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"The
Battle of Kesternich" Dec. 13-18, 1944
By
Johann Reinecke
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The following is an
account by Leutnant Johann Reinecke, who fought
in the Battle of Kesternich from Dec. 13 - 18,
1944. He was a member of Grenadier Regiment 981
of the 272nd Volks-Grenadier Division. (This is
the abbreviated version of the letter he wrote
to the people of Kesternich in 1957).
"On
December 12th, 1944 a new Alarmeinheit (Alarm Unit)
was instructed to take on the job of defending
Kesternich, with me as its commander. We marched with
approximately 150 men from the area of Schmidt through
the village of Strauch to Kesternich. It is already
dark when we found ourselves in the proximity of a
farmstead on the Kesternich-Rurberg road. The road was
under bombardment, and flares keep the area in local
spots as bright as daylight. In the evening of 13
December, we made it to the battalion command post (of
2nd Battalion, Grenadier Regiment 980,
commander by Hauptmann Adolf Thomae) in a cellar near
the eastern entrance into town (now Federal Highway
120). I am assigned the left side of Main Street and
Second Lieutenant Schmidt takes the right side.
(note: the U.S. 78th Infantry Division had
taken the western end of Kesternich by late afternoon,
13 December)
We advance noisiliy toward the front line forward
positions along Main Street. It is laborious to move
forward over the bomb craters, and along the twisting
paths through the piles of clay bricks from the fallen
walls, shot-up trees, branches, and dead men! We are
not sure if they are those of our friends or enemy’s.
And over the disorder, the parachute flares of the
Americans throw their pale light on the ruins of the
half houses; there are no more intact houses. The
fighting has been going on near Kesternich for weeks.
We try not to notice the dreadful impacts of the
enemy’s long-range artillery batteries.
Several positions are hit by incoming fire from the
west. In front of us the incessant flashing of the
distant guns and on the right and left the resulting
explosions. The sounds of rifle and machine gun fire
echo loosely around us. At the center of town, we turn
left into a narrow passage. Before us, on the right,
is an open area, and in the background a few
buildings, or better yet what remained of them. Now we
turn again, this time to the right, we come to a group
of houses where the command post is. We have achieved
our objective.
I stumbled into the cellar (today, I know that I was
in the Falter’s house!). An Oberfeldwebel transfers
command of the position to me. He then tells me that
the front cannot be seen here. The front is, he says,
where one is standing. It is a game of cat and mouse,
he says. I ask where the American positions are and
he shrugs his shoulders. He is only sure that they are
towards the sawmill, some hundred meters away in the
thick mist. For such information I am grateful. When
the Oberfeldwebel took off, I send a patrol forward to
feel out the enemy’s positions. The houses are free of
the enemy. We set up outposts concealed in the hedges,
forming hedgehogs (note: organized for all-around
defense), in order to protect ourselves from a
surprise attack.
Around 9:30 in the morning (on 14 December), I am
awakened by someone sounding the alarm that the
Americans are attacking. I see a formation of
Americans coming up from the ravine. Their target
seems to be the sawmill that I can now see well. Even
though I thought the enemy had already occupied it, I
now believe that it might be enemy-free. With 5 or 6
men we move forward, running in leaps and bounds, to
the sawmill. We must defend it, because otherwise our
position cannot be held. The Americans succeed in
approaching to within 70 meters of our position. Our
forces fire on them and they immediately dive to the
earth. Now we have the advantage. They have the
advantage in numbers, but our field of fire now evens
the odds. The first Americans pull back and disappear
into the ruins of Main Street, saving themselves.
The
rumbling sound of the tanks seems very near. Things
soon become uncomfortable. We have no Panzerfaust, and
no Ofenrohr (bazookas). Behind the tanks the infantry
moves in a new maneuver. Three of the six tanks break
into the gardens and move toward the Falter’s house.
The other three want to occupy the same place where we
are located. They move into a firing position and the
first shot hits somewhere in the building or in the
sawmill. It cracks hellishly; but it does not do
anything to us.
We can hold the accompanying infantry in check, but
not the tanks. Strangely, the tanks shoot here and
there, seemly without targets. They only needed to
fire two or three shots at the house, into the cellar
spaces, and our ability to resist would be over. They
do not do it. They turn away. The tank moves off with
a rumbling sound and disappears between the ruins in
the direction of Main Street. The accompanying
infantry disappears with them. Hurray! We were great
heroes! But we find ourselves trading sheepish looks
with one another. In our thoughts of heroism, we are
really a little naive, because the attack moved on and
we did little to repel it.
Suddenly we were surprised by a frightening noise.
From the cellar a strange, complaining noise roars,
alerting our tender nerves. Now it repeats itself more
thinly. It is a cow. It is standing with us in the
knee high water of the cellar, and it gawks at us
asking for assistance. It is an emaciated skeleton.
Heaven knows how it came to be in the cellar. Actually
this is not really a mystery. It had nothing to eat or
drink, and became too uncomfortable outside with the
artillery fire and the wild humans. It had found the
cellar a more advisable place to reside. And, now it
is here. We decide it must be shot, but who will shoot
it. I do not want to give the command and I cannot do
it myself. Here we are in a war, and in such a
position we shot other human beings as a matter of
course. But here is a poor miserable cow, and we
cannot shoot it. We look at each other asking who will
finish it. I finally jerk myself up and say: "I will
do it! The animal is getting to me." Later, we all
spoke of the cow. It was the only thing of "civilian"
nature in Kesternich.
The tanks have moved on and with them the accompanying
infantry and for a short time peace prevails. Soon
however, an artillery bombardment covers us and
explosions surround us. We withdraw into our "hero
cellar". The American fire continues and always on our
group of houses. After a quarter hour it became quiet.
With the last explosion, we rush outside again. The
Americans do not attack; it seems they are not in our
sector of the town. One does not know what will happen
next. Over our heads, the Americans have transformed
the house to a half ruin. The neighboring buildings
are the same. The narrow way to the sawmill is almost
impassable; shot-up trees and tangles of branches
block the way.
We worry about our wounded. The medics try to decide
who should be the one to show the Red Cross flag. If
the Americans acknowledge it, and adjust their fire,
we could evacuate the wounded without danger. We try
it and ten minutes later a cessation of hostilities
prevails. A Krankenträgerkommando (litter bearer
command) without weapons carries the wounded to the
rear. We see that the Americans also use this
opportunity to evacuate their wounded. Humanity in the
war! It is a scarce quality. During this break in
combat I think: "Why do we kill each other?" I believe
all soldiers ask themselves this question. We are
equal whether we are on this side or the other. Hardly
had the wounded reached the safety of the rear when,
once again, fire erupts from both sides.
Hours go by with occasional firefights. At about
eleven o'clock in the evening, an officer appears. He
has verbal orders for me. I become the Kampfkommandant
(combat commander) in Kesternich. Now the right side
of the road is also under my command.
I give up the sewing factory, because I must hold the
village center and I need the main body of the men.
Here in Kesternich we make are to make a stand. Later,
I must evacuate the group of houses around the
Falter’s house. I must make the combat line short, and
build on it so that the Americans will not make a
serious attempt and will not simply go around us into
Kesternich. At about the location of the gas station
we establish ourselves along the main road. I still
have approximately 80 men under my command. I
establish the command post in the solidly built cellar
of the second house from the intersection of Federal
Highway 84 and the main road.
On the 15th of December a command is given in Einruhr
for the complete recovery of Kesternich. From one
hundred guns of all calibers the artillery preparation
begins. My Alarmeinheit holds the front line, while
the others attack. Three tank destroyers, a
self-propelled flak gun and an infantry battalion
drive from Einruhr arriving at Kesternich at 1530
hours. They hold the American soldiers of the 309th
Infantry Regiment at bay and a Sherman tank is
destroyed. We capture approximately 300 American
prisoners, including 9 officers. On the 17th of
December nothing occurs. On the night of the 18th and
on the 19th of December 1944, my men are relieved and
take off to their units. I remain an additional day as
an adviser for the new troops in Kesternich. On the
day before Christmas I am reassigned to the
Raffelsbrand Forest. There on the 10th of January
1945, I am badly wounded and come into American hands.
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