To Germany

Early in the morning, the entire detachment set out for the Third Reich. It was an impressive convoy: 36 buses, many trucks carrying various equipment, cars, and motorcycles. Everything worked well, except for “our helper in need,” the recovery truck, a sturdy vehicle later nicknamed Karl-Alfred. It ran into trouble with the brakes, which were too tightly set.

The border crossing was remarkably simple, and after a number of swastika stamps in our passports and vehicle papers, we continued into Germany. Up in the north, there were few visible signs of the war, but after a couple of hours we saw numerous Allied bombers flying eastward in waves at high altitude. We were directed from the main road onto smaller forest roads. The personnel had to leave the vehicles and seek cover in the terrain. As we traveled further south, the traces of war became increasingly visible in the form of bombed-out towns and bridges.

Some of the damage was so recent that we realized it had been caused by some of the bombers we had seen. Fires were still burning in several places, and German guards stopped us, warning that there were timed bombs further ahead. As a result, we had to take difficult small roads and make long detours. Eventually, however, we reached that day’s destination, Friedrichsruh, a few dozen kilometers outside Hamburg. By then, it was late evening and dark, so we had to remain in the vehicles, sitting or lying down, to sleep.