German postcard and notebook seized during the arrest of prisoners of war

I was called up for military service.

In the battles near Reval on August 20, Ferdy Walbreker fell for his fatherland. Hans and I spent the last Sunday of September in Aachen. It was very pleasant to see the Germans: German men, women and German girls. Before, when we first arrived in Belgium, the difference did not catch my eye ... To really love your homeland, you must first be away from it.

1941 October. 10.10.41.

I'm on guard. Today they were transferred to the active army. Read the list in the morning. Almost exclusively people from construction battalions. Of the July recruits, only a few mortarmen. What can you do? I can only wait. But next time, it will probably affect me too. Why should I volunteer? I know that it will be more difficult to do your duty there, much more difficult, but still ...

14. 10. 41.

Tuesday. On Sunday, machine gunners were selected from 1 platoon. Among them was me. We had to swallow 20 quinine pills; tested suitability for service in tropical conditions. On Monday I received the answer: good. But I heard that the shipment was cancelled. Why?

Today we had a review. It was conducted by our company commander. All this is just a theatrical performance. As could be foreseen, everything went well. Vacation in Lüttich for 18-19.10 is arranged.

22. 10. 41.

Vacation is already over. Was good. We still found the military priest. During worship, I served him. After dinner he showed us Luttich. The day was pleasant. I felt like I was among people again.

Hans, Gunther and Klaus have left. Who knows if we'll see each other.

At home, there has been no news from my brother for many weeks (7-9). After I received the news of the death of Ferdy Wahlbreker, I have the feeling that my brother will also be killed. May the Lord God protect from this, for the sake of my parents, especially for the sake of my mother.

Werner Kunze and Kosman are killed. Nothing more is heard about Africa.

Wrote to Frieda Grislam (attitude towards the government and the people; a soldier and a woman at the present time).

1941 November.

20. 11. 41.

Five days in Eltfenborn passed. The service there was very easy. In addition to firing a platoon, we practically did nothing. But we were in Germany and it was nice. In Eltfenborn I visited the priest.

The way the Germans hold themselves in the former Eifen-Malmedy can be understood; we expected another Germany. Not so anti-Christian. But there are also Walloon villages, and not a few. During the firing, someone lit a fire. When you stand like this and look at the flame, old memories come up. As it was before. For me, nothing better could be right now than to go with a few guys on the road, but ...

P ... also wrote about the loss of time; now that we are in the prime of our powers and want to use them. What would you not work on?

What tasks await us! They say that two marching battalions are being formed again. News from home: Willy Walbrecker has also been killed. We also made our sacrifice. Willy fourth. I'm asking, who's next?

26.11. 41.

Willy Schefter in the infirmary. This was a real friend. More and more often the thought occurs to me that I am wasting my time here aimlessly. I hesitate who I want to be: Africa; technical profession; or a priest only for God.

You won't find companionship in our room. I would like to get to the front as soon as possible. It will be good for me.

25. 11. 41.

Yesterday morning, unexpectedly for everyone, the order to send came. Now no one wanted to believe it when we were gathered. But it is so. The day was spent in uniform. Finally, what I expected has come, and I firmly believe that more will come. There comes a more difficult but better (if that's the right word) time. Now we have to show whether you are a man or a coward. I hope that this experience will be a lifetime gain for me; I will become more mature.

I don’t want to write about the general enthusiasm that was expressed in drunkenness; it won't last long.

1941 December. 8.12.41.

I have written various things this week, and there is much more to be written. About general enthusiasm, about duty at the moment, etc. Düsseldorf! It's not good for you. Not!

Magdalena was also here on Wednesday (my parents were here last Sunday). The Gestapo made a search and took away my letters and other things. Comments are superfluous. On Sunday I will get a vacation and find out more about it. From me they went to the Dealer and took a lot of things there. Are they right, because we live in Germany; The dealer was picked up at ... and from there sent to Dortmund, where he is in pre-trial detention. Until Sunday they were still sitting. Johann is there too. I think that there are 60-100 people sitting there.

12.12. 41. Friday.

We've been on the road since Wednesday. They say that we are 13.12. we will be in Insterburg, and on December 15 - on the other side of the border.

America also entered the war.

It's cramped in here. Whether we will get to the Southern Front is now, perhaps, doubtful. Regarding the Gestapo, I was with our captain; he promised me full support. I made up a letter, but there are a few other details, we'll see. We'll be somewhere for Christmas.

13.12. 41. Saturday.

Wrote a letter to the Gestapo. The captain will probably sign the petition. What more could you want. I put it all down to business. Success is doubtful. We are in Insterburg.

Vost. Prussia is almost all behind. I haven't shaved since Monday. "Unshaven and away from home." Haven't come across partnerships yet. I hope that things are better at the front in this respect; otherwise it would be a big disappointment for me.

16. 12. 41. Tuesday.

Lithuania, Latvia - behind. We are in Estonia. We had a long stop. I was in the city. Nothing interesting. Riga was already better. Unfortunately, we could not get into the city.

We have a terrible mood in the car! Two people had a fight yesterday; Today there are two again. Comradely relations here are an illusion, a utopia.

Lithuania is a flat country, spreading wide before our eyes. This poor country. Everywhere there are wooden huts (they cannot be called houses), covered with thatch. Small and cramped inside.

Latvia is not so equal. One part is mountainous, covered with forest. Houses even in the villages are better here, they look more comfortable. Estonia also has many forests and hills.

The people here are very nice. The language is completely incomprehensible. There is not much here either. There is no vodka. Food cards.

In Riga, they say, 10,000 Jews (German Jews) were shot. Comments are superfluous. Three people were shot for robbery, I support this, no matter how harsh it may be. Decisive intervention is needed to prevent this from spreading. This is a mistake: on Tuesday we were not yet in Estonia (18.12.)

18.12. 41.

In Russia. Estonia passed very quickly. Russia is an even, endless country. Tundra. Got ammo.

We traveled along the following route: Riga - Valk (Estonia) - Russia; in Pskov. Pskov is said to be the third most beautiful city in Russia.

I read Shakespeare: The Merchant of Venice and Hamlet. We are located 10 km. from Pskov and will probably stay here for a long time. I like Shakespeare.

19.12. 41.

We are still near Pskov. The fact is that the Russians have severely damaged the railway facilities and there are few steam locomotives here.

I gave some Russians some bread. How grateful these poor people were. They are treated worse than livestock. Of the 5,000 Russians, approximately 1,000 remained. This is a shame. What would Dwingof, Etiggofer say if they knew this?

Then I "visited" a peasant. When I gave him a cigarette, he was happy. I looked at the kitchen. Poor! I was treated to cucumbers and bread. I left them a pack of cigarettes. Not a word is clear from the language, except for: "Stalin", "Communist", "Bolshevik".

The ring around Petersburg was broken by the Russians a few days ago. The Russians broke through 40 km. Against the tanks...they couldn't do anything. The Russians are extremely strong here. Whether the ring is closed from the side of the lake is doubtful. There are too few of our troops there. When will Leningrad fall? War! When will it end?

21. 12. 41.

Today is Sunday. It's not noticeable in any way. The trip is over. In Gatchina (Baltic) we were unloaded. The population besieged our wagons, asked for bread, etc. It's good when you can bring joy to a child, woman or man. But there are too many of them.

We are located 6 km. from the station. There are 16 of us in one room with 4 wide beds; for each bed - 3 people, and the other four..?

I don’t want to write anything about the last days in the car. From the soldier's friendship - not a trace. In one prison camp, more than 100 prisoners are said to have died in one night. 22.12.41.

Our apartment is good. The hostess (Finnish) is very kind, but poor. We give her quite a lot. It's better to give than to take.

24. 12. 41.

Today is Christmas Eve ... In Gatchina, most of the churches were destroyed by German pilots, not by the Reds. There is still a cross on the palace.

(Bra)uhich resigned, or he was dismissed. What does this mean?

27. 12. 41.

Christmas has passed. In fact, these were very, very sad days, there could not be a real Christmas mood.

It is said that the 1st division, since it was involved in very heavy fighting, will be sent to the south of France. Therefore, we will probably end up in the 12th division. I hope so. Others would also like to go to the south of France.

Today we saw seven wagons with soldiers who arrived from the ring near Leningrad. These soldiers looked terrible. Such pictures are not seen in the newsreel.

It's getting colder here. 20 degrees.

Wrote something about the soldier's life. I think a lot about Dealer, Johann and things related to them.

30. 12. 41.

Today or tomorrow we are being sent, and, moreover, to the 1st division ... Something will happen with the Dealer, Johann and others ...

1942 January. 03.01.42.

Has come New Year. Will the war end in 1942? On December 31, 1941, we set out from Gatchina. When we walked 15-20 km, two buses and one truck arrived, which immediately delivered 60 people. in 1 division. Among these 60 were also me, Wunten and Cuiqinga. In the division, we were immediately assigned to regiments; the three of us ended up in the 1st regiment. That same evening we were sent to the 3rd battalion, where we spent the night in a dugout as cold as ice. It was a New Year's gift. Then we were divided into companies. Wunten and I ended up in the 10th company. We handed over our products to the kitchen and “stomped” to the company, which had been on vacation for five days and just on 1.1.42. returned to the front in the evening.

And here we are in the dugout. We stand at the post for 6-7 hours a day. The rest of the time we lie down or eat. A life unworthy of man.

We are here between Leningrad and Shlisselburg, near the Neva, where it makes a sharp bend. The crossing is still in Russian hands. We are to the left of it. The dugout is tolerable (compared to others). It's calm here. Mortars occasionally fire. One person was killed last night. Today in the second platoon one was killed.

Our life is in the hands of God. For 10 days we must remain on the front line, and then - 5 days of rest.

The company has 40-50 people. Of the division (15,000), only 3,000 survived. The ring around Leningrad is not closed (propaganda). The food is very good.

04. 01. 42.

You look like a pig. It's not too strong a word. You can't wash. And so, eat like this. I am not writing this to complain. It just needs to be recorded.

Yesterday we brought the dead man - "We are not carrying a treasure, we are carrying a dead man." The rest pay no attention to it. It's because you see too many dead people.

Friendship! Will she come again? Do not know. Or am I still not comfortable with the new environment?

Johann and Dealer, what could it be? You often get furious when you think about this meanness. If you then think that you are here at the front, then questions arise that I would like to get an answer to. But there is a difference between the government and the people. This is the only solution.

07. 01. 42.

Yesterday, more reinforcements arrived from the 4th marching company. There is talk that we will be replaced in the coming days!?!

"Comrades" often sing a beautiful song:

"Heil Hitler, Heil Hitler.
All Day - Heil Hitler
And on Sundays Heil Hitler
Heil Hitler, Heil Hitler.

They sing this song to the melody “Gedwig's aunt, Gedwig's aunt, the machine doesn't sew”… Comments are superfluous.

There is one soldier in our section. He is a Catholic. He is 35 years old. Peasant (6 cows, one horse). He is from Altenburg; from Bourscheid 2.5 hours walk. Maybe it can be used somehow for a group, or..?

(?). 1. 42

Yesterday there was a conversation that we were leaving here. The convoy seemed to have already been loaded. Everyone believes in it. I also believe that this is true. I call it big shit. "Comrades" rejoice. I understand those who are here from the very beginning. But we, who have just arrived, are already back; it's a real scandal. But we can't change anything about that. Where they go, no one knows. To Koenigsberg? To Finland, go skiing?

13. 1. 42.

We are on vacation. If you can call it rest. In any case, better than at the forefront. As for the shift: behind Mgoy, where the convoy is located, a new position is being built.

18. 1. 42.

We are again on the front line for ten days. This time on the right position (south). We should post a few more posts. The dugout is small and cold. The conversations were really useless. It will probably take a long time. But we believe that we will not be here in the spring when we advance, because then we disappeared, everyone says.

Friendship is funny. Sometimes you are satisfied, and sometimes again the most uncomradely and selfish act that can be. In the near future I will again collect cigarettes, since comrades really do not deserve to always give them cigarettes.

30. 1. 42.

Only today I have found time to write further. Instead of ten days, it turned out to be thirteen, but it was pretty good in the dugout ... During this time, I shaved once and “washed” in a lid with water (1/4 liter). Von Leeb also left, or he was suspended. Reichenau is dead. It is not known how this is to be understood. I don't mind going to Germany either.

1942 February.

02. 02. 42.

Two days of rest very soon ended. On Sunday, January 31, the order came. At 18:00 we went out and back again. We were only supposed to be here the next morning at 6 o'clock. At night they changed their linen and “washed”. We are further east from the old position. Again at the Neva. The area is quieter and better. The dugouts are all pretty comfortable. The company occupied 1800 meters (probably - the length of the defense sector - ed.). There are 4 people in our department. We put one person out for the night. It would be nothing if we were not busy during the day with other things (carrying ammunition).

They say we'll stay here until the offensive? We don't get trench rations. It is not right.

15. 2. 42.

I'm back in another department. Tomorrow we are moving to another place. Erwin Schultz was wounded 7.2 by a mine fragment. Because of this, we are forced to stand at the post of the three of us. It's a bit much, but other departments cost the same. So you have to be happy. Everything is still calm here. I rejoice in every letter from home. Now I finally know about Johann and Dealer... I'm done. Prayer must not be forgotten. I will be glad of the time when I will be free from military service and will be able to live the way I want - not like everyone else.

Long live Moscow! Mouth front!

22. 2. 42.

We are still in the same position. It got colder again. I am happy with the mail. We had the Gestapo. They wanted to know the address. Hope I hear something about it soon.

27. 2. 42.

Today I turn 19 years old. Corporal Schiller arrived from Mga. The wound was not terrible, it was caused not by the Russians, but by Domerak.

I am already looking forward to the day when I can start working, free from military service.

Non-commissioned officer Riedel seems to be a big pig. Nothing has been heard of the Gestapo yet. If only for a few days we would not hear anything at all from all that is so disgusting.

1942 March. 09.03.42.

Several days passed again. It would be nice to sleep a few nights. I don't have enough food - too little bread. There is wild talk about Vienna, Cobland, etc.

12. 03. 42.

From 9.30 to 10 a.m. approximately 100-200 shots were fired per rifle, 600-1000 shots per machine gun; in addition, a mass of lighting rockets was fired. After 10 o'clock - silence. We weren't supposed to show up during the day. This was done on the section from the crossing to Shlisselburg (15 km.). The command wanted to attract defectors in this way or cause the expulsion of the reconnaissance detachment, since prisoners were needed to get evidence.

On the night of 9.3. at 10.3. on the left wing of our company a man came - a defector or not, on this the opinions of eyewitnesses differ. He told a lot: the positions were poorly defended, there was nothing to eat, the company commander seemed to be a Jew, etc. Whether this is true is doubtful. I don't know how many Russians fell into our hands in the area indicated.

It was also said that if we did not get prisoners, we would have to send a reconnaissance detachment across the Neva, which, one might say, was a suicide squad. Volunteers go! Bring in the prisoners!

I haven't heard anything about the Gestapo yet.

20. 3. 42

At 20-30 we were loaded and transported by trucks to Shapki (a little further).

21. 3. 42

Reconnaissance in the forest.

24. 3. 42

About 3 hours. Order: get ready. Now, as a reserve of the battalion, we are sitting in dugouts, in which "the sun is shining." Worst of all - artillery fire.

10 company - loss of 9 people.

10, 11, 12 companies - loss of 60 people.

9th company - 40% loss.

Our position is omega (maybe Mga - ed.). Food is better. Easter. What will happen for Easter?

Translated: shekhn. quartermaster of the 1st rank - Zinder.

80 years ago the Nazis set fire to the Reichstag. Dora Nass (née Pettin) was seven years old at the time and remembers how Hitler's dictatorship was established

Dora Nass in her Berlin apartment

I was born in 1926 near Potsdamerplatz and lived on Königetzerstrasse. This street is located next to the Wilhelmstrasse, where all the ministries of the Third Reich and the residence of Hitler himself were located. I often go there and remember how it all began and how it all ended. And it seems to me that it was not yesterday or even five minutes ago, but is happening right now. I have very poor eyesight and hearing, but everything that happened to me, to us, when Hitler came to power, and during the war, and in its last months, I can see and hear perfectly. But I can’t see your face clearly, only separate fragments ... But my mind is still working. I hope (laughs).

Do you remember how you and your loved ones reacted when Hitler came to power?

Do you know what happened in Germany before 1933? Chaos, crisis, unemployment. The streets are homeless. Many were starving. Inflation is such that my mother took a bag of money to buy bread. Not figuratively. A real little bag of banknotes. It seemed to us that this horror would never end.

And suddenly a man appears who stops Germany's fall into the abyss. I remember very well how excited we were during the first years of his reign. People got jobs, roads were built, poverty was disappearing…

And now, remembering our admiration, how we all and I with my girlfriends and friends praised our Fuhrer, how we were ready to wait for hours for his speech, I would like to say this: you need to learn to recognize evil before it becomes invincible. We failed, and we paid the price! And made others pay.

Didn't think...

My father died when I was eight months old. The mother was completely apolitical. Our family had a restaurant in the center of Berlin. When SA officers came to our restaurant, everyone avoided them. They behaved like an aggressive gang, like proletarians who have gained power and want to recoup their years of slavery.

There were not only Nazis in our school, some teachers did not join the party. Until November 9, 1938*, we did not feel how serious everything was. But that morning we saw that the windows in the shops that belonged to Jews were broken. And everywhere there are inscriptions - “Jew's shop”, “do not buy from Jews” ... That morning we realized that something bad was beginning. But none of us suspected the scale of the crimes that would be committed.

You see, there are so many means now to find out what is really going on. Then almost no one had a telephone, rarely anyone had a radio, and there is nothing to say about TV. And Hitler and his ministers spoke on the radio. And in the newspapers - they are. I read newspapers every morning because they were for customers in our restaurant. They did not write anything about the deportation and the Holocaust. And my friends didn't even read newspapers...

Of course, when our neighbors disappeared, we couldn't help but notice it, but we were told that they were in a labor camp. Nobody talked about the death camps. And if they did, we didn't believe it... A camp where people are killed? Can not be. You never know what bloody and strange rumors do not happen in the war ...

Foreign politicians came to us, and no one criticized Hitler's policy. Everyone shook his hand. We agreed on cooperation. What were we to think?

Thousands of Dora's peers were members of the National Socialist "Union of German Girls"

Did you and your friends talk about the war?

In 1939, we had no idea what kind of war we were unleashing. And even then, when the first refugees appeared, we did not particularly indulge in reflections - what all this means and where it will lead. We had to feed them, clothe them and give them shelter. And of course, we absolutely could not imagine that the war would come to Berlin ... What can I say? Most people don't use the mind, that's how it used to be.

Do you think that you also did not use the mind in your time?

(After a pause.) Yes, I didn’t think about much, I didn’t understand. I didn't want to understand. And now, when I listen to recordings of Hitler's speeches - in some museum, for example - I always think: my God, how strange and scary what he says, and yet I, young, was among those who stood under balcony of his residence and shouted with delight ...

It is very difficult for a young person to resist the general flow, to think what it all means, to try to predict what it might lead to? At the age of ten I, like thousands of my peers, joined the Union of German Girls, which was created by the National Socialists. We had parties, looked after the elderly, traveled, went out into nature together, we had holidays. Summer Solstice, for example. Bonfires, songs, joint work for the good of great Germany... In a word, we were organized on the same principle as the pioneers in the Soviet Union.

There were girls and boys in my class whose parents were communists or social democrats. They forbade their children to take part in Nazi holidays. And my brother was a little boss in the Hitler Youth. And he said: if someone wants to join our organization, please, if not, we will not force them. But there were other little Fuhrers who said: whoever is not with us is against us. And they were very aggressive towards those who refused to take part in the common cause.

Pastors in uniform

My friend Helga lived right on the Wilhelmstrasse. Hitler's car often drove along this street, accompanied by five cars. And once her toy fell under the wheels of the Fuhrer's car. He ordered to stop, let her come up and get the toy from under the wheels, and he got out of the car and stroked her head. Helga is still telling this story, I would say, not without trepidation (laughs).

Or, for example, in the building of the Ministry of Air Transport, which was headed by Goering, a gym was built for him. And my friend, who knew someone from the ministry, could easily go to Goering's personal gym. And they let her through, and no one searched her, no one checked her bag.

We felt like we were all a big family. You can't pretend it didn't happen.

And then the madness began - the whole country fell ill with megalomania. And that was the beginning of our disaster. And when German-friendly politicians arrived at the Anhalter Bahnhof station, we ran to meet them. I remember how they met Mussolini when he arrived ... But what about? Was it possible to miss the arrival of the Duce? It's hard for you to understand, but every time has its heroes, its delusions and its myths. Now I am wiser, I can say that I was wrong, that I should have thought deeper, but then? In such an atmosphere of general excitement and conviction, reason ceases to play a role. By the way, when the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact was signed, we were sure that the USSR was not our enemy.

Did you not expect a war in 1941?

We rather did not expect the war to start so soon. After all, all the rhetoric of the Fuhrer and his ministers boiled down to the fact that the Germans needed land in the east. And every day on the radio, from newspapers, from speeches - everything spoke of our greatness ... Great Germany, great Germany, great Germany ... And how much this great Germany is missing! An ordinary person has the same logic: my neighbor has a Mercedes, and I have only a Volkswagen. I want too, because I'm better than a neighbor. Then I want more and more, more and more ... And somehow all this did not contradict the fact that most of us were believers ...

There was a church near my house, but our priest never talked about the party and about Hitler. He wasn't even in the party. However, I have heard that in some other parishes, pastors speak in uniform! And they say from the pulpit almost the same thing that the Fuhrer himself says! These were quite fanatical Nazi pastors.

There were also pastors who fought Nazism. They were sent to camps.

Destroyed Berlin. 1945

Did they write in textbooks that the German race is the highest?

Now I will show you my school textbook (he takes a 1936 school textbook from the bookshelf). I keep everything: my textbooks, my daughter's textbooks, the things of my late husband - I love not only the history of the country, but also a small, private, my history. Look here - a textbook published in 1936. I am ten years old. Read one of the texts. Please listen.

Der fuhrer kommt (the advent of the Fuhrer).

Today, Adolf Hitler will fly to us by plane. Little Reinhold wants to see him very much. He asks dad and mom to go with him to meet the Fuhrer. They walk together. A lot of people have already gathered at the airport. And everyone let the little Reinhold pass: “You are small - go ahead, you must see the Fuhrer!”

The plane with Hitler appeared in the distance. Music plays, everyone freezes in admiration, and now the plane has landed, and everyone hails the Fuhrer! Little Reinhold shouts in delight: “He has arrived! Arrived! Heil Hitler! Unable to withstand the delight, Reinhold runs to the Fuhrer. He notices the baby, smiles, takes his hand and says: “It's good that you came!”

Reinhold is happy. He will never forget this.

As a class, we went to see anti-Semitic films, to Jew Süss**, for example. In this movie, they proved that the Jews are greedy, dangerous, that they are only evil, that our cities must be freed from them as soon as possible. Propaganda is a terrible force. The most terrible. So I recently met a woman my age. She lived all her life in the GDR. She has so many stereotypes about West Germans! She says and thinks about us like that (laughs). And only after meeting me, she began to understand that the West Germans are the same people, not the most greedy and arrogant, but just people. How many years have passed since the merger? And we do belong to the same people, but even in this case, the prejudices inspired by propaganda are so tenacious.

Did you believe?

When the leaders of the country tell you the same thing every day, and you are a teenager… Yes, I believed. I did not know a single Slav, Pole or Russian. And in 1942 I went - voluntarily! — from Berlin to work in a small Polish village. We all worked without pay and very much.

Did you live in the occupied territory?

Yes. The Poles were evicted from there, and the Germans arrived, who had previously lived in Ukraine. My names were Emma and Emil, very good people. Good family. German was spoken as well as Russian. I lived there for three years. Although in 1944 it became obvious that we were losing the war, I still felt very good in that village, because I benefited the country and lived among good people.

Were you not embarrassed that the people who used to live there were expelled from this village?

I was not thinking about it. Now, perhaps, it is difficult, even impossible to understand ...

Where does the train go

In January 1945 I had an attack of appendicitis. Illness, of course, found its time! (Laughs.) I was lucky that I was sent to the hospital and operated on. Chaos was already beginning, our troops were leaving Poland, and therefore the fact that I was given medical assistance is a miracle. I was in bed for three days after the operation. We, the sick, were evacuated.

We didn't know where our train was going. We understood only the direction - we are going west, we are running from the Russians. Sometimes the train stopped and we didn't know if it would go on. If they had demanded my documents on the train, the consequences could have been terrible. I could be asked why I am not where my homeland sent me? Why not on a farm? Who let me go? What does it matter if I'm sick? Then there was such fear and chaos that I could be shot.

But I wanted to go home. Only home. To Mom. Finally, the train stopped near Berlin in the city of Uckermünde. And there I got off. An unfamiliar woman, a nurse, seeing in what condition I was - with stitches that had not yet healed, with an almost open wound that was constantly in pain - bought me a ticket to Berlin. And I met my mom.

And a month later, still ill, I went to Berlin to get a job. So strong was the fear! And along with it - education: I could not leave my Germany and my Berlin at such a moment.

It is strange for you to hear this - both about faith and about fear, but I assure you that if a Russian person of my age heard me, he would perfectly understand what I am talking about ...

I worked in the tram depot until April 21, 1945. On that day, Berlin began to be shelled so terribly, as they had never been shelled before. And I, again without asking anyone for permission, ran away. Weapons were scattered on the streets, tanks were burning, the wounded were screaming, corpses were lying, the city was beginning to die, and I could not believe that I was walking in my Berlin ... it was a completely different, terrible place ... it was a dream, a terrible dream ... I didn’t see anyone came up, I didn’t help anyone, I, like a bewitched one, went to where my house was.

And on April 28, my mother, grandfather and I went down to the bunker - because the Soviet army began to capture Berlin. My mother took only one thing with her - a small cup. And until her death, she drank only from this cracked, tarnished cup. When I left home, I took my favorite leather bag with me. I was wearing a watch and a ring - and that's all I have left from my past life.

And so we went down to the bunker. It was impossible to take a step there - there were people all around, the toilets were not working, there was a terrible stench ... No one had any food or water ...

And suddenly, among us, hungry and frightened, a rumor is circulating: parts of the German army have taken up positions in the north of Berlin and are starting to recapture the city! And everyone had such hope! We decided to break through to our army at all costs. Can you imagine? It was obvious that we had lost the war, but we still believed that victory was still possible.

And together with my grandfather, who was supported from both sides, we went through the metro to the north of Berlin. But we did not walk for long - it soon turned out that the subway was flooded. There was knee-deep water. The three of us stood together - and around it was darkness and water. Above are Russian tanks. And we decided not to go anywhere, but just hide under the platform. Wet, we lay there and just waited...

On May 3, Berlin capitulated. When I saw the ruins, I couldn't believe that this was my Berlin. It seemed to me again that this was a dream and I was about to wake up. We went to look for our house. When we came to the place where he used to stand, we saw the ruins.

Russian soldier

Then we began to look for just a roof over our heads and settled in a dilapidated house. Having settled there somehow, they left the house and sat down on the grass.

And suddenly we noticed a wagon in the distance. There was no doubt: these were Russian soldiers. Of course, I was terribly frightened when the wagon stopped and a Soviet soldier walked in our direction. And suddenly he spoke German! On a very good German!

And so the world began for me. He sat down next to us and we talked for a very long time. He told me about his family, I told him about mine. And we were both so glad there was no more war! There was no hatred, there was not even fear of the Russian soldier. I gave him my photo and he gave me his. His postal front number was written on the photograph.

For three days he lived with us. And he hung a small notice on the house where we lived: "Occupied by tankers." So he saved our home, and maybe life. Because we would be kicked out of a habitable home, and it is completely unknown what would happen to us next. I remember meeting him as a miracle. He turned out to be a man in an inhuman time.

I want to especially emphasize: there was no romance. It was impossible to even think about it in that situation. What a novel! We just had to survive. Of course, I met others soviet soldiers... For example, a man in military uniform suddenly approached me, abruptly snatched my bag from my hands, threw it on the ground and immediately, right in front of me, urinated on it.

We heard rumors of what Soviet soldiers were doing to German women, and we were very afraid of them. Then we found out what our troops were doing on the territory of the USSR. And my meeting with Boris, and the way he behaved, is a miracle. And on May 9, 1945, Boris never returned to us. And then I looked for him for many decades, I wanted to thank him for the act that he did. I wrote everywhere - to your government, to the Kremlin, to the general secretary - and invariably received either silence or refusal.

After Gorbachev came to power, I felt that I had a chance to find out if Boris was alive, and if so, find out where he lives and what happened to him, and maybe even meet him! But even under Gorbachev, the same answer came to me again and again: the Russian army does not open its archives.

And only in 2010, a German journalist conducted an investigation and found out that Boris died in 1984, in the Bashkir village in which he had lived all his life. So we never saw him.

The journalist met with his children, who are now adults, and they said that he talked about meeting with me and told the children: learn German.

Now in Russia, I read, nationalism is rising, right? It's so strange... And I read that you have less and less freedom, that there is propaganda on television... I really want our mistakes not to be repeated by the people who freed us. After all, I perceive your victory in 1945 as a liberation. You then liberated the Germans.

And now, when I read about Russia, one gets the impression that the state is very bad, and the people are very good… How do you say it? Mutherchen russland, "mother Russia" (with an accent, in Russian), right? I know these words from my brother - he returned from Russian captivity in 1947. He said that in Russia he was treated like a human being, that he was even treated, although they might not have done so. But they were engaged in it, spent time and medicines on the prisoner, and he was always grateful for this. He went to the front as a very young man - he, like many other young men, was taken advantage of by politicians. But then he realized that the guilt of the Germans was enormous. We unleashed the most terrible war and are responsible for it. There can be no other opinions here.

Did the realization of “German guilt”, the guilt of an entire people, come immediately? As far as I know, this idea met resistance in German society for a long time.

I can't say about all the people... But I often thought: how did this become possible? Why did this happen? And could we stop it? And what can one person do if he knows the truth, if he understands what kind of nightmare everyone is walking so cheerfully into?

And I ask again: why were we allowed to acquire such power? Was it really clear from the rhetoric, from the promises, curses and calls of our leaders, where everything was going? I remember the 1936 Olympics—no one said a word against Hitler, and the international sports delegations that walked through the stadium greeted Hitler with the Nazi salute. No one knew then how it would all end, even politicians.

And now, now I'm just grateful for every day. This is a gift. Every day I thank God that I am alive and that I lived the life that he gave me. Thank you for meeting my husband, giving birth to a son ...

My husband and I moved into the apartment where we are talking now in the fifties. After the cramped, dilapidated houses where we lived, it was happiness! Two rooms! Separate bath and toilet! It was a palace! See the photo on the wall? This is my husband. Here he is old. We are sitting with him in a cafe in Vienna - he laughs at me: "Dora, you are filming me again." This is my favorite photo. Here he is happy. He has a cigarette in his hands, I eat ice cream, and the day is so sunny ...

And every evening, passing by this photo, I say to him: “Good night, Franz!” And when I wake up: "Good morning!" You see, I pasted on the frame Albert Schweitzer's saying: "The only trace we can leave in this life is the trace of love."

And it is incredible that a journalist from Russia came to me, we are talking and I am trying to explain to you what I felt and what other Germans felt when they were crazy and won, and then when our country was destroyed by your troops, and how me and my family was saved by a Russian soldier Boris.

I think what would I write in my diary today if I could see? What a miracle happened today.

In war and in captivity. Memoirs of a German soldier. 1937-1950 Becker Hans

Chapter 3 EASTERN FRONT

EASTERN FRONT

Like any uninvited guest on Russian soil, it took me some time to understand that, like representatives of other nations, Russians could not be treated with the same brush. My first impression was that they were all vicious beggars and looked more like animals than people. In battle, they did not know pity, like a herd of hungry wolves.

However, somehow an incident occurred that I will not be able to forget for the rest of my life. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before or since. And I still remember him like a nightmare. There may be skeptics who will not believe me, but as a witness, I am ready to swear on anything that this really happened. If it is true that those who have been on the verge of death are not capable of lying, then this fully applies to me: after all, I have experienced this feeling several times, therefore, I have long lost all taste for embellishing what happened with me actually.

I ended up on the Eastern Front immediately after the war with Russia began. And in my opinion, we were confronted by an enemy who belonged to some other, terrible breed of people. Fierce fighting began literally from the very first days of our offensive. The blood of the invaders and defenders flowed like a river on the blood-thirsty land of "Mother Russia": she drank our blood, and we disfigured her face with machine-gun and artillery fire. The wounded screamed a terrible cry, demanding the help of orderlies, the rest continued to move forward. "Farther! Even further!" - so we were ordered. And we didn't have time to look back. Our officers drove us eastward like evil demons. Each of them, apparently, decided for himself that it was his company or his platoon that would win all conceivable and unimaginable awards.

A big tank battle near Ternopil, and after it - another, near Dubno, where we did not have to rest for three days and three nights. Replenishment of ammunition and fuel supplies here was carried out not as part of units, as usual. Separate tanks were withdrawn one after another to the nearby rear, which hastily returned back to throw themselves into the heat of battle again. I happened to disable one Russian tank in the battle near Ternopil and four more near Dubno. The terrain in the battle area turned into a disorderly hell. Our infantry soon ceased to understand where the enemy was and where ours were. But the enemy was in an even more difficult position. And when the fighting here ended, many Russians had to either stay dead on the battlefield or continue on their way in endless columns of prisoners of war.

The prisoners had to be content with a watery stew and several tens of grams of bread a day. I personally had to witness this when I was wounded near Zhytomyr and received an assignment for the period of recovery to the warehouse of spare parts for armored vehicles in order to provide me, as it was believed, with a more “sparing regime”. There I once had to visit a prisoner-of-war camp to select twenty prisoners for a work team.

The prisoners were housed in the school building. While the non-commissioned officer - an Austrian - was picking up workers for me, I examined the territory of the camp. What were they doing here, I asked myself, how good or bad were their conditions?

So I thought in those days, unaware that not much time would pass and I myself would have to fight for survival in exactly the same circumstances, ignoring all the obvious signs of human degradation. For several years, all my vitality and aspirations went into such a struggle. I often thought with a grin about how radically my convictions had changed after that day in the camp near Dubno. How easy it is to condemn those around us, how insignificant their misfortunes seem, and how nobly, in our own opinion, we would behave if we were in their desperate situation! Come on, I teased myself afterwards, why don't you die of shame now, when no self-respecting pig will agree to change places with you and settle in the mud in which you live?

And so, when I stood at the threshold of the camp barracks, thinking about what strange creatures these “Mongols” must have been, this happened. A wild cry came from the far corner of the room. A clump of bodies burst through the darkness, snarling, grappling furiously, seemingly ready to tear each other apart. One of the human figures was pressed against the bunks, and I realized that one person had been attacked. Opponents gouged out his eyes, twisted his arms, tried to scratch pieces of flesh out of his body with their nails. The man was unconscious, he was practically torn to pieces.

Dumbfounded by the sight, I called out to them to stop, but to no avail. Not daring to enter the room, I froze in horror at what was happening. The killers were already stuffing chunks of torn flesh down their throats. I managed to make out the bare skull and ribs of a man on the bunk, while in the other corner of the room two people fought for his hand, each with a crunch pulling it towards himself, as if in a tug-of-war competition.

Security! I shouted.

But no one came. I ran to the head of the guard and excitedly told him what had happened. But it made no impression on him.

This is nothing new to me,” he said with a shrug. - This happens every day. We have long ceased to pay attention to this.

I felt completely empty and exhausted, as if after a serious illness. Loading my batch of workers into the back of a truck, I hurried away from this terrible place. After driving about a kilometer, I sharply increased speed, realizing that the heavy feeling gradually began to let go. If only I could eradicate memories as easily!

The selected prisoners were closer to us Europeans. One of them spoke good German, and I had the opportunity to communicate with him while working. He was a native of Kyiv, and, like many Russians, his name was Ivan. Later I had to meet him again under very different circumstances. And then he satisfied my curiosity about the "Mongols" - Central Asians. It seems that these people used some kind of password word. As soon as it was pronounced, they all rushed together at the one who was destined to replenish their meat diet. The poor man was immediately killed, and the other inhabitants of the barracks saved themselves from hunger, which could not be satisfied with a meager camp ration.

The clothing of the locals was made of plain, undyed fabric, mostly homespun linen. In the village, their shoes were something like slippers made of straw or wood shavings. Such shoes were suitable only for dry weather, but not everyone could afford to buy rough leather boots that were worn in bad weather. Homespun socks were also worn on the legs, or they were simply wrapped from the feet to the knees with pieces of coarse fabric, which were fixed with thick twine.

In such shoes, local residents, men and women, walked many kilometers through the fields to the market with a bag over their shoulders and a thick stick on their shoulders, on which they hung two containers of milk. It was a heavy burden even for the peasants, despite the fact that for them it was an integral part of their harsh life. However, men were in a more privileged position: if they had wives, then they did not have to endure hardships so often. In most cases, Russian men preferred vodka to work, and going to the market turned into a purely feminine duty. They went there under the weight of their simple goods intended for sale. The first duty of a woman was to sell the products of rural labor, and the second was to buy alcohol for the male part of the population. And woe was to that woman who dares to return home from the market without the coveted vodka! I heard that under the Soviet system, the procedure for marriage and divorce was greatly simplified and, probably, this was often used.

Most people worked on collective farms and state farms. The first were collective farms that united one or more villages. The second were state-owned enterprises. But in both cases, earnings were barely enough to make ends meet. The concept of "middle class" was absent, only poor workers and their wealthy leaders lived here. I got the impression that the entire local population did not live, but was hopelessly floundering in the eternal swamp of the most miserable poverty. The definition of "slave" was most suitable for them. I never understood what they were fighting for.

Several of the major roads were well maintained, but the rest were just awful. On the rutted uneven surface lay up to half a meter of dust in dry weather and, accordingly, the same amount of viscous mud during the rainy season. The most common mode of transport on such roads was undersized Russian horses. Like their owners, they showed miracles of unpretentiousness and endurance. Without a murmur, these horses covered distances of twenty to thirty kilometers in any weather, and at the end of the journey they were left under the open sky, without any hint of a roof over their heads, despite the wind, rain or snow. That's who you could take survival lessons from!

The hard life was brightened up by music. The national instrument, the famous three-stringed balalaika, was probably in every home. Some, as an exception, preferred the accordion. Compared to our harmonicas, Russians have a lower tone. Probably, this is the reason for the effect of sadness, which is invariably heard in their sound. In general, every single Russian song that I heard was in the highest degree sad, which, in my opinion, is not at all surprising. But the audience, as it turned out, liked to sit still, surrendering to the aura of sounds that personally caused unbearable sadness in me. At the same time, national dances required from each dancer the ability to move quickly and make complex jumps. So only a person with innate grace and plasticity could reproduce them.

Unexpectedly, I had to interrupt these private studies of my life in a foreign country: I was ordered to return to the front. I left the warehouse of tank spare parts and turned out to be one of those who advanced through Zhitomir to Kyiv. By the evening of the third day of the journey, I rejoined my comrades. Among them I saw many new faces. Gradually, the pace of our offensive became lower and lower, and the losses higher and higher. During my absence, it seemed that half of the personnel of the unit managed to go to the hospital or to the grave.

Soon I myself had to witness the heat of the fighting. We were sent into battle the same evening as I returned to my unit. In close combat in the forest, the crew of my tank acted with such skill that we managed to knock out six Russian T-34s. Hell raged among the pines, but we didn't get a scratch. I was already silently thanking God for this miracle, when suddenly the right skating rink of our Pzkpfw IV was smashed by a direct hit from an enemy shell, and we stopped.

We did not have time to think long about this misfortune: under the fire of enemy infantry, only lightning swiftness could save us. I gave the order to evacuate, and myself, as the captain of the ship, was the last to leave my tank. Saying goodbye to an old tank comrade, I disabled the cannon by firing a double charge, as well as the tracks, which I blew up with Teller's mines. It was all I could do to damage the car as much as possible.

By that time my crew was already safe and I had more than enough time to join my comrades. They were waiting for me in a relatively safe shelter, hiding in a ditch. I quickly crawled towards them, and everyone greeted me with joyful exclamations. We were all pleased with the result. The score was six - one in our favor; while not a single member of the crew received a scratch.

My next duty was to write a report to the platoon leader. We have not forgotten the deep-rooted sense of discipline in each of us, although those fierce battles turned even platoon leaders into our best comrades. This is how it should be at the front, where the general threat of death hovering over everyone eliminates ranks and positions. Therefore, I could write a report in a simple form, without much formality:

“Six enemy tanks destroyed, my commander. Our tank lost speed and was blown up by us. The crew returned safely to their positions.

I handed the commander this sparse description of that battle. He stopped me, smiled broadly and, shaking my hand, let me go.

Good job, my young friend, - the commander praised me. “Now you can go and get some sleep. You deserve a rest, and even before the start of tomorrow, it may turn out that it is not in vain.

He was right about the second part of the phrase. It was not yet dawn when the alarm sounded. Everyone ran to their tanks to be ready at any moment to go where ordered. Everyone, but not me and my crew: our tank remained in no man's land. But we could not allow our comrades to go into battle without us, and I persuaded the commander to provide us with one of the reserve vehicles. He gave his consent.

Unfortunately, we did not have time to draw the number of our victories on the barrel of the cannon. This tradition of indicating the number of destroyed enemy vehicles with rings on the cannon meant a lot to the crew. Without this distinction that was rightfully ours, we felt somewhat out of place. In addition, the new tank, even though it was the same model as the previous one, was unfamiliar to us due to its small details. And apart from everything else, we are all still experiencing the consequences of last night's battle.

But all these inconveniences, worries and anxieties were instantly forgotten as soon as shots were heard again. Our attack continued without interruption for four and a half hours, and during this time I managed to set fire to two enemy tanks. Later, when we began to turn around to go “home”, there was suddenly a heart-grabbing clap, followed by a blow. So the morning's bad premonitions were justified. This time it was not limited to the loss of the ice rink. Our tank received a direct hit in the stern on the right. The car was engulfed in flames, and I lay inside in a half-conscious state.

I was brought out of this state by the terrible realization that we were on fire. I looked around to try to assess the damage and the chances of rescue, and found that a Russian shell had killed two of my subordinates. Bloodied, they crouched in a corner. And we, the survivors, quickly jumped out, and then dragged the bodies of our comrades through the hatch so that they would not burn.

Ignoring the dense fire of the enemy infantry, we dragged our dead colleagues away from the flaming tank in order to bury them with dignity if the battlefield was left behind us. Ammunition inside the burning tank could explode at any moment. We dived for cover and waited for the earth to shake from a powerful explosion that would raise pieces of hot metal into the air and notify us that our tank was no more.

But there was no explosion, and after waiting a little longer, we took advantage of the temporary lull in enemy fire and hurried back to our own. This time everyone walked with their heads down, the mood was bad. Two of the five crew members were dead, and the tank, for unknown reasons, did not explode. And this meant that the ammunition and, possibly, the gun would fall intact into the hands of the enemy. Lost in gloom, we trudged three or four kilometers back to our location, smoking one cigarette after another to calm our nerves. After the explosion of an enemy shell, we were all spattered with blood. I had shrapnel stuck in my face and arms, and my identification badge miraculously protected me from a deep shrapnel wound to my chest. I still have a small indentation in the place where this token, about the thickness of a large coin, entered my sternum. The fact that this small token helped me save my life, once again strengthened my confidence that I was destined to survive this war.

The platoon had already reported the rest of the casualties. Two tank crews were completely killed, and the platoon commander himself was seriously wounded. But he was still there, and I managed to bitterly report to him about our misadventures on that unfortunate day for us, until an ambulance arrived and he was taken to the hospital.

Later that day, I was called to the divisional headquarters, where I and two surviving comrades from my crew received Iron Crosses 1st Class. And a few days later I was awarded the medal promised for the first successful battle for the destruction of enemy tanks. Three weeks later I received a sign for participation in close combat, which, when I was in the hands of Russian soldiers, caused me to receive new wounds. (Obviously, this was the “General Assault” badge (Allgemeines Sturmabzeichen), established on January 1, 1940, in particular, it was awarded to military personnel who destroyed at least eight units of enemy armored vehicles. - Ed.)

Victory honors after the battle! I was proud, but not particularly cheerful. Glory grows brighter over time, and the biggest battles have long since taken place.

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From the memoirs of G. Pabst, I extract only those fragments that I consider important from the point of view of studying the realities of the confrontation between the Red Army and the Wehrmacht and the reaction of the local population to the occupation.
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07/20/41... you can see local residents lined up at our bakery for bread under the guidance of a smiling soldier...

In the villages, a huge number of houses are abandoned ... The remaining peasants carry water for our horses. We take onions and small yellow turnips from their gardens and milk from cans. Most of them willingly share this...

09/22/41 ... Walking this cold winter morning was a pleasure. Clean, spacious country with big houses. People look at us with awe. There is milk, eggs and lots of hay... the accommodations are amazingly clean, quite comparable to German peasant houses... The people are friendly and open. It's amazing for us..

The house where we are staying is full of lice. The socks that were put there to dry were white with lice eggs. The Russian old man in greasy clothes, to whom we showed these representatives of the fauna, smiled broadly with a toothless mouth and scratched his head with an expression of sympathy ...

What a country, what a war, where there is no joy in success, no pride, no satisfaction...

The people are generally responsive and friendly. They smile at us. The mother told the child to wave to us from the window...

We watched as the remaining population looted in a hurry...

I stood alone in the house, lit a match, and bugs began to fall in a stream. By the hearth it was completely black from them: a terrible living carpet ...

11/02/41 ... we do not get new army boots or shirts when the old ones wear out: we wear Russian trousers and Russian shirts, and when our shoes become unusable, we wear Russian shoes and footcloths or even make earmuffs out of these footcloths ...

The offensive on the main direction to Moscow was stopped, "stuck" in the mud and forests about a hundred kilometers from the capital ...

01/01/42 ... in this house we were offered potatoes, tea and a loaf of bread, kneaded from rye and barley flour with the addition of onions. There must have been a few brown cockroaches in it; at least I cut one...

Franz was finally awarded the Iron Cross. The service record says: "For chasing an enemy tank from point C to a neighboring village and trying to knock it out with an anti-tank rifle" ...

03/10/42... for the past few days we have been picking up the corpses of Russians... This was done not for reasons of piety, but for hygiene... the mutilated bodies were thrown into heaps, hardened in the cold in the most unthinkable poses. The end. It's all over for them, they will be burned. But first they will be freed from their own clothes, Russians - old people and children. It's horrible. When observing this process, an aspect of the Russian mentality is visible, which is simply inaccessible to understanding. They smoke and joke; they are smiling. It's hard to believe that someone in Europe can be so insensitive.....

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Of course, where are the Europeans to understand what value trousers and overcoats were for the villagers, even if they had holes ...
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Some of the bodies have no heads, others are chopped up by fragments...only now you begin to gradually realize what these people had to endure and what they were capable of...

The field mail brought me satisfaction with letters and parcels of cigarettes, biscuits, sweets, nuts, and a pair of hand warmers. I was so touched...
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Let's remember this moment!
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Our Russian Vasil gets along well with the battery ... We picked him up with thirteen of his comrades in Kalinin. They remained in a prisoner of war camp, not wanting to be in the Red Army anymore ... Vasil says that in fact he does not want to go to Germany, but wants to stay with the battery ..

Yesterday we already heard how they (Russians - N) sang in their dugouts in P. The gramophone howled, the wind carried fragments of propaganda speeches. Comrade Stalin gave out vodka, long live Comrade Stalin!...

Order is maintained in the dugout thanks to the general good will, friendly tolerance and inexhaustible good humor, and all this brings a glimmer of cheerfulness into the most unpleasant situation ...

____________
Keep that in mind for later comparison...
________________

It seems that the Russians cannot, and we do not want to...

How tired I am of these dirty roads! It’s already unbearable to see them anymore - rain, ankle-deep mud, villages that look alike ...

Country of extremes. There is no moderation in anything. Heat and cold, dust and dirt. Everything is wild and unrestrained. Isn't it to be expected that people here are like that too?...

There were many destroyed buildings in the city. The Bolsheviks burned all the houses. Some were destroyed by bombing, but in many cases it was arson ...

08/24/42 ... they have been advancing here now since the beginning of July. It's incredible. They must have terrible casualties... they rarely manage to deploy their infantry even within range of our machine guns... but then they reappear, moving into the open, and rush into the forests, where they come under the flat fire of our artillery and dive bombers. Of course, we also have losses, but they are incomparable with the losses of the enemy ...

Their mother was washing the dugout today. She began to do the dirty work of her own free will; believe it or not...

At the door I saw two women, each carrying a pair of buckets on a wooden yoke. They friendly asked: "Comrade, wash?" They were going to follow me just like that...

And yet they hold on, old men, women and children. They are strong. Timid, exhausted, good-natured, shameless - according to the circumstances ... there is a boy who buried his mother in the garden behind the house, the way animals are buried. He rammed the ground without uttering a word: without tears, without putting up a cross or a stone ... there is a priest's wife, almost blind from tears. her husband was deported to Kazakhstan. She has three sons, who are unknown where now...the world collapsed, and the natural order of things was violated a long time ago...

All around us, the villages blazed in a wide ring - a terrible and beautiful sight, breathtaking in its splendor and at the same time a nightmare. With my own hands I threw the burning logs into the sheds and barns across the road....

The thermometer dropped to forty-five degrees below zero ... we have created an island of peace in the middle of the war, where companionship is easily established and someone's laughter is always heard ...

01/25/43 ...between our own trench and the barbed wire of the enemy, we were able to count five hundred and fifty dead bodies. The number of captured weapons was represented by eight heavy and light machine guns, thirty submachine guns, five flamethrowers, four anti-tank rifles and eighty-five rifles. It was a Russian penal battalion of 1,400 men...

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here, indeed, the theory of one rifle for five is confirmed, as it were. With the only feature that the battalion was penal. "Redempted", that is, with blood ...
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04/24/43 ... I can’t help but recall how often during the first summer of the war we met with sincere hospitality from Russian peasants, how even without asking they put out their modest treats before us ...

I again saw tears on the woman's haggard face, expressing the full severity of her suffering, when I gave her child a candy. I felt the old hand of my grandmother on my hair when she received me, the first terrible soldier, with numerous bows and an old-fashioned kiss on the hand ...

I stood in the middle of the village handing out candy to the children. I already wanted to give another one to one boy, but he refused, saying that he had one, and stepped back, smiling. Two candies, just think, that's too much...

We burn their houses, we steal their last cow from their barn, and we take their last potatoes from their cellars. We take off their felt boots, often shout at them and treat them rudely. However, they always collect their bundles and leave with us, from Kalinin and from all the villages along the road. We assign a special team to take them to the rear Anything, just not to be on the other side! What a split, what a contrast! What must these people have experienced! What should be the mission of restoring order and peace to them, providing them with work and bread!...

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In general, what can be said about these memoirs? As if they were written not by a Nazi occupier, but by some direct warrior-liberator. It is possible that he passed off something he wished for reality. Certainly missed something. Perhaps, in his notes, G. Pabst calmed his conscience. It is also clear that, in addition to such intellectuals as he, there were enough cruel and immoral people in the German army. But it is quite clear that by no means all the Nazis were fascists. Even, perhaps, those were a minority. Recording all the German mobilized by Hitler as destroyers and tormentors could, without hesitation, only Soviet propaganda. She carried out the task - it was necessary to increase hatred for the enemy .. However, G. Pabst does not hide the fact that the Wehrmacht brought destruction to the conquered villages and cities. It is also very important that the author did not have time to fit his notes to any ideology. Since he was killed in 1943, and before that he did not belong to the censored war correspondents at all ...

It should also be noted that for the German, everyone was "Russian", "Ivan", although he met both Ukrainians and Belarusians on his way. Those attitude towards the Germans, and the opposite attitude, was somewhat different.

However, in the next post, we will consider excerpts from the diary of a Russian soldier. And let's compare some important points. At the same time, I affirm that I did not specifically select the diaries, I took them for analysis by random sampling ..

The diary of Helmut Pabst tells of three winter and two summer periods of fierce battles of Army Group Center, moving east in the direction of Bialystok - Minsk - Smolensk - Moscow. You will learn how the war was perceived not only by a soldier doing his duty, but by a person who sincerely sympathized with the Russians and showed complete disgust for the Nazi ideology.

War Memoirs - Unity 1942-1944 Charles Gaulle

In the second volume of de Gaulle's memoirs, a significant place is given to the relationship of the French Committee of National Liberation with the allies in the anti-Hitler coalition - the USSR, the USA and England. The book contains extensive factual and documentary material, which is of great interest to those interested in the political history of France during the Second World War. Thanks to the efforts of de Gaulle, defeated France became one of the victorious countries in World War II and became one of the five great powers in the post-war world. De Gaulle...

Death through optical sight. New Memoirs… Günther Bauer

This book is the cruel and cynical revelations of a professional killer who went through the most terrible battles of World War II, who knows the true value of a soldier's life on the front lines, who has seen death a hundred times through the optical sight of his sniper rifle. After the Polish campaign of 1939, where Gunther Bauer proved to be an exceptionally accurate shooter, he was transferred to the elite parachute troops of the Luftwaffe, turning from a simple Feldgrau (infantryman) into a professional Scharfschutze (sniper), and in the first hours of the French campaign, as part of ...

Hitler's last offensive. The defeat of the tank ... Andrey Vasilchenko

In early 1945, Hitler made one last attempt to turn the tide of the war and avoid ultimate disaster on the Eastern Front by ordering a large-scale offensive in Western Hungary to drive the Red Army across the Danube, stabilize the front line, and hold onto the Hungarian oil fields. By the beginning of March, the German command had concentrated almost the entire armored elite of the Third Reich in the Lake Balaton area: the SS Panzer Divisions Leibstandarte, Reich, Totenkopf, Viking, Hohenstaufen, etc. - in total ...

Soldiers Betrayed by Helmut Welz

The author, a former officer of the Wehrmacht, the commander of a sapper battalion, Major Helmut Welz, shares his memories of the fierce battles for Stalingrad, in which he participated, and the fate German soldiers abandoned by Hitler to the mercy of fate for the sake of their military-political interests and ambitions.

The last soldier of the Third Reich Guy Sayer

A German soldier (French by father) Guy Sayer tells in this book about the battles of the Second World War on the Soviet-German front in Russia in 1943-1945. The reader is presented with a picture of the terrible trials of a soldier who was always on the verge of death. Perhaps for the first time the events of the Great Patriotic War are given through the eyes of a German soldier. He had to go through a lot: a shameful retreat, continuous bombing, the death of comrades, the destruction of German cities. Sayer does not understand only one thing: that neither he nor his friends are in Russia...

Military Russia Yakov Krotov

The military state differs from the usual one not by the military, but by civilians. The military state does not recognize the autonomy of the individual, the right (even if in the form of the idea of ​​a police state), according only to the order as an absolute arbitrariness. Russia has often been characterized as a land of slaves and masters. Unfortunately, in reality it is a country of generals and soldiers. There was no slavery in Russia and there is not. A soldier was considered a slave. The mistake is understandable: soldiers, like slaves, have no rights and live not according to their own will and not by right, but by order. However, there is a significant difference: slaves do not fight.…

Soldier of the Three Armies Bruno Winzer

Memoirs of a German officer, in which the author talks about his service in the Reichswehr, the Nazi Wehrmacht and the Bundeswehr. In 1960, Bruno Winzer, a staff officer of the Bundeswehr, secretly left West Germany and moved to the German Democratic Republic, where he published this book - the story of his life.

On both sides of the blockade ring Yuri Lebedev

This book attempts to present another look at the Leningrad blockade and the fighting around the city through documentary records of people on opposite sides of the front line. About his vision of the initial period of the blockade from August 30, 1941 to January 17, 1942. tell: Ritter von Leeb (commander of Army Group North), A. V. Burov (Soviet journalist, officer), E. A. Skryabina (resident besieged Leningrad) and Wolfgang Buff (non-commissioned officer of the 227th German infantry division). Thanks to the efforts of Yuri Lebedev, military translator and chairman ...

The grin of death. 1941 on the Eastern Front Heinrich Haape

Veterans know that in order to see the true face of the war, one has to visit not even the battlefield, but front-line infirmaries and hospitals, where all the pain and all the horror of death appear in an extremely concentrated, condensed form. The author of this book, Oberarzt (senior doctor) of the 6th Infantry Division of the Wehrmacht, more than once looked death in the face - in 1941 he marched with his division from the border to the Moscow outskirts, saved hundreds of wounded German soldiers, personally participated in the battles, was awarded The Iron Cross I and II classes, the German Cross in gold, the Assault badge and two stripes ...

Assault on the Brest Fortress Rostislav Aliyev

On June 22, 1941, the Red Army won its first victory in the Great Patriotic War- the assault on the Brest Fortress, which the German command took a few hours to capture, ended in complete failure and heavy losses of the 45th division of the Wehrmacht. Despite the suddenness of the attack and the loss of command and control at the very beginning of the battle, the Red Army soldiers demonstrated miracles of spontaneous self-organization, putting up desperate resistance to the enemy. It took the Germans more than a week to break it, but separate groups of defenders held out until ...

Return attempt Vladislav Konyushevsky

What to do if an ordinary person was completely unexpectedly brought from our enlightened time to the most terrible year of Soviet history? Yes, and just a day before hundreds of "Junkers" will begin to unwind the screws of the engines, and millions of German soldiers will receive an order to cross the border with the USSR. Probably just trying to stay alive first. And then, posing as someone who lost his memory due to shell shock, pick up a rifle and, if life turned out like that, fight for his country. But not just to fight, but, having collected all our extremely scanty ...

The armor is strong: The history of the Soviet tank 1919-1937 Mikhail Svirin

A modern tank is the most advanced example of land combat equipment. This is a bunch of energy, the embodiment of combat power, power. When tanks, deployed in battle formation, rush to attack, they are indestructible, like God's punishment ... At the same time, the tank is beautiful and ugly, proportionate and clumsy, perfect and vulnerable. Being installed on a pedestal, the tank is a complete statue that can bewitch ... Soviet tanks have always been a sign of the power of our country. Most of the German soldiers who fought on our soil ...

Armor shield of Stalin. History of the Soviet ... Mikhail Svirin

The war of 1939-1945 became the most difficult test for all mankind, since almost all countries of the world were involved in it. It was the battle of the titans - the most unique period that theorists argued about in the early 1930s and during which tanks were used in large numbers by almost all the warring parties. At this time, a "check for lice" and a deep reform of the first theories of the use of tank troops took place. And it is the Soviet tank troops that are most affected by all this. Most of the German soldiers who fought in the East ...

War as I knew it George Patton

J. S. Patton is one of the brightest figures in the history of World War II. Since 1942, he has been an active participant in the hostilities in North Africa, where he commanded the Western Task Force of the US Army, and then in Sicily, having taken command of the US Third Army in Normandy in July 1944, J. S. Patton meets the end of the war already in Czechoslovakia. Patton's war memoirs may not only be fascinating reading for fans military history, but also serve as a source on the history of World War II.

Anti-Russian meanness Yuri Mukhin

In order to rally Europe in the armed struggle against the advancing Red Army, Hitler in 1943 ordered to dig up the graves with the Germans shot in 1941 near Smolensk Polish officers and inform the world that they were allegedly killed in 1940 by the NKVD of the USSR on the orders of "Moscow Jews". The Polish government in exile, sitting in London and betraying its allies, joined this Hitlerite provocation, and as a result of increased bitterness during the Second World War, millions of Soviet, British, American, German were additionally killed on the fronts ...

Sevastopol fortress Yuri Skorikov

The book was written on the basis of the richest collection of archival materials and rare photographic documents. It tells about the history of the emergence and stages of construction of the Sevastopol fortress. The most important events of 349 days of the heroic defense of Sevastopol in 1854-1855 are described in detail. during the Crimean War of 1853-1856, the unparalleled work of sappers and miners on the defense line, the courage and heroism of the defenders of the fortress - sailors and soldiers who fought under prominent military leaders- Admirals V. A. Kornilov, M. P. Lazarev, P. S. Nakhimov and the leader ...

Return of Bernhard Schlink

The second novel by Bernhard Schlink, The Return, like the readers' favorite books The Reader and The Other Man, speaks of love and betrayal, good and evil, justice and justice. But main topic novel - the return of the hero home. What, if not the dream of a home, supports a person during endless wanderings full of dangerous adventures, fantastic reincarnations and clever deception? However, it is not given to the hero to know what awaits him after all the trials at his native doorstep, is his beautiful wife faithful to him, or has his place been occupied by an impostor double for a long time?...