I'll go pull out the book and give the full quotation. And for good measure, a later one as well, as even though it is unrelated it has to be one of the most haunting recollections I've ever read in my life. Will include in the edit.
*EDIT*
"The shellfire suddenly breaks off.
I get up and position myself in the loader's hatch to have a look. As far as I can see, they're not shooting at us anymore, but the front rumbles away. The enemy offensive is in full swing... Over there, across the crest of the slope opposite us, the enemy appears: Russian infantry. As far as the eye can see, to left and right, they occupy the entire crest, followed by a second wave. We really didn't see them. The company commander radios: 'Hold your fire.' We couldn't do anything anyway, the range is too great, I estimate it to be about 3,000 metres.
The attack waves are about 50 metres apart. Now and then a shell flies over, but lands in front of us in the fields, to the right or left. We concentrate on counting the Red Army's attack waves. There are now seven, eight, nine, now twelve. Thousands of Russians pour forward endlessly, there must be a whole infantry division committed against us. Our eyes flicker along the horizon to left and right; no tanks, no anti-tank guns in sight.
Then we hear the 'Urrah!' The east wind carries it from the other slope to us. The first waves have already reached the bottom of the valley, and we can no longer see them beyond the curve of the slope. There is a continuous 'Urrah!' - to the front, to the left, to the right. We are uneasy. We aren't able to shoot at what we can see. They are too far away, it would only reveal our positions. Actually, we are in a good position in our sandy hollow, with only the gun protruding forward and the turret about the top of the hollow.
Then it all begins again. The twelfth wave is the last that I see, then I pull myself back inside and quickly close the hatch. There is a further heavy firestrike by the Russian artillery. We are plastered with fire. A 172mm shell detonates a metre from the edge of our pit, hurling earth over the tank, sand flies over the cupola; Sattler has already pulled his head in. Now there's pandemonium. Just get us out of this hole. Sattler orders. 'Start the engine' and Richard Braumandl shouts, 'Herr Feldwebel, I know!' As the tank digs itself out of the sand and moves backwards, our stern points into the air, and everyone fears if we take an artillery hit, we may flip right over. We drive back out of the pit with our engine howling." -Johann Huber, Oct. 7th 1944
*EDIT2*
"Everyone wants to pull back, the Russians have stormed the southern part of the village; a powerful tank unit must have moved in there, unnoticed by us. We feared as much. To our right, the south, we have no protection. 7 Company wasn't there to beat off the enemy in good times. Two minutes later, when we are all positioned across the road, ready to finally turn right and descend the hill we climbed an hour before, an Unteroffizier rises up from the ground. He has been wounded in the belly with shrapnel fire from a Stalin organ, right through from left to right, sliced right open. He holds his spilled guts with both arms, as if holding a basket, staggers to our tank, wants to climb on, I reach from him, he cries with a pained expression, his eyes full of fear, 'Comrades, take me with you!' I want to pull him up over the turret skirting, but he can't hold on, he doesn't have the strength. He falls, with a hand to his belly, holding his entrails together, slowly keels over, sits on the road, and pulls himself halfway onto his side. His spilled intestines pour onto the sand. Dreadful. A man falls to his death, trying to reach for his last chance. I couldn't get hold of his hand, I was left grasping at empty air.
Then Richard drives on for another ten metres before halting again. The dreadful moment has passed, but there are still the living. I pull them up onto our tank, as the infantry don't know where they can climb aboard, I tug at arms, hands, necks. New, fresh clothing, recently issued, I guess there are from a Volksgrenadier division. They have the number 551 on their shoulderboards... We now have a whole group of soldiers on the back, and meanwhile heavy mortar fire continues, with ever more soldiers fleeing from the south towards us; the Russians must be really close. Now we're off, running downhill, I have to get back into the turret. From the noise of the tracks I realize we're going faster and faster. And then the fireworks start. Following the Stalin organ salvoes, the firing of the as yet unsighted T-34s and the mortars, all hell now breaks loose. Braumandl shouts, 'Russians in the open, we're driving through them, we're surrounded!'
Have the Russians bypassed us? Have we failed to notice a pincer attack? These thoughts shoot through my head. I see nothing, but Sattler taps me on the shoulder and tells me to prepare the machine-gun, and then Isecke fires like mad with the turret machine-gun towards 2 o'clock. In the front, Karl also fires one burst after another with the radio-operator's machine-gun, and outside all hell breaks loose. Then Richard Braumandl shouts, 'Herr Feldwebel, the tank in front of us, dear God!" He stamps on the brakes, we all pitch forward, and we're off again. I am busy loading the machine-gun. It's difficult, as the main gun is fully depressed. There is now little space above the machine-gun breech to load the belt. 'Please don't jam,' I think. But it works fine.
We drove for a long time, with ricochets clicking constantly off the armour. They're firing at us with everything they have, it must be Russian infantry! If only there aren't any anti-tank guns nearby. After a good two kilometres, Isecke, the gunner, stops shooting. He raises the main gun again and Sattler says, 'We're through now.' We must have come about two kilometres through the Russian lines. Isecke orders me, 'Go out and check the turret, it's jammed.' We drive on, but much slower. As soon as I climb out of the hatch, I catch my breath. Our tank is empty. As I climb over the turret skirting, I see only one of our men is still there, clinging by his fingers to the grill of the engine decking and holding on. I stare on for a moment, and realise all of the infantry must have been shot off the back. None of them has survived. When I reach the Landser and try to pull him aboard, I see he's unharmed. He is an old soldier, I reckon at least 50, if not 55. Over the noise of the tracks, I shout to him, 'Where are the others?' But he can't say a word. He just crawls forward across the engine decking and says nothing, his teeth chattering as if it were 30 degrees below zero. He's in shock. But I need to find what's jamming the turret. That is not so easy. Finally, over on the gunner's side, I find an abandoned rifle that has jammed under the outer skirting. I have to work it back and forth to free it, and then I reckon that Isecke will be able to turn the turret.
Now we halt. Immediately, we turn the turret to 5 o'clock, so we can shoot backwards... Now what are we to do with the soldier who lies on his side; he will have to move if we are to ****. But he is not fit to walk, or jump off. I can see that the man has gone through hell and is the only survivor of perhaps a dozen men. Sattler agrees, we leave him up top, but he must move forward to the nose, where I secure him so that he does not place his feet on the radio-operator's machine-gun and doesn't obstruct Richard Braumandl's observation slit, which would be fatal. He still can't speak, but he understands. I can see that.
As I climb back through the hatch and don my headset, we receive new orders to take up positions either side of the road. The battle continues. The T-34s are pushing on. We are permitted 'free fire' on identified targets and are on the left side of the road. Apparently 7 Company is defending the right.
...About 900 metres away, on the hill in front of us, we hear a shot. Rose-red tracer! Damn, T-34s. So they are already here! Nothing for it but to get back into the tank. The other vehicles in our company have already opened fire, but we can see little of the enemy tanks. Only turrets and cupolas visible. We can't hit them beyond the ridge. Isecke also fires twice, then we give up. There's more going down to our right. 7 Company is over there. Our comrades are more involved in the tank battle than us - but I hear only their tank guns. And then the T-34s must have hit one of 7 Company. The tank burns. It isn't possible to see who's been hit. Most, or even all, have to pull back, we hear via the radio. We are ordered to withdraw a further two or three kilometres.
Once we are in position and evening is drawing on, Richard Braumandl begins to talk. 'Herr Feldwebel, what tank was that before us, driving in front of us, when we broke out? I wasn't able to see, as there were so many infantry in the way. You know how we drove down the hill afterwards.' The Feldwebel doesn't know. Richard asks again, 'Did you really not see him?' ' I didn't notice - there was too much happening.' 'Hmmm, what's Richard getting at?' I ask him. Then he explains. 'I only saw the tank in front of me with infantry that the Russians were shooting. But then the tank slipped into the ditch with its right track, and overran a group of our Landsers who were in the ditch taking cover from the Russians, with its right track. It was awful - arms and legs were hanging from the track, torn off by it, it drove over the soldiers for at least 30 metres, our own Landsers!' The blood drains from the three of us, Sattler says nothing, but he must have seen it too. Dreadful! The driver in front of is was responsible for the deaths of our own comrades - he simply rolled them flat when we broke out of the encirclement. Richard's words shock everyone. Nobody speaks a word, everyone thinks back to an hour and a half before when Richard shouted, 'Herr Feldwebel, the driver in front of us, dear God!' There's silence in the vehicle, when the only noise coming from the headsets, the sounds of the guns firing. Death has done a dreadful business today."
I struggle to think of any accounts that messed me up more.
Sorry for the off-topic though. I just figured I'd write this down while I had the book open.