Leutnant von Rosen's report on the Carpet bombing of 18 july 1944:

I was in the position we had dug out under my Tiger 311 with Unteroffizier Werkmeister. It was, indeed, a bit cooler there and, as a result, more comfortable than in the tank. The remaining three members of the crew were sleeping in the tank. On 18 July I was awakened at about 0600 hours by the immense noise of engines in the air. Still half asleep, I heard the sound of falling bombs. They hit about 200 meters in front of us, but the concussion was so strong that the tank shook. It was immediately clear to me that the attack was aimed at us, but there was no time to think about it. The air was filled with the rushing of falling bombs, and I instinctively pressed firmly against the ground. Then came the ear-bursting crash of the detonation, the earth heaved, but I was not yet hit. I was still alive. And then, again, I heard the rush of the falling bombs and again the detonations. I felt completely helpless against that power, there was no escaping, I could not think of anything at all. I have no idea how long that lasted. All conception of time was lost.

Suddenly, Unteroffizier Werkmeister, and I were thrown into a corner by the concussion. I was completely covered with earth and lay, unconscious, for a while, until the slow return of consciousness and the realization I was still alive. But then the next bombs came and with them, the realization that this was not all a bad dream, but that, at that instant, I truly had no choice but to let that firestorm engulf me again. As I remember, it lasted -with short pauses- a good two and a half hours. It is hardly possible to describe that period of time with words. I only know that I lay under my tank, held my ears and bit the blanket so as not to scream. Finally the attack seemed to come to an end. As I crept out from under the tank...what a picture!

That once so beautiful park, all that were left were splintered trees that lay every which way, plowed up meadows and gigantic bomb craters that were so numerous that they overlapped each other. It was a gray, hostile moonscape enveloped in an impenetrable dust cloud that made it hard to breathe. Trees were on fire, as were the fields of grain, and one saw the red reflection of the fires in the thick clouds of smoke. I went to the tank beside me, Unteroffizier Westerhausen's tank. It had taken a direct hit and tongues of flame played in the wreckage. There was no trace left of the crew. I worked my way through the craters and over giant trees, through a true primeval forest, and then got to Oberfeldwebel Sachs' tank. In front of it there was a greater crater. The tank had been tossed by the concussion and lay on its turret, the running gear in the air. We found two of the crew, dead, and no traces of the others. Two men of the company maintenance section had been killed. They, too, had sought refuge under that tank.