20. April 1945
| GEO & MIL INFO | ||||
|---|---|---|---|---|
| later, additional function as battalion NSFO[1]
30th: Hitler dead | ||||
| 25/26: Transfer of Authority from OKH to OKW[2] | ||||
20 Apr 45. The battalion leader sends me the first award certificates and bands of the newly created Courland Cuff Title. These are the first eight. There's also one for me already. The others will follow shortly. I immediately set off for the machine gun base on the island to distribute the bands. The then lance corporal[3] assists me. The ribbon was made by a weaving mill in Goldingen, and home-working Latvian women did the final sewing on this last German war decoration.[4]
Suddenly there is a crash and roar at the front. My right-hand company sector is under heavy fire. The telephone shrills. The platoon leader reports in. He suspects an attack. After a while, however, the fire subsides and then dies down completely. I go to the front to find out. Nothing has happened. On the contrary, the Landsers are dying of laughing! When the fire died down, a Landser had run from his dugout to the firing position, creeping along the rampart like a cat. Suddenly someone came stalking towards him from the other side, his back bent and his rifle ready to fire. They spot each other at the same time and each thought the other was a Russian. In their initial fright, they both back up behind the nearest cover and open fire on each other until they finally realise their mistake. However, they kept quiet about the incident so as not to make fools of themselves. But a third person happened to see it and quickly spreads the word about the spectacle, which the Landser were laughing their heads off about.
Our neighbour on the right is a Lithuanian battalion[5]. This afternoon I was over there once and visited the company leader of the company we are joining on the right. He's a young, fair-haired lieutenant. A handsome chap who speaks quite good German. I also had a quick look at the company's positions. Their machine gun nests and firing positions are well secured with tree trunks up to chest height. They have more wood because some of their positions are already on solid land. The section of this battalion is the same as that occupied by the battalion of the Bavarian choleric, which stretches as far as Jurmalciems. The next company sector is the one I occupied at the time. It was our first position in Courland. I can look over to the section that Second Lieutenant Harms occupied with the 1st Platoon.
On the left side of our battalion section is an artillery unit that has lost all its guns in the fighting. Now the gunners are in front as infantrymen.[6] I visited them today. Their positions are also already on solid ground, covered by dense high forest. Along their front, the artillerymen have simply erected a high palisade fence with machine-gun emplacements built into it at certain intervals. The forefield is very unclear. This is why Soviet reconnaissance patrols repeatedly managed to get right up to the fence. Once they even pulled out a sentry. The unit has now received reinforcements from a concentration camp. They are all people with minor offences, which they are supposed to serve on the front line here.
Next to this arty unit is our 2nd company, led by Second Lieutenant Voit. It too is already on dry land. Two men suddenly disappeared here. One morning the sentry post was empty and all indications were that the two had defected.
I am reported from the front that a propaganda loudspeaker over by the Ivan is calling on our people to defect. “Comrades, come over here and bring your mess kits. There's pudding! And you'll see a thousand exposed thighs in our front theatres!” I pass the message on to the battalion by phone. A short time later, a few volleys of our artillery blast into the forest over there.
I just get a call from the front that the loudspeaker is at work again. I run to the front to listen to it. The same lure as last night. But today they've put on a new record. It blares over: “... and your wives have relations with Americans and Allied prisoners...” Then one of my Landsers shouts back: “Never mind, for that we're ... your totty!” Roaring laughter at this quick-witted but not very presentable answer! A few more waltz melodies can be heard from over there, and then it's quiet.
The regiment has ordered ongoing reconnaissance on the Russian front. So I deploy reconnaissance patrols. The patrol of the first evening returns without any results. It turns out that it had stalled fifty metres from our positions and then returned some time later. Admittedly, the terrain is unfavourable for our reconnaissance patrols. The men wade long distances in knee-deep water. But that doesn't help. We want to know what's going on over there. And the Russians are also coming through the water. Finally, a few volunteers come forward, including the corporal who had grumbled so much about his interrupted sleep during my first briefing. He has since turned out to be a genuine bully and fearless daredevil. Not a soldier, but a landsknecht. Such men are often indispensable in war, and I was always quite happy to have such types in the company, albeit with restrictions. This one was like that. He was stubborn and unsoldierly, but fearless and German!
The following evening, two men set off, a sergeant and this corporal. They stay out late, so I start to worry. After several hours they come back with a fairly useful sketch of the enemy positions. The next evening they go out again to complete their observations. According to this, the Russian front in front of my section is about 600 to 800 metres away and consists of a massive tree blockade with machine gun nests built into it.
A few days later I receive an aerial photograph from the battalion which proves, among other things, the accuracy of these observations.
Today we retaliate with counter-propaganda. The battalion has announced a Russian girl who is to talk to the Russian positions from my section. She won't come to me, however, but will immediately speak from the designated position. Ivan listened to everything calmly. He didn't even fire a shot. Unfortunately, I didn't get to see the girl. I hear she's very pretty.
Today I want to go to the rear, to the train. The battalion provides me with a horse, which is stabled at the medical aid station. While my horse is being saddled, I sit with our battalion surgeon. The aid station is accommodated in a farmhouse right next to the battalion command post. I really like this fresh, cheerful Latvian, but I don't enjoy his saucy jokes. When he's with the battalion leader, things get really bad. He's just a physician!
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The orderly reports that the horse is saddled. I say goodbye until the evening, mount and ride off. On the way I pass the small village of Nīca, whose church has been destroyed. I learn that the tower had been blown up by the Germans because they didn't want it to fall into the hands of the Russians as an arty observation post when the front was temporarily withdrawn. The Protestant priest had previously offered to take down the tower with his fellow villagers so that it would not have to be blown up. But the German demolition party refused and one day the tower blew up. Perhaps a lack of time forced us to take this measure, but the population, who are so sympathetic to us, were once again shocked. The German bull in a china shop!
I'm with the train. As I was announced in advance, everything is polished to a shine and in perfect order. The accountant has virtually turned his clothing store into a textile exhibition. Only the food disappointed me. There is fish, fried herring. Perhaps they wanted to offer me something special. They couldn't have known that I'm not a fan of fish dishes. But I don't let on. But in the afternoon there's trouble. I'm writing a letter to Carola when I see the Spieß serving his dog a bowl of milk. That was going too far for me. My men at the front have to make do with the most meagre food, and back here the dog gets milk to drink every day! This half litre of milk a day could actually be brought to the front-line soldiers with their evening rations. The Spieß tries to save the embarrassing situation with a joke. The dog would be an “emergency ration”. That's why he had named it “goulash”.
I am invited to dinner with Senior Paymaster Schneider. The battalion leader is also there. They serve one of my favourite dishes: pancakes. After dinner, I make my way back with a new headgear. It's a soft peaked cap like the ones worn by officers in the First World War and some of them still wear today. It was lying around ownerless at the tailor's and he had no use for it. Now I'm wearing it, even though it's a bit too small for me.
On the way back, I inspect a bridge guard that my company has to provide here on the road.[7]
I have now reached the main Libau-Memel road and turn southwards. The sun is already beginning to set, but the air is soft and mild. It is early spring and May is approaching. The tall, old roadside trees are already covered in delicate verdure. A farmer strides ploughing in the field on the left. The horse pulls the shining ploughshare, while the farmer follows the furrow, tramping. As they stand in front of the sun's sinking fireball, they are only visible as dark silhouettes. What a picture of peace! Peace? Something chokes my throat. Is it the memories of my youth in my grandfather's village that come alive with this picture? Is it the feeling of this unfortunate war and our dark future up here? I don't know, but suddenly tears are streaming down my cheeks. And since there's no-one around, I let them run freely. My nerves, too, are already shattered.
I had met two men from the battalion staff at almost the same spot on my way here this morning. I knew one of them, senior lance corporal Bohndorf. He is the battalion clerk. I had stopped and talked to them for a while. Then we continued on our way in opposite directions.
This morning I wake up to some strangely muffled explosions. I step out of the shelter and look up at the sky. I see small pink explosion clouds puffing up high in the air. They puff up and then it falls down like snowflakes. Propaganda grenades with leaflets!
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According to orders, each battalion has to nominate an NSFO.[1] Everyone here is resisting tooth and nail. Nobody wants to take on the role. The battalion leader has to appoint someone. As always in such cases, the youngest is chosen. And as I'm the youngest company leader in the battalion, I'm appointed. The role fell into my lap.[8] In this new capacity, I was detailed to a meeting at the division.[9] The meeting and the subsequent meal were not worth mentioning, but the day as such with the walk along the Baltic Sea beach was marvellous. The buildings of the division headquarters are located amidst the dunes under the crowns of tall pine trees. From here we descend to the beach and look out over the sea. Far in the distance, the slender church towers of Libau rise up. And far to the south-west, behind the horizon, is where Carola lives. —
Both sides now seem to be plunging terrifically into the propaganda campaign. Or I only realise it now because I've become NSFO. In any case, we are being inundated with propaganda material. There are piles of leaflets in my shelter. They are very welcome because we are short of toilet paper. The format is also just right.
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- ↑ 1,0 1,1 Nationalsozialistischer Führungsoffizier, the Nazi version of the political commissar
- ↑ KTB OKW 1944–1945 p. 1443 f., 1456, 1459 and 1590 f.
- ↑ A blank space in the typoscript here, as in other places in the text, shows that the author tried in vain to remember the name or special function of this lance corporal (e.g. clerk, medic, messenger) when writing down the diary.
- ↑ obviously cited from Haupt 1979 p. 70
- ↑ das Lithuanian Police Battalion F/13
- ↑ acc. to map: (battalion) Hohmann with “Kan.” (gun) coy and “Vers.” (supply) coy
- ↑ presumed near Lauciņciems or near Upmaļciems
- ↑ The author was not a party member and not even a Nazi sympathiser any more.
- ↑ During this last period, the battalion was under the command of (Divisional) Group Colonel von Gise/en, which acted as regimental and divisional staff. The command post was in Bernati.