1941/Oktober/25/en: Unterschied zwischen den Versionen
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[[File:1941-08-10~_Buch_S_48_Schlammperiode_nur_Bild_NICHT_IM_IN.jpg|thumb|<span class="Tgb..."></span>Mud period!]] | [[File:1941-08-10~_Buch_S_48_Schlammperiode_nur_Bild_NICHT_IM_IN.jpg|thumb|<span class="Tgb..."></span>Mud period!]] | ||
| − | It rains frequently now, but the sun no longer has the power to evaporate the water. It seeps into the ground and turns it into mire until the frost hardens it again. In spring it is the other way round. It warms up quickly and the snow melts faster than the soil can absorb, so the melt water softens the soil again. These two periods of mud in spring (Rasputitsa) and autumn are relatively short, because the transition from winter to summer and vice versa is very rapid, but they are nevertheless dreadfully remembered by every Russia warrior. Since most of the roads in Russia are not roads with artificial surfaces, but just packed roads, they turn into quagmires when it rains. Especially here in the fat chernozem region of the Ukraine, it is a viscous mush in which the soldiers sink almost to their calves and the wheels of our vehicles sometimes sink half a metre. Then, when the lane has become too deep, the vehicles look for a new one next to the worn-out lane until this one has also become bottomless. This is how one lane is created next to the other. We recently passed a stretch where seven lanes ran side by side, so that the "advance road" was almost a hundred metres wide. | + | It rains frequently now, but the sun no longer has the power to evaporate the water. It seeps into the ground and turns it into mire until the frost hardens it again. In spring it is the other way round. It warms up quickly and the snow melts faster than the soil can absorb, so the melt water softens the soil again. These two periods of mud in spring ({{wen|Rasputitsa}}) and autumn are relatively short, because the transition from winter to summer and vice versa is very rapid, but they are nevertheless dreadfully remembered by every Russia warrior. Since most of the roads in Russia are not roads with artificial surfaces, but just packed roads, they turn into quagmires when it rains. Especially here in the fat {{wen|chernozem}} region of the Ukraine, it is a viscous mush in which the soldiers sink almost to their calves and the wheels of our vehicles sometimes sink half a metre. Then, when the lane has become too deep, the vehicles look for a new one next to the worn-out lane until this one has also become bottomless. This is how one lane is created next to the other. We recently passed a stretch where seven lanes ran side by side, so that the "advance road" was almost a hundred metres wide. |
| + | While the teams toil through the deep, rutted tracks with their fully loaded HF1s, which are far too sturdy and heavy for Russian conditions, the soldiers trudge through the mud in dispersed groups, wide-legged and ponderous, lifting their legs high with every step because massive lumps of this tough earth stick to their boots. Sometimes the foot would pull out of the boot because it had become stuck in the tough mud. The march through this groundless mire consumed our strength, and when we arrived at our quarters in the evening, dog-tired, we had achieved nine to ten kilometres a day. Most of all I feel sorry for our faithful horses. The poor animals are completely exhausted. We have long since harnessed our riding horses again as draught horses. Our Russian prey horses, the small Panje horses, are more resilient. They pull the light little panje carts through any dirt.<ref>The road conditions in the southern part of the Eastern Front were even reported on by the [https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x6veovl Wochenschau] (No. 586 of 26.11.1941, from minute 13:44, [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_nUdoDIdSaU&t=834s on YouTube] from 13:54)</ref> | ||
| − | + | But the advance continues, despite all the hardships. We must reach the Donets, the strategic line along which we can build defensible winter positions. And we have to reach it before the onset of winter. Every day there is some kind of breakdown. Today ''(25.10.1941)''<ref>calculated back from the day after next [[1941/October/27/en|(27th)]]</ref> it got me. The day’s march had passed without incident and we were approaching the day’s destination. The top of the battalion has already reached the first houses of the village. There, a fully loaded HF1 of my platoon gets stuck in a deep mud hole. The driver tries to get out with all his tricks, but in the process the wheels dig themselves deeper and deeper into the mud. The rear wheels are almost buried up to the axle. And we are only five hundred metres from the village! I let the platoon move on and stay with the unfortunate wagon. The other companies pass us by while my drivers and two groups try to get the vehicle going again. (On the march, each vehicle was assigned a group of soldiers to help with bad roads.) The battalion has long since reached its quarters. Even the stragglers have all passed. It is already dark. That’s when I decide on the last, reluctantly used means: the vehicle is unloaded to lighten the load. Luggage and ammunition boxes are piled up in the mud. But even the empty vehicle won’t budge. The horses are exhausted and don’t want to pull tight. The men are unenthused. I now send a man to the village to fetch a second team. It has been dark for a long time. Then the driver appears with his team. Contrary to expectations, he is in the best of moods, harnesses his horses to ours, and with new courage and the last of our strength we pull the vehicle out of the sinkhole. Now we load it again in all hurry and reach our quarters in the pitch dark. | |
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{{Kalendernaechste|1941/Oktober/26/en}} | {{Kalendernaechste|1941/Oktober/26/en}} | ||
[[Kategorie:Tagebuchfragmente]] | [[Kategorie:Tagebuchfragmente]] | ||
Version vom 21. Oktober 2021, 17:06 Uhr
It rains frequently now, but the sun no longer has the power to evaporate the water. It seeps into the ground and turns it into mire until the frost hardens it again. In spring it is the other way round. It warms up quickly and the snow melts faster than the soil can absorb, so the melt water softens the soil again. These two periods of mud in spring (Rasputitsa) and autumn are relatively short, because the transition from winter to summer and vice versa is very rapid, but they are nevertheless dreadfully remembered by every Russia warrior. Since most of the roads in Russia are not roads with artificial surfaces, but just packed roads, they turn into quagmires when it rains. Especially here in the fat chernozem region of the Ukraine, it is a viscous mush in which the soldiers sink almost to their calves and the wheels of our vehicles sometimes sink half a metre. Then, when the lane has become too deep, the vehicles look for a new one next to the worn-out lane until this one has also become bottomless. This is how one lane is created next to the other. We recently passed a stretch where seven lanes ran side by side, so that the "advance road" was almost a hundred metres wide.
While the teams toil through the deep, rutted tracks with their fully loaded HF1s, which are far too sturdy and heavy for Russian conditions, the soldiers trudge through the mud in dispersed groups, wide-legged and ponderous, lifting their legs high with every step because massive lumps of this tough earth stick to their boots. Sometimes the foot would pull out of the boot because it had become stuck in the tough mud. The march through this groundless mire consumed our strength, and when we arrived at our quarters in the evening, dog-tired, we had achieved nine to ten kilometres a day. Most of all I feel sorry for our faithful horses. The poor animals are completely exhausted. We have long since harnessed our riding horses again as draught horses. Our Russian prey horses, the small Panje horses, are more resilient. They pull the light little panje carts through any dirt.[1]
But the advance continues, despite all the hardships. We must reach the Donets, the strategic line along which we can build defensible winter positions. And we have to reach it before the onset of winter. Every day there is some kind of breakdown. Today (25.10.1941)[2] it got me. The day’s march had passed without incident and we were approaching the day’s destination. The top of the battalion has already reached the first houses of the village. There, a fully loaded HF1 of my platoon gets stuck in a deep mud hole. The driver tries to get out with all his tricks, but in the process the wheels dig themselves deeper and deeper into the mud. The rear wheels are almost buried up to the axle. And we are only five hundred metres from the village! I let the platoon move on and stay with the unfortunate wagon. The other companies pass us by while my drivers and two groups try to get the vehicle going again. (On the march, each vehicle was assigned a group of soldiers to help with bad roads.) The battalion has long since reached its quarters. Even the stragglers have all passed. It is already dark. That’s when I decide on the last, reluctantly used means: the vehicle is unloaded to lighten the load. Luggage and ammunition boxes are piled up in the mud. But even the empty vehicle won’t budge. The horses are exhausted and don’t want to pull tight. The men are unenthused. I now send a man to the village to fetch a second team. It has been dark for a long time. Then the driver appears with his team. Contrary to expectations, he is in the best of moods, harnesses his horses to ours, and with new courage and the last of our strength we pull the vehicle out of the sinkhole. Now we load it again in all hurry and reach our quarters in the pitch dark.
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- ↑ The road conditions in the southern part of the Eastern Front were even reported on by the Wochenschau (No. 586 of 26.11.1941, from minute 13:44, on YouTube from 13:54)
- ↑ calculated back from the day after next (27th)