I hope you all don't mind, but I'd like to share a little piece I wrote for this thread. Hope you enjoy!
From Military History Magazine April, 1992 issue
Warrior Turned Spectator
[Author’s Note: Born in 1900 just outside Hanover, Friedrich Vieth joined the Kaiser’s army during 1918 and served on the Western Front, ending the war as a Gefreiter. By the end of WWII, he was an Oberst in command of a regiment in the 20th Panzer Division. In 1962, Vieth ended over forty years of military service as a Generalleutnant in the Bundeswehr, retiring to a family estate near Dassel. Refusing to be evacuated as Warsaw Pact forces rolled west in the summer of 1986, Vieth was able to witness the Battle of Einbeck and offers a unique perspective on one of the final battles of WWIII. His memoir, entitled My Three World Wars, was published in 1990, a year before his death. A translated excerpt is printed here with permission.]
The day began the same as every other in the past week, with the sounds of shells and explosions matching the sun’s rise. Jets and helicopters had been streaking overhead since the war started, but the din of combat had grown ever louder since the Russians crossed the Leine. It sounded much the same as I remembered from my last encounter with them some forty years prior. Despite my age, I was prepared to face them once again should I need to. The Landespolizei [state police] had come by the previous afternoon and told me to leave for my own safety, but I refused. They argued with me for some time until I showed them my Iron Cross. Now I sat on my porch with my old Mauser, determined to take at least one of the Communists with me before they took my land.
From my perch, I could see much of the Einbeck valley. The remains of the Fencer [Su-24 bomber aircraft] still smoldered about three kilometers away. But new scars in the terrain had appeared overnight. I followed the tracks through the fields with my eyes until I spotted a number of Leopard 2s arrayed west-to-east, about a company in strength and rather poorly camouflaged. I despaired at my countrymen’s lack of strength to hold the valley until I noticed several infantry positions spread between and in front of the panzers. Two Warriors [infantry fighting vehicles] and a handful of Spartans [armored personnel carriers] identified the infantry as British. Still, they seemed too few in number to stop a determined assault. I wondered how they would stand up against the onslaught that was surely coming their way.
I did not have to wonder for long. About an hour after dawn, a dust cloud rose to the northeast, announcing the approach of the Russian horde. But before they could arrive, a terrible bombardment fell on the length of the valley. Shrieking rockets flew in by the dozen, then the hundred, digging up great geysers of earth. The concussions reached up to me, and even though none hit within a kilometer, it felt as though a jackhammer was pounding my chest. After a full two minutes, when I could no longer take the pain, the explosions stopped. Fires burned throughout the towns down below, but the defensive line looked like it had been lightly hit. I believe the Russians had poor reconnaissance of the area, and decided to blanket the entire area instead of concentrating on identified positions.
Next came the concealment, as plumes of brilliant white smoke erupted out of artillery shells along the northern end of the valley. Between this and the fires already raging from the rocket attack, my vision was restricted for several minutes. This must not have affected the Leopards with their thermal sights, because they soon began firing into the smoke, and orange glows gave color to the smoke screen. First one, then four, then wave after wave of Russian tanks emerged into view. They were older variants, T-62s. The cream of the Red Army had been destroyed in battles closer to the border. What they lacked in quality, however, they made up for in numbers, in the true Russian way. At least a hundred tanks led twice that number of BTRs [armored personnel carriers].
The T-62s opened fire as they closed to within 2000 meters of the defenders, but many of the shells went wide. It was clear that their training was poor as they rapidly fell out of formation, and only a fraction stopped to take accurate shots. One after another exploded as the Leopards and British anti-tank guided missiles reached out from concealed positions both I and apparently the Russians had missed. Still the Russians came on. The BTRs stopped and dismounted infantry. I waited for Allied artillery to fall and take the opportunity to thin the enemy ranks, but the only shells to hit the battlefield were scattered around the British and German lines. Wire-guided missiles were soon flying in both directions amid the flurry of tank shells and tracer fire.
Despite the clear superiority of the Leopards, the number of the Communists began to tell. Their shells began finding the mark, and although many did not penetrate the thick frontal armor of the German tanks, several brewed up as the T-62s closed the distance. It was clear that the defensive line would not hold, and the British began loading on their personnel carriers. They had waited too long, however, and most of the carriers were destroyed before they could withdraw. Those soldiers faced with burning vehicles instead chose to head for the rear on foot. Many were cut down in the crossfire. I gripped my rifle tighter in my hands when I saw the surviving Leopards shift into reverse, with Russian tanks in hot pursuit. Despite the fifty or so burning hulks in the field, the Reds continued to close and it was clear they had won the field.
It pained me that the defense of the Einbeck area had been left to an inadequate number of men, and more so that they were poorly supported. No Allied artillery had intervened, and no air support had appeared to strike the exposed enemy. As my countrymen and their British allies withdrew, minus half their number, the Russians paused to consolidate their gains and reform their formations. I believed that soon I would be forced to defend my own home in a fight I already knew the outcome of. But as I stood to head inside and make my final stand, a great roar passed overhead from the west. British Harriers, some firing rockets and other dropping cluster munitions, fell upon the Russians. The attack appeared so suddenly I nearly fell over from the noise of jet engines and explosions falling nearby. The Communists were clearly surprised too, as the only anti-air fire put up was a delayed stream of tracers from what had to be Shilkas [Soviet self-propelled anti-air vehicles] behind the ridgeline to the east.
As the smoke cleared once again, I saw the number of burning enemy vehicles had doubled. The effectiveness of airpower on the modern battlefield is simply astounding. This was further reinforced when half a dozen French Gazelle helicopters flew into the valley from the south and started unleashing their guided missiles on the surviving tanks. By this time, the Communists had recovered from their initial shock, and a volley of surface-to-air missiles flew away from the scattered infantry. Most seemed to be fired blindly, but one found its mark and downed one of the Gazelles. Facing such resistance, the remainder dove for the deck and retreated south.
Not one minute after the last of the air attacks, a new rumble filled the air. More tracked vehicles, this time to my west and north, and close. I was relieved to see, clearing the tree line not 200 meters away, the first of a line of British Chieftain and American Abrams tanks. They immediately engaged the Reds below while charging east into the valley, and I let out a cheer as the gun reports battered my eardrums. The Russians, already depleted and greatly disorganized, completely failed to meet the counterattack. Many turned on smoke generators and fled back up the valley; those that didn’t were soon ablaze. The Russian soldiers, left in the field by terrified BTR drivers, were scythed in great numbers by the machine guns fired by tank commanders standing in their cupolas.
The result was a rout. Almost no return fire met the surging Allied tanks, and only about a quarter of the enemy force that had entered the valley managed to get away. White flags began popping up in great number from the surviving infantry. The tanks did not stop, however, and continued to pursue the retreating enemy to the north and out of my view. The mopping up was left to a company of American infantry in Bradley’s [infantry fighting vehicles], which now also entered the valley from the west. As I looked upon a field filled with burning tanks and personnel carriers, I was shocked, awed, and ultimately pleased by the destruction wrought by our Allies on the Communist invaders. More than that, I was amazed that nations which we had fought against so bitterly twice this century were now spending their blood and treasure to defend my homeland. At any rate, I was grateful that they were here. I could safely put my Mauser back in the case where it belonged.
[Author’s note: Einbeck was the furthest west that Warsaw Pact forces reached in the invasion of Germany. With the American advance east of the Leine cutting off supplies to the Soviet forces massed around Alfeld, no further assaults were mounted. The war ended only two days later after the coup in Moscow.]