I left the elevator and hastened up to our accommodation, where my comrades naturally, were sitting playing "skat", and Helmut L. had the bid, and I said, "You know what? I have just seen Göring, with a solemn face...We have lost the war ! ". But Helmut L. said," 24--27, pass", and then: " Is that news to you only now ?"

No one had more understandable reasons for having lost hope than the LwH Hans K., who frequently had guard duty on the guns at the top, encountered a
airforce General Bodenschatz, in his pajamas, with arms completely bandaged since the assassination attempt on July 20th, and Food Minister, Backe, whose face was of a sickly yellow colour, probably as a result of a bad dose of hepatitis, met the LWH Hans K. at the top there. They questioned the small LWH in a friendly manner about his family and school conditions. To him certainly, a sickly jaundiced Food Minister somehow appeared strange.

Thanks to the elevator duty, I had still further experiences with prominent persons that year, but I did not cover myself in glory: The highly decorated fighter pilot Galland, and an SS General with the Knight's Cross medal once walked into the elevator and demanded to be taken up to the sick bay, where Air Force General, Bodenschatz, was still having his wounded hands treated. ( Galland had married a girl in my home town in a solemn ceremony in the city hall, and survived long after the war in South America). While I was tinkering about with my elevator handle the famous Galland asked me, admittedly somewhat patronizing, " Well laddie, surely you'll want to become a fighter pilot one day ?". I addressed him correctly and answered smartly, in complete honesty, " No, Herr General Inspector, I will stay with the Flak!". As a result of his feelings being hurt he turned his back on me. The SS General had a grin all over his face. Actually, I had volunteered a few days before to become a reserve officer in the Luftwaffe (almost all of us did this because of shorter basic training, and in the hope, not to become cannon fodder someday). I was impressed by the Flak weapons, and because at that time we had already been trained on guns of two different calibers (indeed there were later even four!), I had decided to do that.

However, one day at the end of March or the beginning of April 1945, I was ordered home to the barracks, much to the horror of my parents. At the barracks a friendly old girl just informed me that my application for the Luftwaffe had unfortunately, been turned down, but I could now apply for the infantry since after all, officers were certainly needed there... and I could fill out my application here, and right away! I grabbed the form, took it home with me, and threw it away.

Often, after an air-raid warning alarm had been given (not a civilian 'siren' warning), we observed from our balcony the inhabitants of Berlin who had not yet been bombed-out and lived nearby, streaming to the entrance of the tower. This began really whenever the air-station announcements were given on the radio that, for example, " A formation of bombers to the north of Braunschweig on an easterly course" is heading our way, and the sirens had still not even announced the civilian "air-raid warning". The people seeking shelter then filled up the ground floor and the big spiral staircases in the corner towers. Sometimes there could have been several thousands! At the last moment, whenever the heavy flak at the west end of the city just started to fire, we sometimes saw some high ranking officers out of the "Bendler-Block", many with red braid stripes on their trousers, hurry into the tower.

The Zoo Flak Tower, was the so-called "poshiest" of the three Berlin towers, not only because of its well-appointed hospital on one of its floors, but also because of it being equipped with a little cinema theater. Once, on the stage of this cinema, we were even allowed to have a forces' entertainment event in which naturally, the dancers from the famous Dresden "Palucca" school, were expertly judged regarding their vital statistics by the flak soldiers. There was also a wing, where the door to the stage was usually unlocked,there stood a grand piano, on which my friend Otto M. sometimes performed hits like, "Kauf Dir einen bunten Luftballon...", or "In der Nacht ist der Mensch nicht gern alleiné...", and very tenderly jazzed up, the Horst Wessels barrel-organ melody, "The flag high...". Already at that time the sad sequence of sounds of this Nazi party song had, half unconsciously, surprised me, that it had really nothing rousing and heroic about it. Actually it was supposed to be a simple street ballad changed into a second national anthem. There was the Italian Fascist Hymn, really another matter, it was brisk and dashing, to which we naturally in 1944 set our own words to the tune: " We are courageous Italiyaaans, our country is becoming smaaaaler and smaaaaler...".

In September our school pals from the 1927 age-group left us; they were conscripted into the National Labour Service. However we were sent, all ranks, to Rüdersdorf east of Berlin to a battery of 8.8 cm's. And there we landed again in the countryside and the barracks and lavatories were unusually primitive. But there were fields right beside us and I can still see us three, Otto, Christian, and me, roaming around, helping ourselves from a heap of carrots. We were watching a farmer carting turnips away and the wagon got stuck and finally broke a shaft. Christian sympathized with the farmer and expertly determined the problem, and it became clear to me, that he, coming from the country village, more than I ( I had been separated from my garden for nine months) who yearned for the countryside, the look, and the smell of dung and plowed fields... We remained without interruption out in the country till the war's conclusion. In Rüdersdorf the instruction on the 8.8 cm's, which came to light a week later, had been unnecessary, although to a student such as I interested in technical things, it was something new, especially as I didn't have to act as a gun loader like my friend Otto M.,for whom loading the 8.8 cm shells was really a struggle, especially whenever the gun was fired almost perpendicularly.

I still remember the nocturnal railway trip through Leipzig to the station Eytra, where in the morning our carriage stood parked in the autumn mist, and for the first time we breathed in that fog of the smoldering brown coal, from which our noses were not again to be free until end of Jan. 1945. We were divided between the villages of Scheidens and Seegel and lay on straw on the floor of the hall of an inn in Seegel, and the landlady asked if perhaps we'd like billiards...The lieutenant went for a walk on the road with a young lady who was the village schoolteacher...and it was really idyllic there, until an air-raid on the Böhlen Works, visible in the distance, when we lay outside the village in slit-trenches, and saw the streams of bombers right above us pulling away and the ground shaking from the exploding bombs.Soon we withdrew further south around Lucka, just to lie on straw again, initially in the hall of an inn at the market, then in a room at a factory while we dug out an AA flak position immediately outside the village. We also had classes in the school building from a teacher who had joined us from the Zittau high School with some students. These Boys talked in an for us unusual accent, with a rolling "R".

Punctually on October 14th 1944 we were promoted to "head-LwH" which made it necessary to buy a silver braid which was then fastened to the epaulette. We had to get a new pass photograph taken...with the braid!A map on the wall of the room in the factory showed us how near we had approached to home, and since the duty at the weekend was very loosely handled, we just decided to travel home on Friday night, and to appear again on the Monday morning, by means of bicycles in fact. We, Eberhard S., ich, and a third person, left the troop therefore by means of a train, but we got stuck between Meuselwitz and Altenburg because an air-raid on the Rositz hydrogenating works on the 20th October had destroyed the rails a few hours previously. A farmer's cart took us finally to Altenburg and at some time later we arrived home. For the return journey we met in front of my house on Sunday evening. The return trip with bicycles was really strenuous; we arrived at daybreak at our accommodation and crept to our place on the straw. The NCO who slept in the room with us saw us, grinned, and let the matter rest--he probably thought we had been with a girl!When in the following week it became known that we would be moved again, we performed the whole thing once more the next weekend, but in the reverse order, and again without being caught.We then all travelled on the 31st October with the train to Merseburg, marched in pouring rain to a Red-Cross house where, wet and tired, we spent the night on the bare floor packed like herring. On the next morning we reached the 10.5 cm gun position between the Merseburg airport and the Buna Works, Schkopau, and moved into barracks that had in the meantime been cleared out for us. We found there a group from Merseburg High School, who even to our ears, spoke with a horrible Saxon tongue.

And there the instruction on the fourth flak weapon began, on which we immediately got a good lesson on the very next day with a heavy air-raid on the Leuna Works. Since we only had to carry the big shells nearerand hand them over, we had opportunity to watch the action in the sky, together with Russian prisoners who, wearing their own helmets, anxiously examined the flights of bombers flying directly over us. Anyway, I saw one of the bombers break into pieces and the shining silver parts whirling down. To our surprise there, one, two, three, four parachutes shortly opened, which were driven by the west wind to the Works which in the meantime had started to burn. Later we searched for debris from the bomber in the surrounding fields. Sometimes we found an entire part of the fuselage or an almost complete wing of a "Fortress", and individual parts which to us appeared valuable, we took with us.

That location was just above Mücheln, southwest from Merseburg, and only 14 km west of the Leuna Works, to where we had been finally moved at the end of November. We now had six separate guns of 10.5 cm calibre, which we had just learned to handle, and radar equipment. Until the middle of December we were accommodated in the hall of the clubhouse of the local gun club, which was situated outside the place and lay not far from the almost-finished gun position. When we arrived, we received no food rations, except there was a lunch that just consisted of kohlrabi soup; for the first time we also experienced the lack of the eternal leberwurst and the artificial honey, which until now had been just about good enough. Naturally we again slept on straw, and the big hall had a cylindrical iron stove for heat. Room-duty consisted of cleaning the loose straw between the narrow bed spaces, and there was nothing more for the person doing the duty to do.

Several times in December (so Dec. 6th and 12th, 1944) the USAF bombed Leuna. For the first time I crouched on a seat of our own gun, "Berta", with my steel helmet over the earphones, and brought the two pointers on a big clock into congruence while the gun in quick succession thundered away and the sky was sprinkled with flak bursts. We could in fact still see the silver-shining "pathfinder bombers" (at which, strangely enough, we didn't fire) coming from the west. From the first shot on, "Rrring-Klappklapp-tschuick-klack-Wumm!"
(fire-bell; sound of loading; shell entering; lock; shot), concentrating entirely on my clock, we rarely could throw a glance for possible successes at the unbelievable mass of shots in the sky. One really saw nothing more of the attack on Leuna Works, for a smokescreen had already just in time been put around it ,and the chimneys had already been cut considerably shorter. Dense black smoke climbed there after each raid, for as a rule the raid was obviously a success, and the production of petrol was again hindered for weeks. It is said that only once had the entire carpet of bombs fallen on the fields behind, as a result of a strong west wind; a mistake, for which very soon it was compensated by means of a second raid. Also, we were now aware, that even such a massing of antiaircraft artillery (with massive batteries of up to 36 guns as for example at Schortau!) could not protect this sensitive industry from destruction.

In the middle of December we ourselves moved into barracks at the little town Mücheln, where it was somewhat less primitive. Classes were held again here. The half of our LwH-crew were allowed to go on a short leave at Christmas, the other half to go at the New Year. On Christmas Eve I stepped into the orderly office in order to hand in my application for this New Year leave. In a corner of the room, officers and the master of the guard were crouched around a radio. An NCO came to the counter and said really gruffly: "What do you want now --- good, give it to me here; after all, we're listening to the British king's speech...! "StR.W. was very concerned about a boil I had over my eye and sent me to the sick bay in Frankleben. In the waiting room of the sick bay in Frankleben, where the boil was supposed to be attended to, I heard something from an old lance-corporal, which was characterized by a acid resignation and simple defeatism: " You are anyway, really just for the slaughter...".

We experienced finally, a heavy air-raid at night by the RAF on the city of Merseburg, in which there were soon only four guns in our battery firing: first our neighbour's gun barrel went horizontal, then on our gun a shot did not fire and this meant the firing pin was broken. There was no replacement here and it had to be obtained by means of a courier from Berlin. So on this cold night we leaned, wearing our heavy greatcoats, against a gun barrel pleasantly warmed by the shooting (which was certainly forbidden), and watched the fires spreading there in the city, and how the light of detonating blockbusters ripped apart the clouds of fire smoke. No bombs fell on our position. Even in our entire LwH-time we had never suffered any loss and no one had been wounded.

On a clear winter morning we marched, accompanied by two NCO's over country roads in a westerly direction until in the Unstrut-valley then to Laucha, where medicals for the 1928 age-group for military service took place. All of us were found fit for active service and we travelled back through Naumburg to Merseburg. In Großkorbetha we were held up because of an air-raid, but we only saw some low-flying planes, and to be on the safe side from them we moved into the railway platform underpass.

After Jan 10th 1945, the Red Army had crossed the Weichsel and quickly approached the German border. It was probably decided, that since the AA guns were having little effect anyway on the defense of the already damaged Leuna Works, to reduce the AA defenses and deploy the guns, even the highly complicated 10.5cm guns, to the Eastern Front. On Jan.30th most of the LwH were entirely and unceremoniously released, with the announcment that at home they would get their conscription papers into the Labour Service. Thus, I stood in the twilight of the evening on a platform of the railway station and watched, as the rest of the soldiers of the battery pulled the guns onto low-loader wagons, ready to move off to the Oder. Four years later in Jena I met our Oberfähnrich again, and he informed me that the battery, not very far east of the Oder and still on the railway line, had been wiped out after blowing up the guns...except for him, who had remained west of the Oder, no one had survived. LwH Hans K. who had not been released with the others, experienced until the end of February in the firing control unit of the heavy battery Rossbach, the first signs of the disintegration here on the home front after further air-raids.

On the way home, in civilian clothes again, I overslept and missed my connection in the Werdau Railway Station. Here a Nazi-party political kommissar, dressed in his "Gold Pheasant" uniform, got in board. He showed himself to be almost in a state of despair over the despondency of the people: "Today on the twelfth anniversary of the political takeover, it appears there are too few to put on a mass rally." And he whined that the people no longer believed in final victory, and even doubted the genius of the Führer. "That is after all really ingratitude!"...(On this day the Soviet panzer spearheads had already reached the Oder between Frankfurt and Küstrin and were forcing their way into the Oberschlesische industrial region!). Until Reichenbach I felt myself obliged to put new heart into this distressed Party-soldier by means of sufficient familiar phrases and the illusion regarding the coming use of the "wonder-weapons". In view of this, while in the Reichenbach Station waiting room, where I now had to spend the nocturnal hours, he shook my hand enthusiastically and said joyfully," Germany will not go down as long as we have such upright youth...", and so on.

Thus ended the only military episode of my life; it lasted one year and two weeks ( that I would not be involved in further conscription, I could not foresee then, let alone hope!). It ended in a scarcely-heated compartment of a darkening, slow moving, passenger train, and with in fact a thoroughly insincere, but well-intentioned, talk.

Translated from the German by John Milloy (nimso@aol.com)

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© 2001 Dr. Wolfgang Waldhauer