Authors: Japanese Reaping the Whirlwind: Personal Accounts of the German,Italian Experiences of WW II
Nigel Cawthorne (5 page)
Back on the coast in LeBaule, there was serious business afoot:
We occasionally had to hunt down spies who worked amongst us like moles, mostly at night, except for one who made a daring daytime appearance and almost succeeded … One day while my friend Achim Peglau was on duty, an officer unknown to him but in a very snappy staff-officer’s uniform demanded, in a very commanding tone, to know the location of certain of our units. Achim who was only a private was intimidated by his forceful manner and went on to show the locations on a map. While opening his overcoat to put a copy of the locations in his jacket pocket, Achim noticed that he wore the Iron Cross on his right-hand side. Before Achim could apprehend him, he reached his motorcycle and sped off. Achim called headquarters who put up road blocks and intercepted the spy.
Without the 6th Army the Germans in the east were in disarray. In February 1943, General Walter von Unruh took over as commandant of Roslavl, a city in the oblast of Smolensk.
The town held 20,000 civilians, 20,000 rear-echelon troops and 10,000 Soviet PWs. Among the latter a typhus epidemic had broken out … All billets were overcrowded, including the unheated church. Field hospitals were crowded to capacity and could not receive additional patients. Evacuation of the wounded had come to an almost complete standstill. The hospital basements were full of corpses that could not be buried because the ground was frozen solid. Almost all the town’s people lived off our soldiers, who were billeted in their houses. In the beginning of February, Christmas packages for the soldiers at the front lay solidly frozen in front of the post office because there was no room inside. It was a sad and disagreeable situation. I added to the worries of the officers by telling them that a ground and air attack on Roslavl could not be ruled out … I lived in modest quarters, where I was well acquainted with bedbugs and rats … Since the few guards and sentries were always posted in the same place, the partisans who passed at night called them by names. This was proof of how well informed the partisans were, and I had the feeling that they were playing cat-and-mouse with us.
By July 1943 Herbert Winckelmann’s division was ready for active service and soon to be transferred.
The first ones to know this were the ‘market wives of Savenay’.
I had gone into town on Wednesday with the intention of buying some fruit and vegetables to supplement our monotonous food. Thankfully I heeded the market wife’s advice – ‘buy today, next week you will be on your way to Russia’. I proceeded to buy some lingerie and also some hand-knitted items that France was famous for and a cute outfit for our soon-to-be-born baby.
Soon after, ‘secret orders’ came telling the division to ship out for an unknown destination: not Russia, however, but Acqui, a spa town in the hills above Genoa. Winckelmann enjoyed the trip.
We reached the sea just east of Toulon in about two days. To enjoy the beautiful Côte d’Azure in this gorgeous weather I transferred from my passenger compartment to the more open freight car. We rode passed Cannes and Nice and even stopped for an engine change in Monte Carlo. To kill some time, I walked up to the famous casino, but being in uniform, was denied entrance.
Soon there were unpleasant duties to attend to. On 10 July 1943, the Allies landed on Sicily and on 25 July Mussolini fell from power and was arrested. The Allies crossed the Strait of Messina on 3 September and, on 8 September, the Italians capitulated, announcing their intention to change sides.
When the Italian government surrendered to the Allies, we were in a very unpleasant situation. Yesterday the Italians had been our allies, but today we were ordered to disarm them. Fortunately most of their units were war-weary, surrendered peacefully, and went home.
But, for Winckelmann, there were compensations.
The three months in Acqui, up to this disaster, has been even better than my stay in Savenay. My mornings were filled with paper work, but the afternoons were spent enjoying the spa’s beautiful swimming pool or the nearby vineyards where the grape harvest was in full swing. How delicious these sweet red Italian grapes were and their many varieties of wine. Unfortunately sightseeing was out of the question as Milan, Florence, Venice, etc were outside our divisional sector.
On 30 September 1943 a telegram arrived at Acqui telling Herbert Winckelmann that he had become the father of a baby daughter, named Ulricke. He celebrated with a bottle of red wine. The birth did not entitle him to leave, but furlough was granted when his home in Berlin was bombed, and he set off to inspect the damage.
I found the house in better condition than I had anticipated. The house across the street had been destroyed and the vacuum from the exploding bomb had left the front wall of our house bulging. The remaining walls, though cracked, were still standing. To my surprise, the electricity as well as the plumbing were still working and most of the furniture was unharmed. I therefore decided to spend the night in my house. I was extremely tired from my long trip and fell into a deep sleep. So much so that I did not even hear the air-raid sirens and did not wake until a window shattered about two o’clock in the morning. I jumped from my bed to witness the horror of an air raid over Berlin … It was clear to me that our furniture had to be moved out of Berlin for safekeeping. This was easier said than done, especially to convince the bureaucratic channels to give the necessary permissions, not only to move the furniture but to move it out of Berlin. This was a logical move, but the bigoted Nazis still maintained that Berlin was a safe town.
Having anticipated some difficulties and the need to grease some gears, I armed myself with some Italian and French cigarettes. They were black looking and awful tasting, but we soldiers at the front had them in abundance, while cigarettes at home were scarce. With great luck I found a moving company that was eager to get one of its trucks out of Berlin and with the cigarettes I was soon provided with the necessary papers to get my furniture on its way. Within a week the furniture was in Dresden … I had presumed Dresden to be safe as it had been declared a hospital town … I spent the remaining days of my furlough with Elinor and our newborn princess in Kaufeuren.
That November Winckelmann was back on the Ukrainian front.
The Russian winter, which we feared more than the enemy itself, has already initiated a standstill on the battle front. This was due to the continuous rain that had fallen for weeks and had bogged down both sides in soaked black clay. I had not forgotten my first experience with this awful mud … As we disembarked from the train, the rain was still pouring down and the strong east wind had resulted in a chill factor of below freezing.
The car designated to take him to his quarters got stuck in the mud and he was stranded for the night.
We were miserable in our rain- and mud-soaked boots and uniforms, and when the gas tanks ran empty we shivered to our bones.
Horses were called in to extricate them, and Winckelmann found himself in a ‘cosy’ hut under thick snow. With motor vehicles next to useless in those conditions,
Rittmeister
Ahrbecker helped out again, bringing Winckelmann a small Cossack horse:
Next to the captain’s tall mare stood this tiny, shaggy animal which looked more like a colt than a full-grown horse. It looked so uncared for, his hair covered his sad eyes and I wondered if he could see. His coat was covered with mud and his tail almost touched the ground. Ahrbecker, noticing my disappointment, put his hand on my shoulder and explained: ‘Herbert, he might not look like much but he has a good body and good legs.’ … At least twice he proved to be my guardian angel.
Winckelmann was constantly teased about his little horse and challenged the scoffers to a race.
They never won. Their heavier horses, even with their longer legs, were no match, especially on the loose snow.
He was also wary of his ‘comrades’.
In my many years of service, I would name only two people to have been my comrade in the true sense of the word. These were Achim Peglau, from my regimental staff, and Rudi Peterson, from the PoW camp in Russia. With Achim I had many things in common. I could discuss things that made life valuable; we were both anti-Nazis, etc.
To the troops on the eastern front the situation was hopeless, though they could not say so. After the debacle of Stalingrad, half of the Ukraine had been lost and the Germans had withdrawn to the River Dnieper, more than 800km (500 miles) behind the German high-water mark. But the Führer was not downhearted and was planning a new spring offensive.
At this time, Hitler’s propaganda was still strong, telling us ‘just one more push and the Russians will collapse forever’.
There were still some true believers. On 1 September 1943, when the war was already going badly wrong for Germany, Hans Niedermejer gave a speech at a prisoner-of-war camp in Huntsville, Texas:
Comrades: A great event, which took place four years ago, induces me to call you here together today. You all know that four years ago on this day the greatest of all wars broke out. When we remember that time when our armies following the orders of the Führer crossed the German borders, when we remember the day we took leave of our mother and father, when we gave the farewell kiss to our wife, child or bride, when we remember the day we left brothers and sisters who had to fight in other countries and on other fronts or who had to take care of wounded soldiers, when we remember how men and women, in many cases without any aid, are working to give weapons and food to the fighting front, then now as prisoners of war having much time for such thoughts, we understand completely, how resolutely and compactly our fatherland, that is the whole German nation, stood for the Führer and will stand for him in the future too.
Since that day four years have passed and we have been fighting on many fronts, in Norway, in France, Yugoslavia, in Greece, in Crete, in Russia, in Libya and in Tunisia and on all the oceans. Many of our comrades died on the battlefield and there they bear witness to German heroism, German union and strength. Their blood obliges us to go on fighting and winning.
Now I ask you my comrade, who you are far from your family and from your fatherland? Do you remember still that this blood of your comrade does oblige you, also now in the prisoner of war camp, to stand for Germany as he did? I ask you, do you remember the day when you left your mother, father, wife, child or bride, brother and sister, when they were saying to you ‘goodbye’? Do you think that they are trembling and praying for you and that they are longing for you? Do you remember that it is German blood running in your veins? Do you remember that day when you stood in formation and raised your hand to heaven to swear by God loyalty to the Führer and to the German people for life?
It was our fate that we were taken prisoner and confined behind barbed wire. Disarmed and powerless we have to await the end of this war. But in spite of this we remain soldiers of our Führer, soldiers of that great army which is the best in the world. I see that looking at you, my splendid young German men, standing here upright with closed ranks. When you are marching and singing German songs, I see that. Those are German military soldiers – that is, disciplined men – I thank you with all my heart for your proud and German attitude, and I ask you to remain so in the future.
If one of us should sleep,
Another guards instead of him
If one of us should doubt,
Another faithfully will smile,
If one of us should fall,
Another stands for two,
For every fighter gets from God
His comrades true.
So as your attitude has been until now, you are worthy to be named German soldiers, you are also worthy of your dead comrades. On this day, on which four years ago the war broke out, we renew our vow to stay always with our Führer and our German people with firm loyalty. We will not finish this day without having thought of our dead heroes, who died also for us and for the greatness of our fatherland. One minute of silent memory.
We do think of our fighters on all fronts and we call to you, our dears at home, we shall come back, as we have left you, strong and German. To our Führer and chief commander of the
Wehrmacht
and to our German people a three-fold
Sieg Heil
.
This speech was transcribed and translated into English. The translator helpfully added: ‘There followed the national hymns (
Deutschland
-
Lied
and
Horst
Wessel-Lied
).’
REAPING THE WHIRLWIND: FORTRESS EUROPE UNDER ATTACK
At home, the German populace began to notice the discrepancy between Nazi propaganda and their own experience. At the beginning of the war they had been told that they would never be bombed. When raids became a fact, the authorities sought to play down their effects, but noted that this drew murmurs of discontent. In September 1943, a report from Dortmund said:
The official Army bulletin was long and critically discussed when, after the daylight raid on Bochum, it was stated that ‘enemy air units flew under cloud cover’. There was much comment, for the enemy raiders were widely visible. Very few clouds were noticed.
After an attack on Augsberg on 20 March 1944, a report was sent to Berlin of out-and-out disloyalty:
The increase of air raids leads to expressions like the following: ‘Now we finally get the reprisals (a reference to the much-touted V weapons) but unfortunately they come from the other side …’ One can hardly talk of reprisal without eliciting a pitying smile … They say, ‘If we didn’t have this government we would have had peace long ago. With the tenacity of our leadership an end of the war can only be hoped for after Germany’s complete annihilation.’ Members of the intelligentsia state that ‘it was a matter of course to be a German, but not quite understandable that one could still be a National Socialist’.
The same report emphasizes that the air war ‘proves as hitherto the crux in the moulding of morale’ and ends:
Comment on the often quoted poet’s word: ‘Germany must live even if we have to die.’ The question is often raised: who in this case will represent the surviving Germany? Will it be the people in the bomb-proof shelters? …
In other words, Hitler and his cronies. Chain letters and leaflets expressing criticism appeared, particularly in the industrial areas of the Ruhr and Rhine Valley. A poster pasted under the mail box in the post office in Krefeld read:
People awake! Down with Hitler, Goebbels, Ley, Rosenberg, Himmler, etc. These swine who have plunged us into misery; every night these raids. Do we need to stand for that?
In April 1943, leaflets found in Krefeld were sent to the Gestapo Regional Headquarters in Düsseldorf. Typically they read:
No more of these raids, unite, arise. Down with the Hitler murderers. No more of these raids! The people arise. Down with the murders, down with Hitler.
Jokes also circulated. One went:
A man took his radio to confession in Cologne Cathedral because it had been lying so much lately.
Another described Hitler and Goering flying over Bochum to survey the bomb damage from the air:
Goering points out the ruins to Hitler and comments: ‘Wouldn’t they be pleased, Adolph, if we dropped them a sackful of meat and fat coupons?’ The pilot, a native of Bochum, on hearing this, turns around and says: ‘You have no idea how happy the Bochumers would be if I dropped you too.’
In 1943, a Rhineland wit posed the riddle:
What is it? It is naked, stands on a meadow and carries a bank savings book under the arm? Answer: The German of 1946.
The Nazis were well aware that they were being ridiculed. A Party morale report dated June 1943 read:
The most vulgar jokes are circulated that assign to the leader, in the most indecent manner, sole responsibility for the war.
These jokes were circulated easily, as people were huddled together in air-raid shelters. However, not everyone was disillusioned. On 21 June 1945, a 21-year-old woman who worked in the Focke-Wulf Munitions factory in Bremen was interviewed by the occupying forces about the effects of carpet bombing. Although she claimed not to be a Nazi, she was unrepentant.
I had absolute confidence in Hitler and the whole political leadership. Only with regard to the military leadership did
I have misgivings.
Why did she have such confidence?
For the simple reason that they were men from the ranks of the common people.
Naively, she said:
I thought that I would not be affected by the war, for at that time there were not yet any air raids; all of the stores were open. I and the rest of us expected things to remain like that.
But the air raids did come – ‘all other hardships revolved around them’, she said – and she soon found that the provisions the authorities had made were inadequate:
In the early part of the war, alarms came well ahead of attacks; one had an hour or more to get to the shelter. But later on the alarms came at the same time as the fliers themselves or only a couple of minutes sooner. The air-raid shelters were too few and too small. The one which we used where I live was intended for eight hundred people and was actually used by three or four thousand. In there we were so crowded and hot that one after another vomited and the air became worse on that account. We just took off our clothes without shame because of the unbearable heat.
On 27 July 1945, a 25-year-old housewife from Duisburg was interviewed about the effects of bombing, which had begun there in May 1940 but reached a new ferocity on 14 October 1944.
On the fourteenth we had an early alarm about 6am, but no planes came. I stayed up and did my housework. At 9am, a preliminary alarm came and then a full alarm almost immediately thereafter. My baby, who was only a few weeks old, was in his carriage.
I snatched him out and rushed to the cellar. The other people in the house were also in the cellar and there was much crying and praying because almost immediately large bombs began to fall directly on our section of the city. The house shook so that men had to hold the timbers that propped up the walls and floor above to keep them from falling. We opened holes in the walls into the next cellars and called out to see if the people in there were alive. People were crying and praying. They said that we had to thank our Führer for this. The Party leaders had their safe bunkers and most of them were in Berlin …
After the attack was over, we came out. The doors and windows in our house were broken. There was much destruction around us, particularly in the Thyssen Works just opposite us. A great many large bombs had dropped. That night we took turns keeping watch, listening for the alarms across the Rhine. The alarm came about 2am, but it was too late to go to the bunker. We went to the cellar, where again there was a fearful scene of crying and praying. After about fifteen or twenty minutes of bombing there was a pause. My sister and I put our babies into their carriage and with my father ran to the bunker. Many phosphorous bombs were dropped, and everywhere houses were in flames. All the while my father was shouting at us to hurry. Finally, I took my baby out of the carriage and ran with him in my arms. By the time were reached the bunker bombs were falling on all sides.
I was completely exhausted and said I could never go through this again. We stayed all night in the bunkers. After we went home there were still continual alarms. We did not have time to wash our children or eat. All that day we were running from the house to the bunker and from the bunker to the house. The night that followed we stayed all night in the bunker and the babies got some sleep. Father remained at home and he brought us something to eat. About 4am we went home. Our house was damaged and there was no water running, but we brought some from a pump and washed ourselves and the children. Then we got some soap from the NSV and for eight days thereafter we got food in this way.
Our flat was badly damaged but we could live there.
Did the bombing affect her morale? This was her answer:
I always thought I would surely be killed. I lost the desire to live. The smut and dirt covered everything and it was impossible to keep anything clean. There was so much work to do. Life was no longer beautiful.
Did she blame the Allies for the bombing?
Really no, I heard the English radio and knew that we had bombed cities. Goebbels made a great speech in which he challenged the Allies, saying that the German people were strong and could take the bombings. [But] the leaders were sitting safe in Berlin, but we had no flak and poor bunkers … If the Allies had not bombed the cities, the war might have lasted longer and more men would have been killed at the front.
So who did she blame?
Those who let the war go on. Our Party leaders. They should have brought the war to a close. The Party leaders looked out for themselves first of all … [The newspapers and radio] said that the people were not affected, as if we lived in Berlin, which wasn’t attacked much at first. The people couldn’t say much about how they felt, but in the bunkers they cried out against the Party leaders.
And why had the war started?
I haven’t thought much about the fundamental cause of the war. I suppose the big people such as Hitler wanted more power.
The bombing of German cities was also having an effect on morale at the front. As early as mid-1942, a German soldier wrote home to his mother:
I have talked with comrades who returned from leave in Cologne. They told me that one-third of the city is a pile of rubble and that there is much anguish and misery … it is no use for us to destroy the Russians, while the English destroy our homes.
In an attempt to correlate the weight of bombs dropped with the effect on the civilian population, the Allies analysed captured mail. In one letter, a woman from Bingerbruck complained:
We have alerts day and night and the fighters are coming always. It really is a misery on this earth. If the war does not come to an end either our nerves will be shattered or else we shall be dead. It’s becoming nearly impossible to work or even to prepare lunch at noon time. On Sundays we can’t go to the cemetery. We scarcely receive any milk deliveries at all. If we go to town for milk there is a constant alert on. People here are about to lose courage. In Mainz and Boon they possess less courage yet. There they are in the process of moving and going away.
A woman from Stolberg described the general mood:
All you hear all day long are the sirens, the anti-aircraft guns, the sound of the motors and the dropping of bombs; despite all that, they won’t get us down. It’s out of the question.
From Petch, a woman who was not made of such sterling stuff, wrote:
I am a nervous wreck from all the excitement. It was terrible again today; the enemy planes do not stop coming. We had luck, but I am completely exhausted.
A German prisoner of war had noted the effect when taking leave from the front in an attempt to visit his family.
I left by train on 2 December 1944 … difficult journey, experienced air attacks … found out that my mother and sister left Saarbrücken three days before, after having lived in a cellar for some time after their house had been bombed … My dear wife had taken refuge with her brother in Neustadt … I went by bicycle to Niederhausen (near Darmstadt) to see my sister and find out where my dear mother was … No one in Saarbrücken, neither city nor Party official, had been able to tell me … I had to go to Darmstadt to apply to the local commander for an extension to my furlough … was granted two additional days … was about to leave Darmstadt when the air-raid alarm sounded … the raid lasted forty-five minutes … When it was over, the city was a sea of flames and smoke …
By this time, it was clear that Germany was in difficulties and Herbert Winckelmann’s unit was ordered to pull back 24km (15 miles) to a village that the map showed had a distinctive church with two steeples.
A church? So far I had not seen a church in all Ukraine, so I asked how old the map was. Later I found out that the church had been demolished during the Russian revolution – this map was probably from the time of the Czar.
Winckelmann was offered the use of a car to scout the unit’s new quarters, but he already knew how useless wheeled vehicles were in the Ukraine. Instead, he took his Cossack horse. This was a good decision, as soon there was a shower that would have rendered the roads impassable to motor vehicles.
Things got worse when the shower turned to sleet in the howling east wind. My coat got stiffer and stiffer while visibility diminished to zero. My little horse was no better off but kept going faithfully, his head drooping lower and lower. The icicles on his mane rang out like little bells when he occasionally shook his head … Suddenly the little horse stopped in front of a small hut and gave out a loud whinny. It wasn’t long before the door was opened by an elderly Russian peasant. We were both petrified for the first few seconds, neither knowing what to do next … He eased the situation by making a friendly gesture for me to come inside … I accepted his invitation. But first I had to get off my horse – because of the ice covering me, I was unable to move. I had literally become an ice statue unable to move either my arms or legs and my shoes had been frozen to the stirrups. Realizing my predicament, the old man opened his arms and I slid into them. My prayers had been answered, I could not have found a better or more hospitable place. As I went into the hut, the old man took my Cossack into the stable next door to bed him down for the night.
The cottage was the usual one-room adobe house, with a stable attached, under a thatch roof. The room was sparsely finished … The white walls were bare except for an icon hanging in the corner … Across from the entrance was a huge clay stove with a platform over the top covered with straw which served as a bed during the winter.
As I entered, I saw the peasant’s wife sitting next to the fireplace. With a friendly gesture she invited me to sit next to her. When she noticed my wet uniform, although I resisted at first, she insisted that I undress and in a motherly manner hung a blanket around me. Her husband smiled kindly at my costume when he joined us by the fire.
Our conversation, mostly in sign language, progressed slowly.
Of course, they were curious to know who I was. But how to explain this was sometimes difficult even when using words. So I pulled from my tunic photographs of my family and they showed me some of their family. Suddenly we were not strangers any more.
My anticipated one-night stay became two-and-a-half days, since our regimental staff had been delayed by the snow storm. I was aware that I was a burden to this old couple, for they had not much for themselves and I was another mouth to feed. I reciprocated by giving a chicken I had caught earlier that was still hanging on my saddle to the old woman who served us a delicious borscht.
To kill some time while the weather played havoc outside, the old man challenged me to a game of chess. I did not even win one game … This was a very special couple, both in their upper sixties. They put aside the war that was going on and that I was one of the soldiers who occupied their land, and treated me like a fellow human being who was in need due to the horrible weather conditions.
