Application

[Jan701]

Accepted at Leutnant. -Heiko

Account E-Mail: EDITED

Name: Jan Nordmann

Nationality: Norwegian

What Army will Your Character Serve Beneath? Nazi Germany (Heer)

Character History: Jan Nordmann had a peculiar history. To start off with, he was conceived in Johannesburg, South Africa, to a German mother and a Norwegian father. His mother divorced his father, and moved to Camden, New Jersey, where he was born on April 09, 1920. His mother, having few means to support herself in America, moved once more, this time back to Germany, in 1924. They lived in Altomünster, his mother and grandparents' hometown for three years until his mother re-married, another Norwegian, and once more they packed their bags and were off. For Jan lived in a small village called Oppegård, which was a few kilometers southeast of the Capital, Oslo in southeast Norway.

Life was good in Norway. He was taught Norwegian by his step-father, and he made friends easily. They rarely talked about his real father. Jan knew from eavesdropping that his father had served in the German Army in the Great War, and that he had been wounded twice in combat against the British in 1915. He had heard from his mother that the reason he had volunteered was because of her influence over him. She never spoke of why she left him.

In 1931, his mother and step-father decided that a move to Altomünster would be best for his education. This is where his life gets interesting.

The years Jan spent in Altomünster were politically turbulent for Germany and his life with his grandparents there were both positively and negatively influenced as far as Nazism was concerned. On the one hand, his grandmother was an ardent admirer of the old Bavarian kingdom. As a matter of fact, even during Hitler's reign, her favorite expression was, "I wish we still had a king!" On the other hand, his grandfather was not exactly what now is considered a "Nazi," but he agreed with practically everything Hitler did. He definitely had his reasons for doing so for after experiencing the calamitous defeat of the last World War, of which he was a partially disabled veteran, and the chaos during the weak and ineffectual Weimar Republic, Hitler's successes came as a welcome relief. When Hitler came along, unemployment vanished, food was plentiful, and the average man - even in Altomünster - had the promise of owning his own car.

Jan's grandmother often made derogatory remarks about Hitler. Phrases like, "I don't think Hitler is telling us the truth!" and "I think Hitler will get Germany into a war," were not believed by those of the younger generation. Of course, they knew everything - or at least they thought that they did. His grandfather, despite his obvious support for Hitler, never broached the subject of National Socialism to him. He was tremendously proud of his position as cashier for the local World War I Veterans' Club, but although he was a member of the Nazi Party, he never attending any of their rallies, demonstrations, or the like.

The National Socialist Movement in Altomünster simply became a part of life - not unlike the county or state administration in the United States. Jan viewed the Party as the official government institution that was accepted by the German people and didn't even think to question its legality; it was just there. As simple as that.

Whenever an election was held in Altomünster, it was up to the voters to either agree or disagree with a given measure that Hitler sought. In our town, there always seemed invariably to be three "no," or dissenting votes cast. The opinion throughout the town was that these three votes were cast by the same people and, since they disagreed, they must have been "communists". As far as Jan knew, no measures were ever taken against the three for the entire twelve years of Hitler's reign. Despite this apparent "leniency" regarding dissension, one incident, which occurred while he lived in Altomünster, stood out as an exception to the rule. The Birgitten Order of nuns from our monastery were, according to the rules of the Church, never allowed to be seen in public. Nevertheless, during one of the elections, the entire Order came forth to cast their votes. No one ever knew why they broke with tradition, but they were widely believed to have been pressured to do so. Interestingly enough, the results of that ballot revealed that the nuns had voted in favor of the National Socialist proposal for, once again, there were only the ever-present three "no" votes.

Altomünster was not so much pro- or anti-Nazi as it was pro-German. For that matter, the term "Nazi" was not even known to the town's occupants until after the war was over. Although he was only thirteen years old when Hitler came to power, even young Jan seemed to think that it was heralded as a new beginning for Germany. I don't recall ever being confronted with any theories of the "German master race," "sub-humans," or the like. Naturally, they were exposed to patriotic propaganda in the form of UFA, which could be considered a Nationalist Socialist version of the American Movietone News. Weekly reports that extolled the virtues of our just war against the English, French, Russian, and Polish aggressors were commonplace and enjoyed; but in our rural little Roman Catholic community, we didn't dwell on such topics as the supremacy of one race of people over another.

In those days, a young person was either a member of the Jungvolk- up to the age of thirteen or fourteen, or of the Hitler Jugend- from thirteen to eighteen. Then, as a rule, the "educated" would naturally go on to join the National Socialist Party; this was accepted as just a part of everyday life. The leader of the Altomünster youth movement, who became our youth group leader before Hitler came to power on January 30, 1933 was also an apprentice teacher and only about ten years older than Jan. His group was a subsidiary of the Stahlhelm organization, but the emphasis was placed on sports and recreation.

It belonged to the Social Democrats and was called Scharnhorst, but that didn't matter to to any of the kids. In essence, it was an organization comparable to the Boy Scouts for it provided the opportunity for us to get together for games, talks and singing. One day, around Easter of 1933, while on a hiking trip, the groun[ was notified that Scharnhorst Altomünster was declared henceforth dissolved. Upon return to town, the group leader simply renamed them Sport und Turn Verein (Sports and Athletic Club) - an athletic group without any party affiliation whatsoever. He deliberately did not use "Hitler" in the title of our organization for it was not politically motivated. About eight months after Hitler became Chancellor, all of those who had belonged to Scharnhorst and the Sport und Turn Verein were asked to appear at the school one evening with our parents. At this meeting, Mr. Well asked if they would like to join the Jungvolk and there was not one among them who did not join.

They didn't join for political reasons. They were not remotely interested in politics. They joined simply for the enjoyment of being together. Kids, regardless of who they are or where they come from, want to be with kids; and a group of kids under the direction of a good and trusted leader will invariably have a good time.

Upon his completion of middle school, Jan entered high school in Freising - located about 45 kilometers east of Altomünster. There he encountered professors who were either (what was called) "200 percent" party members or, and at the other extreme, passively reluctant teachers who went along with the program in order to retain their positions. The students knew who was and who was not "one of them" (a "200 percenter"), but their only concern was whether or not the teachers attacked that which they valued (the Church, for example). If they did, they held such actions against the professor personally.

Jan joined the Hitler Jugend at the same time he entered high school. At the time it was just taken for granted that when one reached a certain age, one joined. His time in the Hitler Jugend was not spent undergoing political or paramilitary indoctrination. Instead, it was strictly a gathering once a week of boys like himself who discussed, among other things, the current political events in Germany - not particularly from the point of view of the "Master Race" over the Jews, but as how events related to honor, morals, character, and obedience. It just seemed to make good common sense to Nordmann that young people should be allowed to debate the merits of what was considered to be acceptable behavior and civic-mindedness. Contrary to many people's image of the Hitler Jugend, they were never told to turn against their parents or friends and report them to the police or Gestapo for infractions against the Third Reich. Such behavior may not have been the rule throughout the nation, but no such incident occured during Jan's youth.

While in the Hitler Jugend, it was his biggest dream was to attend one of those massive Party rallies in Nuremberg. He and his friends only saw them on the newsreels, but it was the dream of many young boys to want to participate in the events - what with the flags, uniforms and all that. He even once attended a Hitler Jugend Lager (Hitler Youth Camp) for two weeks out of one of his summer vacations. Once again, it was not unlike what an American youngster would do in an average Boy Scout camp; they hiked, sang, told stories and (occasionally) drilled. If, during this time, they received any sort of political or ideological indoctrination, it must have been so subtle that it escaped their attention completely.

When he was about fifteen years old, he was home on vacation from high school when there was a call for all young men between the ages of fifteen and seventeen to report to one of the brewery's meeting room in Altomünster. As it turned out, the Waffen SS called the meeting for the purpose of conducting a pre-military physical and mental examination of them. In retrospect, they had the perception that this was done in order to entice the "qualified" young men to consider joining the Waffen SS. Jan, encouraged by friends of his, attended more out of curiosity than anything else, for the SS, as far as they were concerned, was not exactly the most desirable branch of the armed forces. His personal reasons for disliking them most likely stemmed from their obvious arrogance and bluster; nevertheless, they attended the meeting and submitted to a number of examinations and questions that would categorize them mentally and physically. By chance, Jan happened to see the paper which summarized their findings and was surprised to learn that he was considered a member of the Nordic Race. This seemed ridiculous to him for he had learned from his biology professor in Freising that he belonged to the Italic, or Old Roman, race of Germany (according to his physique, dark brown hair, and brown eyes). He and his friends laughed about it and could only wonder how they (the SS) could distort such basic physical data. Him a member of the Nordic race. Ha!

Rather than the Nazi Party and its ideology playing an important part in their lives, it was Hitler, Göbbels, Göring and the rest who influenced them most. They listened to their speeches on the radio, saw them in newsreels and read of what they said in the papers, generally believinh what they said despite the discrepancies from one day to the next, and Göbbels, the Minister of Propaganda, was particularly notorious for that. It was Jan's reasoning that, because they were their leaders, they naturally only wanted "the best" for the country and if anyone would lie to them it would have to be the foreigners. One must not forget that they were brought up to believe that everyone else was picking on them. They did it during the First World War and they were doing it again.

The mayor of Altomünster was also what was known as the Ortsgruppenleiter of the NSDAP. Ortsgruppenleiter meant that he was the official Nazi political leader, so to speak, of his particular town. He was a very close acquaintance of Jan's grandfather, and to his eyes, he was an extremely kind and considerate man who most likely never harmed anyone. If anything, his only crime was his influencing youngsters to join the National Socialist Party.

Just before I enlisted in the German Army, the Mayor informed Jan's grandfather that he wanted to talk to his grandson. Since he was about to enter the armed forces, Jan suspected that the Mayor simply wanted to wish him good luck and, probably, give him a pep talk. Instead, however, he told him that since he was approaching the age of eighteen, he should consider transferring from the Hitler Youth to the NSDAP. He calmly replied that he would prefer to wait until he returned from the war before seeking membership in the Party. He said he understood, but in the meantime he would list him as a Parteianwärter (prospective Party member). This seemed to placate the man, but for Jan, the matter was closed.

Sometime during the summer or early fall of 1937, just after he turned seventeen, he volunteered for enlistment in the Wehrmacht. He had finally narrowed his choice of service down to two arms: the Luftwaffe or the Panzer Korps The Panzers won out over the Luftwaffe, although it is a little difficult to establish why he chose the one over the other. It was most likely that in the final analysis he doubted his abilities (the physical examination for the Luftwaffe was much more strict than that for the Panzers), and chose the easier of the two rather than risk personal defeat his first time out.

There were really two reasons for joining the Armed Forces. The first, and most important, stemmed from Jan's belief that it was his patriotic duty. Those of the younger generation fervently believed that the war had been forced upon the German people. It was their duty, above all else, to defend their homeland against the aggressors. As far as they were concerned, once engaged in a war, you don't beg for forgiveness and hope that the war will end. You don't beg for forgiveness because there is nothing to forgive! Instead, you simply continue to fight the war until you either totally defeat your enemy on the field of combat or they sue for peace. Secondly, he volunteered because many of his older classmates (he was the second youngest in his class) had already joined and he was afraid that he would be among the very few who would still be sitting in the classroom when the war ended. Naturally, when the Not Abitur Decree was offered to us, he leapt at the offer to both join the Wehrmacht and avoid the agony of the final examinations.

After signing up and stating his preference for the Panzer Korps, it was not until the 10th of December, 1937 that he finally had to report to the RAD or Reichsarbeitsdienst (Labor Service) at Fulpmes in the Stubai Valley - south of Innsbruck, Austria. His few months in the Reichsarbeitsdienst were spent not only on pre-military training, but, as the name implies, on learning about the construction of roads, ditches, canals, and the like. It was not a pleasant task for, among other things, this was during the winter of 1937-38 - one of the coldest in recent history. It was not unusual that for many days the temperature would drop to minus forty degrees Centigrade. In addition to the severe weather, life in the camp was far from enjoyable. Since this period of service also included pre-military training, they were drilled incessantly - not with rifles, however, but with spades. They had to "Present Spades!" instead of "Present Arms!," and so forth. There was also a great deal of discipline hammered into them. In one respect, it was easier for Jan to endure than many of the others. Although this was the first time for many of them, he had been away from Altomünster for most of his life, (except for occasional visits while living in Oppegård) including when he attended school in Freising.

The worst episode of this training occurred one day when they received five or six inoculations and then were immediately forced to drill with gas masks on. The training cadre chased them around the whole area at "double-time" and often ordered them to fall into a prone position in the deep snow. Inasmuch as they were inexperienced with the use of the gasmask, the mask's filter would become clogged with snow and result in the partial suffocation of the wearer. After they were chased back to the camp, they were made to stand at attention; and, after some minutes, soldiers began dropping left and right from exhaustion combined with the effect of the shots. When this happened, they were ordered not to break ranks to help our friends, but to "stand in attention until you are ordered to help your comrades!" Those who fainted or simply collapsed from exhaustion were ridiculed by the cadre as being "sissies". Jan, fortunately, did not collapse - despite the fact that he was on the verge. Instead, he was determined to persevere and, after a certain time, those who remained standing were permitted to help their exhausted comrades to the infirmary.

Finally, sometime in March 1938, he returned home to Altomünster and anxiously awaited notification from the Army regarding his assignment to a military training unit. After waiting what seemed to be an interminable period of time, and having written to the regional Army Headquarters to remind them that he still existed, the letter finally arrived on 16 April 1938. In it, he was ordered to report to the 35th Panzer Regiment in Bamberg, Germany for his training.

His military training at Bamberg lasted for approximately six months- from April to October 1938. The training was divided into two distinct sessions, each one lasting for about three months. The first session was considered the US Army's version of "boot camp", or basic training to become soldiers with emphasis on infantry. The second session dealt with specialized training in tanks. Despite the fact that they had completed the "labor service", on one occasion during their stay at Bamberg, Jan and his friends were detailed to a small village to the north to assist with the harvest. This special duty lasted for one or two weeks and they were returned to their regiment shortly thereafter to resume their instruction.

Training in the Wehrmacht was very hard, rigidly organized and disciplined, with long hours and very little, if any, leisure time. They were not eligible for a pass for the first six weeks and then it was granted only if they could successfully pass their first test at saluting. Naturally, they wouldn't want us in town and representing the Army if we were unable to at least render a proper salute to our superiors. Another reason, and may be the main one, may have been to restrict the number of men going into town but, of course, they didn't consider this at the time. Jan wanted very much to pass but, apparently, when it came his turn to salute, the angle of his outstretched hand to his temple must have been off by a few degrees. Thus, his weekend was spent around the barracks.
They were occasionally issued rations of cigarettes, alcohol and the like, but only on a very limited basis. If it happened to be alcohol, they were only permitted to consume it within the confines of our barracks and, needless to say, no one was allowed out on a pass when the "booze" ration was handed out. He was fortunate to have a very nice platoon sergeant, an Oberfeldwebel, who gave Jan the honor of selecting him as his valet. Such an offer was an honor, for Jan as well as others, to be chosen for that particular task. Despite the fact that he had enough to do, what with keeping his uniforms pressed and spotless, his boots shined to a high luster, and all the rest - plus doing the same for him, it signified that he thought highly of him (as a good soldier) - enough to be his representative and, quite often, pass on his orders to the platoon.
In addition to their continuous drilling, they were often lectured - though not too often on politics. For that matter, there were hardly any political lectures, so to speak, although this form of indoctrination may have been mixed in with other topics. Every one of then was instructed in nearly every fact of infantry and armored warfare; not just as a soldier who must know how to fight in the ditch or foxhole, or how to assemble or disassemble a firearm blind-folded, but training in tactics as well. In other words, it was put to them like this: "What would you do now if your platoon leader was killed? What course of action would you undertake? What decisions would you make?" It seems like every recruit was trained as a potential leader - one who could competently assume command should the need arise. Naturally, perhaps the greatest emphasis was placed upon obedience. One was expected to obey an order without delay and without questioning the order. The famous expression of the drill sergeants and corporals was, "You don't think, you are not a horse and only horses think - because they have bigger heads!" It sounded ridiculous after training, but in those days they heard it over and over again and they just couldn't question such logic. It seems that logic, most of the time, did not exist in many of the decisions made during training. The main idea was most likely simply to get the recruits to obey without questioning and to do it immediately. They were not to think because there were leaders who were paid to think for us.
There was no talking back to superiors, no "But, sir!" It may have often been carried to the extreme, but the desired end result was achieved. They were conditioned to follow any order and accept that order from our superiors as law. They were always right and they had nothing whatsoever to say about it unless they were the boss. As an example, an episode while Jan was at Bamberg illustrates the point. Sometime during the late summer or early fall of 1938, while he was still in training, he received a letter from his grandmother which informed him that a school friend of his had joined the 35th Panzer Regiment. He believed he was in the 4th Company, while Jan was in the 6th. One evening after dinner he made it a point to visit him. He was with another Army friend of his and had just entered the barracks of the 4th Company when, all of a sudden, a voice behind them yelled, "Can't you salute?" We spun around to see a Private First Class of the 4th Company and replied, "Sir, We did not see you." He encountered the excuse by saying, "I don't care, you always have to see. A soldier must always see what's going on around him". Standing his ground and, since he was neither an officer nor a non commissioned officer, Jan answered, "Sir, I am not from this Company, I am from the 6th and, since I am not one of your soldiers, I am not obliged to salute you!" At that, he grew extremely indignant and said, "That's what you think!" Afterward, Jan felt a little uneasy for he knew that he shouldn't have said what he did, although he was telling the truth. On the other hand, he knew that he was right because just a few days before a lieutenant instructor at one of the many lectures informed 6th Company of certain rules and regulations in the Army. During that lecture, they learned that they were expected to salute every cadre member of their company from the rank of private up. All officers and non commissioned officers were always saluted by anyone beneath their rank. In the course of the instruction, the question was raised, "How about if we see the cadre of another company below the rank of Unteroffizier, do we salute him?" The answer was, "No, of course not!" So, Jan thought he was safe until the next day, while on the drill field, he was ordered to report to the First Sergeant of 6th Company. He informed Jan that Hauptmann Thümmler, his Company Commander, wanted to see him immediately at Company Headquarters. He put two and two together and knew right away that the Private must have reported him. He went to Headquarters and the Captain promptly said, "Tell me what happened." After relating the incident to him in his own words, he just looked him straight in the eye and said, "You know you did wrong." Jan was was shocked at the response but outwardly said, "No, sir. I don't think I was wrong, I was only quoting the Lieutenant and I don't think I misunderstood him". Before Jan was dismissed, however, he said, "We will see about that!" That very evening there was a special roll call of the entire Company on the first floor of the barracks. Once the Company has fallen in, the Captain informed them of his altercation with the Private from the other Company. "Now," he said, "He who agrees with Recruit Nordmann - step forward." There ensued an awful silence in that big barrack as he stood there next to the Captain. His knees were shaking and he couldn't understand why none of his comrades were moving. They all had attended the same lecture that he had... didn't they hear the Lieutenant? The Captain was just about to turn to me and say, "See, Nordmann," when he began hearing the resounding clicking of heels on the tiled floors and the men in his Company began moving forward. The Captain did not give the entire Company the chance to move before he shouted, "Company, dismissed!"

(((Dismiss the following if you decide not to grant a Commissioned Rank)

There is an additional aspect to this story. Since he was a graduate of an academic high school, he was qualified to be considered for Officers' Candidate School. At that time, he wasn't really interested in taking that step because he realized he was still rather immature and could not imagine himself as a lieutenant leading others into a war when he knew nothing about it himself. The day after the formation, however, the Captain called him to his office again. "Well, Nordmann," he said, "of course you know what this does to you and to your career." He thought it over for a little while and replied earnestly. "I think so, sir; I probably am not qualified to be an officer." "That's right," he said, "but I am going to give you another chance. You are a good soldier otherwise, so I'm going to keep you here for a little additional training in your thinking." Why would he need more training in, his thinking, when he knew that he was right? By this time, he didn't even want to think about Officers' Candidate School - all he wanted was to be allowed to stay with his friends and comrades, in training as well as on the front - the "good people," the ones he could trust. It wasn't his choice to make, however, so he simply stood there talking to him respectfully until dismissed. From that day on, the Captain's behavior toward Jan had changed. before the incident occurred, upon saluting one another, he would say, "Good morning, How are you?" Now all that would pass between them would be a curt salute. He expected to be kept behind when all his friends were shipped off to the Front, but he was shocked when he was made an Assistant Cadre, and being promoted to Oberschütze (a grade between recruit and private first class). On the one hand, he was considered as not capable of being a leader, while on the other, he was given the duty of helping the Platoon Leaders drill the new recruits. It makes sense, but all he could think then was that he had to find some way to prove himself so he could join his friends in the action. His chance arrived with the scheduled Company's tank shoot-out - a gunnery contest in which the tanks would advance upon a target and when they were about 600 meters away from it, while still moving, they would begin firing. Each gunner was allowed forty machine gun shots and all the shots had to be fired by the time the moving tank had covered 100 meters. Our Captain was known to be the best shot in the Regiment, but Jan's score that day far exceeded his. Out of my forty shots, thirty-nine struck the target, most of them in the bull's-eye area, and from that point on, the Captain's attitude toward him changed remarkably. In fact, he called Jan out of formation, shook his hand and said loudly enough for all to hear, "Now that's what I call a good soldier - one who beats my record!" Naturally, it made him feel very good but, in a way, he was glad that he had shown him. Maybe, that's why he shot so well. He had faith in himself. Yet, on the other hand, he was afraid that the Captain would hold that against him if he proved to be a poor loser. He was not, for following this episode, he once again called Jan to his office and, this time, suggested that he was ready for Officers' Candidate School. Jan expressed his gratitude, but was able to extricate himself from the situation without making any firm commitment either way.
Panzer training was far more demanding than the initial infantry basic training. The more fundamental maneuvers such as getting into and out of the tank - the right way and the fastest way - were practiced over and over again. Without thinking, they could leap unto their tank, squeeze into compartments, or get out of the vehicle at lightning speed. Such endless repetition may have seemed beyond reason at the time, but the ability to perform such maneuvers, to the point of subconscious reaction, saved many tank crewmen's lives.
The rigorous day-to-day program deprived us many of sleep, but they were healthy, growing young men and it didn't seem to harm them; in fact, they toughened up and became more and more proud of who they were and what they were doing.
Above all else, their goal was to stay alive and to be victorious. The word "defeat" did not exist for them. It existed only for the enemy because Germany would conquer the enemy, win the battles, and then they would be the victors!


Military Rank: Oberfeldwebel (Or whatever is thought best for my writing capabilites. You choose.)

Writing Sample: Jan grimaced and rubbed his hands together, trying his best to bring some feeling back into his freezing fingers.

They were lost.

It had started on a beautiful August day in 1944, about two miles south of Raseinen, Lithuania. His tank had been detailed detailed to investigate, as the lead tank of the Company, the activities of the Russians in the vicinity of Raseinen. Jan was, as always, the machine gunner and radioman of the Panzerkampfwagen IV Ausführung F2. Quite frankly, he loved and respected the power of the Ausführung F2. It didn't have the armored skirts of the later models, and was vastly slower than the Panzer III, but she was beautiful. Jan and the crew had received the vehicle a few weeks before, and had immediately set about transforming her from an ugly slate-gray to a multitude of colors including earth brown, pale forest green, a light shade of muddy tan, and a medium-dark maroon. She had come away better for it, and was something to take great pride in.

They had zipped around happily enough, pausing on hilltops to take in their surroundings and check for enemy movement every now and then. It had gadually been getting hotter and hotter inside the cramped compartment of the tank, until Jan opened the small steel flap that covers the hole through which the gun optics traverse. He had done this man times before to let fresh air in but this time he heard the impact of machine gun fire and felt a warm numbness about his head. The loader must have seen it right away for he shouted, "Jan's been hit!" The loader told the driver to turn around at once and head back for help. "They must be thinking that I have the top of my head blown off, what with the amount of blood," he reasoned in shocked silence to himself.

"Hold it," said the Tank Commander to the driver. While the loader stepped over to help him, wrapping bandages around his head several times, the Commander opened the hatch and looked around with his binoculars. He was just about to say something when a barrage of bullets hit very close to him, forcing him down the hatch.

"It's the Russians alright. T-34's. A lot of them. Driver, pull us to the top of that hill," said the Commander grimly. "Nordmann, can you still speak?" He nodded a quick yes, the motion hurting his head, which the loader had just finished bandaging, taking his position at the main gun's breech. "Get on the radio and request assistance."

As the Panzer IV pulled up behind some bushes on a hill, and just as Jan was about to speak into the radio mic, the Commander spotted a Russian T-34 tank diagonally crossing the valley in front of us. The Gunner had fired a shot which made a resounding whumpf throughout the tank. "Aufpassen! Watch out!" came a cry, and then there was a bright flash and then nothing - no sound no following explosion. Jan subconsciously crawled out of the tank. He regained consciousness when kneeling on the ground behind the tank. He saw the driver, also kneeling, in front of him. "What happened?" Jan asked him. "We got hit!" When Jan asked him where the other members of our crew were he replied with one word. "Dead." As the tank engine finally sputtered and died, a low moaning could be heard from inside the tank. Slowly and unsteadily climbing to his feet, he staggered towards the hatch. "I think one of them is alive, we've got to do something... they'll cook in there!"

Asthey both leapt up onto the rear of the tank, the found the loader alive but he had a gun in his hand and was preparing to shoot himself. This was often the reaction of a tank crew member who, when his tank was hit and he seemed unable to exit the vehicle, he preferred to commit suicide rather than go through the agony of slowly burning to death or to be captured by the Russians. Jan immediately knocked the weapon out of his hand and told the driver to help him pull the loader out. They tried but found that they could not budge him for there was considerable debris throughout the tank's interior which had his legs trapped. At that moment, they heard the commander begin to moan as well. Hectic. Pressure. They moved over to the left side of the tank where they found him as securely caught in the wreckage as the loader. At that moment, Russian machine gun fire began strafing the disabled vehicle so, following their trained reactions, Jan and the loader jumped off the tank and went behind it. Following this, Jan's eyesight was getting progressively worse, so he asked the driver, "Do you see anything?" - meaning, "Can You still see?" The loader obviously thought that he was asking him if he saw any Russians for he replied, "No." Well, Jan concluded, in that case I better go back for help, but when he informed the loader of his intentions he replied, "You look like a mess, your arms and face!"

It was only then that he realized that he was indeed wounded. Both of his arms were burned - the right one so severely that the skin was rolling up. His shirt was completely burned off on the right hand side, and when he touched his face and head, all he could feel was a gooey mess. Moreover, his hair was totally burned away and blood poured over his face. "Fuck!" he shouted, panic in his voice. His bandages had been burned away as well. Considering the extent of his injuries, it was incredible that someone had to tell him that he was wounded before he even realized he was injured. With comprehension came pain and Jan found that the only way he could relieve the excruciating condition of his arms was to raise them above his head. It was like this that he stumbled back down the hill, barely able to see the track marks the tank made in the grass. He was cold, and hurt all over. They had been taken by surprise behind enemy lines, and he was paying the price. If he didn't hurry, the Russians would make it to the disabled tank, and capture the crew. That was a thought worse than death. The Russians were immensely cruel people. He had watched a wounded German try and crawl back to his lines, only to be jumped and bayonetted a half-dozen time by a dirty Russian in an overcoat. He could just have easily taken the man prisoner.

"Hurry, Jan," he told himself, now shaking from the cold as he stumbled along. By this time, all that he could see was a milky blur in front of his eyes, and a voice called out, "Who is that?" "Jan, from Tank 303!", he replied almost with a sob of relief. He had found his way back to camp. "Oh, shit," he exclaimed loudly at seeing his current state. "Is anybody else alive?" "Yes," Jan mumbled. "The other three are hurt, but we can't get them out and they need help." "Alright," the milky-blur voice said, "We're getting help for them!" His sight, by this time, was almost completely gone, so he called out, "I am blind! I can't see. I can't see!" "You just stand there, help is coming," the voice assured him. Jan was told that one of the tanks broke away from the battle formation and towed his tank and crew back to safety. He went into unconsciousness and all he tell was that someone was speaking to him while he was lying on a cot most likely on the ground. Whatever he was saying was incomprehensible. According to his Verwundetenkarte (a tag with medical and other information that accompanies the wounded soldier,) He was given the Last Rites by the Chaplain. He and his loader's conditions were considered grave enough that they had given them up as beyond help and, expecting the two to die shortly, they were left in the Field Hospital instead if being shipped us back to Germany. After about two weeks during which time he was still unconscious, Jan's health began to improve and he began regaining consciousness just as he was being unloaded from the troop train in Dresden, Germany.

Just the battle that nearly took took their lives, the crew of Tank 303 were informed of a new Russian tank, the Josef Stalin III, that weighed forty-six tons and fired 122 mm projectiles. Because of its thick sloping armor of 120mm, their 75 mm rounds would simply bounce off its skin unless hit it from the side at a very close range. When the gunner fired at the T-34 in the valley, he wasn't aware that there were a number of those monsters waiting two kilometers away at the edge of the forest. No sooner had he pulled the trigger than the Russian behemoth began firing. For once, the Russians struck its mark with their first round. The projectile hit the Panzer IV between the barrel and the barrel sleeve of the cannon. It tore the cannon off where it struck and, incredibly, entered the exposed chamber where it detonated, causing the loaded round to detonate as well. This tremendous explosion caused the rest of the waiting rounds, though not the magazine, to instantly explode as well. Eyewitnesses stated that the armored roof of the Ausf. F2 was propelled from its position by a sheet of flame that rose about 100 meters into the air. This must have been an exaggeration, because the force necessary to wrench that massive steel roof away from our tank and fling it through the air had to be considerable. Apparently, Jan's training in mounting and dismounting in Bamberg as well as in Rastenburg paid off for he must have subconsciously crawled off the tank and sought cover behind it. Since our tank was almost totally destroyed and our crew miraculously lived through the ordeal, it became known as the "Miracle Tank of the Eastern Front." The driver, who had survived the incident relatively unscathed, would not talk for five days. He had withdrawn into a world all his own. He eventually snapped out of it and was assigned to drive another tank. On his first day back at the Front, he was driving his tank across a wooden bridge when it collapsed beneath him. Fortunately for the other crew members, they were sitting on the outside of the vehicle; but the driver was in his compartment at the front of the tank. When the tank crashed through the bridge it turned upside down and entered the water below. The only fatality of the short-lived Tank 303 "Miracle Tank" died in another of the monsters in an accident. What shit luck.