The peace and quiet is over! A few hours later, two full divisions are given orders to immediately start forming special command units. One receives orders to search the city following a precise plan, which was left behind by the Red Army, for dangerous elements and terror groups. The other is transformed, along with the Sturmpionieren, into a search unit. It is their task to find mine clusters and remote detonation devices. In particular, the GFP and the special SS commands are working feverishly. That same afternoon, round-ups of the Jews start to occur. More about this later, and in greater detail.
Interrogation and investigation show the following: 1). The remote detonation device which caused the terrible explosion at noon was installed inside the Lenin monument. 2). There are more remote devices in the center of town. Despite drastic measures, we do not learn more about the where and how. Most likely, the Ukrainian Landesmuseum appears to have been compromised. We search this monumental building throughout the evening. Although the large rooms are pleasantly cool, we are sweating like schweine. Damn, it sure is shitty to crawl through such a giant building, with fear always breathing down your neck, thinking that you might blow up with the whole thing at any minute.
Then finally, in the basement, in a small side room, we hear the clear ticking of a clock. The noise is coming through the walls; no wire, no conductor, nothing is visible. This is scary! What do we do? We continue searching for another half hour—an eternity for us—to find this device from hell. We then get orders to evacuate the building immediately. The entire neighborhood is cleared and barricaded. What a dramatic affair. How is it that we still have our wits about us?
At exactly 2230 hours, the giant building blows up. Five or six blocks burn through the morning hours. And not only here; there are many places in the city where jet flames are rising up into the sky. Huge explosions are thundering; a blood-red cloud hovers over Kiev.
September 24: In the early hours of the morning field units receive orders to clear the city. Only local command, administration, and security staff are to remain, thank God! We did not close an eye tonight; explosion after explosion, not a single windowpane was left intact in our area. The walls of the houses have gaping cracks in them.
We move into the suburb of Mikolska-Bortschtschagowka. We are so comfortable in these beautiful houses—God only knows that we aren’t spoiled at all. Boy, they still have chickens here. The famous Primus [paraffin burner] is started and soon a cloud of tempting barbeque smells hovers over the barracks. For hours, the whole war can kiss our asses, and then some. But such a favor is not granted. Don’t get caught with egg on your face.
Shortly before midnight there is a terrible explosion. Stucco runs down the walls, the air pressure slams the door, windows rattle, the food is stuck in the back of our throats, we throw everything down and run outside. A huge mushroom cloud of smoke hangs over the city. Something terrible must have happened. All of a sudden the food does not taste good anymore, the tempting roasted chicken thighs remain untouched. A heavy pressure lies on everybody.
We are waiting and waiting for the news about what has happened. In the evening we know more. The local command station housed in the largest hotel in Kiev blew up and with it more large administrative buildings. A whole quarter of the city is burning, and under the debris there are several thousand civilians. High officers and many soldiers lost their lives as well. Somebody reports that the fully occupied soldiers casino blew up.
It is horrible. For the first time in a long while those brave front soldiers are watching a movie, are laughing and are happy, and seconds later they are ripped to shreds by the hell machinery of this band of bandits. There will be a terrible atonement.…
September 25: Early this morning I drove with 3 other guys to Terempki. It was a most sensitive undertaking. The whole area is still full of landmines partly contaminated with loess. Even now, days after the fighting, the empty positions reach out for our lives. Eerily quiet is the “field of death,” treacherous still, because many thousand kilos of dynamite are lying in the earth, waiting for a wrong step to rise up roaring in a shrill daring flame.
The responsibility is a heavy pressure. I should go alone and at my own risk. Now through their pleas the other three have worn me down and I have taken them with me.
Everything here is sinister, still fresh the traces of the terrible battle but there is no shrieking or whistling in the air here, or thunders of detonations.
Potschtowaja—space without drumfire, walking upright close to the field; who would have thought something like this a few days ago?
My God, what a sight!
Along the total length of the high forest of Terempki, friend and enemy are still lying there, exactly how they died 6 weeks ago. Yes, this Terempki forest, which once was a magnificent forest, but now there are only ripped tree trunks and in between the horror assaults you! Damned me, a soldier should not stroll as a pedestrian on those battle fields which have not completely absorbed all the blood, where within the barbed wires there are hanging things, which were worn by soldiers once during battle, but which after the battle—no no! Then we reach a huge pile of rubble: Terempki.
All around us a landscape of moon craters. These were our battle positions. Then we are standing at the spot where we buried the dead comrades. The earth has been tilted many times. Nothing is discernable anymore; there, where we laid them to their final rest, are now huge funnels at the bottom of which we can see murky ground water. How fortunate that the young women, mothers and brides know nothing about all this!
These were indeed our positions. Many thousands of shells have mutilated them; one can only imagine how the ditches and passages ran, and cannot fathom that once you were crouched in there for 48 hours at a time. It is incomprehensible that a few men were able to flee this hell.
We are driving back, nobody is speaking, silently each on his own with his thoughts. Farewell from Terempki, from all these dear comrades. The memory of this piece of earth is heavy. How can anybody in his lifetime forget these zones of horror?
We are homeward bound, towards the huge plumes of smoke, back to the burning Kiev. Poor city! We spared you, more than was good for us, and now gigantic fires are glowing inside you, your body convulses under the beatings of terrible explosions—not your own sons but the sons of Judah are ripping these mortal wounds, mangling your beautiful body past recognition.
When will this horrible war find its end.…Everybody is telling me I am seeing the world all black in an alarmist way—no comrades, to the contrary, I see white, I am seeing white snowy areas and many many of you all dead.
Don't think Hannes, for heaven's sake, don't think!
September 26: Many kilometers wide the center of the city is one ocean of flames, further and further the fire eats away at it. Two more urban districts have been evacuated this morning, approximately 20,000 people are homeless; half of them are occupying with all their belongings the adjacent streets and plazas.
What a pitiful sight!
This morning pioneers blew up the roads close by; it just had to be done. The SS special command is extremely busy. Interrogations and executions non-stop. Somewhat suspicious individuals are simply shot in the street and their bodies remain right there where they fell down. Men, women and children are walking by, talking and laughing: “nitschewo,” this is nothing special, a dead person, not much!
The soles of the shoes are stepping in the fresh puddles of blood; the wide sidewalk is full of red traces.
You Russians, who will ever understand you?!
The Einsatzkommandos of the Waffen SS are very busy as well. All Jews without exception have until noon of the 25th to report. Sure, only half of them show up, but nobody will evade us, for a tight belt of outposts surrounds the city. That very day the revenge for our comrades who lost their lives in the mine attacks is beginning. Now, 24 hours later, already 2000 Hebrews have been send to Jehovah!
I have a long conversation with a young SS soldiers of this “kill commando
.” They “freed” all the larger cities which were touched by our advance of the Jewish population. They understand their butcher job well; these boys are experienced killers, I am astonished. We soldiers in the first attack wave have never thought about the stuff that happens behind us in the cities we leave, as we’re chasing further after the enemy.
The perspective of the front soldiers is forward, towards the enemy. He tells me about the holocaust of Zhitomir. “At that time we were bloody beginners,” says the 19-year-old (with an emphasis on “bloody”). “For two days they had to dig 50-meter-long trenches;, each trench was calculated for 250 Jews. We killed a total of 1800 Jews in Zhitomir, 5000 somehow died before.
“Then, on the third day the trenches are ready, everybody, from baby to oldest senior had to strip naked. The first 250 have to step to the edge of the ditch, the throaty barking of 2 machine guns—the next ones are herded forward, they have to climb into the ditch and position the dead bodies nicely next to each other, no room must be wasted—the larger spaces are nicely fitted with the dead children—forward forward, more than 1500 must fit! Then the machine guns rip the air again, here and there somebody moans, a short re-shooting of the ma chine guns: next! and this continues through the evening. We have so little time, too many Jews inhabit this country!”
First I cannot speak at all. This young man talks about it as if he was on a casual pheasant hunt.
I cannot believe all this and tell him so. He laughs and says I should have a look.
We are riding our bikes to the outskirts of the city, to a steep gorge. I will cut this short; the food in my stomach is curiously loose. What I see there is terrible, this horrible picture I will never forget in my entire life. At the edge of the gorge there are Jews standing, the machine guns are whipping into them, they fall over the edge, 50 meters.
Whatever stays at the edge is “swept” down. When the one thousand quota is filled, the heap of dead bodies is detonated and closed up.
“Well, isn't that a great idea, the detonation?” asks the blond with the smiling boy-face.
My God, my God. Without a word I turn and run more than walk back to the city.
This boy is 19 years old! All this does not only leave traces on the clothes; what will happen when these people return into the homeland, back to their brides and women?
September 27: The huge fire in the city center continues. New explosions, new fire breakouts, stored ammunition explodes.
September 29: On the road once more! After a 24-hour forced march we reach Priluki tonight. We drive through the countryside; here and there we encounter a few gunshots by a few nuts in lost positions who will be defeated shortly. The destruction of the 5 surrounded Russian armies is complete, cautious estimates speak of 650,000 prisoners in our hands. Their endless rows pass us; maybe they are the same guys who fought opposite us for weeks. For days now they stood though on a lost position. We encircled them; closer and closer we drew the ring.
Hour-long gunfire destroyed mercilessly those who were trapped, it was insanity not to surrender.
The long line of Soviets passes. What kind of people are they?
In their eyes and in their demeanor is something strange, something dull, completely un-European, even un-human. Bolshevism has destroyed their soul and de-humanized them to an animal level; therefore they fight out of instinct like animals in a herd. It is not the personal braveness of the individual who is called to sacrifice his life for a greater idea but the instinctual defense against danger.
Bolshevism has consciously destroyed everything soulful, everything individual and private that also makes up the character and the value of a human being. What is left is the animal in the Bolshevik, who, however, does not have its finer instincts. Humans in the state of animals are much lower than the actual animal. That is why the animal Bolshevik is so hard and bloodthirsty, cruel and stubborn against the enemy and against himself. This is how to understand the demeanor of the Soviet in this war. What looks like braveness is brutality!
September 30: We will be staying a few days in Priluki, in order to cleanse the surrounding forests of single Bolsheviks. For Russian conditions my lodgings are pretty passable. While most of the people swarm out I stay behind as important map entries and tactical drawings have to be made.
First I wash myself thoroughly and shave and then I sleep for a few hours. For lunch there is a generous helping from the soup kitchen of which the Russian families devour the most part hungrily as so often is the case.
These poor starved people! It is always the same; a piece of dry bread makes them happy and content for hours. I am sure these people have seen better days many years ago at the time of the czar. Again and again I have to ask myself how it is possible that here in the midst of the richest region of Russia, in the wheat silo of Europe, people are starving and have to lead the life of a dog. Unscrupulously these Bolshevik criminals have sacrificed the life and happiness of their people for an armament which in its scope is without parallel.
If our motto was “first cannons, then butter,” the Soviet Union’s was “No butter, no housing, just the bare necessities in clothing. No culture, only cannons!” The Bolsheviks have succeeded in deceiving the entire world about the extent of their armament. They had imagined that one day, their army of millions, equipped with unimaginable weapons, would start to march westward and trample down all of Europe. Is there a single soldier who doubts that such a march would have led to a world catastrophe of unknown proportions for all peoples? Does anyone doubt that in Germany no stone would have been left unturned? Well, something else has come to pass! And you comrade, and even myself, we have given it our all, given all our blood for this. We all underestimated though, the leadership as well as the smallest soldier—the Russian himself and the huge degree of his armament. The loot of weapons is much larger than we expected the entirety of the arms of the Russian Army to be, not to mention the aircraft, tanks, and automatic weapons. And as for the Red Army soldier himself, he is the toughest enemy, the grimmest fighter that we have encountered up until now.
The six weeks of trench warfare outside of Kiev has demonstrated better than ever his strength, as well as his weakness. The strength of the Red Army soldier lies in the defense. His natural inclinations enable him to masterfully utilize all advantages in the terrain. The most distinguishing trait of the Russian soldier is his stoic holding out until the end, often out of fear of the commissars. The enemy has proven to be nimble at delaying tactics, and well-planned organized retreats, in addition to camouflaging his withdrawals. The mining of the abandoned terrain is always fresh and always updated with new techniques. Most of the time they use timed fuses with an unknown life expectancy. The evacuation of Kiev was a masterpiece in this regard, for among other things we eliminated over these past few days were mines with a life span of 165 days.
The Russian has proven to be a master in the construction of mock installations; their field positions are unsurpassed. Their attacks are predominantly executed in stoic, mass advances; if they do not succeed, they simply repeat them until they do. Almost always, a recurring characteristic of their attack is prepping the field with intensive artillery fire supported by tanks. The time of attack is most often at dusk or during the night. The infantry leads the advance in tight formations, often upright in a strict march. Their digging in after reaching a certain position is fast and skilled.
The Russian favors guerrilla warfare; here he is the champion through his cunning methods of fighting. The partisan war has been well planned, prepared, and executed by the Red leadership.
Let’s not forget to mention the artillery, those God damned Bolshevik batteries which are considerably greater in strength than we ever imagined. Their weapons of all calibers seem infinite; we encounter them even on the smallest of stages. The Russian’s arsenal of weapons includes, besides his own brands, nearly all the brands from other nations, including French, English, American, and even German (Krupp). Single batteries with missiles are oc
casionally encountered. Ammunition is available in good quantity and quality.
Typical Panje hut in the village of Aksariskaya near the River Don, Russia. (Photograph courtesy of Håkan Henriksson)
A special place is occupied by the fire grenades, which I have encountered in several varieties, like phosphorus grenades and thermite grenades with horribly surprising firepower. Ammunition is always used abundantly. The destructive fire of the Red batteries is often aimed at a single point for days on end. (We encountered that all too often at Terempki.) In times of light combat activity, even the smallest target, like a single rider or messenger, is attacked with a disproportionate amount of ammunition.
Radio and wireless operations: here lies their huge investment. The Russian works here with a bunch of cunning methods as well, but this is not the decisive factor, for he conducts deceptive radio traffic; upon retreat, long after the departure of the commands, radio transmitters are left at the old location. But so what! Between the Red Army general staff and the divisions there exists usually only a single radio wire; between the divisions and the regiments and battalions, there are only messengers. The failure of the Russian radio service came home to them bitterly, and the defeat of the Red leadership can be primarily attributed to it.
4 October: Much faster than expected, we leave Priluki on the morning of the first. By way of a 24-hour forced march, we are supposed to reach the heavily threatened part of the front near Olchana. In Romny, during a crazy mix up in the pitch-black night, I become separated from our troops. Together with brave Sepp, we wander on the badly destroyed terrain between the fronts for days without finding the division. At the Putiwi bridgehead we stumble upon Guderian’s panzer units.
This morning we finally rediscover our troops 112 kilometers to the south. The experiences of this adventurous journey alone could fill all the pages of this diary.
Eastern Inferno Page 11
