WWII war stories of German drivers. Memories of a German soldier about the Great Patriotic War. Stalin's armor shield. History of the Soviet ... Mikhail Svirin
Our self-propelled artillery regiment was reorganized in Mamontovka. Finally, new SPGs have arrived. These were not the old SU-152s, but new, more advanced ISU-152s. Along with the "self-propelled guns", several mechanics-drivers arrived for the replenishment. Now we even have a surplus in our regiment. All the driver-mechanics of heavy self-propelled guns had officer rank technician-lieutenant.
The regiment commander Shishov, a former anti-aircraft gunner, had someone to choose from and soon four mechanized drivers were expelled from the old composition. I don’t know what caused it. All were good drivers, proven in battle. It was a pity to part with comrades in arms.
My friend Fedya Sidorov, with whom I became friends six months ago, was also expelled. In the battle for Bagwa, in which my self-propelled gun sank in the mud and lagged behind the regiment, an interesting incident happened to him about which the whole regiment later spoke.
I remember this day well, because that evening there was a very heavy fog and, trying to get from the self-propelled gun to the village, which was a kilometer from me, I got lost in the fog and went to another village, which was twelve kilometers from Bagwa. I heard what happened to them personally from Fedya.
“We drove the Germans out of the village and, together with the tanks, started pursuing them. They drove the German until evening, and then such a heavy fog descended that we did not even notice how we lagged behind our own. I never thought that in February there are such fogs in Ukraine.
We drove for several hours, exhausted ourselves to the limit and finally drove to the outskirts of some unfamiliar village. The commander with the loaders went on reconnaissance to make sure that we did not fall into the clutches of the Germans. They knocked on the outermost hut. The owners, seeing us, were delighted and told that the village was called Rubaniy Mist, and “nimtsi got into the house”. We were the first Soviet soldiers to enter this village.
Just in case, we checked several nearby streets, and then our commander decided that the whole crew, after an exhausting march, battle and pursuit, needed rest.
The commander allowed me and the gunner to spend the night in the hut, the loader with the lock, just in case, stayed to sleep in the car, and the lieutenant himself, armed with a PPSh, decided to be the first to take over duty.
February nights are cold. The commander was thoroughly chilled. Two hours later he walked around the neighborhood. Everything was calm. Then he lit a cigarette and, in order not to loom a light on the street, went into the house. Having finished smoking a cigarette, he sat down next to his comrades, who were sleeping on the floor, on a thick layer of straw, near the still hot stove.
It was time to wake himself up to replace the loader, but the lieutenant lost his temper in the warmth and did not even notice ... as he fell asleep.
I woke up when dawn began to break through the window. I do not know what woke me up, because yesterday I was almost exhausted more than anyone else, but it was as if someone pushed me. It was already getting light and you could see something in the room.
It was stuffy, loud snoring echoed through the hut, sometimes turning into trills. Greatly the men got tired over the past two days and slept as they say "without hind legs."
Suddenly I noticed that there were no longer three of us in the hut, but seven. Apparently, at night our infantry approached, and also stopped to rest, and we were so tired that we did not even notice how they came to us for the night.
Since the places near the stove were already occupied by us, the infantrymen lay down on the floor by the window. “The Bedolgs were worn out too, they probably walked all night through such slush,” I still sympathized with them.
The longest infantryman almost rested his feet on me. Suddenly my gaze fell on his boots. They were German, with wide tops. “Ours must have fallen apart, here is the guy and the shoes of some Fritz.” I thought lazily. But, looking closer, I noticed that all the infantrymen were wearing such boots.
"These are the Germans!" - the thought flashed. To be honest, I was stunned by such a discovery. How could this have happened and where did our sentry go! There was silence in the hut and I decided to act independently. Only when I took the TT out of the holster and cocked it did I feel much calmer.
Slowly he collected the machine guns from the Germans, trying not to rattle with iron and not offend the sleeping people. Then he pushed his gunner with his foot and, putting a finger to his lips, handed him the machine gun and ordered him to wake the commander. He was probably asleep and did not understand where I got the German machine gun.
“Get ready, now there will be a performance.” I whispered to them.
The gunner and I went to the door, took aim at the sleeping Germans, and I kicked the nearest German in the side and yelled:
Alyarm, aufstein! (Alarm, get up!)
The Germans jumped up sleepily and began to look for their machine guns, and then, seeing three grimy Russians in tank helmets, who held them at gunpoint with their own machine guns, froze.
Guten morgen, meine herren! Hyundai hoh! (Good morning gentlemen, hands up!)
It was funny for me to look at the sleepy, surprised faces of the German soldiers standing with their hands up.
Well, what are the Fritzes, Hitler kaput?
The Germans nodded their heads in agreement.
- Wee fillet zind zi. Wo der rest? (How many are you? Where are the rest?)
- Vir zind allen, Herr Officer. Zonst nimanden. (We are alone, mister officer. There is no one else).
We jumped out into the street, raised the loaders sleeping in the car, after which the guys, taking with them machine guns and grenades, quickly checked all the neighboring houses for the presence of an enemy.
There were no Germans nearby. They took the prisoners out of the hut, threw them overcoats and caps, after which they took off their trouser belts, dragged them one by one to the transmission compartment and tied their hands tightly.
Then I started the engine and while it was warming up, the commander studied the map and already mapped out the route. Then he gave the command: "Forward" and we drove off. Behind the wheelhouse, on the transmission were four Germans with their hands tied, and the castle man with a machine gun, leaning out of the hatch, was guarding them.
It turns out that these Germans were one of those who skedaddle from us. They also got lost and walked along this off-road almost all day and all night. And when they went to the village, their only dream was to fall and fall asleep.
We found our regiment only during the day. The prisoners were handed over to the headquarters, and the machine guns were transferred to the ammunition supply. True, they kept one German machine gun for themselves.
Here, in Stalingrad, it was before Christmas 1942. On November 19-20 we were surrounded, the boiler closed. The first two days we laughed at this: "The Russians surrounded us, ha-ha!" But it quickly became clear to us that this was very serious.
I was on guard when it got light, at about six or seven in the morning, one comrade came in and said: "Drop your weapon and get out, we surrender to the Russians." We went outside, there were three or four Russians, we dropped our carbines and unfastened our bags of ammunition. We didn't try to resist. So we ended up in captivity. The Russians in Red Square have collected 400 or 500 prisoners.
The first thing the Russian soldiers asked was "Uri est"? Uri est "?" (Uhr - clock) I had a pocket watch, and a Russian soldier gave me a loaf of German soldier's black bread for it. A whole loaf I haven't seen in weeks! And I told him, with my youthful frivolity, that watches are more expensive. Then he jumped into a German truck, jumped out, and gave me another piece of bacon. Then they lined up us, a Mongol soldier came up to me and took my bread and bacon. We were warned that whoever fails will be immediately shot. And then, ten meters away from me, I saw the Russian soldier who gave me bread and bacon. I got out of line and rushed to him. The convoy shouted: "nazad, nazad" and I had to return to the ranks. This Russian approached me, and I explained to him that this Mongolian thief had taken my bread and bacon. He went to this Mongol, took the bread and lard from him, gave him a slap, and brought the food back to me
To answer
The first six months of captivity were hell, which was worse than in a cauldron. Then many of the 100 thousand prisoners of Stalingrad died. On January 31st, the first day of captivity, we marched from southern Stalingrad to Beketovka. About 30 thousand prisoners were collected there. There we were loaded onto freight wagons, a hundred people per wagon. On right side there were bunks for 50 people, in the center of the car there was a hole instead of a toilet, on the left there were bunks too. We were driven for 23 days, from February 9 to April 2. Six of us got out of the car. The rest died. Some wagons died out completely, in some there were ten to twenty people. What was the cause of death? We weren't starving - we didn't have water. All died of thirst. This was the planned extermination of German prisoners of war. The head of our transport was a Jew, what was to be expected of him? It was the worst thing that I have experienced in my life.
To answer
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From there, from Uzbekistan, the sick were sent to the infirmary, and the so-called healthy ones were sent to a labor camp. We were in Uzbekistan in rice and cotton fields, the norm was not very high, it was possible to live. After that, they began to treat us in a human way, I would say so. There, too, some died, but in general, we were treated like human beings.
Once in Orsk we were taken to a banja, in an open truck in a 30-degree frost. I had old shoes, and handkerchiefs were wound in place of socks. Three Russian mothers were sitting at the bathhouse, one of them walked past me and dropped something. These were German soldiers' socks, washed and darned. Do you understand what she did for me?
Once we got a tetanus shot. In the Wehrmacht, vaccinations were done in the front, and in Russia under the shoulder blade. The doctor had two 20-cube syringes that he filled in turn and one needle with which he injected all 1,700 people. The doctor gave all of us, 1,700 people, vaccinations. He had two syringes, which he filled in turn, 20 cubes, and one needle with which he pricked all of us. I was one of three who got the injection inflamed. Such things cannot be forgotten!
On August 23, 1945, I was at home - the first to return home from Russia. I weighed 44 kilograms - I had dystrophy. Here in Germany we have become criminals. In all countries, in Russia, in France, soldiers are heroes, and only we, in Germany, are criminals. When we were in Russia in 2006, Russian veterans hugged us. They said: "There was a war, we fought, and today we drink together, and that's good!" And in Germany we are still criminals ... In the GDR I had no right to write my memoirs. They worked on me three times at the enterprise, asked me to think that I was talking about captivity. They said: "You cannot tell such things about the Soviet Union, our friend."
All my photos were burned. I photographed during the war, sent films home, they developed them there. They were at my house. Our village was in neutral territory between the Americans, the Russians and the hordes of the SS-Soviets, the Germans. On April 19, 1945, two Americans were killed at the entrance to the village. The entire village, 26 houses, were burned by the Americans along with the residents with incendiary shells. The house burned down, the photographs also burned down, I have not a single photograph left from the war.
To answer
The Russian soldiers were having dinner. They ate pasta from huge bowls. Apparently, we looked with such hungry eyes that they offered us to eat what was left. I could not believe it! Some of them also gave us their spoons! From that moment on, they never beat me, never scolded me, I never slept in the open air, I always had a roof over my head. On the first evening we were placed in an empty warehouse. We were sitting at the table when a Russian soldier came and brought sausage rings, some bread and beef on his hand. But I had no appetite, and I ate almost nothing, because I thought that in the morning we would certainly be shot. Propaganda inspired it to me! If I live any longer, I will describe this time, because I hear over and over again about how awful the Russians were, what Russian pigs were, and what great guys the Americans were. It was hard in captivity. There were different camps. There were some in which 30 percent of the prisoners died ... On the day the war ended, I was in a camp on the Polish border, in Landsberg. It was an exemplary camp: very good facilities, toilets, bathrooms, a red corner. Only the cabaret was missing! In the camp, they gathered transport to the east. On May 8, we were supposed to be loaded onto a train, but we stayed in the camp until May 10, because the camp commandant did not release anyone. After all, on May 9, the Russians celebrated Victory Day and could shoot us all while drunk to celebrate! There is a nursing home not far from here, there lives one person who was in American captivity on the Rhine, he spent from May to October in the open air. One of their comrades had pneumonia, so they just gave him a board on which he could sleep in the open air. When the war ended, drunken Americans fired machine guns at him, killing dozens of people. One comrade who was in Russian captivity told me that they wanted to cut off his leg because he had inflammation. The doctor told him: “Alfred, when the commission comes, I will lock you in the pantry. We will restore the leg with folk remedies. ”And he still has a leg! The doctor spoke to him by name! Can you imagine a German doctor addressing a Russian prisoner by name? In 1941, about one million Russian prisoners of war died in German captivity from hunger and thirst ... I always say that we were treated differently than we were with Russian prisoners of war. Of course we were told "faschist" and "Gitler kaput", but that doesn't count. The Russian administration, it is absolutely obvious, made efforts to save the lives of the prisoners.
To answer
There was a camp commandant, there was a convoy that guarded us at work, there was a camp guard. There were camps in which the German administration mistreated their comrades. But I was lucky, I didn't have that. In Izhevsk, the Russian administration was normal, and so was the German one. There was a Russian senior lieutenant, when a prisoner greeted him, he also saluted him. Can you imagine a German chief lieutenant saluting a Russian prisoner? I spoke a little Russian and was one of the most intelligent - all the time I tried to find a common language with the master. This greatly simplified life. In the fall of 1946, a large party of prisoners was transported to a camp in the Urals, in Karinsk. This was the best camp. It was inhabited only in October, before that it was empty and there were supplies of food: cabbage and potatoes. There was a house of culture, a theater, and Russian soldiers with their wives went there. In the morning, the doctor stood at the gate and carefully watched that the prisoners were dressed in winter clothes.
To answer
At the end of November 1949. On my birthday, I turned 23, the train came. Booms! We are already on the train home, but the train did not move. Do you know why? A Russian officer came to check whether everything was in order, food, heating, and noticed that we were wearing only thin work trousers, although it was already November, and from October 1 we should have received wadded trousers. And so we waited until the truck brought 600 pairs of wadded trousers from the warehouse. I must say that this was a very disturbing expectation. For the last two days we have been checking the mailing lists and crossing out some of them. When we were already on the train, one of my comrades was summoned from the train. He only said: "Oh my God!", Deciding that he was deleted. He went to the commandant's office and 10 minutes later returned exultant, raised his hand, showed a gold wedding ring, and said that the administration had returned the ring to him, which he handed over as a valuable thing. In Germany, no one believes this, it does not fit the stereotype of Russian captivity.
The diary of Helmut Pabst tells about three winter and two summer periods of brutal battles of Army Group Center, advancing east in the direction of Bialystok - Minsk - Smolensk - Moscow. You will learn how the war was perceived not only by a soldier performing his duty, but by a person who sincerely sympathized with the Russians and showed complete disgust for Nazi ideology.
War Memoirs - Unity 1942-1944 Charles Gaulle
In the second volume of de Gaulle's memoirs, a significant place is devoted to the relationship of the French Committee national liberation with allies in the anti-Hitler coalition - the USSR, the USA and England. The book presents an extensive factual and documentary material of great interest to those interested in the political history of France during the Second World War. Thanks to de Gaulle's efforts, defeated France became one of the victorious countries in World War II and became one of the five great powers in the post-war world. De Gaulle ...
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The last soldier of the Third Reich Guy Sayer
German soldier (French on his father's side) Guy Sayer tells in this book about the battles of the Second World War on the Soviet-German front in Russia in 1943-1945. The reader is presented with a picture of the terrible ordeals of a soldier who was on the verge of death all the time. Perhaps, for the first time, the events of the Great Patriotic War are given through the eyes of a German soldier. He had to go through a lot: the shameful retreat, incessant bombings, the death of comrades, the destruction of the cities of Germany. Sayer does not understand only one thing: that neither he nor his friends are anybody in Russia ...
Military Russia Yakov Krotov
The military state differs from the usual one not by the military, but by the civilian ones. The military state does not recognize the autonomy of the individual, the right (even in the form of the idea of a police state), according only to the order as absolute arbitrariness. Russia has often been described as a land of slaves and masters. Unfortunately, in reality it is a country of generals and soldiers. There was no slavery in Russia and there is no one. A soldier was considered a slave. The mistake is understandable: soldiers, like slaves, have no rights and live not of their own free will and not by right, but by order. However, there is a significant difference: slaves do not fight. ...
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The modern tank is the most advanced example of ground combat equipment. It is a bundle of energy, the embodiment of combat power, might. When the tanks, deployed in battle formation, rush into the attack, they are indestructible, like God's punishment ... At the same time, the tank is beautiful and ugly, proportional and lurid, perfect and vulnerable. When installed on a pedestal, the tank is a complete statue that can bewitch ... Soviet tanks have always been a sign of the might of our country. Most of the German soldiers who fought on our land ...
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The war of 1939-1945 became the most difficult test for all mankind, since almost all countries of the world were involved in it. It was the Battle of the Titans - the most unique period that theorists debated about in the early 1930s and during which tanks were used in large quantities practically by all the belligerents. At this time, there was a "test for lice" and a deep reform of the first theories of the use of tank troops. And it is the Soviet tank forces that are most affected by all of this. Most of the German soldiers who fought in the East ...
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I am in Soviet Russia. My mind does not immediately perceive this simple and joyful thought. But my wide-open eyes, with which I look at the new world that has opened to me, tell me that I am not sleeping, I see all this not in a dream, but in reality.
The desire to escape from the hated world of Hitler's horrors had been ripening in me for a long time. But I had to wait for an opportunity. And now this convenient moment has come.
I served as a soldier on the border in the town of Tilyash, near the Soviet town of Sokal. Even before the memorable day - June 22 - we all began to clearly feel that something big was being prepared. But what?
Is it really a war with the Soviet Union? I asked myself. - Really?
And I decided to flee to Soviet Russia. I waited until the order was given to attack, and at night I swam across the river. On the Soviet coast, I immediately fell into the hands of border guards. I was greeted here in a friendly manner. They gave me clothes, shoes, fed me.
How different this is from what they used to intimidate us German soldiers! Each soldier is hammered into the head by the Nazis that he should not surrender, because in Soviet Russia he will be tortured, horrified, he will be tortured. This is a blatant lie, calculated to intimidate a German soldier. In Soviet Russia, a captured soldier is treated like never before was the German fascists treated and are not treating their prisoners.
The German people are waiting for peace. Even a day before the treacherous attack of the fascists on the Soviet Union, no one could even believe that this would happen. It is easy to imagine how the German people took this crazy adventure. This war, which he imposed on the German people, cannot be popular among our people. In this war with the Soviet Union, fascism must and will find its death.
The officer's stick, the threat of being shot makes the German soldier fight, but he, how all the German people yearn for this peace.
And so, being now in Soviet Russia, I would like to turn to my recent comrades and say:
German soldiers, workers, peasants, men and women! What did Hitler give you? What ? Life in fear and inhuman hardship, hunger, poverty, death. Where is your peaceful labor, where are your husbands, brothers, sons? Bloody Hitler took everything from you. How long will you endure it? How long will your incredible suffering last? Hitler imposed on you a new war against the Soviet Union. In this war, fascism must find its doom.
Here, in the Soviet Union, I see a multi-million people who have risen as one to destroy fascism.
German soldiers! You are obliged to help put an end to fascism as soon as possible. Turn the bayonets against Hitler and his clique, now ruling Germany. By doing this you will do a sacred thing. Peace will come, which the German people so yearn for, and the hated fascism will be destroyed forever! // Alfred Liskoff, A native of the mountains. Kolverk, worker at Willy Tatsik's furniture factory.
_______________________________
("Red Star", USSR)
(Izvestia, USSR)
The order of the commander and chief is the law. It must be completed unconditionally, accurately and on time. The law of a soldier of the Red Army is to stand firm in battle to the end!
Seven against twenty four
(From the special correspondent of "Krasnaya Zvezda")
The enemy appeared suddenly. He focused his attention on the old airfield, from where the planes had long gone to the field sites. The hijackers apparently did not suspect this. Twenty-four Junkers and Messerschmitts hit the wasteland.
To meet the uninvited guests, two flights of fighters were sent. Senior political instructor Danilin led them into battle.
The forces are unequal - seven against twenty four. But what can stop a Soviet pilot defending his homeland! Our fighters with lightning speed crashed into the battle formations of the fascist vultures. They attacked them head-on, entered from the flanks, dived them with lead.
Selfless courage was shown in this battle by Comrade Danilin. His car deftly maneuvered between German bombers and fighters, darting in different directions. A courageous pilot, a true hero of the Patriotic War, senior political instructor Danilin and his comrades in arms threw the enemy into confusion with their attacks. Despite the enormous numerical superiority, the German pilots did not accept the battle. They started to run away. The Danilinskaya Seven pursued them on their heels.
On the "blaze, the first Junkers fell, followed by another, then the Messerschmitts fell in. Danilin pursues three of them at once. He presses them to the ground, sieves them with bullets."
One of the Messerschmitts rolled aside and headed for Grodno. However, he did not manage to escape either. He did not walk alone for long. He was intercepted on the way by a link of Soviet fighters. Instantly set on fire, the Messerschmitt crashed heavily to the ground.
In this battle, out of 24 raiders, five were destroyed. Danilinskaya seven lost only one car.
From the forward positions, thirteen German bombers reported about the front flight. In one of the divisions of the regiment, commanded by Major Korobkov, Hero of the Soviet Union, an alarm was announced.
The enemy did not appear for a long time. He acted cunningly and cautiously. The enemy did not come from the west, not from the front, but from the opposite side. But he failed to deceive the vigilance of our pilots. They lay in wait for him. Five Soviet fighters boldly attacked the enemy. Enemy bombers hastened to flee and, before reaching the city, scattered bombs anywhere.
Five Soviet pilots relentlessly continued to follow thirteen German planes. Soon from the ground they saw how one of the pack of fascist raiders blazed like a bright torch and fell down. Soviet fighters returned without casualties.
By evening, the enemy decided to repeat the raid. This time, he drastically changed his tactics. He flew at high altitudes, and then suddenly surfaced right from behind the line. The cars went at low level flight 200-300 meters from the ground.
So they began to go in for the bombing. But then Soviet fighters attacked them again. The bombing failed again.
The fight between three fighters and two enemy bombers was hot, but short-lived. A few minutes later, one of the raiders, taking advantage of the darkness, hastened to hide, and the other was put on the ground and his crew was taken prisoner. // B. Kuzmin.
Anti-aircraft gunners shot down three dive bombers
WESTERN SPECIAL MILITARY DISTRICT. June 26. (By phone from our. Corr.). At the signal "combat alert" the personnel of the anti-aircraft battery, commanded by Lieutenant Mayboroda, immediately took their places. The roar of the motors, which came from afar, grew stronger and stronger. Soon, seven fascist dive bombers appeared in the battery firing sector. The aircraft flew at high altitudes and in close formation.
Lieutenant Mayboroda quickly identified the initial data. The battery immediately opened fire. The first stage was very successful. The second, third, fourth volleys followed. Black clouds of smoke surrounded the enemy vultures in a dense impenetrable ring. Dodging the fire, they began to slide steeply onto the wing. Soon well-aimed fire finally disrupted the formation of dive bombers and forced them to scatter one by one.
The battery, pursuing the enemy with fire, forced the bombers to turn back without dropping their cargo. But they did not leave at all, but decided to break the battery that prevented them. Having made a large semicircle, the bombers began to dive one by one at the battery position. It was a fierce struggle. 7 enemy dive bombers and one battery!
Here is a fascist predator flying down like a stone from a great height. The motor howls furiously. The success of the battle is decided in seconds. Who will be ahead of whom? Either the dive bomber will be the first to drop the bombs and destroy the battery, or, conversely, the battery will interfere with the enemy's plans with a well-aimed shot.
The command has been given. Gun commanders are trained to fire and open fire on their own. From the first shot, the enemy plane unnaturally threw back its nose and flew down like a stone. Another car suffered the same fate.
The enemy bombers became even more ferocious. One of them managed to drop bombs, but missed the target, without causing any harm.
Continuing the battle, skillful and courageous anti-aircraft gunners shot down another plane. The rest went on their own. In this battle, the entire personnel of the battery distinguished themselves by bold and well-coordinated work. The gunners of the Red Army Lukashevich and Yakimyuk worked especially accurately. // Captain G. Menshikov.
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Our answer
The enemies encroached
to our borders,
smoked in gunpowder
golden arable land,
crows swooped down
to old Kiev,
see signs black
city towers.
You will not be caught by surprise
not the first time we meet
but from old memory
we will answer with guns!
Let's unfold with glory
battle banner,
our business is right!
Victory is ours!
Our answer is a hundredfold
and the fees are short!
Remember the knight dogs
Hitler's pack -
by Lake Peipsi,
it was the same -
Frozen to death
knightly faces.
We are in the Prussian lands
drove wedges,
remember - that the Russians
were in Berlin!
On the wolves - a round-up,
formidable ranks!
Our cause is right
victory is ours!
Our army of the people
look around, die!
Defending the homeland
we are stronger than death!
near the great Kremlin
we took the oath,
forged weapons for us,
it was Stalin who built us!
Our truth glows
in a tempered heart,
fight for the fatherland
two hundred million!
We will cover with glory
battle banner!
Our cause is right,
victory is ours!
This business is expensive
it will cost the bastards
we are the grave of the enemies
we will dig a projectile.
Our lives are given
Soviet mother,
and the homeland is covered
fire curtain.
So that it burns and puffs out
black rump,
so that Hitler's pack
the bones are charred!
Come on with lava
red bayonets!
Our cause is right
victory is ours!
How can a person who was born immediately after the war in Leningrad, where the air itself is saturated with memories of that terrible grief, of those terrible years of the blockade, relate to the Second World War?
How can a person who grew up on the stories of his father, a soldier who returned from the war as an invalid, relate to the war?
How can a person who grew up on Soviet war films, where all Germans are shown as stupid cruel killers, can relate to the Germans?
I now live in Germany, I am 49 years old. I meet many nice, kind people here who are ready to come to your aid at any moment.
The thought often comes to me: how it was necessary to obscure the head of these people, and what such weighty reasons should have been put forward so that they went to fight the country with which they were so many connected.
50 years after the end of the war, I am sitting at a table with a former participant in that war, a Wehrmacht soldier.
Willie, an elderly man with a kind face and smart young eyes, tells me about that tragedy, about the years of his youth.
What did they tell us, how did they explain the need for an attack on Russia?
Here it would be necessary to tell a little before about what happened in Germany in those years before the war.
With the coming of the Nazis to power, squealing began to be encouraged: a neighbor wrote to a neighbor, a colleague to a colleague.
The owner of any, even the smallest company, had to be a member of the Nazi party, otherwise the chance that his company would not be closed was minimal. It was welcomed if a portrait of Hitler hung on the wall in the houses of the burghers.
To power, even in small villages, the Nazis came from their own inhabitants. As a rule, they were stupid, resentful losers.
People began to disappear. (My nephew, the underdeveloped Gantz, also disappeared. When he met young people dressed in brown uniforms on the street, he pointed his fingers at them, mocking them.)
At that time, it was forbidden to listen to radio broadcasts from other countries.
Hitler's fiery, emotional speeches came from the receiver. It was explained that all the evil in Germany comes from the Jews and that they took all the money, and that they alone were to blame for such a difficult economic situation in the country. Local newspapers printed photographs of Jewish-owned shops and people who entered to shop. Naturally, residents began to be afraid to enter these stores.
Civil servants were required to greet visitors by throwing their hands up.
(I remember how our familiar postman, bringing the mail again, raised his hand to greet, as expected, and then, lowering his voice, stretched out his hand for a handshake and said: "Good morning, Mr. Schneider")
And with all this, new jobs began to appear, roads were built, interest-free loans were given for the construction of houses - such houses were called "Hitler's Gift."
In a short time, the country began to emerge from the protracted crisis.
And then the propaganda began that huge Russia was groaning under the yoke of commissars and Jews.
Morally, everyone was already ready to go to save Russia.
Everyone was convinced that the common Russian people were looking forward to liberation ...
What struck me and was especially remembered when we had already crossed the border of the Soviet Union?
In Belarus, it seemed to me that many people knew German and could speak it fluently.
People on the streets greeted us with joyful greetings.
Yes, I heard that in Russia the soldiers were given vodka. Was this in the German army?
No, nothing of the kind existed. Of course, on holiday days, soldiers who were free from outfits could drink, but this was not often.
How did we treat the local population, and how did it treat us?
Well, there is no single picture here. I will only tell you what I encountered. It happened in Belarus.
Me and three other soldiers were assigned to a post in one house. The house was a log cabin, spacious, in the yard there was still a small summer house belonging to the owners - we occupied it so as not to embarrass them. And what did we, then young, healthy guys, need for a normal rest? Bed, walls and a roof over your head. The hostess is a widow, a sweet woman with two grown daughters. The name of one of them, an 18-year-old girl, I remember well: her name was Tamara. We were very sympathetic to each other.
Once I, having replaced my post, returned home. Entering the courtyard, I heard female cries from the master's house: they were calling for help. When I entered the house, I saw a nasty picture of a soldier from a neighboring unit, knocking Tamara onto the bed, trying to rip off her clothes. She screamed, fought off the rapist.
I jumped up, threw this bastard into a corner. And, twisting the bolt of the machine gun that was hanging around my neck, I warned that I would put it in place. The soldier tried to explain something to me, I did not listen, anger gurgled in my chest. I looked at this aching, kneeling soldier in front of me, and calm began to return to me, and in a normal tone I told him that by order of the Fuhrer and under the article ... time is supposed to be shot on the spot, and I, as a senior in rank (I was then a corporal), have the right to shoot him at once. He prayed, asking for forgiveness. I let him go.
Did I hate the Russians, because they were enemies at that time?
No, there was no hatred for the soldiers. Partisans are another matter, here is another story. They were bandits. They attacked, killing both soldiers and local residents. They did not just kill, but cruelly mocked the prisoners.
I remember there was a case already in a Russian village.
I stayed at one house for a bunker. A family of four: a middle-aged man, a woman and two boys, ten-year-old twins. They did not speak German, but we somehow understood each other.
Even before the war, this family did not have enough food, but now there is only one potato left. I gave them some of my travel rations. It was enough for me, because in the soldier's continent it was always possible to additionally eat from the "common pot".
Once, returning from a three-day hike, I found my mistress crying. She tried to explain something to me, pointing to the photograph of her husband hanging on the wall and pointing her hands somewhere towards the center of the village, and asking me for something.
I went where the woman was showing me. On the way I met a soldier who was quartered in a house next to me. It was he who explained to me that during my absence, ten people were massacred - civilians, and the commander decided to gather all the men of the village in a barn near the station. He couldn't tell me more.
I went up to the barn where the men who had been driven away are.
Their protection was entrusted to soldiers from our company. They let me into the shed.
Entering from a bright light into a dark room, at the first moment I could not distinguish anything and only loudly called Stepan - that was the name of the owner of the house in which I lived. When my eyes got used to the semi-darkness a little, I saw the men surrounding me.
They stood in a dense crowd with grim faces. The machine gun was hanging on my shoulder, but I realized that any movement or attempt to pull it off my shoulder would immediately lead to an explosion, and, most likely, I would not be able to get out of here alive after that. I was really scared and stood motionless. Suddenly, the familiar voice of Stepan was heard behind those around me, and he began to squeeze towards me, explaining something to the others. Having squeezed towards me, he, pointing at the walls and slapping me on the shoulder, for some reason all the time repeating: "Willie, gut, Willie, gut!" I understood that if I took Stepan out of the barn now, he and his family would no longer live in this village.
I went outside without any problems.
Soon all the men were released, the killer was found. It turned out to be a resident of this village.
What was the relationship in the army between soldiers and officers?
Well, probably, as in ordinary life, people are all different.
I remember how one officer, my immediate commander, took a dislike to me. I do not know the reason for this. Perhaps the fact that I did not come from a poor family and received a good education, and he was a butcher in someone else's shop. Or maybe because I never joined the Nationalist Party, and he was a Nazi fanatic. Or maybe the fact that I lived in Saarland, which is almost France.
Obviously, he was afraid to scoff at me - after all, the war, everyone has a weapon, but he often did small nasty things.
Then one day he sent me with a report to the regimental office, which was located 18 km from us across a wide and full-flowing river. Sends one. And I must say that the places there were forest, deaf, and the front line, passing not far from that village, constantly changed its profile.
I reached the river without incident, but then heavy cannon fire began - they beat me right on the bank where I was. I only managed to slide into the hole formed by the explosion of the shell.
I sit and say goodbye to life. Suddenly, someone else falls from above right at my feet.
Russian soldier. He looks at me fearfully. I was a cut taller than him and much healthier. Not knowing what to do in such a situation, I, presenting the picture from the side, just laughed. He smiled back at me. Then somewhere very close it crashed, we intuitively snuggled tightly to each other. It was a little quiet, we were sitting with our elbows on the opposite walls of the funnel. I handed the Russian biscuit from my travel ration. The guy took it, smiling, and began to eat greedily. I, thinking that I had almost reached the goal of my campaign anyway, and even crossing the river, I could wet my food, gave him everything.
The cannonade ended, we parted in different directions. I successfully crossed the river and delivered the report to headquarters. When the commander read the report, he was just furious. I began to ask who had sent me, what idiot had the idea to risk the life of a soldier for unnecessary nonsense. I was ordered to stay at the headquarters location for two days to rest. When I returned to my unit, the commander who sent me was no longer there. He was demoted to the rank and file and transferred to another unit.
Did we know about the concentration camps?
At that time, of course, we could not even imagine this.
As we, ordinary soldiers, explained to ourselves then,
the reason for the defeat of Germany in the war, because she had a huge superiority in military equipment over Russia?
General Moroz was on the side of the Russians. A harsh winter disrupted all supplies. What's the use of tanks if there is no fuel? What's the use of cannons if there are no shells?
And then, the Russians were helped by the Americans and the British. We often saw their planes in the sky. And, of course, this is probably the most important thing - the Russians fought for their land.
War - terrible tragedy... And no matter what they say, we were invaders, and it doesn't matter what good purpose we pursued then.
I have my own account with the war. She owes me two of my newborn daughters who died then, disfigured right hand, and almost 2 years of French captivity.
Willie fell silent. He sat silently with his eyes closed. I think that with my questions I awakened in him the bitter memories of that distant time ...
Looking at him, I tried to imagine him in a mouse-colored German uniform with a submachine gun on his shoulder ..
Now in front of me sat a gray-haired old man who had gone through a lot in life.
