—— Back on Reconnaissance ——153again and pay no attention to the whistle of fragments from an
exploding shell nearby. Likewise, now I just needed to adjust to the
situation, get used to being on my own, remember the task I had
been set – and everything would be all right. However, it was time
to move on, to meet the unknown.
I passed safely across the first trench in the German defences.
I had long studied it and knew it like the back of my hand.
Accompanied by the rattle of machinegun fire from both sides,
but deliberately started by our own, I crossed the second line of
trenches just as successfully. Pausing a moment to take a breath
and have a look around, I then continued moving forward towards
the final, third, trenchline. Here it was easier for me; the Germans
felt they could operate more freely than on the front line, be more
relaxed, talk more loudly, and go around without concealing them
selves. Thus, it was easier for me to find my bearings. However,
their loud speech was not merely due to feeling relaxed – they
were afraid of the dark Russian night and therefore tried to cheer
themselves up by talking.
Even here their flares were still flying up into the sky, albeit
less frequently. They hindered rapid movement, but at the same
time helped you to work out where you were. While flares were
hanging in the air by their tiny parachutes, I would press myself
close to the ground and freeze, while looking all around. Beside
me ran a ditch leading to the staff dugout – until you got to a large
clump of bushes. It would be easier to follow the ditch, but it was
out of the question; it was periodically raked by German fire, just
in case. I crawled parallel to the ditch. There was the stream –
everything was where it should be! I was on the right track and
now almost at the target. The dugout I was after should be just a
little to the left of the ‘freestanding tree’. I moved carefully in that
direction, concealed by the thick bushes. The soft grass muffled
all the rustling. Like a grass snake I crept up close to the sound of
voices – there it was, the dugout itself! Pacing up and down nearby
was a sentry, who was talking loudly to someone. I moved towards
the sound of his voice and unexpectedly fell into some sort of pit.