September 1944
GEO & MIL INFO | ||||
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11: first allied soldiers on Reich territory near Trier | ![]() |
I’m back in Landsberg and back in the Strantz barracks and back in the same room. I even find a sachet of sugar in the desk drawer that I had put there before I left. I’m back on training duty. Every 200 men are grouped into a company, and every 100 men form a section, one of which I lead. The focus of the training is on field service, which takes place on the military training area. From here, we return to the barracks at lunchtime in closed formation with singing. In the afternoon we do drill training in the barracks courtyard. Today we went to the shooting range. I always have a “shooting competition” with the sergeants. The lads are excellent shots, but I’m also a very good marksman, so it’s always an exciting fight.
Today we practise rolling up a trench after a penetration, some close combat tricks and bayoneting. In addition, one group is studying an obsolete model of carbine. I hadn’t paid any attention to it, and today of all days, the commander comes along, sees the thing and to swears like a trooper that this “oldie” is still being demonstrated. After lunch in the mess hall, he immediately calls a short meeting and brings up the matter of the old blunderbuss again.
A group of soldiers has lined up in a corner of the barracks courtyard. They are convalescents who have returned here to their replacement unit after their stay in hospital (and subsequent convalescence leave) and will sooner or later be sent back to their old outfit at the front. So many acquaintances meet here. Landsberg and Meseritz are the locations of the replacement units of our Berlin division, so that all the wounded of our division are channelled through here after their recovery and sent back to their “old lot”.[1]
So I walk past the group as I am called out of the group: “Heil Hitler, Herr Leutnant!” I turn round and recognise the sergeant who had been wounded by a bullet to both thighs during that counterattack near Losowatka (Kriwoi Rog) in a raging snowstorm. I greet him and arrange to meet him after duty. When I go into the barracks, I get a second surprise. I almost bump into a soldier in the doorway: Grenadier Schlodder. My first question, whether he had been awarded the EK II for which I had submitted him, was answered in the affirmative, much to my delight. He is also here as a convalescent.
In the meantime, I receive confirmation that the broken bone I suffered during the counterattack at Losowatka counts as a wound. Achim von Arnim’s letter certainly confirmed the facts. Then this is my third wound, for which the Silver Wound Badge is due. Carola has also urged me to talk to the commander about it. So I go to the battalion commander, and he immediately says: “Of course, Schrödter, I’m happy to do a soldier as good as you a favour. Lieutenant von Arnim’s testimony is at hand. So submit the application.” (I had written to Lieutenant von Arnim asking him to confirm the incident, as he had followed my counterattack closely from his command post at the time).
For the recovering officers of the replacement battalion, in addition to their normal duties, an additional duty rota has been drawn up which includes field briefings, attendance at court hearings, visits to museums and similar events. The purpose of all these events is to equip the officers for the increased demands placed on them by their service and their status. These events are not always carried out as intended. Some field briefings are nothing more than a walk in the city park. But today we were listeners at a court hearing. A pretty, fair-haired, rosy-cheeked girl, a farmer’s daughter, was standing in front of the bar, having been intimate with a Canadian prisoner of war in the barn on her father’s farm. The complaint had been made by her previous boyfriend, a Landser on holiday, who happened to step into the barn while the girl was lying in the straw with the Canadian. The girl’s father had travelled from far away to help his daughter. The trial lasted half an hour. The sentence was six months in prison. I think it’s harsh. The girl stands there and cries bitterly. The father is completely distraught. I have a sneaking feeling that the judge was tempted to pass this harsh sentence by the presence of our group of officers.
I’m in the battalion office to give the sergeant some details about my application for the Wound Badge. The adjutant comes in and silently places my personnel file on the table so that I can look inside.[2] On top is my assessment, which I skim over hastily. Only a few sentences stick in my mind: “... a thoroughly decent character ... reliable and conscientious ... company commander with combat experience on the Eastern Front.” I’ve realised for a long time that Major Schellack does everything he can for me. He no longer proposes me for any front-line assignments, but only for rear duties. Now he’s nominated me again as a special missions officer at AOK Norway.
The hardening exercise, for the preparation of which we had travelled to Zantoch at the time, took place during my absence in Livonia[3]. I recently spoke to Major Schellack about the course of this exercise. He was not satisfied with some of the officers and concluded: “You know, Schrödter, there’s nothing to be done with these young lieutenants.” I can confirm this from my own experience.
Today we had two strange guests at lunch in the mess. They were officers in transit who were having their meal with us. They hadn’t introduced themselves to the commander or us, but simply sat down at the table with us and began to gorge unashamedly. The commander looked over at them as if mesmerised, and gradually our gazes followed him. The sight was breathtaking. One of the guests had grabbed the fork in the centre, placed his fingers on the prongs and was poking around in the food so that it looked as if he was dipping his fingers into the food. As he peeled the jacket potatoes, his hand gripped the blade so that only one tip was sticking out, while the long handle protruded from the back of his fist. The eyes of the whole table were fixed on this unique feature, but he didn’t realise it. After the meal, the regimental commander then said quite loudly: “Well, if the prophet won’t come to the mountain, then the mountain must go to the prophet!” With these words, he approached the two men and introduced himself: “Allow me - Lieutenant Colonel X, regimental commander.” Whereupon the two strangers thanked him placidly and left unmoved. We have had a name for this type of officer for some time now: Vomag. (Volksoffizier mit Arbeitergesicht), whereby the mockery is not actually directed against the workers, but against party bigwigs from lower social classes who were smuggled into the officer corps without sufficient general education and military knowledge only because of their services to the party.[4]
I attend mass every Sunday. The church is next to a hospital where the nurses always wave to me. The priest is young. Some time ago, I asked him to answer a few personal questions. We then spent an evening together in his study, where he analysed my problems in a wide-ranging argument. His solution is reasonable and very generous. His views are modern and, in my opinion, almost too liberal. But perhaps I’m too conservative or pedantic?
Carola wants to come over again. We want to make an appointment by phone. I have booked a call to Cammin in a restaurant next to the Wehrmacht hostel and wait for the connection. After twenty minutes it’s there. To avoid having to wait in the pub on subsequent calls, I once asked the priest if I could call from his flat. I then sat impatiently in the priest’s study for two full hours without getting a connection. The telephone connection to Cammin doesn’t work at all. It’s much better to Berlin.
Carola is here again.[5] She would prefer to be with me all day, from morning to night. That’s why she simply suggests that I should be released from duty for the duration of her presence. She thinks this is the nicest and best solution. I am thunderstruck and try hard to make her realise that you can’t simply be released from your duties because you would rather pursue your own personal pleasure. But she doesn’t realise the urgency of my duty. Women have a very subjective and individualistic view of duty.
But we see each other every day after the end of duty from 4 o’clock in the afternoon until the next morning. However, I sometimes stay for dinner if there’s something particularly good. Besides, I don’t see why I should pay for dinner in the city when I can get it for free in the barracks. Once, when I had already gone to Carola’s very early, I dragged her back up to the barracks for dinner at 6 o’clock. There was sweet pasta, which I love to eat. Of course, Carola also got a serving, but she didn’t like it very much, which downright hurt me.
By the way, this time I found better accommodation for Carola: the Hotel zur Krone . Carola has a large, bright and cosy room here. It’s on the third floor and has a balcony. When I look out over the roofs of the city from the barracks, which is on the heights, I can clearly see Carola’s balcony window.
For tonight, I’ve had a soldier get me cinema tickets for the film “Immensee”. The first colour film that I see. But shortly after it starts, Carola gets so sick[6] that she has to leave the cinema. I initially stay, but then also return to the hotel, where Carola is already in bed.
I go for a walk with Carola through the city park. It’s at the top of the steep north-west bank of the Warthe valley. We are standing in a small pavilion high above the city. To our right, at the same height, is the Strantz barracks. Below us is the city on the Warthe river. A massive bridge leads across the river to a small suburb on the far bank, from which the roads run out into the wide, flat plain of the Warthe lowlands.
New bad news has reached us: Romania has betrayed us and asked the Soviet Union for peace behind the Germans’ backs. The front in Romania has collapsed. The Romanian troops are suddenly fighting against us. The German divisions are encircled. Arduously and under the most difficult conditions, they are trying to battle their way to Hungary or the Reich. Among those trapped is the 257th Infantry Division, my old Berlin Bear Division. What we initially learn about the events is based on the fragmentary reports of a few individual returnees or on rumours. Allegedly, only a small train unit of about 120 men and individual small groups from our division came out. A total of about 200 men.[7] And this after the division had been replenished to full strength shortly beforehand! Because it had suffered heavy losses during the battles of retreat.
Once again, I only escaped an evil fate because I was wounded yet another time.
I’m also glad that I didn’t send back my service watch, which the supply sergeant of my company had asked for back. At least I managed to save this one.
I had already noticed that there had been a crisis in Romania for some time when I was last travelling through on the hospital train. It is also known that German authorities had been informed by Romanian officers of the impending betrayal and had thrown this warning to the wind.
There is a crisis everywhere. The front is slowly but surely receding, crumbling, collapsing. The war can no longer be won. Perhaps we could have concluded a peace with honourable or at least acceptable conditions in 1943. After that it was too late. The war is already lost since 1943. I’ve known that since the day when Goebbels, in a state of immoderate delusion, allowed himself to be carried away into blasphemy by exclaiming during a speech: “Praised be not Jesus Christ, but what makes hard!”[8] When I heard about this, I suddenly had an inexplicable feeling of certainty that the Lord God would not put up with this offence, even if his mills grind slowly.
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- ↑ Originally, there was a reserve battalion of the same number for each regiment of the division; therefore, in addition to the Gr.Ers.Btl.457 in Landsberg a.d.W., there was the Gr.Ers.Btl.466 in Schwerin a.d.W. and the Gr.Ers.Btl.477 in Meseritz. From 18 April 1944 this rigid system was abolished, which is why the author will later come to Meseritz, but to Gr.Ers.Btl.188 (to be re-checked if this was'nt 1943). All these battalions belonged to Gr.Ers.(u.Ausb.)Rgt. 543 in Landsberg a.d.W.
- ↑ At that time, there was no right to inspect your own personnel files.
- ↑ in the original “Courland”
- ↑ On the socio-historical development of the army officer corps: Bernhard R. Kroener: Auf dem Weg zu einer „nationalsozialistischen Volksarmee". In: Martin Broszat, Klaus-Dietmar Henke und Hans Woller (Hg.): Von Stalingrad zur Währungsreform. Zur Sozialgeschichte des Umbruchs in Deutschland, Band 26 der Reihe Quellen und Darstellungen zur Zeitgeschichte, Oldenbourg Wissenschaftsverlag, 1990
- ↑ This second visit cannot be squeezed into the time between arrival in Landsberg and departure for Livonia in August; it must have taken place in September.
- ↑ Nausea can occur from the 5th week of pregnancy. Assuming an average duration of pregnancy, this week began around 16 August 1944.
- ↑ Remains of the battle forces, from which the GC XXX.A.K., GenLt Postel had formed last battle groups on 28 Aug 1944 in the woods between Pruth and Sereth rivers (NARA T-733 Serial 107 Roll 139 Frame 6068000), were destroyed in the Second Jassy–Kishinev offensive the next day; the remains of the logistic services (on 06 Sep 1944 ca. 270, finally on 11 Sep 1944 ca. 400 men) were assembled in Görcön (Frame 6068013) and on 03 Oct dissolved through distributuion to other divisions (Frame 6068014).
- ↑ 1939 (invoking Nietzsche) and 1940 (in Münster i. W.), Goebbels ended speeches with the words: “Praised be what makes hard!” As a devout Christian who valued the greeting ‘Praised be Jesus Christ’, the author saw this as a turning away from God, which led to the misquotation above.