Ziff under fire

Part 26 - Lili-Marlene

Gustav drove us into the barn and immediately several soldiers piled bales of hay around us to hide the kübelwagen. We walked back to the farmhouse which was heavily reinforced with concrete and steel beams and crowded with German army (Wehrmach) soldiers. Some were peering out of windows through binoculars or telescopes mounted on tripods or studying maps on a large table in the living room. Kozak was busy talking to one of the officers so Gustav took us to the large kitchen, which was filled with soldiers and the delicious smell of fried pork. Beryl and I followed his example as he joined the line to get some food. She didn't have any trouble ordering food as she chatted and joked with the cooks in German. 'They said I was the smallest soldier they had ever seen.'

We had almost finished our pork chops when Kozak found us. 'I do not like this place. Ze soldiers are paratroopers and we are on ze front line. But we must stay. Zhere is anuzzer officer who knows where is the material I am looking for and 'e is not 'ere. As soon as 'e arrives, we will leave.'

The four of us found a little space in the cellar where we could sleep but it was cold and drafty as the thick stone walls had several openings for machine gun positions. Gustav disappeared and came back with some bales of hay we used as bedding.

The basement cellar quickly filled with paratroopers who lounged around amid their backpacks and Schmeissers. Most of them slept but others read or wrote letters while some chatted or played card games. Almost everyone awake was smoking foul smelling cigarettes.

Then quietly someone started to sing and everyone stopped talking. Another man joined the singer and then another until soon everyone was singing quietly. For a few minutes in the smoky cellar, lit only by the glow of cigarettes, the beautiful, sad song was the only sound. I thought it was a hymn until Kozak told me it was a popular song, 'Lili-Marlene.'

The original "Lilli-Marlene" sung in German by Marlene Dietrich

I dozed on and off most of the night, awakening only whenever a shell exploded near us. Well before dawn, all the paratroopers were up and ready to fight. Someone stepped on Kozak who was the last one awake. He stumbled to his feet in the dark cellar cursing fluently in German and French. Gustav appeared with bread rolls and a tall metal pot he said contained 'schwarzer Kaffee' (shvartzer kaffay, black coffee) but was made from roasted acorns according to Beryl. She called it Ersatz (substitute). She poured some into my tin cup and I sipped it slowly. It was black and bitter but it was hot, and I was freezing. I shoved the rolls into my pockets for later.

Kozak, Beryl and I went outside to use the latrines and see what was happening. North of us, the low clouds were lit up with search lights so it looked like moonlight. A few miles away there was heavy gunfire and the flashes also reflected off the clouds.

We could hear the distant roar of tank engines mixed in with the almost continuous explosions. Kozak was nervously pacing around until Gustav suggested that standing in the open was not a good idea. Beryl translated. 'The best place to be is in a deep hole with your head down. And he recommends moving the Kübelwagen back behind that little hill for safety, as the farmhouse will soon be targeted by the automatic Canadian guns.'

Kozak spoke to the officer in command, who talked to someone on a field telephone. Kozak's contact was on the way. Kozak explained that the German's were expecting an imminent attack by Canadian tanks and infantry and ordered Gustav to take the kübelwagen to a safer place. He would wait for his contact to arrive. Beryl and I agreed to stay with Kozak.

Gustav returned with our steel helmets and suggested that we keep them on. I put my cap in my pocket and put one on. It was heavy.

Soon afterward, the Canadian artillery opened up. Shells began exploding just in front of the farmhouse. The paratroopers jumped into slit trenches and we were lucky to get back into the shelter of the cellar. Apart from a few look outs, the Germans hunkered down in the cellar with us. The almost continuous explosions of artillery shelling made even shouted conversation impossible. And the ground shook violently with every concussion. I was terrified. I think everyone was. I had an insane, overwhelming urge to run from the place despite knowing that I would be blown to pieces if I put my head above ground level. Beryl passed me a flat metal bottle. I took a mouthful and almost spat it out. She said it was schnapps she had picked up from a German corpse. I carefully swallowed a bit more and soon began to feel less anxious.

We sat or lay around, packed shoulder to shoulder, for what seemed eternity. I was astonished that some of the paratroopers appeared to be sleeping despite the incredible noise and the floor shaking violently. Others played cards or read in the dim light provided by a few lanterns. A few huddled in corners, trembling. They looked like zombies.

Suddenly the explosions stopped. I looked around but nobody seemed interested and a few minutes later it all began again. This time it lasted only a few minutes before it stopped again and this time every one jumped up and rushed to their action stations.

The silence lasted only minutes before every machine gun in the place started firing. The noise was as intense as the shelling but with out the earth shaking impacts. This went on for half an hour, with occasional breaks when we could hear rapid gunfire farther away and occasional shouted orders as the paratroopers organized counter-attacks against the Canadian infantry. After that was a prolonged quiet, some of the paratroopers left their positions to help the wounded back to field dressing stations or to get ersatz Kaffee or biscuits from the kitchen.

There was another attack in the afternoon but that too died away and Kozak and I climbed through debris up to the kitchen to get some food. The farm house had been extensively damaged. Most of the roof was gone as was most of the front wall. A few bodies, wrapped in ground sheets, were lined up outside at the front of the building between craters left by the shelling.

But the kitchen was more or less intact and the cook had boiled some water for Kaffee and there was a pot of sausages which we ate with black bread and pickled cabbage, sauerkraut.

Kozak again spoke to the commanding officer who now had a bandage around his left hand. The contact had not arrived, we had to wait.

Late in the afternoon, we returned to the cellar as the shelling started again. This time it was sporadic. Beryl told me it was harassing fire designed to stop the Germans from repairing their defences and getting supplies of ammunition.

As it got dark we fell asleep, until the explosions started with renewed intensity. Kozak fidgeted until he found a safer place in a corner of the cellar and we made a nest in a pile of potatoes.

The explosions seemed even louder than before and the floor shook like an earthquake. We buried ourselves into the potatoes and put our hands over our ears hoping that it would stop soon. But it didn't for a long time.

Just when I felt I could not take any more, it stopped but then the German machine guns started again. This continued until there was an enormous crash and the farm house collapsed on me.