The artillery raged with an unbelievable ferocity. Towards evening, it must have been about 6pm, the drumfire stopped. I warned the sentry to keep alert. We all stood at the ready, grenades in hand. The sentry shouts “Sie Kommen!” I was first out of the bunker and stopped to fire flares to call in our artillery. My men pushed past and occupied the trench. The enemy was already so close I could not make it to the trench; I stayed in the sap with a handful of men and begin firing.
The enemy was about 20m away. I barely got off 10 rounds when I was knocked to the ground. I lost consciousness for a few moments, but then my head cleared. Looking down I noticed that my right foot is torn off. Both my thighs were shredded. Next to me lay Unteroffizier Seiling, victim of the same hand grenade. He was also missing a foot but was dead; he must have had other wounds.
The enemy seemed to have bypassed us and have entered our trenches. I crawled back to the bunker as best I could on hands and knees. With much effort I succeeded in reaching it. There I met a number of men, who had been wounded earlier, including my orderly. They took care of me and laid me on a mattress. On my orders my orderly took a pair of shears and cut my foot off, it was still joined to the leg by some skin. They bound the wound as best they could. I gave orders to make a fire and burn my effects