I have done a great deal of research on a distant relative of mine whom I only learned about some 5 years ago. Because of this latest thread ( http://dev.wehrmacht-awards.com/foru...50#post3233550 ) and past inquiries I have decided to post the eyewitness account of his last day on the battlefield in which he was mortally wounded. I believe that this account was written for "Der Freiwillige" magazine, but I have never been able to learn for certain if it was or not. I have translated the text from German.
"Day X"
An eyewitness account of the fighting and mortal wounding of
Waffen SS - Hauptsturmfuehrer Ernst Richard Stubben, DKiG
We, the last remaining seven Sturmgeschutz of 3<SUP>rd</SUP> Company, were located in an uncultivated field, separated by an earthen wall and a fortified street, of which half way down this wall could only be found one small exit.
Dawn brought a heavy barrage of fire upon the forward German line. As the fire began to subside between us and the lines, we knew the Russians were preparing another attack. I asked Obersturmfuehrer (1<SUP>st</SUP> Lieutenant) Stubben, while the time permitted, if we should not attempt to proceed and cross the street the one kilometer or so to the open ground which lay ahead so that we could reach the nearby forest edge to better camouflage ourselves. Stubben decided to first radio ahead and inform Divisional Headquarters before doing so, as he recalled from earlier briefings that this area was to be used as a later defensive position.
From our position, using binoculars, it was quite clear that the front had collapsed, and that in a short time our comrades would be overrun. No response was received regarding our request of how we were to defend our present position. Stubben then ordered us to move out. We realized that Russian T-34 tanks were already moving parallel upon the street between us and the earthen wall, and that we had gone unnoticed. We knew that we had enough time to get through the small exit, with Jupp Kaspers at point, Stubben already ahead of me, and I being next to last. Once the Russian tank column had passed by we drove on, crossing the street in order to blaze a trail across an open portion of ground to reach the nearby woods that would allow us a better overview of the Russians. Up to this point and unknown to us, was that this bit of open ground was nothing but very fine sand in which our tanks might become stuck and bottom out. If our tracks were to become bogged down in this, it would be our certain undoing! Jupp Kaspers was the first to become bogged down. His tank, heaving back and forth, became hopelessly and firmly stuck. Suddenly there was a great commotion. Out of nowhere hundreds of Russian infantrymen appeared, determined to destroy the bogged down Sturmgeschutz, attacking in force, and using hand grenades. The hatch flung open and Jupp Kaspers, leading his crew, jumped directly between us and the oncoming enemy. We then lost sight of our comrades as they disappeared behind their tank. If we had opened fire with our machine gun we would certainly have killed our own men. I can’t say with certainty whether or not these men survived. The last time I saw Jupp he was alive. Forewarned by this mishap each of our vehicles tried his own way to find firm ground and drive around this obstacle. There was really no adequate or successful way found to get through. To offer oneself on a silver platter was no solution either, so the
Sturmgeschutz behind me was sent back to follow the direction in which the T-34's had gone. The remaining five vehicles attempted to find a way through, on their own, in order to get into the nearby woods as quickly as possible and find proper cover and concealment. However, one after another became hopelessly stuck. I alone was able to find firm ground beneath the tracks of my vehicle, and I called all the remaining crews to my side. Stubben jumped into the open hatch and directed me to the co-commander’s seat. He himself firing his machine pistol in all directions in an attempt to stop the attacking Russians. This cluster of men, from our other tanks, who were now inside my vehicle, were firing from every available open port. But, the sheer numbers of Russians were overwhelming. All of a sudden, with a grimacing face, Stubben crumpled over looking at the right side of his chest and arm pit. I ordered my radio man and loader to look after him while I used the periscope to search the area which lay ahead, as we continued to roll forward. I could see that the entire surrounding area was cluttered with enemy forces.
I remember that the way ahead of us was further hindered by an earthen berm. The barrel of our cannon nicked this dirt berm, filling it somewhat with dirt and debris. I realized, too, that at this same moment we were being lined up in the sights of a Russian bazooka team. Immediately, and without thinking, I balled up my fist and struck the firing trigger releasing the round loaded in our cannon, and being at such a close range the explosion flattened the slope out allowing us onto the other side.
The surviving members of our group decided we could make it the 500 meters to the nearest wood’s edge, where we could find some security, given that our tank had finally bottomed out, too. The Russians, realizing this and finding new vigor given our obvious plight, renewed their attack upon our sitting fortress. Luckily they were only armed with various small arms. Because of this, we were now able to give covering fire from two directions allowing us time to gather our badly wounded company commander, in order to make a break for the nearby cover. Others of our members removed the tanks machine gun and grabbed what ammunition could be carried, setting charges to the remaining onboard ammunition in order to destroy our vehicle in place, just as we had learned and practiced during our days in training.
Just as I had thrown myself down and found proper concealment, in order to give covering fire for my comrades, we heard the thundering HURRAHS coming from the Russians, as they stormed our now abandoned vehicle. Then, exactly as they converged upon it, there was a tremendous explosion. This explosion was exactly what we had needed, in order to distract those surviving enemy soldiers long enough for us to make good our escape. Luckily for us, the remaining enemy chose not to pursue us. Because of the care necessary for the moving of our badly wounded Obersturmfuehrer Stubben, it was slow moving for us all. We switched off caring for him often, always watching our rear.
After some time, we came upon a partially defended street. A few yards away from which we came upon a quite rotten wooden bridge acting as a small obstacle. Standing before this bridge was our own seemingly helpless commander of the # 7 tank, along with his quite fit crew. This had been the crew we sent to follow the T-34's earlier in the day. Given the confusing situation we found ourselves in, no one knew what we should do next. Should we use this vehicle to
travel up the street, or should we attempt to cross the rotten bridge in order to make our escape from behind these new Russian lines? An approaching German motorcycle with sidecar removed us from our doubts having already traveled the street only to turn about having seen that the Russians had set up positions further on down. That settled, we decided upon the bridge. But, would it support our tank?
This decision would be decided for us too, because all of a sudden there appeared an Army Major, wearing the red piped trousers of a General Staff officer, wildly swinging his PPK pistol to and fro, determined to forcefully turn our confused group into a defensive bridgehead. His first order, given my Sturmgeschutz driver, was to drive over the bridge. The driver warned him against this move whereupon, hearing this, the Major took over the controls of our vehicle, determined to do so himself. The rotten bridge did not hold. Our tank crashed through, landing exactly between both support pillars.
This action cost the Herr Major any of his remaining authority. Our next immediate concern was to get our badly wounded commander proper medical care. So we drug the motorcycle and sidecar over the top of our tank, which now acted as the bridge planking, to get to the other side of the water, where we gently placed our badly wounded comrade into the sidecar with the hope that he would soon find proper medical care in some nearby field hospital. I later learned that Stubben wound up in a field hospital in Danzig. His wife told me that she had visited him there. He eventually died due to the severe nature of his wound (a rifle bullet through the right armpit which traveled completely through the thoracic cavity, exiting the left rear shoulder blade as he stood and fired at the Russians from the tank cupola) and the ensuing blood infection caused by this wound.
We, Unterscharfuehrer Freiwald, his scout, Unterscharfuehrer Kirschoff, one of our drivers, and myself, later visited Mrs. Stubben in order to deliver and present to her Stubben’s posthumous promotion to Hauptsturmfuehrer (Captain) and to also present her with the order of the German Cross in Gold (or was it the Knight’s Cross?).
The final result of our adventures during that day, somewhere near Dorpat, Latvia, near our regional headquarters, was that we were eventually able to find our way back to our own unit "Hermann von Salza".
Originally witnessed and written by: Hans Karl Becker, March 1995, former platoon leader and Untersturmfuehrer, 3<SUP>rd</SUP> Company Waffen-SS Panzer Abteilung 11, "Hermann von Salza", 11<SUP>th</SUP> Waffen-SS Panzer Grenadier Division, "Nordland"
Translated by: Charles G. Stubben II, Copyright Feb. 24, 2005
"Day X"
An eyewitness account of the fighting and mortal wounding of
Waffen SS - Hauptsturmfuehrer Ernst Richard Stubben, DKiG
We, the last remaining seven Sturmgeschutz of 3<SUP>rd</SUP> Company, were located in an uncultivated field, separated by an earthen wall and a fortified street, of which half way down this wall could only be found one small exit.
Dawn brought a heavy barrage of fire upon the forward German line. As the fire began to subside between us and the lines, we knew the Russians were preparing another attack. I asked Obersturmfuehrer (1<SUP>st</SUP> Lieutenant) Stubben, while the time permitted, if we should not attempt to proceed and cross the street the one kilometer or so to the open ground which lay ahead so that we could reach the nearby forest edge to better camouflage ourselves. Stubben decided to first radio ahead and inform Divisional Headquarters before doing so, as he recalled from earlier briefings that this area was to be used as a later defensive position.
From our position, using binoculars, it was quite clear that the front had collapsed, and that in a short time our comrades would be overrun. No response was received regarding our request of how we were to defend our present position. Stubben then ordered us to move out. We realized that Russian T-34 tanks were already moving parallel upon the street between us and the earthen wall, and that we had gone unnoticed. We knew that we had enough time to get through the small exit, with Jupp Kaspers at point, Stubben already ahead of me, and I being next to last. Once the Russian tank column had passed by we drove on, crossing the street in order to blaze a trail across an open portion of ground to reach the nearby woods that would allow us a better overview of the Russians. Up to this point and unknown to us, was that this bit of open ground was nothing but very fine sand in which our tanks might become stuck and bottom out. If our tracks were to become bogged down in this, it would be our certain undoing! Jupp Kaspers was the first to become bogged down. His tank, heaving back and forth, became hopelessly and firmly stuck. Suddenly there was a great commotion. Out of nowhere hundreds of Russian infantrymen appeared, determined to destroy the bogged down Sturmgeschutz, attacking in force, and using hand grenades. The hatch flung open and Jupp Kaspers, leading his crew, jumped directly between us and the oncoming enemy. We then lost sight of our comrades as they disappeared behind their tank. If we had opened fire with our machine gun we would certainly have killed our own men. I can’t say with certainty whether or not these men survived. The last time I saw Jupp he was alive. Forewarned by this mishap each of our vehicles tried his own way to find firm ground and drive around this obstacle. There was really no adequate or successful way found to get through. To offer oneself on a silver platter was no solution either, so the
Sturmgeschutz behind me was sent back to follow the direction in which the T-34's had gone. The remaining five vehicles attempted to find a way through, on their own, in order to get into the nearby woods as quickly as possible and find proper cover and concealment. However, one after another became hopelessly stuck. I alone was able to find firm ground beneath the tracks of my vehicle, and I called all the remaining crews to my side. Stubben jumped into the open hatch and directed me to the co-commander’s seat. He himself firing his machine pistol in all directions in an attempt to stop the attacking Russians. This cluster of men, from our other tanks, who were now inside my vehicle, were firing from every available open port. But, the sheer numbers of Russians were overwhelming. All of a sudden, with a grimacing face, Stubben crumpled over looking at the right side of his chest and arm pit. I ordered my radio man and loader to look after him while I used the periscope to search the area which lay ahead, as we continued to roll forward. I could see that the entire surrounding area was cluttered with enemy forces.
I remember that the way ahead of us was further hindered by an earthen berm. The barrel of our cannon nicked this dirt berm, filling it somewhat with dirt and debris. I realized, too, that at this same moment we were being lined up in the sights of a Russian bazooka team. Immediately, and without thinking, I balled up my fist and struck the firing trigger releasing the round loaded in our cannon, and being at such a close range the explosion flattened the slope out allowing us onto the other side.
The surviving members of our group decided we could make it the 500 meters to the nearest wood’s edge, where we could find some security, given that our tank had finally bottomed out, too. The Russians, realizing this and finding new vigor given our obvious plight, renewed their attack upon our sitting fortress. Luckily they were only armed with various small arms. Because of this, we were now able to give covering fire from two directions allowing us time to gather our badly wounded company commander, in order to make a break for the nearby cover. Others of our members removed the tanks machine gun and grabbed what ammunition could be carried, setting charges to the remaining onboard ammunition in order to destroy our vehicle in place, just as we had learned and practiced during our days in training.
Just as I had thrown myself down and found proper concealment, in order to give covering fire for my comrades, we heard the thundering HURRAHS coming from the Russians, as they stormed our now abandoned vehicle. Then, exactly as they converged upon it, there was a tremendous explosion. This explosion was exactly what we had needed, in order to distract those surviving enemy soldiers long enough for us to make good our escape. Luckily for us, the remaining enemy chose not to pursue us. Because of the care necessary for the moving of our badly wounded Obersturmfuehrer Stubben, it was slow moving for us all. We switched off caring for him often, always watching our rear.
After some time, we came upon a partially defended street. A few yards away from which we came upon a quite rotten wooden bridge acting as a small obstacle. Standing before this bridge was our own seemingly helpless commander of the # 7 tank, along with his quite fit crew. This had been the crew we sent to follow the T-34's earlier in the day. Given the confusing situation we found ourselves in, no one knew what we should do next. Should we use this vehicle to
travel up the street, or should we attempt to cross the rotten bridge in order to make our escape from behind these new Russian lines? An approaching German motorcycle with sidecar removed us from our doubts having already traveled the street only to turn about having seen that the Russians had set up positions further on down. That settled, we decided upon the bridge. But, would it support our tank?
This decision would be decided for us too, because all of a sudden there appeared an Army Major, wearing the red piped trousers of a General Staff officer, wildly swinging his PPK pistol to and fro, determined to forcefully turn our confused group into a defensive bridgehead. His first order, given my Sturmgeschutz driver, was to drive over the bridge. The driver warned him against this move whereupon, hearing this, the Major took over the controls of our vehicle, determined to do so himself. The rotten bridge did not hold. Our tank crashed through, landing exactly between both support pillars.
This action cost the Herr Major any of his remaining authority. Our next immediate concern was to get our badly wounded commander proper medical care. So we drug the motorcycle and sidecar over the top of our tank, which now acted as the bridge planking, to get to the other side of the water, where we gently placed our badly wounded comrade into the sidecar with the hope that he would soon find proper medical care in some nearby field hospital. I later learned that Stubben wound up in a field hospital in Danzig. His wife told me that she had visited him there. He eventually died due to the severe nature of his wound (a rifle bullet through the right armpit which traveled completely through the thoracic cavity, exiting the left rear shoulder blade as he stood and fired at the Russians from the tank cupola) and the ensuing blood infection caused by this wound.
We, Unterscharfuehrer Freiwald, his scout, Unterscharfuehrer Kirschoff, one of our drivers, and myself, later visited Mrs. Stubben in order to deliver and present to her Stubben’s posthumous promotion to Hauptsturmfuehrer (Captain) and to also present her with the order of the German Cross in Gold (or was it the Knight’s Cross?).
The final result of our adventures during that day, somewhere near Dorpat, Latvia, near our regional headquarters, was that we were eventually able to find our way back to our own unit "Hermann von Salza".
Originally witnessed and written by: Hans Karl Becker, March 1995, former platoon leader and Untersturmfuehrer, 3<SUP>rd</SUP> Company Waffen-SS Panzer Abteilung 11, "Hermann von Salza", 11<SUP>th</SUP> Waffen-SS Panzer Grenadier Division, "Nordland"
Translated by: Charles G. Stubben II, Copyright Feb. 24, 2005
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