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| {{Geoo|Magazin 19: ''position still unknown''}}
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| {{Geoo|Magazin 19 }} position still unknown
 
{{Geoo|Meadow area near the slaughterhouse}} {{Geok|https://www.google.de/maps/place/Ulitsa+Kashena,+21,+Smolensk,+Smolenskaya+oblast',+Russland,+214012/@54.7964561,32.0243589,17.08z/data{{gleich}}!4m5!3m4!1s0x46cef805277408df:0xb4157eb56636c777!8m2!3d54.7966111!4d32.0258767}}  
 
{{Geoo|Meadow area near the slaughterhouse}} {{Geok|https://www.google.de/maps/place/Ulitsa+Kashena,+21,+Smolensk,+Smolenskaya+oblast',+Russland,+214012/@54.7964561,32.0243589,17.08z/data{{gleich}}!4m5!3m4!1s0x46cef805277408df:0xb4157eb56636c777!8m2!3d54.7966111!4d32.0258767}}  
 
{{Geoo|Buildings (of the ''Kalinin'' factory)}} {{Geok| KartenURL }}  
 
{{Geoo|Buildings (of the ''Kalinin'' factory)}} {{Geok| KartenURL }}  
 
{{Geoo|Flax Combine}} {{Geok| KartenURL }}  
 
{{Geoo|Flax Combine}} {{Geok| KartenURL }}  
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{{Geoo|Tileyard: ''position still unknown''}}
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{{Geoo|Tileyard }} position still unknown
 
{{Geoo| see also [[Smolensk_-_Смоленск|Localisation attempts]] and overview map}} {{Geok|https://umap.openstreetmap.fr/de/map/tagebuchfragmente-orte_266585#12/54.7910/32.0452}}  
 
{{Geoo| see also [[Smolensk_-_Смоленск|Localisation attempts]] and overview map}} {{Geok|https://umap.openstreetmap.fr/de/map/tagebuchfragmente-orte_266585#12/54.7910/32.0452}}  
 
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6-8 November. The red {{wen|October Revolution}} was celebrated in a big way, as usual. For us it only meant increased guarding.
 
6-8 November. The red {{wen|October Revolution}} was celebrated in a big way, as usual. For us it only meant increased guarding.
  
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[[File:1948-01-20_Buch_S_265a_Rotkreuzkarte.jpg|thumb|<span class="TgbT"></span>A censored [[Anhang/Tagebuch-Fotos/Rotkreuzkarte|Red Cross Postcard]] from Soviet captivity.<ref>This photocopy is the only example of its kind. All originals of the author's postcards have been lost.</ref>]]
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[[File:1948-01-20_Buch_S_265a_Rotkreuzkarte.jpg|thumb|<span class="TgbT"></span>A censored [[Anhang/Tagebuch-Fotos/Rotkreuzkarte|Red Cross Postcard]] from Soviet captivity.<ref>This photocopy is the only example of its kind. All originals of the author’s postcards have been lost.</ref>]]
 
Red Cross cards may now only contain 25 words. Of course, the text will be censored. Information about whereabouts, state of health (if poor), weight and anything negative is deleted (see picture). Disagreeable mail is simply thrown away. This work is also done by the Antifa comrades. Mail is only allowed from Germany and Austria. Mail from other countries is not handed over. The Antifa comrades cannot read foreign languages. I have written 11 times. Of these, 9 cards arrived at home. Delivery time up to half a year.
 
Red Cross cards may now only contain 25 words. Of course, the text will be censored. Information about whereabouts, state of health (if poor), weight and anything negative is deleted (see picture). Disagreeable mail is simply thrown away. This work is also done by the Antifa comrades. Mail is only allowed from Germany and Austria. Mail from other countries is not handed over. The Antifa comrades cannot read foreign languages. I have written 11 times. Of these, 9 cards arrived at home. Delivery time up to half a year.
  
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Bad workers are put into a special brigade. This brigade is given a norm that it must fulfil, otherwise the working hours are simply extended. This is forced labour. Extending working hours, shortening breaks, working outside at -40°''C'', using distrophic workers and countless other violations of the Geneva and Hague Conventions are the order of the day.
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Bad workers are assembled in a special brigade. This brigade is given a norm that it must fulfil, otherwise the working hours are simply extended. This is forced labour. Extending working hours, shortening breaks, working outside at -40°''C'', using distrophic workers and countless other violations of the Geneva and Hague Conventions are the order of the day.
  
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We have a larger group of Hungarians in the camp. They are sly fellows, lazy and cunning. When it's their turn to peel potatoes with us, they don't show up at first, until we finally fetch them after half an hour. And then they start peeling, cutting away so much potato with six short cuts that only a small cube remains. Our scolding doesn't faze them. They finish their share as quickly as we do, but it results in at least one less bucket of potatoes. These wogs, however, don't mind. They get on well with the population outside and are also more cunning at stealing than we are, so they always have plenty of extra rations. I think the congeniality between Hungarians and Russians is greater and therefore facilitates their contacts.
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We have a larger group of Hungarians in the camp. They are sly fellows, lazy and cunning. When it's their turn to peel potatoes with us, they don’t show up at first, until we finally fetch them after half an hour. And then they start peeling, cutting away so much potato with six short cuts that only a small cube remains. Our scolding doesn’t faze them. They finish their share as quickly as we do, but it results in at least one less bucket of potatoes. These wogs, however, don’t mind. They get on well with the population outside and are also more cunning at stealing than we are, so they always have plenty of extra rations. I think the congeniality between Hungarians and Russians is greater and therefore facilitates their contacts.
  
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Die Atmosphäre im Lager ist unerfreulich. Da ist der blinde Hass der „deutschen“ Lagerleitung gegen uns Offiziere. Das gilt auch für manche Landser. Als ich einmal einen solchen im Waschraum rügte, weil er mich bespritzt hatte, meckert er: „Ihr habt gar nichts mehr zu sagen!“ Beim Herausgehen trifft er an der Tür auf einen russischen Rekruten und reißt vor dem buchstäblich die Hacken zusammen! Das ist der Deutsche! – Da ist (abgesehen von dem Hass einiger) die Verständnislosigkeit des Russen gegenüber unserer Mentalität. Es ist nicht immer böse gemeint, aber es ist ärgerlich. Er ist furchtbar misstrauisch und humorlos. Er verbietet den zzt. gängigen Schlager „Barcelona, du allein...“<ref>[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zLrkj0kLj1w Barcelona], 1943, [https://www.discogs.com/de/Willi-Stanke-Mit-Seinem-Orchester-Barcelona-Hei%C3%9Fe-Tage/release/3612644 Musik]: [https://www.discogs.com/de/artist/1218492-Franz-Wilczek Franz Wilczek], [http://www.45cat.com/record/1c0061471257 Text]: Inge Wolf </ref>, weil Spanien eine [[w:Franquismus|faschistische Diktatur]] ist. Als Opalew, ein Offizier der russischen Lagerkommandantur, hörte, dass wir die Gefangenschaft satt haben, sagt er, das verstehe er nicht! Er trinkt Champagner wie Limonade und Kölnisch Wasser wie Schnaps. Wir sollen essen, wie er es tut: Trockenes Brot zur Suppe. (So essen es die Russen.) Menschen mit 2 Anzügen sind für ihn schon Kapitalisten. – Da sind die dauernden Betrügereien bei der Verpflegung. Da müssen die Kartoffeln mit der Schaufel statt mit der Gabel eingefüllt werden, damit möglichst viel Sand mit auf die Waage kommt. Dann jagt er den deutschen Verpflegungsoffizier, der das Ab{{S|309}}wiegen kontrollieren soll, fort, weil dieser beanstandet hatte, dass der Iwan den Fuß auf die Waage gestellt und einen Stein draufgelegt hatte.
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The atmosphere in the camp is unpleasant. There is the blind hatred of the “German” camp leadership against us officers. This also applies to some Landser. When I once reprimanded one of them in the washroom for splashing me, he grumbled, “You have nothing to say anymore!” On his way out, he meets a Russian recruit at the door and literally snaps his heels in front of him! That’s the German! - There is (apart from the hatred of some) the Russian’s lack of understanding of our mentality. It’s not always ill-intentioned, but it’s annoying. He is terribly suspicious and humourless. He forbids the currently popular hit song "Barcelona, du allein (you alone)..."<ref>[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zLrkj0kLj1w Barcelona], 1943, [https://www.discogs.com/de/Willi-Stanke-Mit-Seinem-Orchester-Barcelona-Hei%C3%9Fe-Tage/release/3612644 music]: [https://www.discogs.com/de/artist/1218492-Franz-Wilczek Franz Wilczek], [http://www.45cat.com/record/1c0061471257 lyrics]: Inge Wolf</ref> because Spain is a [[w:en:Francoist_Spain|fascist dictatorship]]. When Opalev, an officer in the Russian camp headquarters, heard that we were fed up with captivity, he said he didn't understand! He drinks champagne like lemonade and cologne like schnapps. We are to eat as he does: dry bread with soup. (That's how the Russians eat it.) People with 2 suits are already capitalists, in his eyes. - There are the constant cheats on the rations. The potatoes have to be filled with a shovel instead of a fork so that as much sand as possible gets on the scales. Then he chases away the German rations officer, who is supposed to check the weighing, because he complained that Ivan had put his foot on the scales and put a stone on it.
  
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Rotkreuzkarten gibt es alle 4 Wochen, ganz nach Vorschrift – aber sie reichen nicht für alle!
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Red Cross cards are given every 4 weeks, according to regulations - but they are not enough for everyone!
  
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Der Arbeitslohn, der sowieso schon heruntermanipuliert ist, wird oft nicht ausgehändigt. Man lügt uns dann vor, er würde auf ein Sperrkonto überwiesen und bei unserer Entlassung ausgezahlt!
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The wages, which are already manipulated downwards, are often not handed over. We are then told that it will be transferred to a blocked account and paid out when we are released!
  
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Wir bekommen Winterkleidung, aber dafür nehmen sie uns unsere grünen Wehrmachtsmäntel weg.
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We get winter clothes, but in return they take away our green Wehrmacht coats.
  
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Briefe dürfen geschrieben werden, aber sie werden oft nicht weitergeleitet.
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We are allowed to write letters, but they are often not forwarded.
  
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Unser Haus hat Wasserleitung, Zentralheizung und Strom, aber es funktioniert oft nicht.
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Our house has piped water, central heating and electricity, but it often doesn't work.
  
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Und... und... und...
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And... and... and...
  
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In konsequenter Durchführung der sozialistischen Gleichmacherei ist die Gleichberechtigung der Frau in der Sowjetunion radikal durchgeführt (außer in den moslemischen Staaten). Frauen leisten dieselbe Schwerarbeit, wie Männer. Aber die Brigadiere der Frauenbrigaden sind meist doch Männer.
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In consistent implementation of socialist egalitarianism, women's equality is radically carried out in the Soviet Union (except in the Muslim states). Women do the same hard work as men. But the brigadiers of the women's brigades are mostly men.
  
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'''Magazin 19'''. In diesem Lagerhaus sind Zerealien gelagert. Große Stapel mit Säcken voller Kartoffeln, Hirse, Mehl u.&nbsp;a.&nbsp;m. Seltener schon mal ein paar Säcke mit Zucker oder dergleichen. Unsere Arbeit besteht darin, die Lkws zu entladen, die diese Waren vom Güterbahnhof hierher gebracht haben, und andere Lkws zu beladen, die das Zeug dann wieder zu den einzelnen staatlichen Verkaufsläden in der Stadt brachten. Es war nicht allzu viel zu tun. Die russischen Posten verkrümelten sich manchmal, und auch der russische Natschalnik war nicht immer anwesend. Wenn wir Gelegenheit hatten, schafften wir natürlich etwas von der Verpflegung für uns beiseite. Auf solche Gelegenheiten ist jeder erfahrene Plenni eingerichtet. Die Taschen müssen immer dicht und ohne Löcher sein. Es ist auch zweckmäßig, immer einen kleinen Beutel bei sich zu haben. Zur Zeit habe ich auf diesem Kommando immer einen Esslöffel mit abgebrochenem Griff bei mir. Er ist leicht zu verstauen, und man kann damit z. B. im Vorbeigehen aus einem offenen Mehlsack einen Löffel voll nehmen und in den Mund stecken. Müsste man es mit der Hand tun, hätte man bald Hand und Mund verschmiert und wäre verraten. Dass der Mehlsack offen ist, liegt daran, dass er beim Abladen „versehentlich“ heruntergefallen und dabei aufgeplatzt ist. Es gibt auch noch andere Methoden, aber man darf das nicht oft machen, denn der Natschalnik ist ja nicht dumm.
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'''Magazine 19'''. Cereals are stored in this warehouse. Large stacks of sacks full of potatoes, millet, flour and much else. More rarely, a few sacks of sugar or the like. Our work consisted of unloading the lorries that brought these goods here from the goods yard and loading other lorries  that then took the stuff out again to the individual state-run shops in the city. There wasn’t too much to do. The Russian guards would sometimes slip away, and the Russian nachalnik wasn’t always present either. When we had the opportunity, of course, we put aside some of the rations for ourselves. Every experienced plenny is prepared for such occasions. The bags must always be tight and without holes. It is also useful to have a small bag with you at all times. At present, I always carry a tablespoon with a broken handle on this command. It is easy to store and you can use it to take a spoonful from an open flour sack and put it in your mouth, for example, as you pass by. If you had to do it by hand, you would soon have smeared your hand and mouth and would be betrayed. The fact that the flour sack is open is because it “accidentally” fell down during unloading and burst open. There are other methods, but you must not do it often, because the nachalnik is not stupid.
  
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In einem anderen Fall auf einem anderen Kommando haben wir uns mit dem Aufseher vorher geeinigt: Wir würden nichts klauen (im deutsch-russischen Kauderwelsch „zappzerapp“ genannt), und dafür gibt der uns am Schluss freiwillig etwas. Aber nicht alle Natschalniks waren so menschenfreundlich, und oft gab es Prügel, wenn man beim „Zappzerapp“ erwischt wurde. Es wurde viel und überall gestohlen, von Russen und von Deutschen. Es war wie eine Seuche. Ein Kamerad erzählte sogar, dass vor einem Verpflegungsmagazin deutsche Kriegsgefangene mit MPi’s aufgestellt wurden, weil die Russen zuviel stahlen.
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In another case at another command, we agreed with the supervisor beforehand: We wouldn’t steal anything (called “zappzerapp” in German-Russian gibberish), and in return he would give us something voluntarily at the end. But not all nachalniks were so philanthropic, and there was often a beating if you were caught in “zappzerapp”. There was a lot of stealing everywhere, by Russians and Germans. It was like an epidemic. One comrade even told me that German prisoners of war were lined up with machine pistols in front of a food magazine because the Russians were stealing too much.
  
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Einmal haben wir auf einem Nebengleis des Personenbahnhofs einen Güterwagen entladen. Unter den Waren befand sich auch ein Sack mit Rosinen. Während einer den schweren Sack trug, ging ich seitlich nebenher, um die Last helfend abzustützen. Dabei bohrte ich meinen Finger in ein bereits vorhandenes Loch, um ein paar Rosinen herauszufischen. Aber die Rosinen waren etwas gefroren und hart, sodass ich mir die Fingernägel abbrach. Für die paar Rosinen, die ich ergatterte, hat es sich kaum gelohnt. Außerdem war dieses Unternehmen riskant, denn beim Verladen solcher Kostbarkeiten, wie z. B. auch bei Zucker, wimmelt es immer von Aufpassern (die nebenbei alle hoffen, für sich etwas abzweigen zu können).
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Once we unloaded a goods wagon on a siding of the passenger station. Among the goods was a sack of sultanas. While one of us carried the heavy sack, I went sideways to help support the load. As I did so, I poked my finger into an existing hole to fish out a few sultanas. But the sultanas were a bit frozen and hard, so I broke my fingernails. It was hardly worth it for the few sultanas I managed to grab. Besides, this was a risky venture, because when loading such treasures, as with sugar, there are always a lot of watchdogs (who, by the way, are all hoping to get something for themselves).
  
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Wir stauen Hirsesäcke in der großen Lagerhalle. Aus einem Sack, der aufgegangen war, füllten wir in unbeobachteten Augenblicken unsere Taschen. Ich hatte meinen Brotbeutel gefüllt und ging möglichst unauffällig vor das Tor, um ihn in unserem dort stehenden Lkw zu verstauen. Neben dem Wagen steht unser mongolischer Posten. Ich blinzele ihm zu und verstaue meinen Beutel in einer Ecke. Der Mongole lächelt. Als wir dann nach beendeter Arbeit den Lkw zu Heimfahrt besteigen, ist mein Beutel weg. Der Mongole lächelt immer noch, der Schuft!
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We stowed millet sacks in the large warehouse. From a sack that had opened, we filled our bags in unguarded moments. I had filled my haversack and went as inconspicuously as possible in front of the gate to put it in our lorry standing there. Next to the lorry stood our Mongolian guard. I wink at him and stow my bag in a corner. The Mongolian smiles. When we board the lorry to go home after finishing our work, my bag is gone. The Mongol is still smiling, the scoundrel!
  
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Benno (von Knobelsdorff) hatte eine andere Methode. Er hat die lose Hirse einfach in seinen Filzstiefel rieseln lassen, und zwar in den rechten. Nach Arbeitsschluss lässt uns der Posten plötzlich in Linie antreten und hinset{{S|310}}zen. Wir mussten unsere Stiefel ausziehen und umstülpen. Benno zieht den (leeren) linken aus. Der Iwan will auch den anderen sehen. Benno zieht den linken wieder an und will aufstehen, aber der Russe lässt ihn sich wieder hinsetzen. Benno setzt sich und zieht wieder den linken aus. Der Iwan hat es nicht bemerkt. So zog Benno mit einem etwas geschwollenen rechten Fuß ins Lager.
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Benno (von Knobelsdorff) had a different method. He simply let the loose millet trickle into his felt boot, namely the right one. At the end of work, the guard suddenly had us line up and sit down. We had to take off our boots and turn them inside out. Benno took off the (empty) left one. The Ivan wants to see the other one too. Benno puts the left one back on and wants to stand up, but the Russian makes him sit down again. Benno sits down and takes off the left one again. The Ivan didn’t realise. So Benno moved into camp with a somewhat swollen right foot.
  
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Wir verladen Kartoffelsäcke. Inzwischen hatten wir hinter der Lagerhalle eine Feuerstelle eingerichtet, über der unsere mit Kartoffeln gefüllten Kochgeschirre hingen. Aber der Lageraufseher entdeckt sie, als wir gerade mal nachsehen wollten, ob sie schon gar wären. Wie ein wütender Stier kommt der Iwan angerast, stößt mit den Füßen nach den Kochgeschirren wie nach einem Fußball, sodass sie nach allen Seiten wegfliegen. Dann trampelt er mit beiden Füßen das Feuer aus und stürzt sich auf Hans Sölheim und prügelt wie ein Wilder auf ihn ein. Hans macht kehrt und läuft weg. Der Russe hinterher. Wir anderen gehen etwas bedrückt wegen der entgangenen Mahlzeit in die Halle zurück. Während wir noch etwas ratlos beisammenstehen, hören wir vom Halleneingang ein lautes „Hallo, Kamerati!“ Wir drehen uns um und blicken ungläubig auf Hans Sölheim und den Natschalnik, die beide Arm in Arm auf uns zukommen. Sie lachen und winken. Vor knapp einer Minute hat der Russe noch wütend auf ihn eingeschlagen, jetzt hält er ihn lachend im Arm! Das ist russische Mentalität! Ich habe solche urplötzlichen Gemütswandlungen mehrfach erlebt. Sie können tödlich sein, wenn der Russe betrunken und bewaffnet ist.
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We loaded sacks of potatoes. In the meantime, we had set up a fireplace behind the warehouse, over which our mess kits filled with potatoes were hanging. But the storage supervisor discovers them just as we are about to check whether they are already cooked. Like an enraged bull, Ivan came running, kicking at the mess tins like a football so that they flew off in all directions. Then he tramples out the fire with both feet and lunges at Hans Sölheim, beating him like a savage. Hans turns around and runs away. The Russian behind him. The rest of us go back into the hall, somewhat depressed by the loss of our meal. While we are still standing together a bit perplexed, we hear a loud “Hello, Camerati!” from the hall entrance. We turn around and look in disbelief at Hans Sölheim and the nachalnik, both walking arm in arm towards us. They laugh and wave. Less than a minute ago the Russian was still furiously beating him, now he is holding him in his arms, laughing! That’s the Russian mentality! I have experienced such sudden changes of mood several times. They can be fatal if the Russian is drunk and armed.<ref>[[Anhang/Literatur#Cartellieri|Cartellieri]] p. 340 refers to the Russian concept of the “wide soul” {{gerade|(широкая натура)}}.</ref>
  
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Hinter der Lagerhalle liegt ein langes Ende Telefondraht. So etwas kann man immer gebrauchen, und ich rolle es zusammen. Dann merke ich, dass ist zu lang ist, und Hans Sölheim, der neben mir ist, sagt: „Reiß’ doch ein Stück ab!“ Ich tue es. Abends im Lager sagt zu mir: „Du hast heute Sabotage begangen,“ und als ich ihn verständnislos angucke, fährt er fort: „Der Draht war eine Telefonleitung. Ich hatte sie vorher heruntergerissen!“
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Behind the warehouse lies a long end of telephone wire. You can always use something like that, and I roll it up. Then I notice that it's too long and Hans Sölheim, who is next to me, says, “Why don’t you tear off a piece?” I do. In the evening in the camp he says to me: “You committed sabotage today,” and when I look at him uncomprehendingly he continues: “The wire was a telephone line. I had pulled it down before!”
  
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Wir '''entladen Torfzüge am westlichen Stadtrand'''. Die Güterzüge halten hier, und wir werfen die Torfstücke einfach nach links und rechts auf das freie Wiesengelände herunter. Natürlich alles mit den Händen. Mit uns arbeitet eine Brigade strafgefangener Frauen und Mädchen. Als wir ihnen vorjammern, dass wir hier nun schon 2 Jahre gefangen gehalten würden, da lachen sie nur. 2 Jahre wäre überhaupt keine lange Zeit. Ab 5 Jahre würde es hart, aber 2 Jahre? Nitschewo!
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[[Datei:Smolensk_08_1943_clip_m_Anm.jpg|thumb|<span class="TgbZ"></span>''Some locations of the events according to investigations by the ed.: Clubhouse (camp) - 3-storey factory buildings - cemetery - factory "Kalinin" - track between meadows - slaughterhouse (aerial image Aug 43)'']]
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We '''unload peat trains at the western edge of town'''. The goods trains stop here and we simply throw the peat pieces down to the left and right onto the open meadowland. All with our hands, of course. Working with us is a brigade of convicted women and girls. When we complain that we have been imprisoned here for 2 years, they just laugh. 2 years is not a long time at all. After 5 years it would be hard, but 2 years? Nitchevo!
  
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Dicht neben dem Gleis beginnt das eingezäunte Gelände eines Schlachthofes. Wir sehen, dass sich hin und wieder eine Tür öffnet und jemand herauskommt und wieder hineingeht. Mancher hat ja eine Nase dafür, wo es etwas zu holen gibt oder wo man etwas Essbares ergattern kann. So ein bisschen habe ich das auch schon gelernt. Also schlängele ich mich durch ein Loch in dem Drahtzaun an das Haus heran bis zur Tür. Hier brauche ich nicht lange zu warten. Aus der Tür tritt ein stämmiges Mädchen in blutbefleckter Gummischürze. Ich halte ihr schüchtern mein Kochgeschirr entgegen. Sie nimmt es mir wortlos aus der Hand und geht zurück. Nach kurzer Zeit kommt sie wieder und reicht mir mit unbewegtem Gesicht mein Kochgeschirr zurück, gefüllt mit frischem, warmem Blut. Ich verschwinde mit freundlichem Dank. Außerhalb des Schlachthofes, hinter der Halle, unterhalten wir ein Feuer, über dem wir das Blut gleich im Kochgeschirr erhitzen. Innerhalb weniger Minuten haben wir dann ein ganzes Kochgeschirr voller frischer Blutwurst. Manche nehmen es mit ins Lager, um es dort zu verkaufen. Ich habe später noch einmal auf diesem Schlachthof ein paar Tage gearbeitet, allerdings in dem Verwaltungsgebäude. Auch dort bekamen wir mittags in der Kantine ein Essen, saßen aber allein an einem Tisch, getrennt von den Russen.
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Close to the track begins the fenced-in area of a slaughterhouse. We see that every now and then a door opens and someone comes out and goes back in again. Some people have a nose for where there is something to get or where you can get hold of something edible. I've learned that a little bit. So I sneak up to the house through a hole in the wire fence until I reach the door. Here I don’t have to wait long. A sturdy girl in a blood-stained rubber apron steps out of the door. I shyly hold out my mess kit to her. She takes it from my hand without a word and goes back. After a short while she comes back and, with a dispassionate face, hands me back my cooking utensil, filled with fresh, warm blood. I leave with friendly thanks. Outside the slaughterhouse, behind the hall, we maintain a fire over which we immediately heat the blood in the mess kit. Within a few minutes we have a whole mess kit full of fresh blood sausage. Some take it back to the camp to sell it there. Later I worked at this slaughterhouse again for a few days, but in the administration building. There, too, we got a meal at noon in the canteen, but we sat alone at a table, separated from the Russians.
  
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Wir bauen '''ein zerstörtes Gebäude''' (des Textilkombinats?<ref>möglicherweise die Häuser der Fabrik „Kalinin“ an der Witebsker Chaussee 46–50, die in genau dieser Zeit von Deutschen erbaut wurden (Mitteilung von Anna Shukowa auf [https://www.facebook.com/groups/Region67/ Facebook])</ref>) wieder auf. Das dreistöckige Haus ist schon bis zum Dachstuhl fertig. Nur der Dachstuhl und einige kleinere Maurerarbeiten sind noch zu machen. Ich bin Brigadier der Hilfsarbeiterbrigade. Wir schleppen die Backsteine, immer 3–4 Stück, auf der Schulter zu Fuß 3 Stockwerke hinauf. Eine Schinderei, aber wir lassen es so langsam wie möglich gehen. Der Natschalnik ist ein Ekel. Da er keine Uhr besitzt, erkundigt er sich immer bei mir nach der Uhrzeit. Aber obgleich ich ihm immer die korrekte Zeit angebe, lässt er uns immer 1/4 Stunde länger arbeiten, weil er natürlich wieder vermutet, dass ich ihn belüge. Die Folge ist, dass wir ihn nun wirklich betrügen, und zwar nicht nur mit der Uhrzeit. Da er uns auch nicht von der eingezäunten Arbeits{{S|311, 2 Bilder}}stelle fortlässt (was allerdings auch nicht gestattet ist), so schleiche ich mich öfter heimlich weg. Zwar brauche ich als Brigadier nicht mitzuarbeiten, aber von der Arbeitsstelle darf ich mich nicht entfernen.
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We are building '''a destroyed building''' (of the textile combine?<ref>possibly the houses of the factory "Kalinin" at Vitebsk Chaussee 46-50, which were built by Germans in exactly this period (message by Anna Shukova on [https://www.facebook.com/groups/Region67/ Facebook])</ref>). The three-storey house is already finished up to the roof truss. Only the roof truss and some minor masonry work remains to be done. I am the brigadier of the unskilled labour brigade. We carry the bricks, 3-4 at a time, on our shoulders up 3 floors on foot. It's a grind, but we take it as slowly as possible. The nachalnik is a creep. Since he doesn't own a watch, he always asks me what time it is. But although I always give him the correct time, he always makes us work 1/4 hour longer because he naturally suspects again that I am lying to him. The consequence is that we are now really cheating him, and not only with the time.Since he won't let us leave the fenced-in workplace (which is not allowed either), I sneak away more often. As a brigadier, I don't have to work, but I'm not allowed to leave the workplace.
  
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Das Nebengebäude ist ebenfalls dreistöckig. Da die Trennwand zwischen beiden Häusern im Dachgeschoss noch nicht gemauert ist, kann man ohne weiteres auf den Dachboden des Wohnhauses hinübersteigen. Das tat ich ’mal, um mich umzusehen. Hier liegt auf der Bretterlage des Dachbodens eine 10 cm dicke Schlackeschicht. Aber die Bodenbretter sind nicht dicht, und durch die Ritzen kann ich in die Küche hinuntersehen, wo die Hausfrau gerade am Herd herumhantiert. Ich wundere mich, dass sie das leise Rieseln der Schlacke nicht bemerkt, die durch die Ritzen auf dem Küchenfußboden fällt. Oder ist sie es gewöhnt?
+
The outbuilding is also three storeys high. Since the partition wall between the two houses in the attic is not yet bricked, one can easily climb up to the attic of the residential house. I did so once to have a look around. There is a 10 cm thick layer of cinders on the plank layer of the attic. But the floorboards are not tight, and through the cracks I can see down into the kitchen, where the housewife is fiddling around on the cooker. I wonder why she doesn't notice the quiet trickle of cinders falling through the cracks on the kitchen floor. Or is she used to it?
  
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Ich habe ein paar Bretter geklaut und steige wieder über den Dachboden des Nachbarhauses in den dortigen Treppenflur. Hier klopfe ich, im 3. Stock beginnend, an jede Wohnungstür und biete meine Bretter zum Mindestpreis an, als Sonderangebot. Aber niemand will sie haben. Sie bekommen wohl zuviel solcher Angebote. Schließlich erbarmt sich eine Frau im 1. Stock und gibt mir 4 Kartoffeln dafür.
+
I have stolen a few boards and climb back across the attic of the neighbouring house into the stairwell there. Here, starting on the 3rd floor, I knock on every flat door and offer my boards at the minimum price, as a special offer. But nobody wants them. They must get too many such offers. Finally, a woman on the first floor takes pity on me and gives me 4 potatoes for them.
  
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Ein paar Tage später versuche ich es noch einmal mit einem 2 m langen Rundholz von 15 cm Durchmesser. Diesmal laufe ich aber, immer in Deckung, über den Hof zum nächsten Häuserblock hinüber. Aber auch hier werde ich überall abgewiesen. Ich muss den Balken einfach im Hausflur stehen lassen.<ref>Die im Original hier anschließenden Absätze "Photomaton" und "Ostern/Friedhofsbesuche" wurden unter den zutreffenen Daten {{D|1946/Dezember/8}} bzw. {{D|1947/April/14}} gespeichert.</ref>{{S|311: Haupttext unterbrochen}}
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A few days later I try again with a 2 m long log of 15 cm diameter. This time, however, I run across the courtyard to the next block of houses, always taking cover. But here too I am turned away everywhere. I simply have to leave the log in the hallway.<ref>The paragraphs "Photomaton" and "Easter/Cemetery Visits" that follow here in the original text were saved under the appropriate dates [[1947/Dezember/8/en|8 Dec 46]], [[1946/November/2/en|2 Nov 46]] and [[1947/November/1/en|1 Nov 47]], respectively.</ref>
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herausgenommen (Fotos)
 
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8.12.(?)  In der Nähe unserer Baustelle,  in der nächsten Querstraße, befindet sich ein Fotogeschäft. Hans Sölheim und ich beschließen, uns einmal fotografieren zu lassen. Wir verschwinden also von der Baustelle und suchen den Laden auf. Hier lassen wir von der jungen Frau ein paar Fotomaton-Bilder machen, die wir dann einige Tage später abholen. Beim Betrachten meines Bildes stellt Hans fest, dass ich eigentlich wie ein Bankräuber aussehe (siehe Bild oben). Eines dieser Bilder habe ich auf einer Rotkreuz-Karte nach Hause geschickt.
 
  
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herausgenommen (Ostern, Friedhofsbesuch)
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Hans had discovered a tobacco shop not far from the photo shop ''(see [[1947/Dezember/8|below]])'', only 100 m further down the same street. They had very cheap cigarettes and cheap tobacco. He kept this secret to himself and did a good business in the camp with a small mark-up. Then, when he fell ill, he let me in on the secret and described the location of the shop to me. Now I fetched the goods from there, and always a rucksack full at once. Once it took a little longer until I had stowed the numerous packages in the backpack and settled up with the woman. In the meantime, a queue of 6-7 people had formed. But they didn’t say a word and waited patiently until I was done, although they had certainly recognised me as a prisoner of war.
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Es ist wieder Ostern. Schon gestern war ich auf dem Friedhof, der neben unserem Lager auf der anderen Straßenseite liegt. Es waren viele Menschen dort. Sie hatten weiße Tücher über die Grabhügel gelegt und brennende Kerzen aufgestellt. Dann saßen sie um das Grab herum und nahmen eine Mahlzeit ein. Ich sah auch einen russischen Offizier auf einem der Wege. Wenn man die Leute darum bat, erhielt man ebenfalls etwas zu essen. Ostermahl und Osterfriede unter den Menschen.
 
  
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Heute verließ ich also die Baustelle, um den Friedhof dieser Gegend aufzusuchen. Es war nicht weit, aber es war schon etwas spät. Ich beeilte mich und begann in dem dicken russischen Wintermantel zu schwitzen. Ich kam trotzdem zu spät. Die letzten Besucher verließen schon den Friedhof. Nur an einem Grab saß noch eine einsame Frau. Sie hatte nichts mehr zu essen, aber sie gab mir einen Rubel. Nachher kam ich mir etwas schäbig vor. Ich hätte dieser armen Frau den Rubel lassen sollen.-->
+
In the camp, Hans had a Landser who sold the cigarettes for him, for a 50% share. I wanted to earn everything on my own and sell them myself. And while Hans lay on his bunk and rested, I raced around the whole camp to sell my cigarettes. Hans had sold his entire stock, but I hadn't sold a single pack. I'm just not a businessman. Then I made an even bigger mistake. A clever comrade had been watching Hans' cigarette seller. He came on to me and I, in my harmlessness, told him about the shop and one day even took him with me after he had hypocritically explained to me that he was not interested in doing business at all. Since then, this crook is snatching everything away from us by buying in bulk and has spoiled the whole business for us. Hans has never forgiven me for my stupidity. Since then, our friendship has cooled down noticeably.
  
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{{S|312: Haupttext fortgesetzt}}Hans hatte unweit von dem Fotogeschäft einen Tabakladen entdeckt, nur 100 m weiter in derselben Straße. Dort gab es sehr preiswerte Zigaretten und billigen Tabak. Er behielt dieses Geheimnis für sich und machte im Lager mit einem kleinen Preisaufschlag ein gutes Geschäft. Als er dann erkrankte, weihte er mich in das Geheimnis ein und beschrieb mir die Lage des Ladens. Nun holte ich die Ware von dort, und zwar immer gleich einen Rucksack voll. Einmal dauerte es etwas länger, bis ich die zahlreichen Päckchen im Rucksack verstaut und mit der Frau abgerechnet hatte. Inzwischen hatte sich eine Schlange von 6–7 Personen gebildet. Aber sie sagten kein Wort und warteten geduldig, bis ich fertig war, obgleich sie mich sicher als Kriegsgefangenen erkannt hatten.
+
'''Flax Combine'''.<ref>On the site of the former textile or flax combine now stands the [http://www.trcgalaktika.ru/ shopping centre “Galaktika”].</ref> Since I’m talking about my stupidity: Here's another one right away that I got up to at the flax combine. We often worked near the kitchen here and naturally tried to get something to eat there. A whole number of girls worked in the kitchen under the supervision of a cook. Of course, the girls - as well as the whole population - were forbidden any contact with us. Nevertheless, the kitchen girls occasionally slipped us something. One day they had slipped me a whole portion of lunch. After spooning it out behind a screen, I guilelessly walked up to the counter with my empty plate and handed it to one of the girls with a loud “bolshoi sspassiba<ref>{{gerade|большое спасибо}}, thank you very much!</ref>!” The girl cast a quick glance at the cook, her nachalnik, then looked at me reproachfully and wordlessly took the plate from me. The cook pretended not to hear. Anyway, I quickly disappeared from the canteen. I idiot!
  
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Im Lager hat der Hans einen Landser, der für ihn die Zigaretten verkaufte, gegen 50% Beteiligung. Ich wollte alles allein verdienen und selbst verkaufen. Und während Hans auf seiner Pritsche lag und ruhte, raste ich im ganzen Lager herum, um meine Zigaretten zu verkaufen. Hans hatte seinen gesamten Bestand verkauft, ich dagegen war nicht eine einzige Packung los geworden. Ich bin eben kein Kaufmann. Dann machte ich einen noch größeren Fehler. Ein cleverer Kamerad hatte Hans’ Zigarettenverkäufer beobachtet. Er machte sich an mich heran, und ich erzählt ihm in meiner Harmlosigkeit von dem Laden und nahm ihn eines Tages sogar mit, nachdem er mir heuchlerisch erklärt hatte, dass er an Geschäftemachen überhaupt nicht interessiert sei. Seitdem schnappt uns dieser Gauner durch Großeinkäufe alles weg und hat uns das ganze Geschäft verdorben. Hans hat mir diese meine Dummheit nie verziehen. Seitdem ist unsere Freundschaft merklich abgekühlt.
+
[[Datei:Textilkombinat EVTL 1943-05 Конвейер восстановленной Смоленской швейной фабрики • Декабрь 1943.jpg|thumb|<span class="TgbZ"></span>''Caption:'' Smolensk Textile Factory - December 1943]]
 +
In a room next to the kitchen was a sewing room where about 10 girls were employed. Günter Heuer often appeared here. Boyish and cheerful, he came whirling in, gibbering in Russian with the girls so that they shook with laughter. He was certainly their crush.
  
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'''Flachskombinat'''.<ref>An der Stelle des damaligen Textil- oder Flachskombinats steht jetzt das [http://www.trcgalaktika.ru/ Einkaufszentrum „Galaktika“].</ref> Da ich gerade von meiner Dummheit rede: Hier gleich noch eine, die ich im Flachskombinat begangen habe. Wir arbeiteten hier oft auch in der Nähe der Küche und versuchten natürlich, dort etwas zu essen zu bekommen. In der Küche arbeiteten eine ganze Anzahl von Mädchen unter der Leitung eines Kochs. Den Mädchen war selbstverständlich – wie auch der ganzen Bevölkerung – jeglicher Kontakt mit uns verboten. Dennoch steckten die Küchenmädchen uns gelegentlich etwas zu. Eines Tages hatten sie mir eine ganze Portion Mittagessen zugeschoben. Nachdem ich sie hinter einem Wandschirm ausgelöffelt hatte, ging ich arglos mit meinem leeren Teller an die Theke und übergab ihn einem der Mädchen mit einem lauten „bolschoi sspassiba<ref>{{Gerade|большое спасибо}}, großen Dank!</ref>!“ Das Mädchen wirft einen schnellen Blick zu dem Koch, ihrem Natschalnik, sieht mich dann vorwurfsvoll an und nimmt mir wortlos den Teller ab. Der Koch tat, als hätte er nichts gehört. Ich verschwand jedenfalls schnellstens aus der Kantine. Ich Idiot!
+
There was a pile of rubbish behind the kitchen, where I discover a small carrot that is still fresh. I pick it up, wipe it off and eat it. I was annoyed about this for a long time. I haven’t sunk so low that I have to eat from a rubbish heap.
  
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In einem Raum neben der Küche war eine Nähstube, in der etwa 10 Mädchen beschäftigt waren. Hier tauchte Günter Heuer öfter auf. Jungenhaft und fröhlich kam er herein gewirbelt, kauderwelschte auf Russisch mit den Mädchen, dass sie sich vor Lachen schüttelten. Er war sicher ihr Schwarm.
+
'''Brickyard'''. It was located quite far outside the town on a broad, flat-arched plateau, free and open in treeless terrain. It had been destroyed in the war and is to be rebuilt. The path to it leads across the bare plateau. The unusually cold winter blows the icy wind through our clothes, making us shiver to the core. If we have to stop once, we fear freezing to death. Even the walk to and from the camp is a torture, and the work at this windy altitude is hard. We were laying bricks and mixing mortar at -20°''C'', because the Russian engineer had to meet his target: According to the plan, production should start in spring. So despite the cold, we just kept on bricking, and when not enough bricks came, we tore off the lower layers of the metre-thick ring wall of the kiln and bricked them back on top. It’s unbelievable, but the engineer had only one goal: He had to meet his norm, keep to his schedule, because production had to start in the spring. If something went wrong then, it was no longer his business. '''He''' had fulfilled his target.
  
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Hinter der Küche lag ein Abfallhaufen, auf dem ich einen noch frische kleine Mohrrübe entdecke. Ich hebe sie auf, wische sie ab und esse sie auf. Darüber habe ich mich noch lange geärgert. So weit bin ich denn doch nicht gesunken, dass ich von einem Abfallhaufen fressen muss.
+
About 100 men worked at the brickyard. The detail was extremely unpopular and dreaded, because there were many casualties due to illnesses, colds and frostbite.
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'''Ziegelei'''. Sie lag ziemlich weit außerhalb der Stadt auf einer breiten, flach gewölbten Hochfläche, frei und offen in baumlosem Gelände. Sie war im Kriege zerstört worden und soll wieder aufgebaut werden. Der Weg dorthin führt über die kahle Hochfläche. Der ungewöhnlich kalte Winter bläst uns den eisigen Wind durch unsere Kleidung, dass wir bis ins Mark erschauern. Wenn wir einmal stehen bleiben müssen, fürchten wir zu erfrieren. Schon der An- und Abmarsch ist eine Quälerei, und die Arbeit auf dieser windigen Höhe ist hart. Wir mauerten und mischten Mörtel bei –20°, denn der russische Ingenieur musste sein Plansoll erfüllen: Laut Plan sollte die Produktion {{S|313}}im Frühjahr anlaufen. Also wird trotz der Kälte einfach weiter gemauert, und wenn nicht genügend Steine herankamen, rissen wir die unteren Lagen der meterdicken Ringmauer des Ofens ab und mauerten sie oben wieder drauf. Es ist unglaublich, aber der Ingenieur hatte nur ein Ziel: Er musste seine Norm erfüllen, seinen Terminplan einhalten, denn im Frühjahr muss die Produktion anlaufen. Wenn dann etwas schief ging, war es nicht mehr seine Sache. '''Er''' hatte sein Plansoll erfüllt.
 
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Auf der Ziegelei arbeiten etwa 100 Mann. Das Kommando war äußerst unbeliebt und gefürchtet, denn es gab viele Ausfälle durch Erkrankungen, Erkältungen und Erfrierungen.
 
  
 
{{Kalendernaechste|1946/Dezember/5/en}}
 
{{Kalendernaechste|1946/Dezember/5/en}}
  
 
[[Kategorie:Tagebuchfragmente]]
 
[[Kategorie:Tagebuchfragmente]]

Aktuelle Version vom 13. Juni 2022, 13:59 Uhr

Chapter Finder

Kalendernavigation ab 1946 1947-07.jpg

Editorial 1938 1939 1940 1941 1942 1943 1944 1945 1946 1947 1948 1949 Epilog Anhang

Chronik 40–45

January February March April May June July August September October November December Eine Art Bilanz Gedankensplitter und Betrachtungen Personen Orte Abkürzungen Stichwort-Index Organigramme Literatur Galerie:Fotos,Karten,Dokumente

Chronik 45–49

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31.

Erfahrungen i.d.Gefangenschaft Bemerkungen z.russ.Mentalität Träume i.d.Gefangenschaft

Personen-Index Namen,Anschriften Personal I.R.477 1940–44 Übersichtskarte (Orte,Wege) Orts-Index Vormarsch-Weg Codenamen der Operationen im Sommer 1942 Mil.Rangordnung 257.Inf.Div. MG-Komp.eines Inf.Batl. Kgf.-Lagerorganisation Kriegstagebücher Allgemeines Zu einzelnen Zeitabschnitten Linkliste Rotkreuzkarte Originalmanuskript Briefe von Kompanie-Angehörigen

Deutsch
Русский
GEO INFO
Magazin 19 position still unknown
Meadow area near the slaughterhouse Karte — map
Buildings (of the Kalinin factory) Karte — map
Flax Combine Karte — map
Tileyard position still unknown
see also Localisation attempts and overview map Karte — map

6-8 November. The red October Revolution was celebrated in a big way, as usual. For us it only meant increased guarding.

A censored Red Cross Postcard from Soviet captivity.[1]

Red Cross cards may now only contain 25 words. Of course, the text will be censored. Information about whereabouts, state of health (if poor), weight and anything negative is deleted (see picture). Disagreeable mail is simply thrown away. This work is also done by the Antifa comrades. Mail is only allowed from Germany and Austria. Mail from other countries is not handed over. The Antifa comrades cannot read foreign languages. I have written 11 times. Of these, 9 cards arrived at home. Delivery time up to half a year.

Bad workers are assembled in a special brigade. This brigade is given a norm that it must fulfil, otherwise the working hours are simply extended. This is forced labour. Extending working hours, shortening breaks, working outside at -40°C, using distrophic workers and countless other violations of the Geneva and Hague Conventions are the order of the day.

We have a larger group of Hungarians in the camp. They are sly fellows, lazy and cunning. When it's their turn to peel potatoes with us, they don’t show up at first, until we finally fetch them after half an hour. And then they start peeling, cutting away so much potato with six short cuts that only a small cube remains. Our scolding doesn’t faze them. They finish their share as quickly as we do, but it results in at least one less bucket of potatoes. These wogs, however, don’t mind. They get on well with the population outside and are also more cunning at stealing than we are, so they always have plenty of extra rations. I think the congeniality between Hungarians and Russians is greater and therefore facilitates their contacts.

The atmosphere in the camp is unpleasant. There is the blind hatred of the “German” camp leadership against us officers. This also applies to some Landser. When I once reprimanded one of them in the washroom for splashing me, he grumbled, “You have nothing to say anymore!” On his way out, he meets a Russian recruit at the door and literally snaps his heels in front of him! That’s the German! - There is (apart from the hatred of some) the Russian’s lack of understanding of our mentality. It’s not always ill-intentioned, but it’s annoying. He is terribly suspicious and humourless. He forbids the currently popular hit song "Barcelona, du allein (you alone)..."[2] because Spain is a fascist dictatorship. When Opalev, an officer in the Russian camp headquarters, heard that we were fed up with captivity, he said he didn't understand! He drinks champagne like lemonade and cologne like schnapps. We are to eat as he does: dry bread with soup. (That's how the Russians eat it.) People with 2 suits are already capitalists, in his eyes. - There are the constant cheats on the rations. The potatoes have to be filled with a shovel instead of a fork so that as much sand as possible gets on the scales. Then he chases away the German rations officer, who is supposed to check the weighing, because he complained that Ivan had put his foot on the scales and put a stone on it.

Red Cross cards are given every 4 weeks, according to regulations - but they are not enough for everyone!

The wages, which are already manipulated downwards, are often not handed over. We are then told that it will be transferred to a blocked account and paid out when we are released!

We get winter clothes, but in return they take away our green Wehrmacht coats.

We are allowed to write letters, but they are often not forwarded.

Our house has piped water, central heating and electricity, but it often doesn't work.

And... and... and...

In consistent implementation of socialist egalitarianism, women's equality is radically carried out in the Soviet Union (except in the Muslim states). Women do the same hard work as men. But the brigadiers of the women's brigades are mostly men.

Magazine 19. Cereals are stored in this warehouse. Large stacks of sacks full of potatoes, millet, flour and much else. More rarely, a few sacks of sugar or the like. Our work consisted of unloading the lorries that brought these goods here from the goods yard and loading other lorries that then took the stuff out again to the individual state-run shops in the city. There wasn’t too much to do. The Russian guards would sometimes slip away, and the Russian nachalnik wasn’t always present either. When we had the opportunity, of course, we put aside some of the rations for ourselves. Every experienced plenny is prepared for such occasions. The bags must always be tight and without holes. It is also useful to have a small bag with you at all times. At present, I always carry a tablespoon with a broken handle on this command. It is easy to store and you can use it to take a spoonful from an open flour sack and put it in your mouth, for example, as you pass by. If you had to do it by hand, you would soon have smeared your hand and mouth and would be betrayed. The fact that the flour sack is open is because it “accidentally” fell down during unloading and burst open. There are other methods, but you must not do it often, because the nachalnik is not stupid.

In another case at another command, we agreed with the supervisor beforehand: We wouldn’t steal anything (called “zappzerapp” in German-Russian gibberish), and in return he would give us something voluntarily at the end. But not all nachalniks were so philanthropic, and there was often a beating if you were caught in “zappzerapp”. There was a lot of stealing everywhere, by Russians and Germans. It was like an epidemic. One comrade even told me that German prisoners of war were lined up with machine pistols in front of a food magazine because the Russians were stealing too much.

Once we unloaded a goods wagon on a siding of the passenger station. Among the goods was a sack of sultanas. While one of us carried the heavy sack, I went sideways to help support the load. As I did so, I poked my finger into an existing hole to fish out a few sultanas. But the sultanas were a bit frozen and hard, so I broke my fingernails. It was hardly worth it for the few sultanas I managed to grab. Besides, this was a risky venture, because when loading such treasures, as with sugar, there are always a lot of watchdogs (who, by the way, are all hoping to get something for themselves).

We stowed millet sacks in the large warehouse. From a sack that had opened, we filled our bags in unguarded moments. I had filled my haversack and went as inconspicuously as possible in front of the gate to put it in our lorry standing there. Next to the lorry stood our Mongolian guard. I wink at him and stow my bag in a corner. The Mongolian smiles. When we board the lorry to go home after finishing our work, my bag is gone. The Mongol is still smiling, the scoundrel!

Benno (von Knobelsdorff) had a different method. He simply let the loose millet trickle into his felt boot, namely the right one. At the end of work, the guard suddenly had us line up and sit down. We had to take off our boots and turn them inside out. Benno took off the (empty) left one. The Ivan wants to see the other one too. Benno puts the left one back on and wants to stand up, but the Russian makes him sit down again. Benno sits down and takes off the left one again. The Ivan didn’t realise. So Benno moved into camp with a somewhat swollen right foot.

We loaded sacks of potatoes. In the meantime, we had set up a fireplace behind the warehouse, over which our mess kits filled with potatoes were hanging. But the storage supervisor discovers them just as we are about to check whether they are already cooked. Like an enraged bull, Ivan came running, kicking at the mess tins like a football so that they flew off in all directions. Then he tramples out the fire with both feet and lunges at Hans Sölheim, beating him like a savage. Hans turns around and runs away. The Russian behind him. The rest of us go back into the hall, somewhat depressed by the loss of our meal. While we are still standing together a bit perplexed, we hear a loud “Hello, Camerati!” from the hall entrance. We turn around and look in disbelief at Hans Sölheim and the nachalnik, both walking arm in arm towards us. They laugh and wave. Less than a minute ago the Russian was still furiously beating him, now he is holding him in his arms, laughing! That’s the Russian mentality! I have experienced such sudden changes of mood several times. They can be fatal if the Russian is drunk and armed.[3]

Behind the warehouse lies a long end of telephone wire. You can always use something like that, and I roll it up. Then I notice that it's too long and Hans Sölheim, who is next to me, says, “Why don’t you tear off a piece?” I do. In the evening in the camp he says to me: “You committed sabotage today,” and when I look at him uncomprehendingly he continues: “The wire was a telephone line. I had pulled it down before!”

Some locations of the events according to investigations by the ed.: Clubhouse (camp) - 3-storey factory buildings - cemetery - factory "Kalinin" - track between meadows - slaughterhouse (aerial image Aug 43)

We unload peat trains at the western edge of town. The goods trains stop here and we simply throw the peat pieces down to the left and right onto the open meadowland. All with our hands, of course. Working with us is a brigade of convicted women and girls. When we complain that we have been imprisoned here for 2 years, they just laugh. 2 years is not a long time at all. After 5 years it would be hard, but 2 years? Nitchevo!

Close to the track begins the fenced-in area of a slaughterhouse. We see that every now and then a door opens and someone comes out and goes back in again. Some people have a nose for where there is something to get or where you can get hold of something edible. I've learned that a little bit. So I sneak up to the house through a hole in the wire fence until I reach the door. Here I don’t have to wait long. A sturdy girl in a blood-stained rubber apron steps out of the door. I shyly hold out my mess kit to her. She takes it from my hand without a word and goes back. After a short while she comes back and, with a dispassionate face, hands me back my cooking utensil, filled with fresh, warm blood. I leave with friendly thanks. Outside the slaughterhouse, behind the hall, we maintain a fire over which we immediately heat the blood in the mess kit. Within a few minutes we have a whole mess kit full of fresh blood sausage. Some take it back to the camp to sell it there. Later I worked at this slaughterhouse again for a few days, but in the administration building. There, too, we got a meal at noon in the canteen, but we sat alone at a table, separated from the Russians.

We are building a destroyed building (of the textile combine?[4]). The three-storey house is already finished up to the roof truss. Only the roof truss and some minor masonry work remains to be done. I am the brigadier of the unskilled labour brigade. We carry the bricks, 3-4 at a time, on our shoulders up 3 floors on foot. It's a grind, but we take it as slowly as possible. The nachalnik is a creep. Since he doesn't own a watch, he always asks me what time it is. But although I always give him the correct time, he always makes us work 1/4 hour longer because he naturally suspects again that I am lying to him. The consequence is that we are now really cheating him, and not only with the time.Since he won't let us leave the fenced-in workplace (which is not allowed either), I sneak away more often. As a brigadier, I don't have to work, but I'm not allowed to leave the workplace.

The outbuilding is also three storeys high. Since the partition wall between the two houses in the attic is not yet bricked, one can easily climb up to the attic of the residential house. I did so once to have a look around. There is a 10 cm thick layer of cinders on the plank layer of the attic. But the floorboards are not tight, and through the cracks I can see down into the kitchen, where the housewife is fiddling around on the cooker. I wonder why she doesn't notice the quiet trickle of cinders falling through the cracks on the kitchen floor. Or is she used to it?

I have stolen a few boards and climb back across the attic of the neighbouring house into the stairwell there. Here, starting on the 3rd floor, I knock on every flat door and offer my boards at the minimum price, as a special offer. But nobody wants them. They must get too many such offers. Finally, a woman on the first floor takes pity on me and gives me 4 potatoes for them.

A few days later I try again with a 2 m long log of 15 cm diameter. This time, however, I run across the courtyard to the next block of houses, always taking cover. But here too I am turned away everywhere. I simply have to leave the log in the hallway.[5]

Hans had discovered a tobacco shop not far from the photo shop (see below), only 100 m further down the same street. They had very cheap cigarettes and cheap tobacco. He kept this secret to himself and did a good business in the camp with a small mark-up. Then, when he fell ill, he let me in on the secret and described the location of the shop to me. Now I fetched the goods from there, and always a rucksack full at once. Once it took a little longer until I had stowed the numerous packages in the backpack and settled up with the woman. In the meantime, a queue of 6-7 people had formed. But they didn’t say a word and waited patiently until I was done, although they had certainly recognised me as a prisoner of war.

In the camp, Hans had a Landser who sold the cigarettes for him, for a 50% share. I wanted to earn everything on my own and sell them myself. And while Hans lay on his bunk and rested, I raced around the whole camp to sell my cigarettes. Hans had sold his entire stock, but I hadn't sold a single pack. I'm just not a businessman. Then I made an even bigger mistake. A clever comrade had been watching Hans' cigarette seller. He came on to me and I, in my harmlessness, told him about the shop and one day even took him with me after he had hypocritically explained to me that he was not interested in doing business at all. Since then, this crook is snatching everything away from us by buying in bulk and has spoiled the whole business for us. Hans has never forgiven me for my stupidity. Since then, our friendship has cooled down noticeably.

Flax Combine.[6] Since I’m talking about my stupidity: Here's another one right away that I got up to at the flax combine. We often worked near the kitchen here and naturally tried to get something to eat there. A whole number of girls worked in the kitchen under the supervision of a cook. Of course, the girls - as well as the whole population - were forbidden any contact with us. Nevertheless, the kitchen girls occasionally slipped us something. One day they had slipped me a whole portion of lunch. After spooning it out behind a screen, I guilelessly walked up to the counter with my empty plate and handed it to one of the girls with a loud “bolshoi sspassiba[7]!” The girl cast a quick glance at the cook, her nachalnik, then looked at me reproachfully and wordlessly took the plate from me. The cook pretended not to hear. Anyway, I quickly disappeared from the canteen. I idiot!

Caption: Smolensk Textile Factory - December 1943

In a room next to the kitchen was a sewing room where about 10 girls were employed. Günter Heuer often appeared here. Boyish and cheerful, he came whirling in, gibbering in Russian with the girls so that they shook with laughter. He was certainly their crush.

There was a pile of rubbish behind the kitchen, where I discover a small carrot that is still fresh. I pick it up, wipe it off and eat it. I was annoyed about this for a long time. I haven’t sunk so low that I have to eat from a rubbish heap.

Brickyard. It was located quite far outside the town on a broad, flat-arched plateau, free and open in treeless terrain. It had been destroyed in the war and is to be rebuilt. The path to it leads across the bare plateau. The unusually cold winter blows the icy wind through our clothes, making us shiver to the core. If we have to stop once, we fear freezing to death. Even the walk to and from the camp is a torture, and the work at this windy altitude is hard. We were laying bricks and mixing mortar at -20°C, because the Russian engineer had to meet his target: According to the plan, production should start in spring. So despite the cold, we just kept on bricking, and when not enough bricks came, we tore off the lower layers of the metre-thick ring wall of the kiln and bricked them back on top. It’s unbelievable, but the engineer had only one goal: He had to meet his norm, keep to his schedule, because production had to start in the spring. If something went wrong then, it was no longer his business. He had fulfilled his target.

About 100 men worked at the brickyard. The detail was extremely unpopular and dreaded, because there were many casualties due to illnesses, colds and frostbite.

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  1. ↑ This photocopy is the only example of its kind. All originals of the author’s postcards have been lost.
  2. ↑ Barcelona, 1943, music: Franz Wilczek, lyrics: Inge Wolf
  3. ↑ Cartellieri p. 340 refers to the Russian concept of the “wide soul” (широкая натура).
  4. ↑ possibly the houses of the factory "Kalinin" at Vitebsk Chaussee 46-50, which were built by Germans in exactly this period (message by Anna Shukova on Facebook)
  5. ↑ The paragraphs "Photomaton" and "Easter/Cemetery Visits" that follow here in the original text were saved under the appropriate dates 8 Dec 46, 2 Nov 46 and 1 Nov 47, respectively.
  6. ↑ On the site of the former textile or flax combine now stands the shopping centre “Galaktika”.
  7. ↑ большое спасибо, thank you very much!
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