26. Dezember 1948
26 Dec 48. Punishments for “refusal to work” and “sabotage”.
According to our estimates, there are still around 1 million prisoners of war in the Soviet Union. The Russians fear unrest in the camps. Their efforts to keep us in a good mood cannot be overlooked. In addition to threats, they offer distractions. The number of variety shows is increased. (They are organised by the “cultural group” formed by German prisoners). The camp’s political commissar comes to talk to us officers in person. He assures us that the release has only been delayed for “transport reasons”. The available transport capacity was needed to bring in the beet harvest. He speaks with the tongues of angels, but he can see from our shaking heads and sceptical expressions that we don’t believe him.
Another variety evening. I don’t go in protest, but I’m probably the only one. I sit up here and write while they laugh and scream with delight downstairs. That’s how politically instinctive the German is. A united boycott of the event with empty spectator benches would have given the Russians a shock. But Germans are easy to spoon-feed politically. - There are always lots of Russians at our events. They come with their wives and children and have a great time. They are the families of the Russian camp headquarters. It costs them nothing and they certainly have little other entertainment.
Even the local German camp gentry are becoming friendlier. Although they were never as spiteful as those from Smolensk, they weren’t exactly amiable either. The multiple trials in the homeland against “comrades’ grinders” have not failed to have an effect.
We are working in the forest again as lumberjacks. It’s quite far from the camp. We travel by lorry. First we drive a short distance through the village, then over a bridge across the Berezina. (A little further north of here Napoleon crossed the Berezina. There is supposed to be a plaque at the site, but I never got there).[1] Then we turn left and pass a church that has now been converted into a cinema.[2] After a while, we leave the village and enter the forest. Initially interspersed with fields and meadows - we also pass an orchard - the forest becomes increasingly extensive and dense. Here I see the only European roller of my life. Now we are passing through extensive forest areas. The lorry rumbles incessantly over roots that run across the forest path just below the ground. One of my comrades can’t stand the rumbling and vomits up his breakfast every morning.
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We stop in a forest village. It lies in the middle of its fields and meadows, which are surrounded by huge forests as a large open clearing island. It’s freezing cold and the first thing we do when we reach our work site in the forest is light a fire, which the guards appreciate. The work is hard and dangerous. The men shout a warning when a giant tree starts to lean and fall, but the crowns are huge and you have to be far enough away to avoid being buried by them. When such a giant crashes to the ground, its strong branches dig metres into the ground. The worst part is the transport. We have to take the giant trees to the forest road where the lorry can pick them up. The trunks are usually cut to a length of 10 metres. It is not unusual for the base end to have a diameter of 75 cm. This thick foot end is then first heaved up centimetre by centimetre until a stick can be pushed through at the bottom, with which the log can now be lifted further on both sides. The log now lies at a slight angle so that the next carriers can push another stick through further backwards. The log is then carried away in the manner shown. Lighter logs are lifted in a similar way, but without the staves. Initially, the thick foot end is lifted again, first up to the belly, then up to the chest, then the first men put their shoulders under the log, the next men follow until the log rests on all shoulders, alternately one on the right shoulder and the next on the left shoulder. 12-20 men then stagger over the uneven forest floor with such a load, and some of them stumble over the branches lying around. Dropping this load is also dangerous. At first, the whole column of porters stops along the forest path. On a command, all those who were carrying on the left (or right) side then remove their shoulders so that the log is now lying on the same shoulder of the remaining half of the carrying team, who now - again on command - throw it off their shoulder with a little swing, jumping to the side if possible, because the log sometimes bounces a little when it hits the ground and jumps up again. It all has to happen very quickly. - In between, we stand around the fire for a while, stamping our feet and rubbing our cold hands over the warming flames.
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- ↑ All the surroundings of the crossing site are strewn with monuments and memorial plaques (Google Maps; switch on satellite image/Street View)
- ↑ see 15.3.48