by Japanese;Italian Experiences of WW II Reaping the Whirlwind: Personal Accounts of the German
LETTERS HOME
On 17 December 1944, nearly 100 American prisoners of war were machine-gunned by the SS at the village of Malmedy in Belgium. Lieutenant Arno Krause wrote to his fiancée in Leipzig from Eupen, just 24km (15 miles) north of Malmedy:
Dear Ruth,
I have just been informed that, together with six other comrades, we have been condemned to death by the American military court. We will be shot in a few hours. My love (excuse this expression), I want to thank you for the wonderful hours we spent together. I am deeply in love with you and had only the one desire, to make you my wife. Unfortunately, that will not happen. Keep the golden ring as a souvenir and keep me in good remembrance. I am not a criminal. Ruth, you know it, I had to obey my oath and therefore became the victim of a development for which I, personally am not guilty.
The only souvenir I have of you is a little picture, the first I received. This picture will accompany me on my last walk. I am only sorry for my parents and worry about my mother. If you can, please go and visit them. At least write to her …
I am not afraid of death and will take it upstandingly and with courage, because I want you to think of me with pride. I believe in life after death, I don’t know in what form. I want to wish you only the best and a very happy life. I hope you will find somebody who loves you as much as I do and that you will be very happy with him because you are young and your life is still ahead of you. Don’t forget the monument that we built together at Cobeln. Those were my happiest hours, to be together with you.
Finally, let me thank you again for the happiness which you gave me in those hours we spent together, I am terribly in love with you.
Forever your Arno.
My last thoughts will be for my parents and you. I was captured 23 December at Malmedy. Now I am close to Eupen.
In their last letters, other SS men also protested that they were not criminals. Indeed, Hitler had issued an order that no prisoners were to be taken during Herbsnebel, though most German soldiers ignored it. Gunther Saltz told his father in Den Haag, Holland, that he ‘will die as a German soldier without crying and without complaint, because I have been an honest man who only wanted the best for his fellow man’. Nevertheless, his father should tell his mother that he ‘was killed in action’. However, Corporal Robert Pollack told both his girlfriend and his parents:
Just on the day of your birthday I was captured under such circumstances that the enemy must shoot my comrades and me.
‘Pappa’ Gorlich was also more realistic. He told his wife that, while he was ‘not a criminal’,
I broke the laws of the Geneva convention while carrying out orders and we will be shot according to the law … With this letter I say goodbye to you and to our dear parents. The shots that will extinguish the flame of my life will destroy a happy marriage. But we don’t want to be angry with fate and neither leave room for hate. The men who are performing my execution are fighting without hate for a better, happier Europe. Therefore, I ask you, may you also be without hate, try to understand. I have understood. My verdict may be very hard, but it is correct according to the laws of Geneva.
This was an SS man talking!
Despite Hitler’s order, other American PoWs were treated well, according to Matthias Druyen of the 26th Volksgrenadier Division.
About twenty prisoners were brought to us. Some of them spoke German very well. Upon request, they told us that Goebbels had demanded that all American prisoners were shot. Of course, we ignored that and confirmed that they would be well treated. In the officers’ absence we could talk with them. They said that our wireless set was primitive. When they were taken away, they secretly waved to us. A nice gesture. The subject of our talk was clear of course: as we hadn’t wanted the war, they hadn’t wanted it either.
HAPPY NEW YEAR
On 31 December, the 12th SS Panzer Regiment received some good news from the maintenance company:
Eleven tanks, a PIV and PV [Panther] mix, are combat-ready. During the night the Armada is seen moving towards Bourcy. A short distance off Houffalize, the time is 0000 hours. The turn of 1944–45, with moonlight and sparkling stars – just like a fairy tale. We stop. The crews are standing on the turrets of their tanks. Holding up bottles of booze, crew to crew signal ‘A HAPPY NEW YEAR!’
By that time Rammes and his artillery observers had moved up to Pont.
New Year’s Day is a day off. I tend the fire in our dugout and listen to the enemy gunfire … For the time being, the US artillery seems to be in a rather friendly mood, discharging only some nuisance fire. But then follows a fantastic ‘New Year’s welcome shooting’. I can even adjust my old wristwatch – the comrades opposite are punctual – and saucy, too. One of the shells must have come down and hit the trees just above my dugout. Mud is dropping from the ceiling and, trying to get outside a little later, I find the entrance barricaded with big branches. The Yanks can afford this kind of shooting. We have to keep our limited stocks of ammunition for absolute cases of emergency.
At the beginning of January, the weather turned dangerously cold. But for Rammes and his artillerymen this brought advantages:
Heavy snowfall and, during the first days of January, a sharp frost brings bright wintry weather. We are well camouflaged in our small wood, so well that now not even the fighter-bomber and artillery-spotting planes find us … But on one occasion the position was under fire. Some men were wounded. Fritz Sondermann, our first-aid man, sees us regularly and provides us with vitamin tablets, and on one occasion he even gave me two tiny apples. I had told him that my front teeth were getting loose.
Hugo Farné, our field cook, has, at all times, provided us with excellent all-in meals. We had plenty of meat, but we missed out on vitaminized food … Here and there American shells are passing overhead. How nice life can be, so comfortable.
Klaus Ritter and his comrades got so comfy they even named their dugout:
The name of our dugout? The first letters of the names of the girls deepest in our hearts of each of us formed the somewhat exotic name of ‘Luliekas’ – we called it ‘Luliekas Tabernacle’. Days passed in monotony. Sleeping, eating, being on guard, sleeping again …
But the war was never far away, especially for Rammes and his men:
From some distance I hear the well-known howling of a V-1. Our positions are right on their lanes. The thundering noise becomes louder and louder, and suddenly there is silence, and we hear the impact a few seconds later. That was it: the V-1 – the ‘Eifel Terror’!
Many of the V-1s were falling short, soon after being launched in the Eifel region of Germany.
I have seen them on bright days, very fast and fascinating. But there was many a village in the Eifel, in the Ardennes and in Belgium too, having their own experience with these monsters. These radio-controlled missiles were supposed to hit Antwerp, but controlling errors and, in many cases, sabotage must be held responsible for quite a number coming down too early.
In fact, V-1s were not radio-controlled but navigated using a crude gyroscope. Gunther Holz also saw them and was unimpressed:
Occasionally V-1 rocket bombs, fired from near-by positions, could be seen on their way overhead, noisy and with a trail of smoke by day and a fire trail by night. We felt a bit uneasy about this new invention, particularly because, from time to time, a rocket lost its direction, came back and exploded. Not so the V-2 whose launch we could watch at some distance. They rose up high into the sky and went on their way high up.
For Rammes and his comrades, the Vergeltungswaffen, or ‘Vengeance Weapons’, became a topic of conversation in the foxholes, but soon they were lucky enough to be moved up to the Siegfried Line.
Accommodated in pillboxes of acceptable standard and hardly molested by the enemy we stayed there until 12 January 1945. On that day I was told by Second Lieutenant Abelmann that the Russians had started an offensive on the Eastern Front … I also met Second Lieutenant Bauer on my way to the farmhouse down the slope; we had not seen
one another for several days. I have visited that farm a few times. Its inhabitants had not been evacuated and I often went there for a good cup of hot coffee …
But the Americans were coming.
The commander wants me to see him in his foxhole. I report to him, standing in water up to my ankles. A thaw has set in – all our troubles were coming at the same time. My instructions are to move to the farm building and from there up the road to have the drivers get their vehicles ready to move. On leaving the foxhole shells come down only a few metres distant … Wham! A shell hits the gable overhead. Fragments whirl around our ears, but we are lucky again.
INCIDENT AT KAISERBARACKE
Rammes and his men withdrew to Kaiserbaracke, whose historic inn had been home to Austrian troops from 1701 to 1713 during the War of the Spanish Succession:
Beside the building and arranged in a horseshoe shape is a store shed and a wooden-roofed structure to accommodate horses. It must be wonderful in peacetime. But now, a shell comes down near the railway line, 200 metres from us: a smoke shell. A large mushroom of smoke slowly rises. More impacts nearby. Those mushrooms look harmless, but we know the Americans are registering – we must get moving … The enemy uses phosphorous shells as well, and before long the whole area, buildings and the wood, are on fire.
As the American advance developed, Rammes and his comrades found shelter in a farmhouse.
The cattle are accommodated in the basement. In a separate room to the rear, we find the inhabitants. The room is heated by means of a small iron stove; light is provided by a candle to a moderate extent. It is here we set up our radio equipment. Second Lieutenant Bauer wants to make contact with the infantry units and tells us to wait here. Shortly after he left us, we are covered by an artillery salvo that shakes the whole building. Gregor is hurled into the separate room, and shell splinters are whizzing through the basement. The hits must have been right near the entrance. Now we are sitting in the dark and Gregor relights the candle. And there we are! The radio equipment is buried under the ruins of a wall, so we have the pleasant job of digging it out. Gregor’s overcoat is dotted with blood stains and little fragments of flesh. We walked towards the entrance. What a terrible sight: the cows and horses are stuck to the wall. It looks as if they have been fastened there with nails … But what about our second lieutenant? Things seem to become mysterious, and Gregor and myself unlock our pistols to be on the safe side. But at last, here he is. ‘Get the hell out of here,’ he says. ‘The infantry is withdrawing. Their captain has been killed. What happened here? It seems a wonder that you guys are still alive.’
Second Lieutenant Bauer was determined to get back to Kaiserbaracke to assess the situation.
We find a motorized unit in the forest. Our second lieutenant is a bit nervous about our supply of petrol, but we are given a few litres in a jerry can. We move, soon reaching a bridge across a railway line. There, someone moves towards us, a captain: ‘Where are you going?’
‘To the Kaiserbaracke,’ Bauer replies. ‘What’s the situation there?’
‘Turn back at once,’ said the captain, ‘and take me with you. The Allies have occupied everything up to the railway line and, as far as I know, our defence system has disintegrated.’
So there is nothing to do but go back home! We turn our car on the spot, one man per mudguard … Then suddenly there is a German tank in front of us – in the middle of the road. Its commander looks out of the turret and asks us how to get to Saint-Vith. We tell him straight ahead.
Suddenly there is the noise of shell explosion to the right and left of the road – those damned red-yellow patches! Stoyer drives on. We decide to move on as fast as possible. Bauer is sitting beside the driver. Gregor and I on the back seats. The road crossing is not too far away, but there again shells are raining down on either side: ‘Get on, Stoyer!’ There must be no stopping, otherwise we might have to put up with a direct hit. I am looking straight ahead, expecting a shell to hit that road and imagining us driving into the crater …
At last we reach the crossroads. Now a right turn, then another 300 yards to get home. Stoyer takes the turn, and we are passing the buildings fringing the road on either side. Suddenly I feel a hard blow in the nape of my neck. Powder smoke fills my nose.
I cannot hear anything. Instinctively I grab for the door and drop out of the car. I crawl through the snow until I reach a wall.
I manage to get behind it, and then I faint … but only for a short while. Then I shout: ‘Medic, medic!’ Are they still firing? Where is my first-aid pack? I feel the pronged splinter in my nape, and again I faint … Then I hear Second Lieutenant Bauer shouting something. I am feeling terribly sick, but I notice that they lay me down on the back seats of the car. Does the car still go? I am fainting again …
In fact, everyone in the car except Gregor had been hit. Bauer had a splinter in his right leg just below the knee, while Stoyer had been hit in the right arm near the joint. Rammes’ blow to the neck caused concussion, resulting in blackouts. He was sent back to Germany, survived the war and returned with his wife to the scene of his injury in 1972.
Erich Heller also survived, thanks to the enemy. He was leading an anti-tank party, which took out an entrenched American tank with a Panzerfaust and pinned down its crew with machine-gun fire.
Just when we were leaving the building one by one, some explosives hit our house. Obviously we had been discovered. Part of the ceiling came down and hit me, being the last of the group, and I fainted. But my unconsciousness must have lasted just a few seconds. Coming to, I found myself pressed down by a ceiling beam, so that I could not get free on my own. The building was now in flames and it was a problem removing the burning fragments that had dropped on my body. I called for my people, but there was no answer. Obviously they had managed to escape, if they had not been killed. Sooner or later the building would collapse and this would have been my end as well. Then three Americans suddenly turning the corner must have been as startled as I was. Later I heard that they were a reconnaissance party sent to find out to what extent we had evacuated the village. They helped me to get out, some of them suffering slight burns themselves, and carried me towards the rear area.
This action of compassion came as a surprise to Heller, who was an enthusiastic follower of Hitler. At the age of 10 he had joined the Hitler Youth and, at 17, the Waffen-SS. After fighting in Normandy it had become clear to him and his fellow officers that the war was lost due to the superiority of Allied materiel, but it had not crossed their minds not to do their duty. Klaus Ritter also witnessed the kindness of the enemy. He had been sent, under covering fire, to check whether there were any Americans in a farm and its outhouses.
I pushed my assault gun up against the open door of the shack and cried: ‘Hands up!’ No reaction. I looked into the shack and recognized American luggage and equipment. At the side, there was a bench with a box full of roasted cutlets on it. It was noon and I was hungry. With a cutlet in hand, I went round the corner with the intention of giving a sign to come to my comrades. At that moment, an American came out of the door, just two metres away. I shot from the hip – but I remember seeing the Yank pulled his gun as well … It was dark when I recovered consciousness. My hands and feet were cold. I slowly remembered what had happened and felt around. Next to me, lay someone else. I touched his face. It was as cold as ice. The American lay next to me and was dead. I thought: ‘You must go to the barn. There are straw and covers.’ I dragged myself along … I found something smooth – coverlets. I covered myself and sank again into unconsciousness. When my coverlets were torn away, I awoke. Three Americans stood in front of me, their guns aimed at me. It was day. When the Yanks recognized that I was heavily wounded, they dropped their guns and emptied my pockets. I noticed that my wallet and paybook were already missing. Later I came to the conclusion that my comrades had decided I was dead and took my things. The Americans had a chat, then they carried me to the kitchen, covered me with a coverlet, took a chair an
d put chocolates and biscuits on it. Then they disappeared. I tried to eat a piece of chocolate, but found I could not bite it. I touched my face, felt encrusted blood and pappy meat. Only now did I really understand that I had got a serious shot to my head. I got a fever and had fantastic visions. It became dark, then it was dawn again. In my visions, I thought I had been lying there for eight days. If no one found me I would die of hunger and thirst. I started to pray and cried for my mother. But suddenly I awoke. Outside there was the bark of a machine-gun and I heard German combat cries. I got up and rushed outside. The dead American was still there. I fell down, crawled along and cried: ‘Medic! Medic!’ … They took me to an evacuation hospital at Bitburg. We lay there in emergency beds in the corridor, Germans and Americans side by side … One day there was a bomb attack. Window glass broke. The plaster burst from the walls and ceiling. We were seized with panic. A leg amputee slid downstairs and cried … Later I learned that my company had been annihilated.
On 5 January 1944, Lieutenant Zeplier, who been with the 89th Grenadier Regiment (Tank Destroyers) outside Aachen, was also injured.
I heard another round of American shells approaching. Instinctively I threw myself down, and so did my messenger. There was the noise of explosions in the tree tops overhead, and I felt a hard blow against my upper left arm. Fumbling about, I felt a hole in the sleeve of my camouflage jacket above the elbow. We got up to have a closer look and I felt blood running down my arm under the jacket and along my hand. I told the sergeant of C Company who had made me familiar with the situation that I had been wounded and that he would have to lead the company temporarily. I and my wounded messenger would walk to the battalion’s dressing station … We were immediately taken care of by the battalion’s doctor, and I went to Major Ripcke to advise him of the situation at C Company and of our injuries.