Memoirs of the German soldier Helmut Klaussman, corporal of the 111th Infantry Division
Battle path
I started serving in June '41. But I wasn’t exactly a military man then. We were called an auxiliary unit, and until November I, as a driver, drove in the Vyazma-Gzhatsk-Orsha triangle. There were Germans and Russian defectors in our unit. They worked as loaders. We carried ammunition and food.
In general, there were defectors on both sides throughout the war. Russian soldiers ran over to us even after Kursk. And our soldiers ran over to the Russians. I remember that near Taganrog two soldiers stood guard and went to the Russians, and a few days later we heard them calling over the radio to surrender. I think that usually the defectors were soldiers who just wanted to stay alive. They usually ran across before big battles, when the risk of dying in an attack overpowered the feeling of fear of the enemy. Few people defected due to their convictions both to us and from us. It was such an attempt to survive in this huge massacre. They hoped that after interrogations and checks you would be sent somewhere to the rear, away from the front. And then life will somehow form there.
Then I was sent to a training garrison near Magdeburg to a non-commissioned officer school, and after that, in the spring of 1942, I ended up serving in the 111th Infantry Division near Taganrog. I was a small commander. But he did not have a great military career. In the Russian army my rank corresponded to the rank of sergeant. We held back the attack on Rostov. Then we were transferred to the North Caucasus, then I was wounded and after being wounded I was transferred by plane to Sevastopol. And there our division was almost completely destroyed. In 1943, near Taganrog, I was wounded. I was sent to Germany for treatment, and after five months I returned back to my company. The German army had a tradition of returning the wounded to their unit, and this was the case almost until the very end of the war. I fought the entire war in one division. I think this was one of the main secrets of the resilience of the German units. We in the company lived like one family. Everyone was in sight of each other, everyone knew each other well and could trust each other, rely on each other.
Once a year, a soldier was entitled to leave, but after the fall of 1943, all this became a fiction. And it was possible to leave your unit only if you were wounded or in a coffin.
The dead were buried in different ways. If there was time and opportunity, then everyone was entitled to a separate grave and a simple coffin. But if the fighting was heavy and we retreated, then we buried the dead somehow. In ordinary shell craters, wrapped in a cape or tarpaulin. In such a pit, as many people were buried at one time as died in this battle and could fit in it. Well, if they fled, then there was no time for the dead.
Our division was part of the 29th Army Corps and, together with the 16th (I think!) Motorized Division, made up the Reknage army group. We were all part of the Army Group “Southern Ukraine”.
As we have seen the causes of the war. German propaganda.
At the beginning of the war, the main thesis of the propaganda that we believed in was that Russia was preparing to break the treaty and attack Germany first. But we were just faster. Many people believed this then and were proud that they were ahead of Stalin. There were special front-line newspapers in which they wrote a lot about this. We read them, listened to the officers and believed in it.
But then, when we found ourselves in the depths of Russia and saw that there was no military victory, and that we were stuck in this war, disappointment arose. In addition, we already knew a lot about the Red Army, there were a lot of prisoners, and we knew that the Russians themselves were afraid of our attack and did not want to give a reason for war. Then propaganda began to say that now we can no longer retreat, otherwise the Russians will burst into the Reich on our shoulders. And we must fight here to ensure the conditions for a peace worthy of Germany. Many expected that in the summer of 1942 Stalin and Hitler would make peace. It was naive, but we believed in it. They believed that Stalin would make peace with Hitler, and together they would begin to fight against England and the United States. It was naive, but the soldier wanted to believe.
There were no strict requirements for propaganda. No one forced me to read books and brochures. I still haven't read Mein Kamf. But they strictly monitored morale. It was not allowed to have “defeatist conversations” or write “defeatist letters.” This was monitored by a special “propaganda officer.” They appeared in the troops immediately after Stalingrad. We joked among ourselves and called them “commissars.” But every month everything became tougher. Once in our division they shot a soldier who wrote home a “defeatist letter” in which he scolded Hitler. And after the war, I learned that during the war years, several thousand soldiers and officers were shot for such letters! One of our officers was demoted to rank and file for “defeatist talk.” Members of the NSDAP were especially feared. They were considered informers because they were very fanatical and could always report you on command. There weren't very many of them, but they were almost always distrusted.
The attitude towards the local population, towards Russians and Belarusians, was restrained and distrustful, but without hatred. We were told that we must defeat Stalin, that our enemy is Bolshevism. But, in general, the attitude towards the local population was correctly called “colonial”. We looked at them in 1941 as the future workforce, as territories that would become our colonies.
Ukrainians were treated better. Because the Ukrainians greeted us very cordially. Almost like liberators. Ukrainian girls easily started affairs with Germans. This was rare in Belarus and Russia.
There were also contacts on an ordinary human level. In the North Caucasus, I was friends with the Azerbaijanis who served as our auxiliary volunteers (Khivi). In addition to them, Circassians and Georgians served in the division. They often prepared kebabs and other Caucasian dishes. I still love this kitchen very much. From the beginning they took few of them. But after Stalingrad there were more and more of them every year. And by 1944 they were a separate large auxiliary unit in the regiment, but they were commanded by a German officer. Behind our backs we called them “Schwarze” - black (;-))))
They explained to us that we should treat them as comrades in arms, that these are our assistants. But a certain mistrust of them, of course, remained. They were used only to provide soldiers. They were less well armed and equipped.
Sometimes I also talked to local people. I went to visit some people. Usually to those who collaborated with us or worked for us.
I didn't see any partisans. I heard a lot about them, but where I served they were not there. There were almost no partisans in the Smolensk region until November 1941.
By the end of the war, attitudes towards the local population became indifferent. It was as if he wasn't there. We didn't notice him. We had no time for them. We came and took a position. At best, the commander could tell the local residents to get away because there would be a fight here. We had no time for them anymore. We knew we were retreating. That all this is no longer ours. Nobody thought about them...
About weapons.
The company's main weapon was machine guns. There were 4 of them in the company. It was a very powerful and fast-firing weapon. They helped us out a lot. The infantryman's main weapon was the carbine. He was respected more than a machine gun. They called him "the soldier's bride." He was long-range and penetrated defenses well. The machine gun was only good in close combat. The company had approximately 15 - 20 machine guns. We tried to get a Russian PPSh assault rifle. It was called the “small machine gun.” The disc contained, it seems, 72 rounds of ammunition and, if well maintained, it was a very formidable weapon. There were also grenades and small mortars.
There were also sniper rifles. But not everywhere. I was given a Russian Simonov sniper rifle near Sevastopol. It was a very accurate and powerful weapon. In general, Russian weapons were valued for their simplicity and reliability. But it was very poorly protected from corrosion and rust. Our weapons were better processed.
Artillery
Undoubtedly, Russian artillery was much superior to German artillery. Russian units always had good artillery cover. All Russian attacks came under powerful artillery fire. The Russians maneuvered fire very skillfully and knew how to skillfully concentrate it. They camouflaged artillery perfectly. Tankers often complained that you would only see a Russian cannon when it had already fired at you. In general, you had to visit Russian artillery fire once to understand what Russian artillery is. Of course, a very powerful weapon was the Stalin Organ - rocket launchers. Especially when the Russians used incendiary shells. They burned entire hectares to ashes.
About Russian tanks.
We were told a lot about the T-34. That this is a very powerful and well-armed tank. I first saw the T-34 near Taganrog. Two of my comrades were assigned to the forward patrol trench. At first they assigned me with one of them, but his friend asked to go with him instead of me. The commander allowed it. And in the afternoon two Russian T-34 tanks came out in front of our positions. At first they fired at us from cannons, and then, apparently noticing the forward trench, they went towards it and there one tank simply turned around on it several times and buried them both alive. Then they left.
I was lucky that I almost never saw Russian tanks. There were few of them on our sector of the front. In general, we infantrymen have always had a fear of tanks in front of Russian tanks. It's clear. After all, we were almost always unarmed in front of these armored monsters. And if there was no artillery behind us, then the tanks did what they wanted with us.
About stormtroopers.
We called them “Rusish things”. At the beginning of the war we saw few of them. But by 1943 they began to annoy us very much. It was a very dangerous weapon. Especially for infantry. They flew right overhead and showered us with fire from their cannons. Usually Russian attack aircraft made three passes. First they threw bombs at artillery positions, anti-aircraft guns or dugouts. Then they fired rockets, and on the third pass they turned along the trenches and used cannons to kill everything living in them. The shell that exploded in the trench had the force of a fragmentation grenade and produced a lot of fragments. What was especially depressing was that it was almost impossible to shoot down a Russian attack aircraft with small arms, although it was flying very low.
About night bombers
I heard about 2. But I haven’t personally encountered them myself. They flew at night and threw small bombs and grenades very accurately. But it was more of a psychological weapon than an effective combat one.
But in general, Russian aviation was, in my opinion, quite weak almost until the very end of 1943. Apart from the attack aircraft that I have already mentioned, we saw almost no Russian aircraft. The Russians bombed little and inaccurately. And in the rear we felt completely calm.
Studies.
At the beginning of the war, the soldiers were taught well. There were special training regiments. The strength of the training was that they tried to develop in the soldier a sense of self-confidence and reasonable initiative. But there was a lot of meaningless drill. I believe that this is a minus of the German military school. Too much pointless drill. But after 1943, teaching began to get worse. They were given less time to study and fewer resources. And in 1944, soldiers began to arrive who didn’t even know how to shoot properly, but they marched well because they were given almost no ammunition for shooting, but the front sergeant majors worked with them from morning to evening. The training of officers has also become worse. They no longer knew anything except defense and knew nothing except how to dig trenches correctly. They only managed to instill devotion to the Fuhrer and blind obedience to senior commanders.
Food. Supply.
The food on the front line was good. But during battles it was rarely hotter. We mostly ate canned food.
Usually in the morning they were given coffee, bread, butter (if there was any), sausage or canned ham. For lunch - soup, potatoes with meat or lard. For dinner, porridge, bread, coffee. But often some products were not available. And instead they could give cookies or, for example, a can of sardines. If a unit was sent to the rear, then food became very scarce. Almost from hand to mouth. Everyone ate the same. Both officers and soldiers ate the same food. I don’t know about the generals - I didn’t see it, but everyone in the regiment ate the same. The diet was common. But you could only eat in your own unit. If for some reason you found yourself in another company or unit, then you could not have lunch in their canteen. That was the law. Therefore, when traveling, it was necessary to receive rations. But the Romanians had four kitchens. One is for soldiers. The other is for sergeants. The third is for officers. And each senior officer, colonel and above, had his own cook who cooked for him separately. The Romanian army was the most demoralized. The soldiers hated their officers. And the officers despised their soldiers. Romanians often traded weapons. So our “blacks” (“Hiwis”) began to have good weapons. Pistols and machine guns. It turned out that they bought it for food and stamps from their Romanian neighbors...
About SS
Attitudes towards the SS were ambiguous. On the one hand, they were very persistent soldiers. They were better armed, better equipped, better fed. If they stood nearby, then there was no need to fear for their flanks. But on the other hand, they were somewhat condescending towards the Wehrmacht. In addition, they were not very popular due to their extreme cruelty. They were very cruel to prisoners and civilians. And it was unpleasant to stand next to them. People were often killed there. Besides, it was dangerous. The Russians, knowing about the cruelty of the SS towards civilians and prisoners, did not take the SS men prisoner. And during the offensive in these areas, few of the Russians understood who was in front of you as an Essenman or an ordinary Wehrmacht soldier. They killed everyone. Therefore, the SS was sometimes called “dead men” behind their backs.
I remember how one evening in November 1942 we stole a truck from a neighboring SS regiment. He got stuck on the road, and his driver went to his friends for help, and we pulled him out, quickly drove him to our place and repainted him there, changing his insignia. They looked for him for a long time, but did not find him. And for us it was a great help. When our officers found out, they swore a lot, but didn’t tell anyone. There were very few trucks left then, and we mostly moved on foot.
And this is also an indicator of attitude. Ours would never have been stolen from our own (Wehrmacht). But the SS men were not liked.
Soldier and officer
In the Wehrmacht there was always a great distance between soldier and officer. They were never one with us. Despite what propaganda said about our unity. It was emphasized that we were all “comrades,” but even the platoon lieutenant was very far from us. Between him and us there were also sergeants, who in every possible way maintained the distance between us and them, the sergeants. And only behind them were the officers. The officers usually communicated very little with us soldiers. Basically, all communication with the officer went through the sergeant major. The officer could, of course, ask you something or give you some instructions directly, but I repeat - this was rare. Everything was done through the sergeants. They were officers, we were soldiers, and the distance between us was very large.
This distance was even greater between us and the high command. We were just cannon fodder for them. No one took us into account or thought about us. I remember in July 1943, near Taganrog, I stood at a post near the house where the regiment headquarters was and through the open window I heard a report from our regiment commander to some general who came to our headquarters. It turns out that the general was supposed to organize an assault attack on our regiment on the railway station, which the Russians occupied and turned into a powerful stronghold. And after the report on the plan of the attack, our commander said that the planned losses could reach a thousand people killed and wounded, and this is almost 50% of the regiment’s strength. Apparently the commander wanted to show the pointlessness of such an attack. But the general said:
Fine! Prepare to attack. The Fuehrer demands from us decisive action in the name of Germany. And these thousand soldiers will die for the Fuhrer and the Fatherland!
And then I realized that we are nothing to these generals! I became so scared that it is impossible to convey now. The offensive was to begin in two days. I heard about this through the window and decided that I had to save myself at any cost. After all, a thousand killed and wounded is almost the entire combat unit. That is, I had almost no chance of surviving this attack. And the next day, when I was placed in the forward observation patrol, which was advanced in front of our positions towards the Russians, I was delayed when the order came to retreat. And then, as soon as the shelling began, he shot himself in the leg through a loaf of bread (this does not cause powder burns to the skin and clothes) so that the bullet would break the bone, but go right through. Then I crawled towards the positions of the artillerymen who were standing next to us. They understood little about injuries. I told them that I was shot by a Russian machine gunner. There they bandaged me, gave me coffee, gave me a cigarette and sent me to the rear in a car. I was very afraid that at the hospital the doctor would find bread crumbs in the wound, but I was lucky. Nobody noticed anything. When five months later, in January 1944, I returned to my company, I learned that in that attack the regiment had lost nine hundred people killed and wounded, but never took the station...
This is how the generals treated us! Therefore, when they ask me how I feel about German generals, which of them I value as a German commander, I always answer that they were probably good strategists, but I have absolutely nothing to respect them for. As a result, they put seven million German soldiers into the ground, lost the war, and now they are writing memoirs about how great they fought and how gloriously they won.
The most difficult fight
After being wounded, I was transferred to Sevastopol, when the Russians had already cut off Crimea. We were flying from Odessa on transport planes in a large group and right before our eyes, Russian fighters shot down two planes full of soldiers. It was terrible! One plane crashed in the steppe and exploded, while the other fell into the sea and instantly disappeared into the waves. We sat and helplessly waited for who was next. But we were lucky - the fighters flew away. Maybe they were running out of fuel or out of ammo. I fought in Crimea for four months.
And there, near Sevastopol, the most difficult battle of my life took place. This was in early May, when the defenses on Sapun Mountain had already been broken through and the Russians were approaching Sevastopol.
The remnants of our company - about thirty people - were sent over a small mountain so that we could reach the flank of the Russian unit attacking us. We were told that there was no one on this mountain. We walked along the rocky bottom of a dry stream and suddenly found ourselves in a bag of fire. They shot at us from all sides. We lay down among the stones and began to shoot back, but the Russians were among the greenery - they were invisible, but we were in full view and they killed us one by one. I don’t remember how, while firing from a rifle, I was able to crawl out from under the fire. I was hit by several fragments from grenades. It especially hurt my legs. Then I lay between the stones for a long time and heard Russians walking around. When they left, I looked at myself and realized that I would soon bleed to death. Apparently, I was the only one left alive. There was a lot of blood, but I didn’t have a bandage or anything! And then I remembered that there were condoms in my jacket pocket. They were given to us upon arrival along with other property. And then I made tourniquets out of them, then tore the shirt and made tampons from it for the wounds and tightened them with these tourniquets, and then, leaning on the rifle and the broken branch, I began to get out.
In the evening I crawled out to my people.
In Sevastopol, the evacuation from the city was already in full swing, the Russians from one end had already entered the city, and there was no longer any power in it.
Everyone was for themselves.
I will never forget the picture of how we were being driven around the city by car, and the car broke down. The driver began to repair it, and we looked over the side around us. Right in front of us in the square, several officers were dancing with some women dressed as gypsies. Everyone had bottles of wine in their hands. There was some kind of unreal feeling. They danced like crazy. It was a feast during the plague.
I was evacuated from Chersonesos on the evening of May 10, after Sevastopol had fallen. I cannot tell you what was happening on this narrow strip of land. It was hell! People cried, prayed, shot, went crazy, fought to the death for a place in the boats. When I read somewhere the memoirs of some general - a chatterbox, who talked about how we left Chersonesos in complete order and discipline, and that almost all units of the 17th Army were evacuated from Sevastopol, I wanted to laugh. Out of my entire company, I was the only one in Constanta! And less than a hundred people escaped from our regiment! My entire division lay down in Sevastopol. It is a fact!
I was lucky because we were lying wounded on a pontoon, right next to which one of the last self-propelled barges approached, and we were the first to be loaded onto it.
We were taken on a barge to Constanta. All the way we were bombed and strafed by Russian planes. It was terrible. Our barge was not sunk, but there were a lot of dead and wounded. The whole barge was full of holes. In order not to drown, we threw overboard all the weapons, ammunition, then all the dead, and still, when we arrived in Constanta, we stood in the water up to our necks in the holds, and the lying wounded all drowned. If we had to go another 20 kilometers, we would definitely go to the bottom! I was very bad. All the wounds became inflamed from sea water. At the hospital, the doctor told me that most of the barges were half full of dead people. And that we, the living, are very lucky.
There, in Constanta, I ended up in a hospital and never went to war again.
Our communications, our intelligence were no good, and at the officer level. The command did not have the opportunity to navigate the front-line situation in order to take the necessary measures in a timely manner and reduce losses to acceptable limits. We, ordinary soldiers, of course, did not know, and could not know, the true state of affairs on the fronts, since we simply served as cannon fodder for the Fuhrer and the Fatherland.
Inability to sleep, observe basic hygiene standards, lice infestation, disgusting food, constant attacks or shelling from the enemy. No, there was no need to talk about the fate of each soldier individually.
The general rule became: “Save yourself as best you can!” The number of killed and wounded was constantly growing. During the retreat, special units burned the harvested crops, and entire villages. It was scary to look at what we left behind, strictly following Hitler’s “scorched earth” tactics.
On September 28 we reached the Dnieper. Thank God, the bridge across the wide river was safe and sound. At night we finally reached the capital of Ukraine, Kiev, it was still in our hands. We were placed in the barracks, where we received allowances, canned food, cigarettes and schnapps. Finally the welcome pause.
The next morning we were gathered on the outskirts of the city. Of the 250 people in our battery, only 120 remained alive, which meant the disbandment of the 332nd regiment.
October 1943
Between Kiev and Zhitomir, near the Rokadnoe Highway, all 120 of us stopped at a stand. According to rumors, the area was controlled by partisans. But the civilian population was quite friendly towards us soldiers.
October 3 was a harvest festival, we were even allowed to dance with the girls, they played balalaikas. The Russians treated us to vodka, cookies and poppy seed pies. But, most importantly, we were able to somehow escape from the oppressive burden of everyday life and at least get some sleep.
But a week later it started again. We were thrown into battle somewhere 20 kilometers north of the Pripyat swamps. Allegedly, partisans settled in the forests there, striking in the rear of the advancing Wehrmacht units and organizing acts of sabotage in order to interfere with military supplies. We occupied two villages and built a defense line along the forests. In addition, our task was to keep an eye on the local population.
A week later, my friend Klein and I returned again to where we were billeted. Sergeant Schmidt said: “You can both go home on vacation.” There are no words for how happy we were. It was October 22, 1943. The next day we received leave certificates from Shpis (our company commander). One of the local Russians took us in a cart drawn by two horses to the Rokadnoe Highway, located 20 kilometers from our village. We gave him cigarettes, and then he went back. On the highway we got into a truck and got to Zhitomir, and from there we took a train to Kovel, that is, almost to the Polish border. There they reported to the front-line distribution point. We underwent sanitary treatment - first of all, it was necessary to expel the lice. And then they began to look forward to leaving for their homeland. I felt like I had miraculously escaped hell and was now heading straight to heaven.
Vacation
On October 27, I got home to my native Grosraming, my vacation was until November 19, 1943. From the station to Rodelsbach we had to walk several kilometers. On the way, I came across a column of prisoners from a concentration camp returning from work. They looked very depressed. Slowing down, I handed them a few cigarettes. The guard, who observed this picture, immediately attacked me: “I can arrange for you to walk with them now!” Enraged by his phrase, I responded: “And instead of me, you will go to Russia for two weeks!” At that moment, I simply did not understand that I was playing with fire - a conflict with an SS man could result in serious trouble. But that was all. My family was happy that I returned safe and sound on leave. My older brother Bert served in the 100th Jaeger Division somewhere in the Stalingrad area. The last letter from him was dated January 1, 1943. After everything I saw at the front, I strongly doubted that he could be as lucky as I was. But that's exactly what we hoped for. Of course, my parents and sisters really wanted to know how I was being served. But I preferred not to go into details - as they say, they know less, sleep better. They're worried enough about me as it is. Moreover, what I had to experience cannot be described in simple human language. So I tried to boil it down to trivialities.
In our rather modest house (we occupied a small house made of stone that belonged to the forestry department) I felt like in paradise - no attack aircraft at low level, no roar of gunfire, no escape from the pursuing enemy. The birds are chirping, the stream is babbling.
I'm home again in our serene Rodelsbach valley. How great it would be if time stood still now.
There was more than enough work - preparing firewood for the winter, for example, and much more. This is where I came in handy. I didn’t have to meet my comrades - they were all at war, they also had to think about how to survive. Many of our Grosraming died, and this was noticeable by the mournful faces on the streets.
The days passed, the end of my stay was slowly approaching. I was powerless to change anything, to end this madness.
Return to the front
On November 19, with a heavy heart, I said goodbye to my family. And then he got on the train and went back to the Eastern Front. On the 21st I was supposed to arrive back at the unit. No later than 24 hours it was necessary to arrive in Kovel at the front-line distribution point.
I took the afternoon train from Großraming via Vienna, from the North Station, to Lodz. There I had to change trains from Leipzig with returning vacationers. And already on it, through Warsaw, arrive in Kovel. In Warsaw, 30 armed accompanying infantrymen boarded our carriage. “On this stretch our trains are often attacked by partisans.” And in the middle of the night, already on the way to Lublin, explosions were heard, then the carriage shook so much that people fell off the benches. The train jerked again and stopped. A terrible commotion began. We grabbed our weapons and jumped out of the car to see what happened. What happened was that the train ran over a mine planted on the tracks. Several carriages derailed, and even the wheels were torn off. And then they opened fire on us, fragments of window glass began to ring, and bullets whistled. We immediately threw ourselves under the carriages and lay down between the rails. In the darkness it was difficult to determine where the shots were coming from. After the excitement subsided, I and several other soldiers were sent on reconnaissance duty - we had to go forward and find out the situation. It was scary - we were waiting for an ambush. And so we moved along the canvas with weapons at the ready. But everything was quiet. An hour later we returned and learned that several of our comrades were killed and some were wounded. The line was double-track, and we had to wait until the next day when a new train arrived. We got there further without incident.
Upon arrival in Kovel, I was told that the remnants of my 332nd regiment were fighting near Cherkassy on the Dnieper, 150 kilometers south of Kiev. Me and several other comrades were assigned to the 86th artillery regiment, which was part of the 112th Infantry Division.
At the front distribution point I met my fellow soldier Johann Resch; it turned out that he was also on leave, but I thought that he had gone missing. We went to the front together. We had to go through Rovno, Berdichev and Izvekovo to Cherkassy.
Today Johann Resch lives in Randegg, near Waidhofen, on the Ybbs River, in Lower Austria. We still don’t lose sight of each other and meet regularly, and visit each other every two years. At Izvekovo station I met Hermann Kappeler.
He was the only one of us, residents of Großraming, whom I had the opportunity to meet in Russia. There was little time, we only managed to exchange a few words. Alas, Hermann Kappeler did not return from the war.
December 1943
On December 8, I was in Cherkassy and Korsun, we again took part in battles. I was given a couple of horses on which I transported a gun, then a radio station in the 86th regiment.
The front in the bend of the Dnieper curved like a horseshoe, and we were on a vast plain surrounded by hills. There was a positional war. We had to change positions frequently - the Russians broke through our defenses in certain areas and fired with all their might at stationary targets. So far we have been able to discard them. There are almost no people left in the villages. The local population left them long ago. We received orders to open fire on anyone who could be suspected of having connections with the partisans. The front, both ours and the Russian one, seemed to be stable. Nevertheless, the losses did not stop.
Ever since I found myself on the Eastern Front in Russia, by chance we were never separated from Klein, Steger and Gutmayr. And they, fortunately, remained alive for now. Johann Resch was transferred to a battery of heavy guns. If the opportunity arose, we would definitely meet.
In total, in the bend of the Dnieper near Cherkassy and Korsun, our group of 56,000 soldiers fell into the encirclement. The remnants of my Silesian 33rd Division were transferred under the command of the 112th Infantry Division (General Lieb, General Trowitz):
- ZZ1st Bavarian motorized infantry regiment;
- 417th Silesian Regiment;
- 255th Saxon Regiment;
- 168th engineer battalion;
- 167th Tank Regiment;
- 108th, 72nd; 57th, 323rd infantry divisions; - remnants of the 389th Infantry Division;
- 389th cover division;
- 14th Tank Division;
- 5th Panzer Division-SS.
We celebrated Christmas in a dugout at minus 18 degrees. There was calm at the front. We managed to get a Christmas tree and a couple of candles. We bought schnapps, chocolate and cigarettes at our military store.
By New Year's, our Christmas idyll came to an end. The Soviets launched an offensive along the entire front. We continuously fought heavy defensive battles with Soviet tanks, artillery and Katyusha units. The situation became more and more threatening every day.
January 1944
By the beginning of the year, German units were retreating in almost all sectors of the front. And we had to retreat under the pressure of the Red Army, and as far to the rear as possible. And then one day, literally overnight, the weather changed dramatically. An unprecedented thaw set in - the thermometer was plus 15 degrees. The snow began to melt, turning the ground into an impassable swamp.
Then, one afternoon, when we once again had to change positions - the Russians had settled in, as expected - we tried to pull the guns to the rear. Having passed some deserted village, we, together with the gun and horses, fell into a real bottomless quagmire. The horses were stuck up to their rumps in the mud. For several hours in a row we tried to save the gun, but in vain. Russian tanks could appear at any moment. Despite all our efforts, the cannon sank deeper and deeper into the liquid mud. This could hardly serve as an excuse for us - we were obliged to deliver the military property entrusted to us to its destination. Evening was approaching. Russian flares flashed in the east. Screams and shooting were heard again. The Russians were two steps away from this village. So we had no choice but to unharness the horses. At least the horse traction was saved. We spent almost the entire night on our feet. At the barn we saw our people; the battery spent the night in this abandoned barn. At about four o'clock in the morning we reported our arrival and described what had happened to us. The duty officer yelled: “Deliver the gun immediately!” Gutmayr and Steger tried to object, saying that there was no way to pull out the stuck cannon. And the Russians are nearby. The horses are not fed, not watered, what is the use of them. “There are no impossible things in war!” - this scoundrel snapped and ordered us to immediately go back and deliver the gun. We understood: an order is an order, if you don’t follow it, you’re thrown to the wall, and that’s the end of it. So we grabbed our horses and walked back, fully aware that there was every chance of ending up with the Russians. Before setting off, however, we gave the horses some oats and watered them. Gutmayr and Steger and I haven’t had poppy dew in our mouths for a day now. But that wasn’t even what worried us, it was how we would get out.
The noise of the battle became clearer. A few kilometers later we met a detachment of infantrymen with an officer. The officer asked us where we were going. I reported: “We have been ordered to deliver a weapon that remains in such and such a place.” The officer widened his eyes: “Are you completely crazy? There have been Russians in that village for a long time, so turn back, this is an order!” That's how we got out of it.
I felt like I would fall over just a little longer. But the main thing is that I was still alive. For two, or even three days without food, without washing for weeks, covered in lice from head to toe, my uniform standing like a stick from the adhering dirt. And we retreat, retreat, retreat...
The Cherkassy cauldron gradually narrowed. 50 kilometers west of Korsun, with the entire division, we tried to build a line of defense. One night passed peacefully, so we could sleep.
And in the morning, leaving the shack where they slept, they immediately realized that the thaw was over, and the soggy mud had turned to stone. And on this petrified dirt we noticed a white piece of paper. They picked it up. It turned out that the Russians dropped a leaflet from an airplane:
Read it and pass it on to someone else: To all soldiers and officers of the German divisions near Cherkassy! You are surrounded!
Units of the Red Army have enclosed your divisions in an iron ring of encirclement. All your attempts to escape from it are doomed to failure.
What we have been warning about for a long time has happened. Your command threw you into meaningless counterattacks in the hope of delaying the inevitable catastrophe into which Hitler plunged the entire Wehrmacht. Thousands of German soldiers have already died in order to give the Nazi leadership a short delay in the hour of reckoning. Every sane person understands that further resistance is useless. You are victims of the inability of your generals and your blind obedience to your Fuhrer.
Hitler's command has lured all of you into a trap from which you cannot escape. The only salvation is voluntary surrender into Russian captivity. There is no other way out.
You will be mercilessly exterminated, crushed by the tracks of our tanks, shot to pieces by our machine guns, if you want to continue the senseless struggle.
The command of the Red Army demands from you: lay down your arms and, together with your officers, surrender in groups!
The Red Army guarantees to all those who voluntarily surrender life, normal treatment, sufficient food and return to their homeland after the end of the war. But anyone who continues to fight will be destroyed.
Red Army Command
The officer yelled: “This is Soviet propaganda! Don't believe what is written here! " We didn’t even realize that we were already in the ring.
The material offered to readers consists of excerpts from diaries, letters and memoirs of German soldiers, officers and generals who first encountered the Russian people during the Patriotic War of 1941-1945. Essentially, we have before us evidence of mass meetings between people and people, between Russia and the West, which do not lose their relevance today.
Germans about Russian character
It is unlikely that the Germans will emerge victorious from this struggle against Russian soil and against Russian nature. How many children, how many women, and they all give birth, and they all bear fruit, despite the war and looting, despite the destruction and death! Here we are fighting not against people, but against nature. At the same time, I am again forced to admit to myself that this country is becoming more and more dear to me every day.
Lieutenant K. F. Brand
They think differently than us. And don’t bother - you’ll never understand Russian anyway!
Officer Malapar
I know how risky it is to describe the sensational “Russian man”, this vague vision of philosophizing and politicking writers, which is very suitable for being hung, like a clothes hanger, with all the doubts that arise in a person from the West, the further he moves to the East . Still, this “Russian man” is not only a literary invention, although here, as everywhere else, people are different and irreducible to a common denominator. Only with this reservation will we talk about the Russian person.
Pastor G. Gollwitzer
They are so versatile that almost each of them describes the full circle of human qualities. Among them you can find everyone from a cruel brute to St. Francis of Assisi. This is why they cannot be described in a few words. To describe Russians, one must use all existing epithets. I can say about them that I like them, I don’t like them, I bow to them, I hate them, they touch me, they scare me, I admire them, they disgust me!
Such a character infuriates a less thoughtful person and makes him exclaim: Unfinished, chaotic, incomprehensible people!
Major K. Kuehner
Germans about Russia
Russia lies between East and West - this is an old thought, but I cannot say anything new about this country. The twilight of the East and the clarity of the West created this dual light, this crystal clarity of mind and mysterious depth of soul. They are between the spirit of Europe, strong in form and weak in deep contemplation, and the spirit of Asia, which is devoid of form and clear outlines. I think their souls are drawn more to Asia, but fate and history - and even this war - bring them closer to Europe. And since here, in Russia, there are many incalculable forces everywhere, even in politics and economics, there can be no consensus either about its people or about their life... Russians measure everything by distance. They must always take him into account. Here, relatives often live far from each other, soldiers from Ukraine serve in Moscow, students from Odessa study in Kyiv. You can drive here for hours without arriving anywhere. They live in space, like stars in the night sky, like sailors on the sea; and just as space is boundless, man is also boundless - everything is in his hands, and he has nothing. The breadth and vastness of nature determine the fate of this country and these people. In large spaces, history moves more slowly.
Major K. Kuehner
This opinion is confirmed in other sources. A German staff soldier, comparing Germany and Russia, draws attention to the incommensurability of these two quantities. The German attack on Russia seemed to him to be a contact between the limited and the unlimited.
Stalin is the lord of Asian boundlessness - this is an enemy that forces advancing from limited, dismembered spaces cannot cope with...
Soldier K. Mattis
We entered into battle with an enemy whom we, being captive of European concepts of life, did not understand at all. This is the fate of our strategy; strictly speaking, it is completely random, like an adventure on Mars.
Soldier K. Mattis
The Germans about the mercy of the Russians
The inexplicability of Russian character and behavior often baffled the Germans. Russians show hospitality not only in their homes, they come out with milk and bread. In December 1941, during the retreat from Borisov, in a village abandoned by the troops, an old woman brought out bread and a jug of milk. “War, war,” she repeated in tears. The Russians treated both the victorious and the defeated Germans with equal good nature. Russian peasants are peace-loving and good-natured... When we get thirsty during the marches, we go into their huts, and they give us milk, like pilgrims. For them, every person is in need. How often have I seen Russian peasant women crying out over wounded German soldiers as if they were their own sons...
Major K. Kuehner
It seems strange that a Russian woman has no hostility towards the soldiers of the army with which her sons are fighting: Old Alexandra uses strong threads... to knit socks for me. Besides, the good-natured old woman cooks potatoes for me. Today I even found a piece of salted meat in the lid of my pot. She probably has supplies hidden somewhere. Otherwise, it’s impossible to understand how these people live here. There is a goat in Alexandra's barn. Many people don't have cows. And with all this, these poor people share their last good with us. Do they do this out of fear or do these people really have an innate sense of self-sacrifice? Or do they do it out of good nature or even out of love? Alexandra, she is 77 years old, as she told me, is illiterate. She can neither read nor write. After her husband's death, she lives alone. Three children died, the other three left for Moscow. It is clear that both of her sons are in the army. She knows that we are fighting against them, and yet she knits socks for me. The feeling of hostility is probably unfamiliar to her.
Orderly Michels
In the first months of the war, village women... hurried with food for prisoners of war. "Oh, poor things!" - they said. They also brought food for the German guards sitting in the center of small squares on benches around the white statues of Lenin and Stalin, thrown into the mud...
Officer Malaparte
Hatred for a long time... is not in the Russian character. This is especially clear in the example of how quickly the psychosis of hatred among ordinary Soviet people towards the Germans disappeared during the Second World War. In this case, the sympathy and maternal feeling of the Russian rural woman, as well as young girls, towards the prisoners played a role. A Western European woman who met the Red Army in Hungary wonders: “Isn’t it strange - most of them do not feel any hatred even for the Germans: where do they get this unshakable faith in human goodness, this inexhaustible patience, this selflessness and meek humility...
Germans about Russian sacrifice
Sacrifice has been noted more than once by the Germans in the Russian people. From a people that does not officially recognize spiritual values, it is as if one cannot expect either nobility, Russian character, or sacrifice. However, the German officer was amazed when interrogating a captured partisan:
Is it really possible to demand from a person brought up in materialism so much sacrifice for the sake of ideals!
Major K. Kuehner
Probably, this exclamation can be applied to the entire Russian people, who apparently retained these traits in themselves, despite the breakdown of the internal Orthodox foundations of life, and, apparently, sacrifice, responsiveness and similar qualities are characteristic of Russians to a high degree. They are partly emphasized by the attitude of Russians themselves towards Western peoples.
As soon as Russians come into contact with Westerners, they briefly define them with the words “dry people” or “heartless people.” All the selfishness and materialism of the West is contained in the definition of “dry people”
Endurance, mental strength and at the same time humility also attract the attention of foreigners.
The Russian people, especially the large expanses, steppes, fields and villages, are one of the healthiest, joyful and wisest on earth. He is able to resist the power of fear with his back bent. There is so much faith and antiquity in it that the most just order in the world could probably come from it.”
Soldier Matisse
An example of the duality of the Russian soul, which combines pity and cruelty at the same time:
When the prisoners were already given soup and bread in the camp, one Russian gave a piece of his portion. Many others did the same, so that there was so much bread in front of us that we could not eat it... We just shook our heads. Who can understand them, these Russians? They shoot some and may even laugh contemptuously at this; they give others plenty of soup and even share with them their own daily portion of bread.
German M. Gertner
Taking a closer look at the Russians, the German will again note their sharp extremes and the impossibility of fully comprehending them:
Russian soul! It moves from the most tender, soft sounds to wild fortissimo, it is difficult to predict this music and especially the moments of its transition... The words of one old consul remain symbolic: “I don’t know the Russians enough - I’ve lived among them for only thirty years.
General Schweppenburg
The Germans talk about the shortcomings of the Russians
From the Germans themselves we hear an explanation for the fact that Russians are often reproached for their tendency to steal.
Those who survived the post-war years in Germany, like us in the camps, became convinced that need destroys a strong sense of property even among people to whom theft was alien since childhood. Improving living conditions would quickly correct this deficiency for the majority, and the same would happen in Russia, as it did before the Bolsheviks. It is not shaky concepts and insufficient respect for other people's property that appeared under the influence of socialism that makes people steal, but need.
POW Gollwitzer
Most often you helplessly ask yourself: why aren’t they telling the truth here? ...This could be explained by the fact that it is extremely difficult for Russians to say “no.” Their “no”, however, has become famous all over the world, but this seems to be more a Soviet than a Russian feature. The Russian avoids at all costs the need to refuse any request. In any case, when his sympathy begins to stir, and this often happens to him. It seems unfair to him to disappoint a needy person; to avoid this, he is ready for any lie. And where there is no sympathy, lying is at least a convenient means of ridding oneself of annoying requests.
In Eastern Europe, mother vodka has performed great service for centuries. It warms people when they are cold, dries their tears when they are sad, deceives their stomachs when they are hungry, and gives that drop of happiness that everyone needs in life and which is difficult to obtain in semi-civilized countries. In Eastern Europe, vodka is theatre, cinema, concert and circus; it replaces books for the illiterate, makes heroes out of cowardly cowards and is the consolation that makes you forget all your worries. Where in the world can you find another such iota of happiness, and so cheap?
The people... oh yes, the illustrious Russian people!.. For several years I paid out wages in one work camp and came into contact with Russians of all strata. There are wonderful people among them, but here it is almost impossible to remain an impeccably honest person. I was constantly amazed that under such pressure this people retained so much humanity in all respects and so much naturalness. Among women this is noticeably even greater than among men, among old people, of course, more than among young people, among peasants more than among workers, but there is no layer in which this is completely absent. They are wonderful people and deserve to be loved.
POW Gollwitzer
On the way home from Russian captivity, the impressions of the last years in Russian captivity emerge in the memory of the German soldier-priest.
Military priest Franz
Germans about Russian women
A separate chapter can be written about the high morality and ethics of a Russian woman. Foreign authors left a valuable monument to her in their memoirs about Russia. To a German doctor Eurich The unexpected results of the examination made a deep impression: 99 percent of girls aged 18 to 35 were virgins... He thinks that in Orel it would be impossible to find girls for a brothel.
The voices of women, especially girls, are not melodious, but pleasant. There is some kind of strength and joy hidden in them. It seems that you hear some deep string of life ringing. It seems that constructive schematic changes in the world pass by these forces of nature without touching them...
Writer Junger
By the way, staff doctor von Grewenitz told me that during a medical examination the vast majority of girls turned out to be virgins. This can also be seen in the faces, but it is difficult to say whether one can read it from the forehead or from the eyes - this is the shine of purity that surrounds the face. Its light does not have the flickering of active virtue, but rather resembles the reflection of moonlight. However, this is precisely why you feel the great power of this light...
Writer Junger
About feminine Russian women (if I can put it that way), I got the impression that with their special inner strength they keep under moral control those Russians who can be considered barbarians.
Military priest Franz
The words of another German soldier sound like a conclusion to the topic of the morality and dignity of a Russian woman:
What did propaganda tell us about the Russian woman? And how did we find it? I think that there is hardly a German soldier who visited Russia who would not learn to appreciate and respect a Russian woman.
Soldier Michels
Describing a ninety-year-old old woman who during her life had never left her village and therefore did not know the world outside the village, a German officer says:
I even think that she is much happier than we are: she is full of the happiness of life, living in close proximity to nature; she is happy with the inexhaustible power of her simplicity.
Major K. Kuehner
We find about simple, integral feelings among Russians in the memoirs of another German.
“I’m talking to Anna, my eldest daughter,” he writes. - She is not married yet. Why doesn't she leave this poor land? - I ask her and show her photographs from Germany. The girl points to her mother and sisters and explains that she feels best among her loved ones. It seems to me that these people have only one desire: to love each other and live for their neighbors.
Germans about Russian simplicity, intelligence and talent
German officers sometimes do not know how to answer simple questions from ordinary Russian people.
The general and his retinue pass by a Russian prisoner herding sheep destined for the German kitchen. “She’s stupid,” the prisoner began to express his thoughts, “but she’s peaceful, and what about the people, sir? Why are people so unpeaceful? Why are they killing each other?!”... We couldn’t answer his last question. His words came from the depths of the soul of a simple Russian person.
General Schweppenburg
The spontaneity and simplicity of the Russians make the German exclaim:
Russians don't grow up. They remain children... If you look at the Russian masses from this point of view, you will understand them and forgive them a lot.
Foreign eyewitnesses try to explain the courage, endurance, and undemanding nature of the Russians by their proximity to the harmonious, pure, but also harsh nature.
The courage of Russians is based on their undemanding approach to life, on their organic connection with nature. And this nature tells them about the hardships, struggles and death to which man is subject.
Major K. Kuehner
Often the Germans noted the exceptional efficiency of the Russians, their ability to improvise, sharpness, adaptability, curiosity about everything, and especially about knowledge.
The purely physical performance of Soviet workers and Russian women is beyond any doubt.
General Schweppenburg
The art of improvisation among Soviet people should be especially emphasized, no matter what it concerns.
General Fretter-Picot
About the intelligence and interest shown by Russians in everything:
Most of them show an interest in everything much greater than our workers or peasants; they are all distinguished by their quickness of perception and practical intelligence.
Non-commissioned officer Gogoff
Overestimation of the knowledge acquired at school is often an obstacle for a European in his understanding of the “uneducated” Russian... What was amazing and beneficial for me, as a teacher, was the discovery that a person without any school education can understand the deepest problems of life in a truly philosophical way and at the same time possesses such knowledge that some academician of European fame might envy him... Russians, first of all, lack this typically European fatigue in the face of the problems of life, which we often only overcome with difficulty. Their curiosity knows no bounds... The education of the real Russian intelligentsia reminds me of the ideal types of people of the Renaissance, whose destiny was the universality of knowledge, which has nothing in common, “a little bit of everything.”
Swiss Jucker, who lived in Russia for 16 years
Another German from the people is surprised by the young Russian’s acquaintance with domestic and foreign literature:
From a conversation with a 22-year-old Russian who only graduated from public school, I learned that she knew Goethe and Schiller, not to mention that she was well versed in Russian literature. When I expressed my surprise at this to Dr. Heinrich W., who knew the Russian language and understood the Russians better, he rightly remarked: “The difference between the German and Russian people is that we keep our classics in luxurious bindings in bookcases.” and we don’t read them, while the Russians print their classics on newsprint and publish them in editions, but they take them to the people and read them.
Military priest Franz
The lengthy description by a German soldier of a concert organized in Pskov on July 25, 1942 testifies to talents that can manifest themselves even in unfavorable conditions.
I sat down at the back among the village girls in colorful cotton dresses... The compere came out, read a long program, and made an even longer explanation for it. Then two men, one on each side, parted the curtain, and a very poor set for Korsakov's opera appeared before the audience. One piano replaced the orchestra... Mainly two singers sang... But something happened that would have been beyond the capabilities of any European opera. Both singers, plump and self-confident, even in tragic moments sang and played with great and clear simplicity... movements and voices merged together. They supported and complemented each other: by the end, even their faces were singing, not to mention their eyes. Poor furnishings, a lonely piano, and yet there was a complete impression. No shiny props, no hundred instruments could have contributed to a better impression. After this, the singer appeared in gray striped trousers, a velvet jacket and an old-fashioned stand-up collar. When, so dressed up, he walked out into the middle of the stage with some touching helplessness and bowed three times, laughter was heard in the hall among the officers and soldiers. He began a Ukrainian folk song, and as soon as his melodic and powerful voice was heard, the hall froze. A few simple gestures accompanied the song, and the singer's eyes made it visible. During the second song, the lights suddenly went out in the entire hall. Only his voice dominated him. He sang in the dark for about an hour. At the end of one song, the Russian village girls sitting behind me, in front of me and next to me, jumped up and began to applaud and stomp their feet. A turmoil of long-lasting applause began, as if the dark stage was flooded with the light of fantastic, unimaginable landscapes. I didn't understand a word, but I saw everything.
Soldier Mattis
Folk songs, reflecting the character and history of the people, most attract the attention of eyewitnesses.
In a real Russian folk song, and not in sentimental romances, the entire Russian “broad” nature is reflected with its tenderness, wildness, depth, sincerity, closeness to nature, cheerful humor, endless search, sadness and radiant joy, as well as with their undying longing for beautiful and kind.
German songs are filled with mood, Russian songs are filled with story. Russia has great power in its songs and choirs.
Major K. Kuehner
Germans about Russian faith
A striking example of such a state is provided to us by a rural teacher, whom the German officer knew well and who, apparently, maintained constant contact with the nearest partisan detachment.
Iya talked to me about Russian icons. The names of the great icon painters are unknown here. They dedicated their art to a pious cause and remained in obscurity. Everything personal must give way to the demand of the saint. The figures on the icons are shapeless. They give the impression of obscurity. But they don't have to have beautiful bodies. Next to the saint, the physical has no meaning. In this art it would be unthinkable for a beautiful woman to be the model of the Madonna, as was the case with the great Italians. Here it would be blasphemy, since this is a human body. Nothing can be known, everything must be believed. This is the secret of the icon. “Do you believe in the icon?” Iya didn't answer. “Why are you decorating it then?” She could, of course, answer: “I don’t know. Sometimes I do this. I get scared when I don't do this. And sometimes I just want to do it.” How divided and restless you must be, Iya. Gravity towards God and indignation against Him in the same heart. “What do you believe in?” “Nothing.” She said this with such heaviness and depth that I was left with the impression that these people accept their unbelief as much as their faith. A fallen person continues to carry within himself the old legacy of humility and faith.
Major K. Kuehner
Russians are difficult to compare with other peoples. Mysticism in Russian man continues to pose a question to the vague concept of God and the remnants of Christian religious feeling.
General Schweppenburg
We also find other evidence of young people seeking the meaning of life and not being satisfied with schematic and dead materialism. Probably, the path of the Komsomol member, who ended up in a concentration camp for spreading the Gospel, became the path of some of the Russian youth. In the very poor material published by eyewitnesses in the West, we find three confirmations that the Orthodox faith was to some extent transmitted to older generations of youth and that the few and undoubtedly lonely young people who have acquired the faith are sometimes ready to courageously defend it, without fear of imprisonment or hard labor. Here is a rather detailed testimony of one German woman who returned to her homeland from a camp in Vorkuta:
I was very struck by the integrity of these believers. These were peasant girls, intellectuals of different ages, although young people predominated. They preferred the Gospel of John. They knew him by heart. The students lived with them in great friendship and promised them that in the future Russia there would be complete freedom in religious terms. The fact that many of the Russian youth who believed in God faced arrest and concentration camps is confirmed by the Germans who returned from Russia after World War II. They met believers in concentration camps and describe them this way: We envied the believers. We considered them happy. The believers were supported by their deep faith, which also helped them to easily endure all the hardships of camp life. For example, no one could force them to go to work on Sunday. In the dining room before dinner, they always pray... They pray all their free time... You can’t help but admire such faith, you can’t help but envy it... Every person, be it a Pole, a German, a Christian or a Jew, when he turned to a believer for help, always received it . The believer shared the last piece of bread...
Probably, in some cases, believers won respect and sympathy not only from prisoners, but also from the camp authorities:
There were several women in their team who, being deeply religious, refused to work on major church holidays. The authorities and security put up with this and did not hand them over.
The following impression of a German officer who accidentally entered a burnt-out church can serve as a symbol of wartime Russia:
We enter like tourists for a few minutes into the church through the open door. Burnt beams and broken stones lie on the floor. Plaster fell off the walls due to shocks or fire. Paints, plastered frescoes depicting saints, and ornaments appeared on the walls. And in the middle of the ruins, on the charred beams, two peasant women stand and pray.
Major K. Kuehner
—————————
Preparing the text - V. Drobyshev. Based on materials from the magazine " Slav»
We fought on the Eastern Front
War through the eyes of Wehrmacht soldiers
Vitaly Baranov
© Vitaly Baranov, 2017
ISBN 978-5-4485-0647-5
Created in the intellectual publishing system Ridero
Preface
The book is based on the diaries of soldiers, non-commissioned officers and officers of the German army who took part in the Soviet-German front during the Great Patriotic War. Almost all the diary authors completed their life’s journey during the conquest of “living space” on our land.
The diaries were found by Red Army soldiers in various sectors of the Soviet-German front and handed over to intelligence agencies for translation and study of their contents.
The diaries describe combat operations and the life of German troops by representatives of various branches of the military: infantry, tank troops and aviation. The exploits of unknown soldiers and commanders of the Red Army are described, as well as some negative aspects of the civilian population and military personnel.
From the diary of a corporal of the 402nd Velobat, killed on October 10, 1941 in the area north of New. Storm
Translation from German.
June 25, 1941. In the evening entry into Varvay. We guard in front of the city day and night. Those who lagged behind their units (Russians) entered into battle with our guard. Tobias Bartlan and Ostarman are seriously wounded.
June 26, 1941. Rest in the morning. After noon, at 14.00, we begin the task in Vaca. We set a good pace. The second company has losses. Retreat into the forest. Tough duel. The artillery bombards for an hour and a half. The enemy artillery that fired at us was destroyed by a direct hit from our artillery.
June 27, 1941. From noon further advance to Siauliai. Another 25 km further. We protect for up to 4 hours.
June 28, 1941. In security. At 0.30 we were included in the strike group (Forausabteilung). 1 AK (1 division). We reached Riga (140 km) by a roundabout route. In Brauska Unterzicher (4th group) in reconnaissance (80 people were captured and shot). Batter. Air attack on tanks. After lunch we guard the advancing division (again captured Russians who have lagged behind their units). Fight in houses.
June 29, 1941. At 6 o'clock we attack again. 80 km to Riga. In front of the city of Unterzicher. Noon, attack on the city, which was repulsed. Heavy losses of the 3rd platoon. In the afternoon, 1st Platoon patrols, looking for civilians. At 21.00 the platoon guards the bridge. Fight with civilians. Bridge explosion.
30.6.1941. After security, we entered the city. The infantry attacks the Russian regiment. Heavy attack from Riga on us. Bombardment of our positions for 2 hours. At 2 o'clock we were replaced by infantry. Unterzicher. At night there was heavy artillery fire on our positions.
1.7.1941. Fall of Riga. Further offensive. South of Riga we cross the Dvina on ferries and “sturmboats” (pontoon boats). Our battalion is guarding. Reconnaissance was sent to Yugala to guard both bridges. The company that has not suffered losses strengthens us. We guard this area until the division passes through it.
2.7.1941. Security of both bridges...
From the diary of the murdered German non-commissioned officer Oskar Kimert
On July 13, 1941, at 3.30 a.m., from the Methane launch, vehicles B 4-AS took off with the task of attacking the airfield in the town of Gruhe. In 4-BO-5, in 4-AS they fly up to the airfield, but at this place we are surrounded by fighters, there are 2 fighters in front of me, but we keep them away from us, at this time the third fighter flew at us from the right, and then showered us from the left us with heavy machine-gun fire. Our plane receives holes in the control mechanism and the right window, as a result of which I received a strong blow to the head and fall back. I don’t see anything from the blow, but I feel that my whole head is covered in blood and warm streams of it are flowing down my face. The damaged engines of my plane fail and we land in one of the forest clearings.
At the moment of landing, the car overturned and caught fire when it hit the ground. I was the last one to get out of the car, and the Russians still continued to fire at us. As soon as we managed to get out of the car, we ran into the forest and hid behind the trees, where the plane pilot bandaged me in a sheltered place. Being in an unfamiliar area and not having a map, we cannot orient ourselves about our location, so we decided to move west and after about an hour of our movement, we find a canal with water, where, exhausted, I wet my scarf in the water and cooled my head.
The wounded observer was also exhausted, but we continued to move through the forest and at 10 o’clock in the morning we decided to go to one of the settlements to get water. Following in search of a settlement, we noticed several houses near the quarry, but before approaching them, we decided to watch them, but this did not last long, since a painful thirst for drink forced us to leave the forest and go to the houses, although there was nothing special We did not observe them near them. I, completely exhausted and tired, noticed a Red Cross flag on one of the houses, as a result of which the thought appeared that we were saved, but when we came to it, it turned out that the Red Cross was not ours, but Russian. Among the service personnel there, some spoke a little German and our request was granted by giving us water to drink. While at the Red Cross, we noticed how Russian armed soldiers were approaching it, as a result of which we were in danger of being detained, but later it turned out that they did not recognize us that we were Germans, and we took advantage of the opportunity to escape and hide in forest. During the escape, the observer was exhausted and could no longer run, but we helped him with this and together with him we ran 200-300 meters, rushed into the bushes, where, camouflaged, we decided to rest, but the mosquitoes did not give us rest. The Russians obviously later realized that we were Germans, but they were obviously afraid to pursue us in the forest. After a short rest, we continued moving further and on the way we met a farm, the owner of which, a poor Estonian woman, gave us bread and water. Having received bread and water, we continue to move southwest, with the goal of reaching the sea.
On July 14, 1941, at 5.30, on our route we meet an Estonian peasant who, in a conversation with us, does not advise us to move further to the south and west, since, according to him, there are supposedly Russian fortifications and their front. The place where we are is called Arva, not far from the town of Kurtna, there is a lake not far from it. The peasant we met gave us bread and bacon and we didn’t eat much and are ready to continue moving further, but we don’t know where, since we don’t have any information about the whereabouts of our people. The peasant advised us to wait until the next day on the spot, and by this time he would find out and give us information about the location of the Russian troops and the location of ours.
Taking the peasant's advice, we spent the whole day in the bushes by the lake, and at night we slept in a pile of hay. During the day, squadrons of Russian fighters fly over us all the time. On July 15, 1941, a peasant we already knew came to us, brought us bread, bacon and milk and told us that the Russians were moving north. We are worried about the lack of a map, without which we cannot navigate, but the peasant explained to us that 3 km from us to the west there is a field road, which about ten kilometers goes out onto the main road running from the northeast to the south / from Narva to Tartu /. We continue to move through forests and fields and reach the main road, around noon, where it is indicated that it is 135 km to Tartu, 60 km to Narva, we are near Pagari. There is a farm near the road, we approach it, the owners of which, a young man and his mother, Estonians, received us. In a conversation with them, they told us that Tartu is occupied by the Germans, we ourselves observe how trucks and cars with cargo are driving along the road, most of which are armed with machine guns, as you can see, the Russians behave very cheerfully. Russian cars pass by us, and we are already lying 10 meters from the road in a barn and watching all the movement, hoping that soon our troops will advance along the road to the north.
There is no radio anywhere, as a result of which we do not know any news about the position of our troops, so we decided to stay with the peasant Reinhold Mamon on July 16-18, waiting for our troops. Observer Kinurd is sick from injury and has a high temperature, but despite this we continue to move towards Lake Peipsi, from where we want to leave by boat. Upon leaving the farm where we were, its owner gave us a map and on July 19 we continue to move towards Ilaka, where we have the goal of crossing the river to Vask-Narva and then turning west. In Ilaka, some men aged 20-30 tell us that they recognized us, that we are Germans. On July 19, 1941, we tore off all our insignia and buttons so that at least from afar they could not recognize us as German soldiers, and we put our equipment under our jackets. In Ilaka, one of the Estonian reserve officers gave us something to eat and drink.
“Eastern Front”, “Soldiers of the Last Hour”, “German Sniper on the Eastern Front”, “The Last Soldier of the Third Reich”, “The Best Ace of World War II”, “A Soldier’s Duty”, “Lost Victories”, “Memoirs of a Soldier”... Dear Reader I already realized that we would be talking about the so-called memories of the Nazis who were not killed.
In the last fifteen years, such memoirs have evoked some understanding among citizens of the former Soviet Union, exhausted by perestroika and democracy. I’m not going to enter into any polemics with Nazi memoirists (I don’t want to argue with the fascists), I’ll try to point out some common points in all these opuses.
So, let's begin. All the authors claim that they went to war not to conquer someone else’s land, but to fight for certain ideals. The ideals mentioned are very different: duty to the fatherland, soldier’s duty, the fight against Bolshevism, the need to defend Western values... Well, the so-called “West” has been threatening the rest of the world for a thousand years, but is only afraid to admit it... The recruit, as a rule, goes into detail on the reasons that pushed him into the whirlpool of the struggle for living space.
What follows is a touching story about saying goodbye to your parents. At the same time, the hero’s mother secretly cries, and the father admonishes his son with approximately the following words: “Do your duty, but try to stay alive!”
Next, the recruit ends up in a friendly family of Wehrmacht recruits. Everything here is clean and tidy, as it should be among “civilized” Germans: young soldiers are dressed, fed, they are properly trained. It is in training that the hero learns the basic truth of German soldiers: cameraden (comrades) - first of all! In German memoirs, any fascist happily gives his life for the “kamerads” from his “company” (company). Valiant German soldiers treat their junior commanders with love and reverence: after all, it is they, despite the stupid orders of their superiors, who save the lives of their subordinates and lead them out of any hopeless situations.
Ordinary soldiers reach the front only in 1943. A dirty train (What a horror! In cattle cars!) carries the Krauts to the east, to the front. This is where all the memories begin to resemble one another. After crossing the sacred borders of the Reich, a terrible cold immediately sets in. The thermometer drops to record levels: minus thirty, minus forty, minus fifty degrees Celsius! Moreover, it is not necessarily winter outside the window - such a tree torments the Krauts from October to April. Anywhere on the Eastern Front. All this time a terrible north wind is blowing and it is snowing. Then comes a terrible thaw, which suddenly turns into mind-blowing heat. In some areas, for example near Leningrad, it rains all year round.
Next, the Krauts encounter local aborigines. The first meetings, as a rule, occur with civilians. “Russians” are bearded, illiterate and smell terrible. The majority treat uninvited guests with great sympathy and hate the “Bolsheviks.” But this does not prevent them from helping the partisans in every possible way, of whom there are immeasurable numbers everywhere.
Gradually, the memoirist begins to describe “the horrors of the war with the Bolsheviks.” All of them, in general, just repeat each other, but there are also individual, especially outstanding gems. For example, the “best German sniper” Ollerberg describes how a group of “Russians” lived in a cave, attacked the Germans, and ate their cowardly comrades as food. Agree, the scene is worthy of Hitchcock! The funny thing is that many of my compatriots believe this! Well, faith is a personal matter for everyone...
The Bolsheviks deal with captured Germans with inhuman cruelty. Naive and brave German youths are roasted over low heat, cut into pieces, sawed with saws. Naturally, the Germans themselves do not allow themselves to do this. Sometimes, impressed by the “cruelty of the Russians,” the Germans kill prisoners, but soon a German officer appears at the scene of the murder and begins to scold the guilty. He even promises to bring them to justice! But then he softens, because the “Reds” do this kind of thing everywhere! In general, the Red Army in German memoirs is the concentration of all that is most disgusting.
And again, I must admit that my current compatriots “swallow” this rubbish. In this regard, I believe that historians need to show some traditional perversions of the German army. For example homosexuality. I’m almost sure that all these “best aces” and “best snipers” were banal mistresses of senior officers, who assigned them the corresponding regalia.
There is also rare unanimity in the description of the fighting. “Bolsheviks”, with the support of a huge amount of artillery and tanks, attack in waves, all “Russians”, as a rule, are drunk. The Soviet attack chokes just before the German trenches; the “Russians” can no longer climb over the bodies of their dead comrades. Do not laugh. Here is the “evidence” of the same Ollerberg: “...literally walls formed from the bodies of killed and wounded Russian soldiers around the positions of the mountain riflemen. New waves of attackers were forced to climb over the corpses of their fallen comrades, using their bodies as cover, until the mountains of bodies became so high that the attack began to choke itself... Then the Russians threw tanks into the attack, which drove straight over the corpses and to his wounded comrades who were still alive. The tracks of the T-34 tanks rumbled through bodies, and human bones broke with a crunch, like dry wood...”
Even ordinary Wehrmacht infantrymen are thoroughly aware of the order prevailing in the Red Army. The commissars shoot everyone they come across, and behind the attacking Russians there are NKVD detachments with machine guns. All Germans know that the “Russians” are well supplied by the Americans. They see this as the main reason for their defeats. However, senior officers see another reason for the failures: the incompetence of the Fuhrer. They say that they, the front-line commanders, the smartest and most competent, repeatedly offered Hitler brilliant strategic moves, but he, a former corporal, foolishly rejected all this.
Ordinary fascists are not delighted with their senior commanders. They supply them poorly, do not allow them to rest, and set hopeless combat missions. The lack of warm clothing and the inability to warm up is the worst thing for the Krauts. Various methods of heating Wehrmacht soldiers are described. For example, urinate on the hands of your friend and thereby warm them. The topic of feces and excrement is very important for the "camerades". In the trenches, they put themselves in tin cans and splash them over the parapet. This is where the insidious Russian snipers are lying in wait for the Fritz! Almost all “Ubermensch” suffer from diarrhea. They defecate in their pants and go for weeks without washing. In general, German soldiers really like to mention their asses. The expressions “Ivans will tear our asses”, “let’s save our asses” are often used (isn’t that where they migrated to Hollywood blockbusters?).
It is not surprising that the Germans suffer not from the terrible artillery fire of the “Russians” or from their tank attacks, but from minor everyday inconveniences. Almost all memoirists describe how they repeatedly found themselves in completely hopeless situations, but at the same time managed to not get a single scratch. Bullets whistle past, mines and shells explode a few meters away from them, but do not cause our heroes the slightest harm. Memoirists invariably remain safe and sound. But what really plagues the Germans is diarrhea. But it doesn’t interfere with the Kulturtregers’ ability to carry out their combat missions—for some reason, German diarrhea does not cause dehydration.
Almost all “writers” go on vacation sooner or later. Everyone's description of life in Germany is the same: a lack of everything and everyone and terrible bombings by Anglo-American aircraft. This is how it really happened. However! All these descriptions of rear horror almost literally resemble scenes from “A Time to Live and a Time to Die” by E. Remarque. However, some authors’ front-line episodes seem to have been copied from this novel... Let me remind you that Remarque wrote his novel in nineteen forty-four.
Heading on vacation (or returning from vacation), the main character encounters partisans. This does not necessarily happen in connection with a visit. This can also happen during the performance of some combat mission. But the main character will still have to face the partisans. Here the most important villains of the German army appear on the stage - the SS men! They build the main character's unit and select the fighters they like from it. They will be used against partisans.
I'll digress a little. All Wehrmacht veterans blame exclusively the SS for all German atrocities. Yes, the SS troops fought with particular cruelty. But... Most of all known SS divisions operated exclusively at the front and did not take part in anti-partisan actions. Of course, small units and subunits of these divisions were used against the partisans. This happened quite rarely and, as a rule, in the front line. The exception is the so-called “Wafenn-SS divisions”, formed from residents of states occupied by the Nazis. SS Division No. 7 “Prince Eugene”, formed from Balkan Germans, fought exclusively with Yugoslav partisans. Waffen-SS Division No. 14 “Galicia”, formed from Western Ukrainians, also operated in full force in Yugoslavia.
Most of the atrocities in the occupied Soviet territories were committed not by SS divisions, but by SS security and punitive detachments and special SS Einsatzgruppen (extraction groups). Most of the personnel of these units were recruited from German and local criminals and volunteers. The punitive forces had nothing to do with the Wehrmacht! At the very least, there was no way they could “select” active-duty military personnel going on vacation.
So, the SS chose the main character and forced him to fight the partisans. Here the plot of all authors again does not differ in variety. After a short battle, the enemy was defeated, the Germans occupied the village that was in the hands of the partisans. Brutally tortured German soldiers are discovered in the village. Several captured partisans are taken away by the SS in an unknown direction.
In addition to the SS men, the regular villains include field policemen. They hang German soldiers for the slightest offenses, such as stealing a packet of biscuits from a bombed truck.
Finally, the memoirists begin the most dramatic part of their narrative - the invasion of the Red Army into the territory of the Third Reich. The authors begin it quite carefully - they retell the stories of refugees. But then they finally give free rein to their wild imagination! Each Red soldier rapes several dozen German women and then kills them in a brutal way. Many “writers” even saw rape with their own eyes! They, as a rule, were hiding somewhere, or were in captivity, but one way or another they could not save the unfortunate victims. What he saw remains forever in the hero’s memory and haunts him for the rest of his life.
At the end of the war, the “soldier of the empire” seeks to escape to German territory captured by the Americans. Most succeed, but some have to go through the “Bolshevik camps.” In them, the Germans also behave the same way - they protest and fight against the prison administration in every possible way. Moreover, the majority of local residents, and even part of the camp guards, secretly support German prisoners of war.
And now, after many misadventures, having been in numerous deadly situations, safe and sound, our heroes return home. All their relatives, despite the terrible bombings (see above), are also safe and healthy! In addition to their parents, many “prodigal sons” are met by brides and loved ones. The only thing that torments our heroes is the terrible mental trauma they received during the fight against the Bolsheviks. But they also pass over time. Some of the memoirists begin to deal with the problems of German veterans, get them out of prison, and help them get comfortable in post-war Germany.
Our writers end their stories on this optimistic note.
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