Stairs. Entry group. Materials. Doors. Locks. Design

Our communications, our intelligence were no good, and at the level officers. 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's where it all ended. 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 trifles.

In our rather modest house (we occupied a small stone house 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 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 officer on duty 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. Gutmair, 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 is sticky with 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 the plane:

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 time delay 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 you all 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.

America? Your America is no more...

Konrad, SS-Sturmann of the 2nd SS Panzer Division "Reich"

In 2002-2003, I had the opportunity to interview a German veteran named Conrad, who was living in Germany. The interview took place on the Internet, via email, and on English language(not bad for an 80 year old soldier). Conrad served in the "Führer Regiment" (Der Führer Regiment) of the 2nd SS Panzer Division "Reich" (Das Reich). Conrad spoke about some interesting features of his service in one of the most famous divisions of the SS Troops, what it was like to be a soldier in SS units, and also about what German soldiers in such units were equipped with.

Conrad's family was originally from East Prussia, but moved to Berlin after the First World War. Conrad was born in Berlin, in Friedrichshain. Like his father, Conrad enlisted in elite regiment. In 1940, after a conversation with a work colleague who had just been enlisted in the SS police regiment (Polizei Regiment, later 4. Polizei Division der Waffen-SS), Conrad also became determined to join the SS. In those years, the SS regiments were the new elite, brought up in the spirit of National Socialism. The selection of volunteers for these units was very strict. Out of 500 applicants, only 40 people got into the regiment. Among them was 16-year-old Conrad.

Conrad graduated basic course rifleman in Radolfzell and was sent to Holland in the regiment "Der Führer". There he ended up in the assault sapper squad (Sturmpioneere). All his colleagues already had the experience of two war years behind them. Conrad turned out to be one of the youngest recruits in the regiment. With his transfer to the regiment, his training did not become easier, but on the contrary, it became even more complicated.

In June 1941, the Der Führer regiment was stationed on a huge estate near Lodz in Poland. The regiment's personnel were briefed on what Russian uniforms, tanks, etc. looked like. From this, Conrad concluded that rumors about a war with Russia would soon come true. He and his comrades sincerely believed that this campaign would take them to Persia and India. However, some concerns were caused by the fact that back in the First world war his uncle was captured on the Eastern Front and returned home only in 1921 after escaping from Siberia.

After the start of Operation Barbarossa, Conrad and his comrades discovered that the Red Army was much better equipped than they were. In July 1941, Konrad received the rank of SS-Sturmann and soon after was wounded for the first time - fragments of a mine that exploded nearby hit him in the face. In December of the same year, Conrad received a second wound - a shell fragment hit him in the leg. Thanks to this wound, he received a trip to a rear hospital in Poland. It was quite cold and German communications were poor. It took 10 days to get to the hospital in Smolensk. By this time the wound was already infected. When Konrad finally got to the hospital near Warsaw, for the first time since October he was able to wash properly and change clothes.

In January 1942, Conrad was given 28 days leave to visit family in Berlin. When, after the end of his leave, Konrad reported to the reserve and training battalion (Ersatz und Ausbildung Bataillon), he was considered not yet ready for service on the front line * and was assigned to a weapons repair shop. For a short time he served as an instructor for assault sappers (Sturmpionieere).

After returning to the 2nd SS Panzer Division "Das Reich", Conrad served with it for the remainder of 1942. In February 1943, he received notice of his father's death and was urgently sent home to arrange the funeral. He was sure that the reasons for his father's untimely death were poor nutrition on the home front and Allied bomber raids. Before receiving the notice, Conrad had a dream in which he saw his father standing in doorway his dugout in Russia.

At the end of 1943, Conrad received a third wound, this time in his right leg. Because of this injury, he still has to walk with a cane. On the way to the hospital in Poland, the train on which Conrad was traveling was fired upon by partisans, and several wounded were killed. After being discharged from the hospital in January 1944, Conrad visited his mother, who lived alone in Berlin. By this time, the city had already been badly damaged by bombing and Konrad helped his mother move to relatives in Silesia. After recovery and leave, Conrad arrived at the training unit in Joesefstadt in the Sudetenland. He was intended to be appointed commander of a motorized infantry platoon (Panzergrenadiere) in the 2nd SS Panzer Division "Das Reich", but somehow he was able to reject this promotion and returned to his unit as a private.

In July 1944, Conrad returned to his division, which was already pretty battered during the fighting in France. During the August retreat to the Seine, Conrad and one of his comrades fell behind and found themselves in the rear of the British troops. Without hesitation, they were captured. Conrad noted that the British were greatly wary of the fact that their prisoners were from the SS and kept the barrels of their machine guns pointed at them. After arriving at the POW assembly point, Conrad was given health care, as well as tea with milk and sugar. Conrad was then sent to England to a camp for captured German soldiers. He was released from the camp in 1948. Like many other German prisoners, he decided to remain in England. After some time, he came back to Germany and settled in the city of Lorch.

What training did you receive as a Sturmpioneer?

We were trained both as infantrymen and as sappers. We were taught to shoot with a 98K carbine, MG34 and MG42 machine guns. We also studied subversion. My platoon usually consisted of 10 men.** This platoon was assigned to an infantry battalion in battle.

What type of vehicle did you use?

We had half-track armored personnel carriers and Opel Blitz trucks. However, throughout almost the entire war, only the first battalion of the "Der Führer" regiment had armored personnel carriers; the rest were supplied only with trucks. Despite this, I need to point out that it was often necessary to travel on foot during the war.

Do you have any items left to remember the service?

My uniform and equipment were taken away in the prisoner camp, they even took away wrist watch. The rest of my things disappeared in Berlin. My mother was sent to a camp by the Russians just for keeping a photograph of me in an SS uniform. She died before I could return home.

The SS troops were somewhat unique in that they wore camouflage uniforms. Did you have it?

Yes. All I had in camouflage was an anorak and a helmet cover. I didn't have anorak very often. I probably wore the helmet cover more. To have access to the lower pockets of the jacket, we pulled the anorak quite high. I don't remember whether I saw other types of camouflage uniforms in the 2nd SS Panzer Division or not. We were also at the very end of the supply chain. And this also applied to uniforms and equipment. The division headquarters and tank units received new uniforms and equipment first, and then the motorized infantry units.

What did you usually carry in your jacket pockets?

Usually we had in our pockets what contributed to survival on the front line. We rarely went into battle with full gear, so our pockets were often filled with ammunition and food. As for jackets, new ones were not issued often. For example, I wore one jacket from the beginning of the Russian campaign in June 1941 until October, when it became filled with lice and was thrown away. On the front line it was difficult to get new uniforms.

What equipment did you have at the front?

I started the war as number two machine gun. Usually in this role I carried two machine gun boxes with cartridges and two cases with interchangeable machine gun barrels. Later, when I began to command the squad, I received an MP-40 assault rifle. Every time I went to the front line or on a mission, I had to leave behind all the objects that could make noise when moving. We most often left behind gas mask tanks and cracker bags. All this equipment was stored in armored personnel carriers or trucks.

Who was your unit formed from? What kind of people were these?

At the beginning of the war we were the best that Germany had. To earn ranks you had to go through a lot. However, with the height of the war, we began to receive as reinforcements not volunteers, but those drafted or transferred from other branches of the military, the navy or the Luftwaffe. In 1943 we received a large number of recruits from Alsace-Lorraine, Strasbourg and Vosges. These people spoke German and French. We tried to maintain the composition of the first companies of the battalions, replenishing them with experienced fighters. New conscripts were distributed among the second and third companies. It seemed to us that it was necessary to maintain high combat readiness of the companies that were the first to enter the battle.

What were your field rations like?

Each company had its own field kitchen on a three-ton truck. We received hot food at least once a day. We were also given the so-called ersatz coffee or "Mugkefuck" as we called it. It was roasted barley. We also received one third of a loaf of bread from the field bakery. Sometimes there were even sausages and jam. On the front line, we usually received food at night or early in the morning.

In December 2002, Conrad, during his visit to the United States, had the opportunity to observe a reconstruction of a World War II battle that took place in Lovel, Indiana. The author was also present and made the following observations:

After arriving at the scene, Conrad was amazed by the picture that presented itself. He had not seen people in SS uniforms since the war itself.

Conrad watched the performance with keen interest.

Conrad noted that he had never seen such well-equipped German soldiers in battle before. The re-enactors of German soldiers were labeled with everything that existed at that time. He also noted that he extremely rarely saw a winter parka on both Wehrmacht soldiers and the SS Troops, which was worn by reenactors. What also caught my eye was that the reenactors were wearing camouflage uniforms of various colors, which Conrad had seen for the first time.

When the veteran found himself in the hands of a Mauser 98k carbine, he was quite skillfully and quickly able to carry out the basic manipulations with it that a soldier was supposed to know. And this despite his decent age!

A crowd of reenactors surrounded Conrad to listen to his stories, because an SS combat veteran who fought on the Eastern Front is quite a rarity! Especially for American reenactors, he noted that during the battles in Normandy in 1944 it was impossible to do anything in daytime due to the huge number of American aircraft in the air.

When Konrad was shown the German MP-40 assault rifle, he remembered that he and his comrades usually left it aside and took the Soviet PPSh with them into battle.

At the end of his story, Conrad said that he did not want his grandchildren to participate in any wars and would do everything in his power to prevent this from happening.

______________
Translator's Notes:

* In the Wehrmacht and the SS Troops there was a practice of leaving soldiers and officers in the rear for some time required for a full recovery after being wounded. At this time they were listed in the so-called. Genesenden Kompanie - company for convalescents.

Dedicated to my comrades from the 2nd company of the 502nd heavy tank battalion, in order to honor the memory of those who died and remind the survivors of our immortal and unforgettable friendship.

TIGER IM SCHLAMM

I made my first notes about what I had to experience at the front exclusively for those who fought as part of the 502nd Tiger Battalion. Eventually resulting in this book, they turned out to be the vindication of a German soldier from the front line. The German soldier has been falsely accused openly and systematically, deliberately and ad hocly, since 1945, both in Germany and abroad. Society, however, has the right to know what the war was like and what a simple German soldier really was like!

However, most of all this book is intended for my former tank comrades. It is intended for them as a reminder of those difficult times. We did exactly the same thing as our comrades in arms in all other branches of the military - we fulfilled our duty!

I was able to capture the events that form the crux of the story, the combat operations between February 24 and March 22, 1944, because I was able to preserve the relevant divisional and corps reports after the war. They were then placed at my disposal, and I sent them home. To help my memory, I also had the usual official documents for all other cases.

Otto Carius

“What are they thinking of doing with this little thing... that’s what I’d like to know too,” said one of the card players. They huddled together with their suitcases on their knees and, in an attempt to make their departure less painful, whiled away the time playing cards.

“What are they thinking of doing with this little thing...” came to me. I stood at the compartment window and looked back at the Hardt Mountains as the train ticked away the kilometers eastward across the flat Rhineland. The ship seemed to have left the safety of port, sailing into the unknown. From time to time I still made sure that my draft certificate was in my pocket. It read: “Posen, 104th Reserve Battalion.” Infantry, queen of the fields!

I was a black sheep in this circle and, perhaps, could not blame anyone for not taking me seriously. As a matter of fact, this was quite understandable. My candidacy was rejected twice after being called: “Currently unfit for active duty due to insufficient weight”! Twice I swallowed and secretly wiped away bitter tears. Lord, there, at the front, no one asks how much you weigh!

Our armies have already crossed Poland in an unprecedented victorious march. Just a few days ago, France began to feel the paralyzing blows of our weapons. My father was there. At the beginning of the war, he put on his military uniform again. This meant that my mother would now have very little to do around the house when she was allowed to return to our home on the border. And for the first time I had to celebrate my 18th birthday in Posen on my own. Only then did I realize how much I owe to my parents, who gave me a happy youth! When will I be able to return home, sit down at the piano, or pick up the cello or violin? Just a few months ago I wanted to devote myself to studying music. Then he changed his mind and became interested in mechanical engineering. For the same reason, I volunteered for the army, specializing in anti-tank self-propelled guns. But in the spring of 1940 they did not need volunteers at all. I was assigned to be an infantryman. But that wasn't bad either. The main thing is that I am accepted!

After a while, our compartment became quiet. There is no doubt that everyone had something to think about: thoughts swarmed in a heap in their heads. The long hours of our journey, of course, provided the most favorable opportunity for this. By the time we landed in Posen with numb legs and back pain, we were quite happy to be deprived of this time for introspection.

We were met by a group from the 104th Reserve Infantry Battalion. We were ordered to keep pace and brought to the garrison. The barracks for conscripts, of course, were not luxurious. The barracks premises were not spacious enough, and besides me there were forty more people there. There was no time to reflect on the high duty of the defender of the fatherland; The struggle with the old-timers for survival began. They looked at us as if we were annoying “strangers.” My situation was almost hopeless: a mustacheless youth! Since only thick stubble was a clear sign of real manhood, I had to defend myself from the very beginning. The envy of others over the fact that I only had to shave once a week only made matters worse.

Our preparation was well suited to getting on my nerves. I often thought about my Ludwig Maximilian University when drills and formations reached a critical point, or when we were floundering in the mud on the training ground during field exercises. I learned later why such training was needed. I had to use the skills I learned in Posen many times to get out of dangerous situations. However, only a few hours passed, and all the suffering was forgotten. The hatred we felt towards the service, towards our superiors, towards our own stupidity during preparation, soon disappeared. Most importantly, we were all convinced that everything we did had a purpose.

Any nation can count itself lucky if it has a young generation that gives its all to the country and fights as selflessly as the Germans did in both wars. No one has the right to reproach us after the war, even though we abused the ideals with which we were filled. Let us hope that the present generation will be spared the disappointment that we were destined to experience. Better yet, if a time would come when no country would need any soldiers, because eternal peace would reign.

My dream in Posen was to complete basic infantry training and still smell like a rose. This dream resulted in disappointment mainly due to the foot marches. They started with fifteen kilometers, increased by five kilometers every week, reaching fifty. The unwritten rule was that all recruits with a college education should be given a machine gun to carry. Apparently they wanted to test me, the smallest in the unit, to find out what the limit of my willpower was and whether I could successfully withstand the test. Not surprisingly, when I returned to the garrison one day, I had a sprain and a festering blister the size of a small egg. I was unable to further demonstrate my valor as an infantryman at Posen. But soon we were transferred to Darmstadt. The proximity to home suddenly made life in the barracks less painful, and the prospect of dismissal at the end of the week made it even more enjoyable.

I think I behaved rather arrogantly when one day the company commander began to select twelve volunteers for the tank corps. It was supposed to take only auto mechanics, but with a benevolent smile I was allowed to join the dozen volunteers. The old man was probably glad to get rid of the runt. However, I did not make the decision fully consciously. My father allowed me to join any branch of the military, even aviation, but categorically forbade tank troops. In his thoughts, he probably already saw me burning in a tank and suffering terrible torment. And, despite all this, I put on the black uniform of a tanker! However, I never regretted this step, and if I had to become a soldier again, the tank corps would be my only choice, about this I did not have the slightest doubt.

I became a recruit again when I joined the 7th Tank Battalion in Faingen. My tank commander was non-commissioned officer August Döhler, a huge man and a good soldier. I was the loader. We were all filled with pride when we received our Czechoslovak tank 38(t). We felt practically invincible with a 37 mm gun and two Czechoslovak-made machine guns. We admired the armor, not yet realizing that it was only moral protection for us. If necessary, it could only protect against bullets fired from small arms.

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 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, 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 talked to local people too. 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.” There seemed to be 72 rounds in the disc and when good care 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 very skillfully maneuvered fire 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, the Stalin organ was a very powerful weapon - 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 weapon.

But in general, Russian aviation was, in my opinion, quite weak almost until the very end of 1943. Apart from the attack aircraft, which 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 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 flew from Odessa to transport aircraft 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 for a long time between the stones 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 Chersonesus 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 talker, who talked about how we left Chersonesus 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 all the same, 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 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.