We spent the rest of the day under cover at the quarry, waiting for the sun to go down. A squadron of Russian fighter planes flew over us, and several times we saw lone fighter planes looking for something to strafe. Somewhere several miles behind us, back toward the Oder, we heard the Russian assault cannons barraging our defense lines.

We all dozed, and I awoke to the sound of Gunther snapping his fingers. He snapped his fingers and clenched his fists. Then he ground his knuckles into his palm. ...