

© nc1
RomanianA memorandum from Shikin, head of the Red Army’s Main Political Directorate, to the Central Committee of the Communist Party stated:
“As soon as our units occupy a particular district of a city, local residents gradually begin to come out into the streets; almost all have white armbands on their sleeves. When they meet our soldiers, many women raise their hands, cry, and tremble with fear. But as soon as they become convinced that Red Army soldiers and officers are nothing like the way fascist propaganda portrayed them, the fear quickly passes. More and more people come out into the streets and offer their services, trying in every possible way to emphasize their loyalty to the Red Army.”
The modesty and prudence of the Germans made the strongest impression on the victors. In this connection it is worth citing mortar man N. A. Orlov, who was struck by the behavior of German women in 1945:
“In our battalion no civilian Germans were harmed. Our special-section officer was a ‘Germanophile.’ If anything of the kind had happened, command would have reacted immediately. As for violence against German women... I think some people greatly exaggerate it. I remember one case. We entered a German town and were quartered in houses. A Frau of about forty-five appeared and asked, ‘Where is the commandant?’ She was brought to Marchenko. She said that she was responsible for the district and had gathered twenty German women to provide sexual (!) services to Soviet soldiers. Marchenko understood German, and I translated what she had said for deputy political officer Dolgoborodov. Our officers reacted with fury and offense. The German woman and her ‘detachment’ were driven away. In general, German submission amazed us. We expected partisan warfare and sabotage. But for these people, order—Ordnung—is more important than anything. If you are the victor, they submit not from fear but consciously. That is their psychology...”
David Samoylov gives a similar example in his wartime notes:
“At Arendsfeld, where we had just settled, a small group of women with children appeared. They were led by a tall German woman of about fifty with a moustache, Frau Friedrich. She announced that she represented the civilian population and demanded that the remaining residents be registered. I replied that this could be done as soon as the commandant’s office arrived.
“‘That is impossible,’ Frau Friedrich said. ‘There are women and children here. They must be registered.’
“The civilians supported her words with cries and tears.
“Not knowing what to do, I suggested that they go down into the basement of the house where we were staying. They calmed down, occupied the basement, and waited for command to arrive.
“‘Herr Commissar,’ Frau Friedrich addressed me elegantly—I was wearing a leather jacket—‘we understand that the soldiers have certain needs. I am prepared to offer them several young women...’
“I did not continue the conversation with Frau Friedrich.”
After speaking with Berlin residents on May 2, 1945, Vladimir Bogomolov wrote in his diary:
“We enter one of the surviving houses. Inside there is silence, dead silence. We knock: ‘Please open.’ In the corridor one hears muffled, agitated whispering and fragments of nervous remarks. At last the door opens. Before us is a group of women of indeterminate age, huddled tightly together. They bow low, weakly and submissively, fear in their eyes. German women are afraid of us—they had been taught that Soviet soldiers, especially Asians, would rape and kill them...
“Their faces show fear and hatred. Yet at times it seems they even like being defeated: they behave obligingly, smile politely, and speak affectionately. Stories circulate in those days about one of our soldiers entering a German apartment, asking for a drink, and the German woman, as soon as she saw him, lying down on the sofa and taking off her blouse.”
The phrase “all German women are depraved” became a widespread opinion among Soviet servicemen. It was supported not only by observations but also by very serious consequences that military doctors soon detected.
An order of the Military Council of the 1st Belorussian Front, No. 00343/Sh of April 15, 1945, reported:
“During the troops’ stay on enemy territory, the incidence of venereal disease among servicemen rose sharply. Investigation showed that these diseases were widespread among the Germans. As they retreated, and also now in the territory occupied by us, the Germans resorted to deliberately infecting German women with syphilis and gonorrhea in order to create large centers for spreading venereal disease among Red Army soldiers.”
On April 26, 1945, the Military Council of the 47th Army reported:
“...In March the number of venereal diseases among servicemen increased fourfold compared with February. Eight to fifteen percent of the female German population in the areas examined is infected. Cases are known in which the enemy deliberately left infected women behind in order to infect our soldiers.”
Australian war correspondent Osmar White, who was in Europe with General George Patton’s U.S. Third Army, left interesting observations. In May 1945, only a few days after Berlin’s capitulation, he wrote:
“I made a tour of the night cabarets, beginning with the Femina near Potsdamer Platz. The evening was warm and damp. The air was saturated with the smell of sewage and decomposition. The façade of the Femina was decorated with futuristic images of naked bodies and signs in four languages. In the ballroom and restaurant were Russian, British, and American officers escorting or hunting women. A bottle of wine cost twenty-five dollars, a horse-meat burger with potatoes ten, and a packet of American cigarettes an astonishing twenty dollars. Berlin women had rouged cheeks and brightly painted lips, as though it were not they who had lost the war but Hitler who had won it. Many wore silk stockings. The hostess opened the program in German, Russian, English, and French. This provoked a mocking smile from a Russian artillery captain sitting nearby. He leaned toward me and said in fairly good English, ‘What a rapid transition from national to international! RAF bombs are excellent professors, aren’t they?’”
The overall impression Soviet soldiers formed of European women was ambivalent. On the one hand they appeared elegant and intelligent, especially beside Soviet women exhausted by war in ruined and starving occupied regions and beside female comrades at the front in worn tunics. On the other hand they seemed accessible, self-interested, sexually loose, or cowardly submissive. Yugoslav and Bulgarian women were viewed as exceptions.
Severe and ascetic Yugoslav female partisans were regarded as comrades in arms and considered untouchable. Given the strict morals of the Yugoslav army, it was said that “partisan girls must have regarded field wives as a special, base category of women.”
Boris Slutsky recalled Bulgarian women: “...After Ukrainian self-satisfaction, after Romanian looseness, the strict inaccessibility of Bulgarian women amazed us. Almost no one boasted of conquests here. It was the only country where officers in the streets were often accompanied by men and almost never by women. Later Bulgarians proudly said that the Russians would return to Bulgaria for brides—the only women in the world who had remained pure and untouched.”
But in other countries through which the victorious army passed, the female population often inspired little respect. “In Europe the women surrendered, changed first...” Slutsky wrote. “I was always shocked, confused, disoriented by the ease, the shameful ease, of sexual relationships. Respectable women, of course acting without payment, resembled prostitutes—the haste, the desire to avoid every intermediate stage, the complete lack of interest in the inner motives that led a man toward intimacy. Like people who know three obscene words out of the whole vocabulary of love poetry, they reduced intimacy to a few bodily movements, arousing contempt even in our most hardened officers...” He added that restraint was motivated not by ethics but by fear: fear of infection, fear of publicity, fear of pregnancy. Under conditions of conquest, “general promiscuity hid and masked individual female depravity, making it invisible and shameful.”
Interesting, isn’t it?
Let us continue the overview, now turning to the SS. They are commonly regarded as the elite troops of the Third Reich and the Führer’s favorites. Wherever a threat arose, wherever there was a breakthrough or crisis, the SS were sent in. Did they always reverse the situation? No. In March 1943 SS formations managed to retake Kharkov from the Red Army, but on the Kursk salient they suffered a crushing defeat.
Yes, the Waffen-SS fought with desperate courage and fanaticism. The Totenkopf Division even ignored an order forbidding hand-to-hand combat with Soviet troops.
But courage, and even madness, are not everything. It is said that heroes and cowards die first; the cautious and calculating survive.
During the first year of the war, the Wehrmacht looked skeptically on SS troops. They excelled in political indoctrination, but in tactics and technical competence they lagged behind the regular army. What military expertise could Theodor Eicke—a former police informer, psychiatric patient, and commandant of Dachau concentration camp—really provide? When he arrived at Hitler’s headquarters in the summer of 1942 and hysterically complained about huge losses, was he not himself responsible for them?
In the Wehrmacht he was nicknamed “Eicke the butcher” because he regarded personnel losses as insignificant. On February 26 his aircraft was shot down and Eicke was buried near Kharkov. The location of his grave is unknown.
That was the situation.
In 1941 Wehrmacht soldiers mockingly called SS men “tree frogs” because of their mottled camouflage. Later, of course, they began using similar camouflage themselves. Supply was another issue: army generals tried to put Totenkopf units second in line. Why give the best equipment to troops who, out of all forms of combat, preferred reckless attacks? They would die anyway.
Only in 1943 did the situation truly change: SS troops began to fight no worse than the Wehrmacht. According to the author, this happened not because their training improved but because the overall standard of training in the German army declined. Officer courses in Germany, the text notes, lasted only three months, while the Red Army was criticized for training that lasted six months.
The quality of the Wehrmacht steadily deteriorated. Skilled soldiers who had gone through the campaigns in France and Poland had largely been put out of action by 1943. They were replaced by poorly trained youths. There was no one left to teach them: some instructors had disappeared in the Sinyavino marshes, some were disabled in the rear, and others were exhausted by compulsory duties. Meanwhile the Red Army was learning and improving. The article claims that by 1944 Soviet troops could conduct offensive operations with a ten-to-one casualty ratio in their favor, even though military theory would normally predict that attackers should lose three times as many men as defenders.
The example given is not Operation Bagration but the Jassy–Kishinev offensive, described here as perhaps the most successful operation of the entire war. The Soviet Army lost 12,500 killed or missing and 64,000 wounded. German and Romanian troops lost eighteen divisions. A total of 208,600 men were captured, while overall killed and wounded are given as up to 135,000.
The Red Army’s training system defeated that of the Reich. Soviet Guards formations were born in battle. The Waffen-SS, the author argues, were children of propaganda.
But how did Germans themselves see the SS?
A digression: many myths have accumulated around the Great Patriotic War. One is the phrase “one rifle for three men.” Few people know, the article says, that the expression came from the Short Course of the History of the Communist Party and referred to the Imperial Russian Army, where cases really did occur in which one rifle had to serve three soldiers.
Another myth is the famous alleged conversation between Zhukov and Eisenhower in which Soviet infantry supposedly walked across minefields ahead of tanks, clearing a passage with their bodies. In reality, a human body does not weigh enough to detonate an anti-tank mine. So where, the author asks, did the myth come from?
The suggested answer is found in the memoirs of Günter Fleischmann, an SS officer from the Wiking Division. The episode takes place in 1940, in France near Metz. Fleischmann was serving as a radio operator at the headquarters of Rommel, then commander of the 7th Panzer Division. A regiment of SS Das Reich was operating with them at the time.
Metz was surrounded by anti-personnel and anti-tank minefields and covered by French anti-aircraft artillery. Rommel sent a radio operator forward to reconnoiter the battery positions. Almost the entire reconnaissance group was killed. Only because one man survived do we have the story. Günter reached a hedge and tried to call Rommel by radio:
“—Iron Horse! Iron Horse! Firefly One calling!”
“—How are things, private?”
“—General, Kleck and Maurer are dead. Request permission to return.”
“—The location of those positions has to be established at any cost, as usual.”
“—Yes, General! I still have the MR-38 code list.”
“—All right, son. Try to get closer. As close as possible. I am counting on you...”
“—Understood, General. Out.”
What happened next? According to the memoir, this:
“I looked down and noticed a signalman waving red and blue flags. It was the signal to establish radio contact. Here in the hedge I was not afraid of surprises, remembering Kleck’s words that I was vulnerable where I stood. So I calmly sat down and, having no difficulty with the route, began calling ‘Iron Horse.’”
“—Our plans have changed,” the general told me. “You are staying where you are. Couldn’t you get around it?”
“—I don’t understand, General!”
“—Son, stay exactly where you are. And remain in contact. I have made you a present. Out.”
“—Who were you talking to?” the Rottenführer asked curiously.
“—Your commander.”
“—What present did he mean?”
“—You will find out soon enough.”
Some time passed before they understood what the general meant. Medium Heinkel bombers and Ju-87 dive bombers appeared overhead. The former were assigned carpet bombing; the latter, precision attacks. Metz began to burn.
“Thank you, General,” Fleischmann wrote that he said while pressing the transmitter button.
Was that the end of the artillery?
No. The French merely reduced the intensity of their fire.
And Rommel sent soldiers into the attack.
Fleischmann saw German infantrymen run out onto the field.
“—It’s me!” he shouted into the microphone.
The general already knew. Armored personnel carriers and vehicles carrying assault troops moved onto the field. Mines exploded, men were torn apart, vehicles burned. Before Fleischmann’s eyes, it was sheer madness.
A few minutes later soldiers from a reserve company reached him. They were men from his own unit, men with whom he had fought. They had cleared the way for the SS, the Wehrmacht, and the 7th Panzer Division.
And then, he says, he understood: had he not been a radio operator, he would have shared the fate of one of those already crossed off the strength lists.
Again the author returns to the same point.
The general knew what had happened to him.
The following line in the Russian text is fragmentary: “What, is Frau still producing Kinder? Or are there other categories in war besides staring?”
Apparently, the incident affected Fleischmann strongly enough that he began to think about what was happening around him:
“For example, reports began to arrive from SS Totenkopf units about certain events in the town of Drancy. I had already heard that a camp or prison for prisoners of war had been established in Drancy. But it was not only for prisoners of war.
“An order was also issued to stop all trains going to Drancy and to certain stations east of that town—to Limoges, Lyon, Chartres, and other places. All such trains traveled from eastern France toward Strasbourg, where they then crossed the German border exclusively with the knowledge of the SS. At the time I had no idea that the convoys mentioned above were carrying people to camps. The SS staff officers already knew what to do: immediately inform higher authorities about trains bound for the towns listed above.
“Each time I received information about the trains, I was actually sent out of the radio room and allowed to return only after some time, once the information had been processed.
“One day I asked Gleispunkt and Engel what these secret trains were, but they only grinned. Puzzled, I asked what was funny and received no clear answer. I kept pestering both colleagues until Gleispunkt asked me:
“—Kager, what do you think those trains might be carrying?”
“I replied that I had no idea, and Gleispunkt laughed and asked:
“—Tell me, have you seen many Jews in the streets of Paris?”
People say that Germans did not know about the death camps. The author comments: that is not true.
“We all knew about Dachau and Buchenwald,” Fleischmann continued, “but I can say with a clear conscience that in 1940 I had no idea what was happening there. I always thought they were centers for the political re-education of criminals, where people were taught to respect the existence of Law. I thought that if someone violated German law, he received several years in Dachau or Buchenwald.
“But, of course, I did not understand why we had to shoot Jews from other countries in Germany.”
They knew everything, the article comments.
“...I did not understand why Gleispunkt and Engel laughed about it. Moreover, they laughed in an unpleasant way—and seemed to know much more than I did.”
He was only beginning to think. The author says that fuller realization would come on the Eastern Front.
Speaking of the Eastern Front: everyone knows that the Great Patriotic War began on June 22.
But when did combat on the Soviet-German front actually begin?
Fleischmann claims it began earlier.
On Friday, June 20, he says, he was inserted into the USSR as part of a reconnaissance and sabotage group. On the night of June 20–21, the SS group encountered... a partisan detachment.
“There were many partisans. Fires burned in pits dug into the ground, clearly for concealment. Some seams had been sewn from tablecloths, curtains, or for some other unknown reason. By my estimate there were at least forty people in the camp. We decided to eat canned stew, and our guide sat down with us.”
“—The village is very close,” he said.
“—What village?” Detweiler asked.
“—A village,” the guide replied. “We will take you there. You will hear everything there. But first eat.”
After examining their supplies, the old man smiled and said:
“—SS.”
Other “partisans” began coming over. Among them was a woman of about thirty in worn clothing. Despite her dirty face and tattered clothes, Fleischmann found her beautiful. Her presence eased the atmosphere somewhat.
“—Who are you?” I asked the old man again. “Where are we?”
Hearing the question, the other forest fighters exchanged glances and smiled mysteriously, as if they knew something he did not.
“—We call him Father Demetrius. And her name is Rachel. Welcome to Ukraine.”
Does that trouble you?
The narrator says that what troubled him personally was the name Rachel, which he regarded as typically Jewish.
Who were they? UPA? What sort of “partisans”? Unfortunately, Günter does not explain. According to him, however, this happened roughly thirty kilometers from Kovel.
During the day reports arrived about Red Army unit movements in the area of the expected offensive.
On June 22, the event known to everyone occurred. But what happened next, once German forces entered the USSR?
“The column’s advance slowed. About a kilometer from one checkpoint I noticed a group of SS policemen by the roadside. Most had MP-40 submachine guns slung over their shoulders and looked like officers: neat, in clean uniforms, clearly not men from the front line. Another five hundred meters on I saw ditches on both sides of the road lined with freshly cut logs. Fifty on each side. And someone hanged on every one. It seemed as if we were driving through a tunnel of the dead.”
Demetrius and Rachel were executed.
The Germans began the war by killing Ukrainians—the very people who had helped their reconnaissance group only the day before.
“At the end of the line of ditches was a pit into which the bodies of killed Soviet soldiers were being thrown. Looking closely, I understood that they lay in rows, as though they had been led to the edge one after another and shot. SS men were passing flasks of alcohol from hand to hand. I saw Detweiler; he gestured back toward the collaborators. I saw SS policemen leading another group of civilians to the same pit. Who were they? What crimes could they possibly have committed to be shot without trial or investigation?
“Our column moved on, but I had time to see the police separate the condemned: men one way, women another, and then begin tearing children away from their mothers. Through the roar of the engines I thought I could hear screams.”
This is not “Red propaganda” by Ehrenburg, the author stresses. It is the recollection of an SS officer from the Wiking Division. There is nothing to add.
“One Untersturmführer ordered me to switch Petrika to another frequency, after which I called my commander. Meanwhile, a second officer ordered two soldiers from the 2nd SS Regiment to bring in the prisoners. One of them looked like an officer. His uniform was distinctive. Then I realized he was a political commissar.”
Almost at the same moment an SS man drew his pistol and fired several shots into the Soviet political officer’s head. Fleischmann and Krendl did not even have time to avoid being splashed with blood and brain matter.
An illustration, the author comments, of the Commissar Order.
“I saw several hundred naked civilians guarded by SS men and Ukrainian volunteers. Screams came from behind the trees.”
“—What are you doing here? Who are these people?” one of the guards asked.
He took their papers, read them, and said:
“—Go through and report your arrival at the quarters.”
“—Who are they?” Krendl repeated the question.
“—Why are they being shot?” Lichtel added.
“—Report your arrival at headquarters,” the soldier repeated stubbornly. “And don’t panic unless I ask you something,” he added in the tone of personal advice.
The man in charge turned out to be a Sturmscharführer in a dirty uniform with a thick cigar between his teeth. After glancing at their papers, he ordered them to go back along the same road. The radio station, he assured them, was nearby. They were to report to a Hauptsturmführer.
Unable to stand it, Lichtel asked the Sturmscharführer:
“‘And what is that shooting near the trees?’ ‘Fire-training courses,’ he tossed back without looking. ‘And the naked people—who are they?’ The Sturmscharführer gave him an icy stare. ‘Targets,’ came the laconic answer.”
What is there to comment on?
Günter then tells how German soldiers began to deteriorate physically and, as the article crudely puts it, “turn into pigs” as early as June 1941, immediately after the Battle of Dubno.
“Thirst, dehydration, and moldy bread turned into illnesses among the personnel.”
The author says he does not know where the Germans obtained moldy bread, though winter later showed that this was typical in German quarters.
“...Often the bread swarmed with worms, and we were not allowed to pick them out. Eat them with the worms—it will be more filling, more protein. Apparently that was how our commanders justified it. So that was how we made up the shortage of protein. In time a new ritual enriched our table—a kind of protest. Openly, as if to say: look at me, I am not squeamish, I am used to everything. Masochism.”
“...Naturally, under such conditions there was no question of hygiene. If we were by a river or lake, no one was allowed into the water until all bottles, tanks, and vehicle radiators had been filled. But many men preferred sleep to bathing, and officers had to force them to wash. Waking an exhausted soldier was not easy, however, and in the end he was simply left alone. He reached a state where he no longer distinguished between ‘those who bathe’ and ‘those who sleep.’ Lice infested everyone, both groups: they were in hair, in clothes—everywhere. One could pour disinfectant by the bucket...”
A cultured nation, the author comments sarcastically. Very well groomed. Perhaps only Eskimos were more “cultured,” except that for them washing supposedly was not customary because it could be dangerous to life.
Fleischmann’s memoirs, the author says, hardly need commentary. They speak for themselves:
“That same night near the Dnieper, the Russians damaged the pontoon bridge with rockets. The next day our engineers restored it, but again the Russians put it out of action. Again our engineers rebuilt the crossing, and again the Russians destroyed it... When the pontoons had to be repaired a fourth time, the soldiers only shook their heads, wondering who these clever men were. Officers... Meanwhile the bridge was damaged again the following night as a result of a Russian mining operation. It not only destroyed the bridge but also struck our post north of the road bridge. Officers ordered trucks brought up for escape, but not one of them bothered to give an order for return fire.”
The SS fought as best they could.
Eventually...
“...Again new faces, new names, again the devil knows who standing in line to be killed. I disliked all of it. I did not want to die either. I was certainly not trying to become friends with everyone in the 5th SS Division, from the 14th Corps, but at every morning roll call their names involuntarily engraved themselves on my memory. I tried to train myself out of it—but suddenly new names came from Dietz’s lips. It made me angry.”
By the winter of 1941, the article says, the elite had been virtually shot to pieces by Soviet soldiers. Then the realization began.
“Then I started wondering: what exactly am I fighting for? There was no doubt—this was not my war. And ordinary rank-and-file soldiers are useless in it and decide nothing.”
Yet he continued fighting, as a participant in the supposedly valiant SS war was expected to do.
“Then we all grabbed rifles and opened fire. In front of us was a small square where a Russian field hospital was located. The doctors and staff had fled, leaving the wounded behind. Some of them were already reaching for weapons. Blinded by rage over the loss of Brückner and Biesel, we opened indiscriminate fire on the wounded, changing machine guns, cutting down thirty or forty men with long bursts. They crawled, but our bullets caught them. In this barbaric act I noticed a Russian soldier hiding behind a wooden crate. I changed the belt and blew the box into splinters. Empty. I inserted another belt and fired it completely into a corpse. If the Sturmscharführer had not intervened, I would have kept shooting until the ammunition ran out.
“I silently looked at the pile of motionless bodies. Someone muttered to Stotz that we had to take revenge on the Russians for him. Then the Sturmscharführer and I began walking around the square, especially near the remains of a cart, to make sure the Russian was dead.”
Krendl came up to him. Fleischmann looked into his eyes and understood what he was thinking at that moment:
“This is not Belgium.”
Yes, the article comments. This was not Belgium. It was Russia. And here “enlightened Europeans” were not fighting a noble knightly war. It was an ordinary colonial war. The idea of the “Untermensch,” the author argues, differed little from racist categories once applied to Black people or Native Americans. Scalping, killing the wounded—this, the author says polemically, was how Europeans treated supposedly “uncivilized peoples.” The Russians were supposedly uncivilized, while the Germans stood civilized up to their elbows and knees in blood. Better, he concludes, to be a third-world country than a beast in SS form.
“I felt no pangs of conscience looking at what I had done. I did not even feel the shadow of remorse.”
Eventually Fleischmann was wounded in the Grozny area and ended up in a hospital in Warsaw. “Conditions in the Warsaw hospital were terrible. There were not enough medicines for the wounded, and most of them were condemned to an agonizing death.”
The article then comments on German military medicine and adds that wounded men who died in rear hospitals were not included in combat losses. They were supposedly transferred to what the text calls a “reserve army,” whose losses were counted as losses among the civilian population. The author presents this as an explanation for the low official German casualty figures for the Wehrmacht and SS.
Speaking of losses, Fleischmann wrote: “I regularly received letters from home and learned from them that both of my brothers—there were two of them—had died in this war. One served in the Kriegsmarine.”
Of six relatives, five died by the winter of 1943. Coincidence? The author doubts it.
The memoir then describes an SS attack in Normandy. The supposed elite went up a hill: “I do not know who were in the majority, recruits or veterans, but I was horrified to see them make absolutely wild mistakes. Some soldiers decided to throw hand grenades at the crest of the hill, which was completely empty. Because of the considerable distance and change in elevation, the grenades naturally failed to reach the target, rolled back down, and exploded beside the SS men. Using grenade launchers in such a situation was, to put it mildly, impossible—the recoil knocked men off their feet. Naturally, after the first shot the soldiers fell and rolled down the steep slope, breaking arms and legs.”
According to Fleischmann, the attack began at 4:15 in the morning and consisted of five infantry waves. The second wave reached its line at 4:25. By 4:35 the assault had stalled because of dense Allied fire and the SS men’s own foolishness. Only at six did the next waves begin advancing; by 7:45 it was over.
“Of one hundred men in the first echelon, ten survived.”
A bell rang on Hill 314... The assault continued for another six days. So who, the article asks, was throwing soldiers into the meat grinder?
A certain Taunton-Makuta, described by the author as a man capable only of reprisals against wounded men and civilians.
Fleischmann continues: “I nevertheless decided to visit Werner Bülein. He served in the 3rd SS Panzer Division Totenkopf during the Soviet invasion, and in 1942 he hit a mine and lost his right leg. We talked about the war and other subjects. I felt that he did not want to touch on the questions my father had spoken about. I did not know how to approach them delicately, but then, gathering my courage, I asked involuntarily. At first Werner regarded my questions with suspicion—what if I had been sent to discover defeatist attitudes and undermine the nation’s morale? I explained that I simply wanted clarity and repeated the conversation with my father. ‘Whole villages,’ he admitted. ‘Whole villages, a thousand inhabitants or more. And all sent to the next world. They were simply driven like cattle, placed at the edge of a pit, and shot. There were special units that did this continuously. Women, children, old people—everyone without distinction, Karl. And only because they were Jews.’”
Only then, Fleischmann says, did he fully grasp the horror of what Werner had said. He looked at the stump beneath the pajama leg and thought that this man had no reason to lie or embellish.
“‘But why?’ I asked. ‘Those were the orders. And thank God the mine blew off my leg then. I could not bear it anymore. Sometimes I shot only old people and children. Sometimes men, women, and teenagers were sent to camps.’ ‘Camps?’ ‘Auschwitz, Treblinka, Belsen, Chełmno. Then they were turned into half-corpses and afterward into corpses. And new people were brought in to take their place. It went on for more than a year.’”
Werner described these horrors in a calm, detached voice, as if discussing the weather.
The author again reminds the reader who originally formed the Totenkopf units: former concentration-camp guards.
Fleischmann himself, however, entered the SS almost by accident. At the beginning of the war, Hitler’s guard formations desperately needed specialists from many fields, including radio operators. Günter was therefore transferred from the Kriegsmarine to the SS.
His war did not end by accident either. By then an Unterscharführer and platoon commander, he simply surrendered to the Americans together with his platoon. According to the text, they discarded their uniforms, removed white shirts carrying insignia, and left the battlefield. The author adds that the families of such deserters could later be sent to concentration camps for “betrayal of the people,” under a principle of collective responsibility, even in supposedly enlightened Germany.
In June, Günter Fleischmann was released from captivity. He was not tried for war crimes.
The author says he has no doubt that Fleischmann later changed his name. At times in the text, comrades can be heard calling him “Karl!”
And, incidentally, he later lived in the GDR.
June 22 is a sacred day in our country. The beginning of the Great Patriotic War was the beginning of the road to the Great Victory. History knows no military phase on a greater scale, and perhaps none bloodier or purchased at a higher price. We have already published terrible pages from books by Ales Adamovich and Daniil Granin, the strikingly candid testimony of front-line soldier Nikolai Nikulin, and excerpts from Viktor Astafyev's book The Cursed and the Slain.
And yet, alongside inhumanity and horror, military triumph, courage, and self-sacrifice prevailed—the qualities that made the outcome of this battle of nations foreseeable from its very first hours. Excerpts from letters and reports by soldiers and officers of the German armed forces on the Eastern Front bear witness to this.
“Already the very first attack turned into a fight to the death.”
“My commander was twice my age, and he had already fought the Russians near Narva in 1917, when he was a lieutenant. ‘Here, in these boundless expanses, we will meet our death, like Napoleon,’ he made no secret of his pessimism... ‘Mende, remember this hour—it marks the end of the old Germany.’” (Erich Mende, first lieutenant of the 8th Silesian Infantry Regiment, recalling a conversation in the final minutes of peace on June 22, 1941.)
“When we entered our first battle with the Russians, they clearly were not expecting us. But it would be a mistake to call them unprepared.” (Alfred Durwanger, lieutenant and commander of an anti-tank company in the 28th Infantry Division.)
“The level of training of Soviet pilots is considerably higher than expected... Their brutal endurance and sheer numbers do not correspond to our initial assumptions.” (From the diary of Major General Hoffmann von Waldau, Chief of Staff of the Luftwaffe, June 31, 1941.)
“On the Eastern Front we encountered people who can be called a special race.”
“On the very first day, as soon as we took part in the attack, one of our men shot himself with his own weapon. Holding the rifle between his knees, he put the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger. That was how the war—and all the horrors connected with it—ended for him.” (Johann Danzer, artilleryman, Brest, June 22, 1941.)
“On the Eastern Front I met people who can rightly be called a special race. The first attack immediately turned into a fight to the death.” (Hans Becker, tanker of the 12th Panzer Division.)
“The losses are terrible; they cannot be compared with the losses in France... Today we move along this road, tomorrow the Russians will, then us again, and so on... I have never seen anyone more dangerous than these Russians. Real chain dogs! You never know what to expect from them.” (From the diary of a soldier of Army Group Centre, August 20, 1941.)
“You can never say in advance how a Russian will behave: as a rule, he swings from one extreme to another. His nature is as unusual and contradictory as this vast and incomprehensible country... Sometimes Russian infantry battalions became disorganized after the very first shots, and the next day the same units fought with fanatical tenacity... On the whole, the Russians are unquestionably excellent soldiers and, under capable leadership, the most dangerous of opponents.” (Friedrich Wilhelm von Mellenthin, major general of armored troops, Chief of Staff of the 48th Panzer Corps, later Chief of Staff of the 4th Panzer Army.)
“I have never seen anyone more dangerous than these Russians. Real chain dogs!”
“During the attack I came across a light Soviet T-26 tank and immediately fired at it with a 37-mm gun. When we came closer, a Russian emerged waist-high from the turret hatch and opened fire on us with a pistol. It soon became clear that he had no legs—they had been torn off when the shell hit the tank. And despite that, he kept shooting!” (Recollection of an anti-tank gun commander about the first hours of the war.)
“You simply will not believe it until you see it with your own eyes. Red Army soldiers, even while engulfed in flames, continued firing from burning houses.” (From a letter by an officer of the 7th motorized infantry division about fighting in a village near the Lama River in mid-November 1941.)
“...Inside the tank were the bodies of its brave crew, who had already been wounded earlier. Deeply moved by their heroism, I buried them with full military honors. They fought to their last breath. But this was only a small drama in a great war.” (Erhard Raus, colonel and commander of Kampfgruppe Raus, writing about a KV-1 tank that shot up and crushed a column of German trucks, tanks, and an artillery battery; just four Soviet tanks held up the advance of Kampfgruppe Raus—roughly half a division—for two days, June 24 and 25.)
“July 17, 1941... In the evening an unknown Russian soldier was buried [the reference is to 19-year-old Senior Sergeant Nikolai Sirotinin]. Alone, from a single position, he fired on a column of tanks and infantry, held it up for a long time, and was killed. Everyone was astonished by his courage... The colonel at the grave said that if all the Führer’s soldiers fought like this Russian, we would conquer the whole world. He saluted three times. But do you need such admiration, Russian?” (From the diary of Lieutenant Henfeld of the 4th Panzer Division.)
“If all the Führer’s soldiers fought like this Russian, we would conquer the whole world.”
“We took almost no prisoners because the Russians always fought to the last soldier. They did not surrender. They cannot be compared with our...” (From an interview with war correspondent Curzio Malaparte, Zuckert, who was attached as an officer to a tank unit in the central sector of the army group.)
“The Russians have always been famous for their contempt for death; the communist regime has developed this quality in them still further, and now their mass attacks have become even more effective. An attack made twice will be repeated a third and a fourth time, despite the losses suffered. And it will be made with the same persistence and the same men... They did not retreat, but before that they advanced irresistibly.” (Friedrich Wilhelm von Mellenthin, major general of armored troops, Chief of Staff of the 48th Panzer Corps and later of the 4th Panzer Army; participant in the battles of Stalingrad and Kursk.)
“I am so angry, yet I have never felt so helpless.”
For its part, from the very beginning of the war the Red Army and the inhabitants of the occupied territories faced an invader who had been well prepared and psychologically conditioned.
“August 25. We throw hand grenades into apartment houses. The houses catch fire very quickly. The flames spread to the neighboring huts. A magnificent sight! People cry and laugh through their tears. In this way we have already burned ten villages.” (From the diary of Corporal Johannes Herder.)
“September 29, 1941... The sergeant-major shot them all in the head. The woman begged to be spared—she too was killed. I am surprised at how calmly I look at this... Without changing my expression, I watched the sergeant-major shoot Russian women, and I must admit that I felt pleasure...”
“I, Heinrich Tiewel, have set myself the goal of exterminating 250 Russians, Jews, Ukrainians, without any discrimination, during this war. If every soldier does the same, we will destroy Russia in a month, and everything will belong to us Germans. At the Führer’s call, I appeal to all Germans—to this goal!” (Entry in a soldier’s notebook, October 29, 1941.)
“I can forget these things quite calmly. At the same time, I really do feel a certain pleasure.”
The German soldier’s morale was broken, as if its backbone had been snapped, in the Battle of Stalingrad. Total enemy losses—killed, wounded, captured, and missing—amounted to about 1.5 million people. The betrayal of self-confidence led to despair similar to that which had overwhelmed the Red Army during the first months of the war.
When Berlin decided to use letters from the Stalingrad front for propaganda purposes, it turned out that of seven mailbags only 2 percent of the letters expressed approval of the war, while in 60 percent the soldiers called upon to fight rejected the slaughter. In the trenches of Stalingrad, the German soldier often seemed—an instant before death—to awaken from a zombie-like state and recover awareness of his own humanity.
One can say that the war as a confrontation between forces of roughly equal strength ended precisely here, at Stalingrad—above all because on the banks of the Volga the main pillars of the soldiers’ faith in the Führer’s infallibility and omnipotence collapsed. And, by the justice of history, that is what happens to almost every Führer.
“Since this morning I know what awaits us. And I feel better—I no longer want to keep you in agonizing uncertainty. When I saw the map, I was horrified. We are completely isolated, with no help from outside. Hitler has abandoned us in the encirclement. This letter will be sent only if our airfield has not yet been captured.”
“At home someone is probably rubbing his hands—they have managed to preserve their warm posts. And the newspapers will print pompous words in a black frame: ‘Eternal memory to the heroes.’ But do not let that deceive you. I am so angry that I am ready to destroy everything around me. Yet never in my life have I felt so helpless.”
“People are starving and freezing savagely. Death here is simply a biological fact, like eating or drinking. They die like flies, and no one cares about them—no one buries them. Without arms, without legs, without eyes, with their bellies torn open, they crawl everywhere. A film should be made about this to destroy once and for all the myth of a ‘beautiful death.’ It is simply a brutal crime. But one day all of this will be raised onto granite pedestals and nobly portrayed as ‘fallen heroes’ with bandaged heads and arms.”
“They will write novels, hymns and songs will be heard. Masses will be celebrated in churches. But for me—this is too much.”
“They will write novels, hymns and songs will sound. Churches will hold their services. But as for me—I do not want my bones to rot in a grave. Do not be surprised if you hear nothing more from me: I was fully determined to become master of my own fate.”
“Well, now you know that I will not return. Please tell our parents everything you can. I am deeply shaken. I believed—and therefore I was strong. Now I believe in nothing—and I feel terribly weak. I understand little of what is happening here, but even the little in which I am forced to take part is already too much for me. No, no one will convince me that I am dying here with the words ‘Germany’ or ‘Heil Hitler’ on my lips. Yes, people die here—no one denies that. But in the final moments of their lives the dying do not call for the Führer. They say the name of their mother, or the name of the person they love most. Or they simply cry for help. I have seen hundreds of dead men. Many of them, like me, came from the Hitler Youth. And if they were still able to cry out, they cried for help. Or they called someone who could no longer help them.”
“I searched for God—in every crater, in every ruined house, in every corner, in every comrade. When I lay in a ditch, I looked for Him in the heavens. But God did not appear, although my heart cried out to Him. Ruined houses, hunger, and death on the earth; bombs and flames in the sky. Brave men and cowards—all, like me, disappear. And God is nowhere. No, Father, there is no God. Or He exists only where you are—in psalms and prayers, in the sermons of priests and pastors, in the ringing of bells, in the smell of incense... But there is no God in Stalingrad any longer. And if He does exist, I no longer believe in His goodness. He would never have allowed such terrible injustice. I no longer believe, because if God existed, He would have cleared the minds of those who unleashed this war. Yet they themselves spoke of peace in three languages. I no longer believe in God. He betrayed us. And now decide for yourself what to do with your faith.”
“Ten years ago the issue was ballot papers—now it has to be paid for with such a ‘trifle’ as human life.”
“For every reasonable person in Germany there will come a moment when he curses the madness of this war. And then you will understand how empty your words were about the banner I was supposedly meant to carry to victory. There is no victory, General. There are only banners and dying people. And in the end there will be neither banners nor people. Stalingrad is not a military necessity. It is political madness. And your son, General, will not become part of this experiment. You are blocking his path to life—but he will choose his own path. In another direction. Also toward life, but on the other side of the front. Think about your words. I hope that when everything collapses, you will remember the banner—and choose it consciously.”
“Liberation of peoples? What nonsense! The peoples will remain the same; only the authority will change. And those who stand on the sidelines will say again and again that the people must be liberated—this time from the new authority. In 1932 it was still possible to do something different—and you know that perfectly well. You know: the moment was missed. Ten years ago it was about ballot papers. And now it has to be paid for with such a ‘trifle of life’ as human life.”
Otto Carius (German: Otto Carius, May 27, 1922 – January 24, 2015) was a German tank ace of the Second World War. He is regarded as one of the most successful tank commanders: he was credited with destroying more than 150 enemy tanks and self-propelled guns—one of the highest totals in the entire Great Patriotic War, alongside such other well-known masters of tank combat as Michael Wittmann and Kurt Knispel.
He began his tank career in the light Škoda Pz.38(t), and from 1942 fought in the heavy Pz.VI Tiger on the Eastern Front. Alongside Michael Wittmann, Carius became part of Nazi military mythology, and his name was actively used in Third Reich propaganda.
He fought on the Eastern Front and was severely wounded in 1944. After recovering, he was transferred to the Western Front, where he continued his service. On orders from his command he surrendered to American forces and spent some time in a prisoner-of-war camp before being released.
After the war Otto Carius became a pharmacist. In June 1956 he bought a pharmacy in the town of Herschweiler-Pettersheim and renamed it Tiger-Apotheke (“Tiger Pharmacy”) in memory of the tank in which he had fought. Carius ran the pharmacy until February 2011.
He was also the author of the autobiographical book Tigers in the Mud, in which he described his combat career, his view of the war, and his personal experiences.
Interesting excerpts from Tigers in the Mud can be read in full at militera.lib.ru. On the Baltic offensive:
“‘It is actually not bad fighting here,’ said the noncommissioned officer-dealer, surfacing again from the bucket of water. Apparently the washing did not end there. A year earlier he had been in France. The thought gave me confidence, for I was entering combat for the first time—excited, but also somewhat afraid. Everywhere in Lithuania we were greeted enthusiastically. The local inhabitants saw us as liberators. We were shocked to discover that Jewish shops had already been destroyed and looted before our arrival.”
“The advance on Moscow was considered preferable to the capture of Leningrad. But the attack bogged down in the mud when only two steps remained to the Russian capital. What happened then, in the winter of 1941/42, cannot be conveyed either orally or in writing. The German soldier had to survive under inhuman conditions and in that respect was at a disadvantage compared with Russian divisions accustomed to the severe winter and extraordinarily well equipped.”
“One event struck us like a ton of bricks: Soviet T-34 tanks appeared for the first time! The astonishment was total. How could it have happened that no one up there knew of the existence of this tank?”
The T-34, with its reliable armor, ideal hull shape, and excellent 76.2-mm armament, inspired everyone’s admiration. German tank crews feared it until the end of the war. What were we to do with these monsters when they were thrown against us in enormous numbers?
“I inspected the ‘Joseph Stalin’ tank, which had partly survived. Its 122-mm gun commanded our respect. The reverse side of the design was the absence of an automatic loading system: the shell and propellant charge had to be loaded separately. The armor and shape of the vehicle surpassed even our ‘Tiger,’ although we trusted our own gun more. Once a ‘Joseph Stalin’ tank played a nasty trick on me by damaging the right track. I did not notice the hit until I wanted to eat—after a sudden violent jolt and explosion. Sergeant-Major Kerscher immediately recognized from the signature who had fired. He hit it squarely in the frontal section, but our 88-mm gun could not penetrate the ‘Joseph Stalin’s’ heavy armor at that angle and from that distance.”
“Externally it looked handsome and pleasing to the eye. Coarse and massive; almost all its surfaces were flat and horizontal, while only the front armor plate was set nearly vertical. The absence of rounded forms was compensated for by the thickness of the armor. Ironically, before the war we had supplied the Russians with an enormous hydraulic press with which they later produced T-34 hulls with elegantly rounded contours. Our weapons specialists had then believed such armor unnecessary. In the end, we had to revise our own designs urgently.”
“Even if our ‘Tiger’ was not especially beautiful, its reliability inspired us. It handled like a passenger car. Literally with two fingers you could steer the 60-ton giant with 700 horsepower, which reached 45 km/h on the highway and 20 km/h over rough terrain. However, because of the additional equipment we could move on the road only at 20–25 km/h and even more slowly cross-country. The 22-liter engine worked best at 2,600 rpm. At 3,000 it quickly overheated.”
“We watched with envy how well equipped the ‘Ivans’ were compared with us. We felt real relief when several tankers finally came up from the rear.”
“I found the commander of a Luftwaffe field division at his command post in a state of complete despair. He did not know where his units were. Russian tanks were smashing everything around them before the anti-tank guns could fire even a single shot. The ‘Ivans’ had mastered the latest equipment, and the division scattered in every direction.”
“The Russians attacked and took the town. The offensive came so suddenly that some of our units were caught while still on the move. Real panic began. The commander of Nevel quite rightly should have faced a court-martial for gross neglect of security measures.”
“Soon after midnight vehicles appeared from the west. I recognized the men at once—it was the motorized infantry battalion that had failed to link up with the main forces and reached the highway late. We later learned that the commander was sitting alone in the lead tank of the column—completely drunk. Disaster came in an instant. The unit did not understand what was happening and advanced openly through ground already occupied by the Russians. When machine guns and mortars began firing, panic broke out. Many soldiers were wounded. Left without a commander, the men ran toward the road instead of seeking cover south of it. There could be no question of helping one another. Only one goal remained: saving one’s own life. Vehicles drove directly over the wounded. What happened on the highway was horrific.”
“At dawn our infantry almost accidentally approached a T-34 that was still standing beside von Schiller’s tank. Apart from one penetration, there was no damage. Astonishingly, when the soldiers tried to open the hatch, the crew did not surrender. A hand grenade flew out of the tank, seriously wounding three soldiers. Von Schiller opened fire again. The commander of the Soviet tank did not leave the vehicle until after the third shot. He was badly wounded and lost consciousness. The other crew members were dead. I brought the wounded Soviet lieutenant back to the division, but he could no longer be questioned—he died of his wounds on the way. The incident taught us a lesson. The lieutenant had managed to prepare detailed reports about us. He only had to turn his turret a little to shoot von Schiller at point-blank range. I remember well how I regarded the stubbornness of that Russian officer at the time. Today my opinion has changed...”
“Against the blue sky they created a curtain of fire that left nothing to the imagination. It completely covered our bridgehead. Only the ‘Ivans’ could create a tree of fire like that. Even the Americans, whom I later encountered in the West, could not compare with the Russians. The Soviet troops fired on several levels, with every weapon available—from continuous volleys of light mortars to heavy artillery.”
“Sappers were operating everywhere. They even turned warning signs in the opposite direction in the hope that the Russians would go the wrong way. We later tried the same trick on the Western Front against the Americans, but it did not work with the Russians.”
“If two or three tankers with crews from my company had actually been fighting in Russia, the rumor of our tanks’ invincibility might have been true. But none of my comrades would have bothered to dig out the ‘dressed-up Yankees.’ In the end, five Russians were more dangerous than thirty Americans. We understood that during the last days of fighting on the Western Front.”
“‘The Russians would never have given us so much time!’ we said as we watched how many hours the Americans needed to eliminate a ‘pocket’ that had not even offered serious resistance.”
“...One evening we decided to replenish our vehicle pool—at the Americans’ expense. No one even thought of this as an act of heroism! The ‘Ike men’ slept in houses, as befits ‘war veterans.’ After all, who would want to disturb their peace? One could remain outside for at most an hour, and only in good weather. War began only in the evening if our troops withdrew and they pursued us. If a German machine gun suddenly opened fire, they requested air support—but only for the next day. Around midnight five of us set out on the mission and returned quite quickly—already in two jeeps. It was convenient that keys were unnecessary. You only had to turn a switch and the vehicle was ready. Only after we returned to our positions did the Yankees begin shooting into the air, probably to calm their nerves. If the night had been longer, I could have driven peacefully all the way to Paris.”
Developing the theme and supplementing Elena Senyavskaya’s article published on the site on May 10, 2012, we offer our readers another publication by the same author, which appeared in a print edition.
At the final stage of the Second World War, after Soviet territory had been liberated from German fascist troops and their satellites and the retreating enemy was being pursued, the Red Army crossed the state border of the USSR. From that moment its victorious advance began through the countries of Europe—both those that had suffered for six years under fascist occupation and those that had been allies of Hitler’s Germany. During this advance and the inevitable contacts with the local population, Soviet soldiers, many of whom had never before left their own country, acquired many new and often contradictory impressions of representatives of other peoples and cultures. Those impressions formed the basis for ethnopsychological stereotypes in perceptions of Europe and Europeans. The image of the European woman occupied a special place among them. References to women, often quite detailed, occur in the letters, diaries, and memoirs of many participants in the war, where lyrical intonations coexist with harshness and even cynicism.
The first European country entered by the Red Army, in August 1944, was Romania. In Notes on the War, front-line poet Boris Slutsky included very candid lines: “Suddenly, almost at the sea itself, Constanța opens up before us. It practically coincides with the average dream of happiness and of ‘after the war.’ A restaurant. Beds with clean linen. Shops with reptilian shopkeepers. And—women. Elegant city women. The girls of Europe. The first tribute I received from the defeated...” He then described his first impressions of “foreign countries”: “European barbershops where they wash the fingers, not the hands. No bathtub. A washbasin made from a basin: first the dirt remains on your hands, and then you wash your face in the same water. Featherbeds instead of blankets. The disgust caused by everyday life immediately gave rise to generalizations... This is explained not only by fear of infection and high prices but by contempt for the very possibility of ‘buying a man.’ Many boasted of cases like the Romanian husband who complained to the commandant’s office that our officer had failed to pay his wife fifteen hundred lei. Everyone had a ‘clear conscience’: ‘That would be impossible with us...’ Our soldiers will probably remember Romania as the country of syphilis.” And he concluded that it was precisely in this European province—Romania—that “our soldier first felt his superiority over Europe.”
Lieutenant Colonel Fyodor Smolnikov, a Soviet officer, recorded his impressions of Bucharest in his diary on September 17, 1944: “Ambassador Hotel, restaurant in the basement. I see an audience wandering aimlessly—they have nothing to do, they are merely waiting. They look at me as if I were a curiosity: ‘A Russian officer!’ I am dressed very modestly, even more than modestly. K... We will continue to be in Budapest. It is exactly the same as in Bucharest. A first-class restaurant. The public is smartly dressed; beautiful Romanian women cast provocative glances.” The author of the article then emphasizes the following: “We spend the night in a first-class hotel. The main street stretches along the capital. There is no music; the public merely waits. Capital, damn it! I am not taken in by this advertisement...”
In Hungary the Soviet Army faced not only armed resistance but treacherous blows from behind by part of the population, when soldiers were “killed on farms, drowned in grain elevators, drunks were murdered and beaten.” Yet Boris Slutsky wrote that “the women, not as debauched as the Romanian women, surrendered with shameful ease... a little love, a little idleness, and, of course, fear—that is what helped.” A Hungarian lawyer once remarked: “It is very good that the Russians love children so much. It is very bad that I love women so much.” Slutsky commented bitterly on the phrase: “girls and the desperate tenderness of soldiers who surrendered to the murderers of their husbands.”
Grigory Chukhrai described a similar case in Hungary in his memoirs. His unit was quartered in a house where a feast was taking place. After drinking Russian vodka, the owners relaxed and admitted that they were hiding their daughter in the attic. The Soviet officers were indignant: “Who do you take us for? We are not fascists!” The hosts became ashamed, and soon a thin girl named Marika joined the table and ate with pleasure. Then she began flirting and even asking questions. By the end of supper everyone was friendly and drank to “barátság” (friendship). Marika understood the toast too literally. When everyone went off to sleep, she appeared in Chukhrai’s room in a short nightshirt. “As a Soviet officer, I understood at once: this was a challenge. I was expected to succumb to Marika’s charms. But I decided: I would not. Her charms did not work on me—I pointed to the door.”
In the morning the host, serving breakfast, clattered the dishes loudly. “He is nervous. The challenge failed!” Chukhrai thought. He shared the guess with the interpreter, who laughed: “It was not a challenge! You were friendly to her, and then rejected her. Now you are not a human being to this family. You need to move to another apartment.”
Why had they hidden their daughter in the attic? They were afraid of violence. In Hungary, it was customary for a girl, with her parents’ consent, to have intimate relations with several men before marriage. People said: “Do not buy a cat in a sack...”
Young, physically healthy men naturally felt attracted to women. But relaxed European morals became for some Soviet soldiers a moral collapse, and for others, on the contrary, an occasion for reflection. Sergeant Alexander Rodin described his impressions after visiting, out of curiosity, a brothel in Budapest, where his unit was stationed after the war had ended: “...I simply could not get it out of my head. Interestingly, this disgust toward the brothel was felt not only by me—a young man who had worked out principles for himself such as ‘I will not kiss without love’—but by most of my comrades. Around the same day I talked with a pretty Magyar woman who knew Russian fairly well. When she asked whether I liked Budapest, I answered yes—but that the brothels bothered me. ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘Because it is unnatural, savage,’ I explained. ‘A woman takes money and after that begins to “love”...’ The girl thought for a moment, then nodded and said: ‘You are right. Taking the money in advance is ugly.’”
Poland made a different impression. Poet David Samoilov wrote: “...In Poland they kept us under strict discipline. It was difficult to leave. And misbehavior was punished severely. That says a great deal about a country where the only positive thing left was the beauty of Polish women. I cannot say that we liked Poland very much. There was nothing gentlemanly or chivalrous about it. On the contrary, everything was petty-bourgeois and agricultural—in both ideas and interests. In eastern Poland they looked at us with hostility or half-indifference, trying to squeeze everything they could from the ‘liberators.’ Nevertheless, the women were beautiful and coquettish, captivating us with courteous speech in which everything suddenly became understandable. Sometimes they were attracted by brute strength or a soldier’s uniform. And their former suitors, emaciated and embittered, temporarily withdrew into the shadows...”
Not all assessments of Polish women were so romantic. On October 22, 1944, Lieutenant Vladimir Gelfand wrote in his diary: “In the distance is a town with a Polish name, which I left on my left [Włodawa], with beautiful Polish women, proud out of desperation... I was told about Polish women: they lured our soldiers and officers, and when they lay down to sleep they cut the sexual organ with a razor, put their fingers behind the neck and scratched out the eyes. Mad, savage, ugly women! One must be more careful with them and not become carried away by their beauty. And Polish women are beautiful, cunning.”
Yet his notes contain other impressions as well. On October 24 he mentioned: “Today my Polish companions in one of the villages were beautiful Polish girls. They complained about the absence of men in Poland. They called me ‘pan’ too, but they were inaccessible. I gently patted one of them on the shoulder in response to her words about men and consoled myself with the thought: Russia has plenty of men. She hurried to move away and said she had a man too. We said goodbye with handshakes. So I did not achieve my goal, but the girls are nice, though only halfhearted.”
A month later, on November 22, he recorded his impressions of the first large Polish town, Mińsk Mazowiecki. Among descriptions of architectural beauty and the large number of bicycles, he especially singled out the appearance of the townspeople: “A noisy idyllic crowd... The women, as one, in special white hats, probably protected from the wind—they look forty and astonish by their novelty. Men in triangular hats, stout, well groomed, shaved. So many of them! Colored lips, painted eyebrows, glitter, excessive tenderness... It all seems unnatural. The impression is that people live and move only so that others will look at them, and will disappear when the last spectator leaves.”
Not only residents of Polish towns but also villagers made a strong and contradictory impression on Soviet soldiers. “The vitality of the Poles, who had survived the horrors of war and occupation, was astonishing,” Alexander Rodin recalled. “Sunday in a Polish village. Beautiful, elegant Polish women in silk dresses and stockings—although on weekdays they are ordinary peasant women, barefoot, busy with household work. Older women look fresh and young. True, there are dark circles around their eyes.”
He also quoted a diary entry from November 5, 1944: “On Sunday all the villagers are dressed up. We are going visiting. Men in hats, ties, sweaters. Women in silk dresses and shiny stockings that have never been worn before. Girls with rosy cheeks—‘panicked themselves up.’ Wavy fair hairstyles... Soldiers sit in the corner of the hut. But those who are sensitive will notice: it is a painful recovery. Everyone laughs loudly, as though proving that they do not care. They do not even touch anything and do not envy. And how are we worse than they are? Damn it, what happiness peaceful life is! I never saw it in civilian life!”
His colleague Sergeant Nikolai Nesterov wrote the same day: “Today is a day off. The Poles, beautifully dressed, gather in the house and remain in pairs. Somehow it becomes awkward. Couldn’t I have stayed like that too?..”
Female soldier Galina Yartseva was much harsher in her assessment of European morals—the “feast during the plague.” On February 24, 1945 she wrote to a friend: “...If there were a possibility, one could send parcels with trophies. There is plenty to take here. It would be swollen and stripped. What cities I have seen, what men and women! And looking at them, evil seizes you, such hatred! They walk, love, live, while you go away—and let them go. Russian laughter—‘Schweine!’ Yes, yes! Bastards... I love no one except the USSR. Except the peoples who live with us. I believe in no friendship—with Poles or Lithuanians...”
In Austria, where Soviet troops entered in the spring of 1945, they encountered complete capitulation. “Whole villages were covered with white rags. Elderly women raised their hands when they saw men in Red Army uniform.” According to Boris Slutsky, “the soldiers passed among fair-haired women.” The Austrians offered no particular resistance. The overwhelming majority of peasant girls married “pampered” men. Soldiers who found themselves here on leave felt as though they had entered paradise. In Vienna an official bank guide was astonished by the persistence and impatience of Soviet soldiers. He believed courage alone was enough to obtain anything from women—with or without a crown. This was not only the result of fear, but also a manifestation of national mentality and customary norms of behavior.
And finally, Germany. And enemy women: the mothers, wives, daughters, and sisters of those who, from 1941 to 1944, had abused the civilian population in occupied Soviet territory. What did Soviet soldiers see in them? The appearance of German women among streams of refugees was described in Vladimir Bogomolov’s diary: “Women—old and young—in hats, turbans, canopies like ours, in elegant fur coats with fur collars, in clothes of complicated cut—uncomfortable and incomprehensible. Many wear dark glasses so as not to squint in the bright May sun and to protect their faces from wrinkles...”
Lev Kopelev recalled meeting evacuated Berliners in Allenstein: “On the sidewalk, two women. Elaborate hats, one with a veil. Strict, smooth coats. Elegant.” He noted the soldiers’ comments: “chicks,” “turkeys,” “wouldn’t mind stroking that...”
How did the Germans behave when meeting the Red Army? A report by G. F. Alexandrov, head of the Main Political Directorate of the Red Army, sent to the Central Committee of the All-Union Communist Party (Bolsheviks) on April 30, 1945, stated: “As soon as our units occupy one district or another of Berlin, the residents gradually come out into the streets—almost all of them have white armbands. When meeting our soldiers, women often raise their hands, cry, and tremble with fear. But as soon as they become convinced that the soldiers and officers of the Red Army are nothing like those described by fascist propaganda, the fear quickly passes. More and more people come out into the streets, offer help, and try to emphasize their loyal attitude toward the Red Army.”
What impressed Soviet troops most was the Germans’ restraint and rationality. Mortarman N. A. Orlov recalled: “None of us in the mortar unit touched civilians. Our counterintelligence man was, one might say, a ‘Germanophile.’ If anything like that had happened, punitive action would have been immediate. As for violence against German women—I think it is often exaggerated. I remember one case. We entered a town. Suddenly a ‘Stubendirektrice,’ about forty-five years old, appeared and asked: where is the ‘hero commander’? Then she brought some Marchenko. She announced that she was responsible for the neighborhood and had gathered twenty German women for intimate service (!) for Soviet soldiers. Marchenko understood German, and I reported everything to political officer Dolgoborodov. Our officers reacted furiously. The German woman and her ‘detachment’ were driven away. German submissiveness was astonishing. We expected guerrilla warfare and sabotage. But for the Germans order—Ordnung—was more important than anything. If you are the victor, they themselves begin ‘walking on their hind legs.’ And consciously so. That is their psychology...”
David Samoilov recalled a similar episode: “In Arendsfelde, where we had just settled, a small crowd of women with children appeared. They were led by a tall German woman of about fifty with a moustache—Frau Friedrich. She declared that she represented the civilian population and demanded registration of the remaining residents. I replied that this could be done after the commandant’s office arrived. ‘That is impossible,’ Frau Friedrich objected. ‘Here are women and children. They must be registered.’ The women cried out, and their tears confirmed her words. Not knowing what to do, I suggested they occupy the basement of the house in which we were staying. They calmed down, went downstairs, and sat there—to wait for the authorities.”
Commissioner Frau Friedrich thanked me—I was wearing a leather jacket: “We understand that soldiers have natural needs.” Then she added that she could offer more young women for... I did not continue the conversation with Frau Friedrich.
After speaking with Berliners on May 2, 1945, Vladimir Bogomolov wrote in his diary: “We enter one of the surviving houses. Everything is quiet, dead. We knock: ‘Open, please.’ Quiet, excited voices can be heard in the corridor. At last the door opens. A small group of middle-aged women bow fearfully, weakly, obediently. The German women are afraid of us. They were told that Soviet soldiers, especially Asians, would rape and kill... Fear and hatred are on their faces. But when it seems that everything may turn out all right, they behave cautiously, smile, and speak politely. In those days stories circulated: how one of our soldiers entered a German apartment and asked for water, and the German woman, as soon as she saw him, lay down on the sofa and took off her blouse.”
There was a common opinion in the Red Army: “All German women are depraved. They do not mind sleeping with you.” It was fueled not only by individual cases but also by their consequences, which quickly became a source of concern to military doctors.
An order of the Military Council of the 1st Belorussian Front, No. 00343/Ш of April 15, 1945, stated: “During the troops’ stay on enemy territory, the number of sexually transmitted diseases among servicemen has risen sharply. A study of the causes showed that venereal diseases are widespread among the German population. Before retreating, and now on occupied territory as well, the Germans have taken the path of artificially infecting women with syphilis and gonorrhea in order to spread infection on a mass scale among Red Army soldiers.”
In his diary Vladimir Gelfand recorded the following story from his own relations with women in defeated Germany: “I wanted to enjoy Margot’s beautiful caresses—mere kisses and embraces were not enough. I expected more but did not dare ask or insist. The girl’s mother remained pleased with me. Of course! On the altar of the family’s trust and affection I brought sweets, butter, sausages, expensive German cigarettes. Half of those products is enough to obtain full grounds and the right to do anything you want with the daughter—in front of the mother, and she will not say a word. Because today food is more precious than life—even one as young and sweet as Margot’s sensual, tender beauty.”
The Australian war correspondent Osmar White, who served in Europe with George Patton’s U.S. Third Army in 1944–1945, left curious notes. In May 1945, soon after Berlin was taken, he wrote: “I made the rounds of the night cabarets, beginning with the Femina on Potsdamer Platz. It was a warm, damp evening. The air smelled of sewage and rot. The facade of the Femina was decorated with futuristic images and advertisements in four languages. The ballroom and restaurant were crowded with Russian, British, and American officers accompanied by women—or hunting for them. A bottle of wine cost 25 dollars, a horsemeat burger with potatoes 10, and a pack of American cigarettes an astonishing 20 dollars. The cheeks of Berlin women glowed, their lips were painted as though Hitler had won the war. Many wore silk stockings. The master of ceremonies opened the concert in German, Russian, English, and French. This puzzled a Russian artillery captain sitting next to me. He leaned over and said in good English: ‘A rapid transition from national to international, isn’t it? British air-force bombs are excellent teachers.’”
The general impression Soviet women had of European women came down to this: they looked elegant and intelligent compared with their war-weary Soviet compatriots living in a half-ruined country, but they seemed accessible, self-interested, weakened, or submissive. Yugoslav and Bulgarian women were exceptions. Rough and ascetic Yugoslav partisan women were perceived as comrades-in-arms and considered untouchable. Given the harsh morals in the Yugoslav army, “partisan girls must have regarded PWs—field wives—as creatures of a special, evil sort.”
Poet Boris Slutsky recalled: “...After Ukrainian obedience, after the Romanian flare-up, the sharp inaccessibility of Bulgarian women made an impression. Almost no one boasted of victories. This was the only country where officers on the march were more often accompanied by men, and almost never by women. Later the Bulgarians proudly declared: the Russians would return to Bulgaria for brides—the only women in the world who had remained pure and untouched.”
Czech women, who warmly welcomed the Red Army, made a very pleasant impression on the soldiers. Combat vehicles covered in dust and oil were decorated with wreaths and flowers. Soldiers said to one another: “...Our tank looks like a bride. And the Czech women are looking. Closely. We have not seen such sincere people for a long time...”
The friendship and hospitality of the Czechs were indeed sincere. “...If it were possible, I would kiss every soldier and officer of the Red Army for the liberation of Prague,” said a Prague tram driver, provoking friendly laughter and general approval. That was how Boris Polevoy described the atmosphere in the liberated capital of Czechoslovakia and the residents’ attitude toward Red Army soldiers on May 11, 1945.
But in some countries through which the victorious army passed, the female part of the population did not inspire respect. “In Europe the women surrendered; they changed before everyone else...” Boris Slutsky wrote. “I was always shocked, confused, disoriented by the ease, the shameful ease of love affairs. Decent women, of course disinterested, were like prostitutes—hasty availability, a desire to avoid intermediate stages, no interest in the reasons that prompted a man to approach them. Everything came down to a few gestures, arousing indignation and contempt in our more sensitive officers. The reasons for restraint were not ethical at all, but fear—fear of infection, fear of publicity, fear of pregnancy.” And he added: “Under conditions of conquest, universal vice covered and concealed specifically female vice, made it invisible and shameful.”
Nevertheless, despite prohibitions and strict orders from the Soviet command, “international love” had many causes. Among them were women’s curiosity about “exotic” men and the unprecedented generosity of Soviet soldiers, which distinguished them favorably from Europeans living under social and material pressure.
Lieutenant Daniil Zlatkin, who found himself in Denmark on the island of Bornholm at the end of the war, recalled in an interview: “I was not looking for women, but it happened... And when I arrived in Denmark... everything was free, please. They wanted to try, experiment, experience a Russian man as he really was. And it seems we turned out better than the Danes. Why? Because we were unselfish and kind. We put a box of chocolates in the middle of the table; we gave a woman we did not know a hundred roses for her birthday...”
Few people thought seriously about relationships or marriage, knowing the position of the Soviet leadership. A resolution of the Military Council of the 4th Ukrainian Front dated April 12, 1945 stated: “1. Explain to all officers and personnel that marriage to foreign women is illegal and strictly prohibited. 2. Immediately report to the command all cases of servicemen entering marriage with foreign women, as well as relations with hostile elements of foreign states. Those guilty are to be held responsible for loss of vigilance and violation of Soviet legislation.”
A directive from the head of the Political Directorate of the 1st Belorussian Front dated April 14, 1945 noted: “According to the head of the Main Personnel Directorate of the People’s Commissariat of Defense, the Center continues to receive requests from army officers for permission to marry women from foreign countries (Poland, Bulgaria, Czechoslovakia, etc.). Such actions should be regarded as a loss of political vigilance and an impermissible infatuation of patriotic feeling. Political education must therefore devote special attention to explaining the inadmissibility of such marriages. Officers who do not understand the lack of prospects of such unions must be told directly that marriage to foreign women is prohibited. Not a single case is to be permitted.”
The women themselves had no illusions about the men’s intentions. “At the beginning of 1945 even the ugliest Hungarian peasant women did not believe our promises. European women already knew that we were forbidden to marry foreign women, and they suspected that there was a similar ban on appearing together in restaurants, cinemas, etc. This did not prevent them from loving our men, but it gave that love a purely physical character,” Boris Slutsky wrote.
On the whole, one must admit that the image of European women that took shape among Red Army soldiers in 1944–1945, with rare exceptions, was very far from the figure of chained sufferers hopefully awaiting salvation on the Soviet poster “Europe Will Be Free!”
(1) Slutsky B. Notes on the War. Poems and Ballads. St. Petersburg, 2000, p. 174. (2) Ibid., pp. 46–48. (3) Ibid., pp. 46–48. (4) Smolnikov F. M. We Fight! Diary of a War Veteran. Letters from the Front. Moscow, 2000, pp. 228–229. (5) Slutsky B., cited work, pp. 110, 107. (6) Ibid., p. 177. (7) Chukhrai G. My War. Moscow: Algoritm, 2001, pp. 258–259. (8) Rodin A. Three Thousand Kilometers in the Saddle, in Diaries. Moscow, 2000, p. 127. (9) Samoilov D. People with an Option. From War Notes, Aurora, 1990, No. 2, p. 67. (10) Ibid., pp. 70–71. (11) Gelfand V. N. Diaries 1941–1946. https://militera.lib.ru/db/gelfand_vn/05.html (12) Ibid. (13) Ibid. (14) Rodin A. Three Thousand Kilometers in the Saddle. Diary. Moscow, 2000, p. 110. (15) Ibid., pp. 122–123. (16) Ibid., p. 123. (17) Central Archive of the Ministry of Defense of the Russian Federation, fond 372, inventory 6570, file 76, sheet 86. (18) Slutsky B., cited work, p. 125. (19) Ibid., pp. 127–128. (20) Bogomolov V. O. Germany, Berlin. Spring 1945, in My Life, or Did You Dream of Me? Nash Sovremennik, Nos. 10–12, 2005; No. 1, 2006. https://militera.lib.ru/prose/russian/bogomolov_vo/03.html (21) Kopelev L. Preserve My Speech Forever, in 2 books, Book 1, Parts 1–4. Moscow: Terra, 2004, Chapter 11. http://lib.rus.ec/b/137774/read#t15 (22) Russian State Archive of Socio-Political History, fond 17, inventory 125, file 321, sheets 10–12. (23) From an interview with N. A. Orlov, “I Remember” website. http://www.iremember.ru/minometchiki/orlov-naum-aronovich/stranitsa-6.html (24) Samoilov D., cited work, p. 88. (25) Bogomolov V. O. My Life, or Did You Dream of Me? Nash Sovremennik, 2005, Nos. 10–12; 2006, No. 1. https://militera.lib.ru/prose/russian/bogomolov_vo/03.html (26) From the Political Report on bringing Comrade Stalin’s Directive No. 11072 of April 4, 1945 to the headquarters of the 185th Rifle Division, April 26, 1945; cited in Bogomolov V. O., cited work. https://militera.lib.ru/prose/russian/bogomolov_vo/02.html (27) Ibid. (28) Ibid. (29) State Archive of the Russian Federation, fond R-9401, inventory 2, file 96, sheet 203. (30) Kopelev L., cited work, Chapter 12. http://lib.rus.ec/b/137774/read#t15 (31) Gelfand V. N., cited work. (32) White O. The Road to Victory: Eyewitness Accounts of Germany 1945. Cambridge University Press, 2003, xvii + 221 pp. https://www.argo.net.au/andre/osmarwhite.html (33) Slutsky B., cited work, p. 99. (34) Ibid., p. 71. (35) Polevoy B. Liberation of Prague, in From Soviet Intelligence. Journalism and Essays of the War 1941–1945, Vol. 2, 1943–1945. Moscow: APN Publishing House, 1982, p. 439. (36) Ibid., pp. 177–178. (37) Ibid., p. 180. (38) From an interview with D. F. Zlatkin, June 16, 1997, personal archive. (39) Author: Bogomolov V. O., cited work. https://militera.lib.ru/prose/russian/bogomolov_vo/04.html (40) Ibid. (41) Slutsky B., cited work, pp. 180–181.
The article was prepared with financial support from the Russian Humanitarian Science Foundation, project No. 11-01-00363a. The design used the 1944 Soviet poster “Europe Will Be Free!” by artist V. Koretsky.